If you wanted a quiet night in Luccia, the capital city of Yoksemsia, the Blushing Rogue was not where you would want to stop and get a drink. It was practically next door to the barracks, so whenever dusk fell, its doors were flooded with guards and soldiers.
Bishop, like all the other guards, followed this schedule. He wasn’t the tavern's most frequent customer, but barmaids were in the right to assume that tonight they would see the disheveled black hair of the soldier who refused to ever wear a helmet walk through their doors.
He showed up that evening within his usual gaggle of other soldiers, all drowning out the rest of the tavern with their conversation.
Immediately, the bartender went to work pouring mead into large glasses and slamming them onto the table, where they were almost instantly snatched up. The group had created a circle around a few tables in the corner. Almost all of them had the same look of determination- or even arrogance that only grew in intensity as they drank.
On his second glass, Bishop sat near the center surrounded by the others. Some of them would come round and give him a hard pat on the shoulder or look him in the eye as they gave the rest of the men a drunken speech.
“I’ll tell you!” blurted out a stout man now standing in his seat, “We're gonna g–get the whole lot of them!”
“Heh, yeah,” Bishop chuckled, “I’ll bet you all we’ll be back by lunch”.
All the men cheered at this. He polished off his glass with a quick jerk of his head before slamming it back onto the table, satisfied.
He pulled out his dagger and began twirling it between his fingers. A few minutes later, one of their members came back with another round.
“Glad you’re coming along with us,” Nash (a soldier he was on a first-name basis with) punched him in the arm.
He nodded, “Must be an important assignment”.
“Or,” he pulled up the closest seat, “Might be because of that reputation you’ve gained from the vermin”
Corbin, another one of his friends, so to speak, butted in, “I heard you’ve gone and got yourself recognized by them. Gave you a nickname and all”
“Oh yeah,” Bishop cocked an eyebrow. He grabbed one of the unclaimed glasses, “And what would that be?”
“They call you the Rook. Heard one of them mention it on one of my last patrols on the border”
Bishop smirked down into his glass, “And what’d they say?”
“Well, saw a group of carts I suspected to be trying to sneak across- you know, the usual. Well, I did my best to sneak up on them in hopes to get an earful on whatever their plan was”.
“They mentioned losing some of their men. Said they lost em while they were still on their side” Corbin gave him a slight smile, “Described you in perfect, the most damning piece being those boots of yours” Bishop looked down at his said boots, dark leather with threatening pieces of metal on the front and on the bottoms jetting sharply up and down making the soles of the boots look like mad rows of teeth.
Bishop tucked his dagger away, “The Rook? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Some chess piece, right?” asked Nash.
“That’s right,” answered Corbin.
“No idea then,” he leaned back in his seat and tipped his mug. Corbin looked back at Bishop.
“Bishop’s also a chess piece if I’m not mistaken?” he chuckled and shook his head, “Seems they're smart enough to recognize that”
Bishop shrugged, “Still isn’t very clever”
“Like you're any good judge of that,” those around him laughed, and he smirked.
By the time the sun was out of sight, all of the members of the guard had either walked or stumbled out of the Blushing Rogue. Bishop, like very few of his other associates, had limited his drinking to below four glasses. I’ll be able to celebrate tomorrow evening plenty. Or afternoon. He smirked.
He led the line into the upper barracks where his quarters lay. He and a few others, including Nash, broke away from the rest of the group to traverse further up the stairs to near the top of the building. Coming not a moment too soon, Bishop collapsed into his bed, propping up his head with his arms. He heard the two others who shared the room begin to undress as he closed his eyes.
Another day, another victory to make you proud. He could imagine them now. Humans, the ever-multiplying vermin. His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists. He couldn’t stand them. They were greedy, they were conniving, they were selfish, they…they were killers.
I’ll make you proud. Like I always do. He repeated in his mind as he settled into the mattress.
Bishop was awakened by the sound of rushing footsteps around him. He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder tightly and shook it.
“Up, up and at 'em.” There was a pause, “Rook”
Bishop groaned and shoved his roommate away, “Don’t start calling me that”.
The two had gotten up well before him by their readiness; beds made, fully dressed, and already stiffening in posture as if the Captain was watching them.
He threw his covers towards the top and placed his pillow back on the bed. There was no need to change since he hadn’t bothered changing last night; unfortunately, that caused a painful stiffness in his limbs that would need to be resolved before they departed.
Before he left, he looked down at his bedside table where his medal of knighthood lay, pale golden with the branding of the king. He wasn’t fond of wearing it; he was sure it made him look like a pinheaded teacher's pet, but he had already been berated twice for showing up to meetings without it, so he snatched it off the table and fastened it over his heart.
On his way down the stairs, he merged into the small, uneven line of the other soldiers, begrudgingly stumbling down to the knights' hall.
The tables were already laden with large platters with massive heaps of eggs, bread, breakfast meat, and fruit. Bishop took his seat and, without thinking, began to pile things onto his plate and scarf them down.
“Oi,” he felt someone elbowed his ribs, "looks like the Captain wants you”
Bishop leaned past to look towards the front and made eye contact with Captain Alvin, who was gesturing for him to come over.
Silently, he grabbed about a dozen more eggs before making his way towards the long, well-decorated table where the Captain and associates sat. Everyone at the table had on a golden medal except for Alvin, who had on a shiny platinum one that was so reflective that Bishop could already see his reflection in it as he approached.
Captain Alvin grabbed the seat next to him and offered it to Bishop, who took it with a curt nod.
