Post by devilinthedetails on Dec 19, 2018 11:41:23 GMT 10
Title: Songs for a Midwinter Morning
Rating: PG-13 for references to violence and warfare
Prompt: Songs of the Heart
Summary: Even at war, Gareth hears Midwinter carols.
Songs for a Midwinter Morning
On the first morning of Midwinter, Gareth rose with the sun when pealing bells from the Tusaine city the Tortallan army under King Jasson’s command was besieging rang across the field of canvas tents, echoing against the metal poles of the one Gareth shared with his knightmaster, the king and empire builder.
In harmony with the bells, the defenders on the city wall began to sing the opening verses of a Midwinter carol traditional throughout the Eastern Lands. Soon the soldiers encamped around Gareth could be heard joining the chorus.
The sound of soldiers on opposing sides of this eternal conflict between Tortall and Tusaine singing in unison made Gareth shiver despite the woolen blankets tucked about him. It wouldn’t have been so eerie, he thought, if they weren’t all singing in Common…The fact that they were all singing in the same language made the differences between the Tortallan and Tusaine soldiers melt like icicles in sunlight. When they sang in one voice, Gareth couldn’t pretend that the enemy he was trying to kill—and who was trying to kill him—was so different from himself…
“What is that infernal clangor and caterwauling?” King Jasson glared around the tent as he jerked out of his sleep, alert posture suggesting he suspected to spot a foe lurking in a canvas corner. “Are the vile Tusaine signaling an attack?”
“It’s Midwinter bells and caroling, sire.” Gareth’s lips twitched with the effort of containing a snicker at the the king’s question. King Jasson was the prickly sort of knightmaster who would backhand a squire for smirking.
“Are you obtuse enough to believe that?” King Jasson’s flinty cut into Gareth. “That’s what the Tusaine generals want you to think, but what better cover for an attack than Midwinter celebrations?”
“You signed a Midwinter week truce with the Tusaine, Your Majesty,” Gareth reminded his knightmaster respectfully as he could while fighting a frown his mercurial king might too easily misinterpret. “It would be dishonorable for them to violate the terms of the truce with a surprise attack.”
“Would you trust your life to the honor of the filthy Tusiane, Gareth?” King Jasson’s contemptuous sneer made it clear he considered trusting in the honor of the Tusaine as outlandish as bathing in mud to get clean.
Gareth reckoned it would be risky for any leader to violate truce terms since such treachery would render it impossible for others to trust them in future negotiations. However, he sensed that was too political an answer to please his knightmaster. King Jasson hated politics and diplomacy with as much fervor as he did the Tusaine.
“No, sire.” Gareth ducked his head, offering the reply he knew his knightmaster wanted to hear.
“Good. Then you aren’t quite as obtuse as I thought.” King Jasson grunted and waved an irascible hand at the tent flap. “Change into something that won’t bring shame on your family, and then go tell my generals to spread the word among my men that the next traitor who sings with the Tusaine can sing his way to the gallows where he can try to fly like the songbird he thinks he is.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gareth bowed in acknowledgement of the order, his throat constricting as if a noose were knotted around it as he imagined the sudden silence that would fall like snow across the Tortallan army once the king’s command was heard. All song in the camp would end soon, King Jasson would see to that.
Rating: PG-13 for references to violence and warfare
Prompt: Songs of the Heart
Summary: Even at war, Gareth hears Midwinter carols.
Songs for a Midwinter Morning
On the first morning of Midwinter, Gareth rose with the sun when pealing bells from the Tusaine city the Tortallan army under King Jasson’s command was besieging rang across the field of canvas tents, echoing against the metal poles of the one Gareth shared with his knightmaster, the king and empire builder.
In harmony with the bells, the defenders on the city wall began to sing the opening verses of a Midwinter carol traditional throughout the Eastern Lands. Soon the soldiers encamped around Gareth could be heard joining the chorus.
The sound of soldiers on opposing sides of this eternal conflict between Tortall and Tusaine singing in unison made Gareth shiver despite the woolen blankets tucked about him. It wouldn’t have been so eerie, he thought, if they weren’t all singing in Common…The fact that they were all singing in the same language made the differences between the Tortallan and Tusaine soldiers melt like icicles in sunlight. When they sang in one voice, Gareth couldn’t pretend that the enemy he was trying to kill—and who was trying to kill him—was so different from himself…
“What is that infernal clangor and caterwauling?” King Jasson glared around the tent as he jerked out of his sleep, alert posture suggesting he suspected to spot a foe lurking in a canvas corner. “Are the vile Tusaine signaling an attack?”
“It’s Midwinter bells and caroling, sire.” Gareth’s lips twitched with the effort of containing a snicker at the the king’s question. King Jasson was the prickly sort of knightmaster who would backhand a squire for smirking.
“Are you obtuse enough to believe that?” King Jasson’s flinty cut into Gareth. “That’s what the Tusaine generals want you to think, but what better cover for an attack than Midwinter celebrations?”
“You signed a Midwinter week truce with the Tusaine, Your Majesty,” Gareth reminded his knightmaster respectfully as he could while fighting a frown his mercurial king might too easily misinterpret. “It would be dishonorable for them to violate the terms of the truce with a surprise attack.”
“Would you trust your life to the honor of the filthy Tusiane, Gareth?” King Jasson’s contemptuous sneer made it clear he considered trusting in the honor of the Tusaine as outlandish as bathing in mud to get clean.
Gareth reckoned it would be risky for any leader to violate truce terms since such treachery would render it impossible for others to trust them in future negotiations. However, he sensed that was too political an answer to please his knightmaster. King Jasson hated politics and diplomacy with as much fervor as he did the Tusaine.
“No, sire.” Gareth ducked his head, offering the reply he knew his knightmaster wanted to hear.
“Good. Then you aren’t quite as obtuse as I thought.” King Jasson grunted and waved an irascible hand at the tent flap. “Change into something that won’t bring shame on your family, and then go tell my generals to spread the word among my men that the next traitor who sings with the Tusaine can sing his way to the gallows where he can try to fly like the songbird he thinks he is.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Gareth bowed in acknowledgement of the order, his throat constricting as if a noose were knotted around it as he imagined the sudden silence that would fall like snow across the Tortallan army once the king’s command was heard. All song in the camp would end soon, King Jasson would see to that.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!