Deserter - Chapter One: Aftermath

• Posted by FishDout June 18, 2015 - 960 views

  (Note: Please read the Prologue before this chapter)

  

  'Is this all the Guard is good for? Committing unspeakable atrocities and calling them acts of justice?'

  The dawn brought with it the grisly aftermath of the Battle for Whiterun. Blinding rays of sunlight streaked through the clouds, illuminating the plains, and shedding light on the darkest scene to grace the grounds in eons. As scarlet tinted the sky, the lands surrounding Whiterun followed suit, mirroring the deep red of the heavens with the spilled blood of countless soldiers. 

  The Hold Guard was kneeling atop a hill, with golden cuirass bathed in red and sword buried hilt-deep in a Stormcloak chest. The rebels had retreated. The Guard Force had given chase. They'd hunted them down and emerged victorious. Yet the Hold Guard's pose was one of utter defeat. 

  'Compose yourself, friend. The Commander hears you saying that and he'll have your head.' Full-faced helmets prevented the Guards from referring to each other by name. That way, the dead could not be mourned for until well after the Battle. 

  The Hold Guard glanced at his comrade, and at the recent battlefield. He climbed shakily to his feet, planted a foot on the fallen Stormcloak, and pulled his sword from the Nord's chest. The Nord's unseeing eyes were visible through an open-faced helmet, and the Guard forced his gaze onto them. 'We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother.' 

  The two Whiterun Guards were alone on the hill; the rest having returned to the city. They began the long walk back together, and though the two Guards were nothing more than replaceable, unimportant soldiers in the Jarl's employ, in the mid-morning sun they towered like giants over their fallen brethren. 

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  'They're children, Commander,' he said, 'they haven't even been trained to hold swords.' 

  The Hold Guard had eventually accepted that the mindless slaughter during the Battle for Whiterun had been justified. Commander Caius had explained it very carefully, and he'd ordered the Guard to stop inquiring. First and foremost a disciplined soldier, the Hold Guard had obeyed the order. He was no stranger to the horrors of war, after all. This, however, was new to him. 

  'Whiterun needs a Guard, soldier. Thanks to the war and that dragon situation at the Wester Watchtower, our ranks have lessened considerably.' The Commander rebutted. 

  'And the Thane? He cut through the rebel ranks like -'

  'The Dragonborn most likely has more pressing issues to attend to.' They were walking through Whiterun's Wind District, and a biting cold was in the air. 

  'Sir, we can't send untrained men into a Stormcloak camp, they'd be slaughtered,' pressed the Hold Guard after a pause. He found it hard not to question the Legion's orders when they all but guaranteed the death of dozens. 

  'Agreed,' the Commander halted mid-stride and looked the Hold Guard in the eye. 'That is why each Guard will be assigned a new recruit to train.' Caius held up a hand before the Guard could say a word. 'You have two days before we attack the camp. Train your recruit well. That is an order, soldier.'

  On that final note, Commander Caius left the Hold Guard to his own thoughts. For the briefest of moments, thoughts of treason crossed the mind inside the guard helmet; but the obedient soldier once again regained control, and the Hold Guard closed his eyes and submitted. 

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