“There, now you’re where you belong,” he gave Bishop a grin.
“Pleasure to be up here by your side, sir”
The Captain straightened and prodded his finger at him,”When you get back, I’ll be betting the king will want you right up there by me for the feast”
Bishop smirked, “Tell me, does he plan to celebrate every victory of ours with such grandeur?” The Captain let out a bark of a laugh.
“From the looks of it, you might want to keep it quiet the next time you apprehend an illegal trader coach, or he’ll make a holiday out of it.” he glanced out the window and clapped his wrinkled hands together. “Better start the briefing”
The Captain rose from his seat and yelled for everyone’s attention.
“Now, I’d like to see division C and F in the next room over for a quick briefing of the mission.” A few groans echoed from the crowd, “Immediately”
Bishop followed the Captain out, and when they entered, the empty room was beckoned to stay at his side as he made his way to the front to face the dozen soldiers lined up in even rows. Every single one of them sported a leather helmet and silver shin guards with the kingdom's crest on each.
The Captain began to pace slowly, “Men, I don’t think, I know for damn sure that if you heed my words and orders, this will be a flawless victory”. A few gave a nod or a smirk, “Now!” he turned on his heel, “Our target is southwest of here, just over the border on a rather large hillside. It is believed that within these hills lie resources that would be invaluable to the kingdom”
“How much are we talking?” one soldier piped up. Ignoring him, the Captain continued.
“Our dear neighbors have already set up a mine and have begun excavating it. Some of the minerals they are collecting are suspected to be featured in the making of their most recent weapons.” He paused and turned to face the group, “We take out this settlement, we will not only have gained access to more land, but we might stunt them in any future endeavors”
There was a yell of approval from the crowd. Captain Alvin silenced them before continuing on to give them what information they had gathered. It wasn’t much, but Bishop didn’t care to listen anyway. Every mission had the same solution: go in, destroy any necessary target, and leave little to no survivors.
He only listened back in when the Captain gestured at him, “Your leader for this mission will be Sir Bishop, whom I'm sure you know has had a lot of experience dealing with humans”.
Bishop overlooked the small crowd, further proving Captain Alvin’s point with a steely glaze and lightly tapping the metal tips on his boots.
“You will leave as soon as possible. Prepare to depart immediately, dismissed”.
A lot of them all began to move at once. Bishop didn’t make haste, mainly because he didn’t want to have to force a laugh in response to another one of Alvin’s pandering jokes. Man’s never even been in battle, the damn moron, he thought as he trudged down the corridor to the armory (not that he needed anything from it, but wanted to make sure the soldiers that were under his command continued to be of use and not a burden).
He leaned against the doorway, watching as the others began to strap leather and silver to their bodies.
“Stop!” he yelled. Everyone went silent. He approached a scrawny-looking soldier who was fully armored and was now holding a steel greatsword in his hands. Bishop snatched it away and replaced it with a mace that he took off the rack and practically threw into the young man’s hands.
“Fresh meat, aren’t you?”
“What?” the man stiffened when he met Bishop’s eyes, “uh-sir?”
“You’re new here. Correct?”
“Yes, sir. Just finished my training a little over a week ago ”.
Bishop held out the greatsword, “You haven’t learned how to use this against them, I can tell just by your stance”.
“Humans. You haven’t learned how to use this against humans. With swords, there’s a certain time and angle you need to come in at, or else you either miss them entirely or end up just knocking them back and not drawing blood. That-” he pointed down at the mace, “Has a lesser chance of missing, and one slam from that and they’re finished”.
He hung the greatsword back up and walked away, leaving the soldier with a face that fell between the lines of impressed and fearful.
When every last one of them was armored properly and had a weapon in hand, Bishop excused himself, commanding that they head back to Captain Alvin until he returned. He heard a couple of protests, but they fell silent as he made his way out of the armory and out the door of the barracks.
Within a couple of minutes, he was making his way down the main street of the upper district in a sort of march. He paid no mind to the passersby who were all elegantly dressed and gave him distasteful looks as he pushed past them. He turned on his heel quite suddenly when he reached the house with the path that was surrounded by wilted flowers that were beyond resurrection. Reaching the faded porch, he knocked on the door before entering, not really expecting a response.
The room he stepped into was a dimly lit living room. With the curtains drawn, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fireplace, where motionless in a chair, so close to the fire that the ends of her dress were charred, was a woman.
“Mother?” Bishop called. When he got no response, he sighed and approached and kneeled down facing her.
Her whole face seemed to melt downwards, wrinkles prickled around her eyes and mouth, which was forever frozen in a frown.
Bishop pushed away some silver strands of hair out of her face and planted a kiss on her cheek, getting the same reaction he would have if he had done the same to a stone wall.
“What are you doing so close to the fire, eh? Look at what you’ve done to your dress. Come on,” he stood up and pulled the chair back with his mother, dragging her feet lazily across the floor. He grunted as he situated the chair back up and turned back to her.
Her eyes stared blankly outward into the fire. He went to grab her chin but paused before sighing and simply moving into her line of sight.
“Another mission today. Sounds like it’s going to be a big one.” Silence.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, though.” Silence.
“I tell you. The king seems to celebrate measly victories nowadays. I could take you to the next feast I'm sure he’ll host after this is all over.” Nothing.
He sighed and looked her in the eye, “Going to make you proud today, mother, and father.” The slightest quiver came to her lips. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly in his own, “He’ll be damn proud after this”.
After giving her a kiss goodbye, he turned and marched out the door. As he walked, his boots chimed with every step.
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