The hall was dark and dreary excepting the moon’s gentle rays that insisted on flowing through every window facing its iridescent beauty. He could hear every foot step he made echoing through the hall and up the staircase as he ascended. The King had sent for him as he always did when a battle was at hand, but something seemed different this time. Anxious to see what the King had to say, he began taking two and three stairs at a time. One more step and he would be outside the Great Hall where the King held court with those he deemed worthy to be in his presence. Without hesitation he rushed from the stairwell only to be met by a hand shoved against his chest.

Staring for a split second at the gloved hand before looking up to see the face of the King’s personal guard, he shook his head and brushed the man’s hand from his armor before walking past. The guard was well aware that the King had sent for this man, but it was still his job to check the King’s visitors.

“Remove all your weapons.” The guard tilted his head and stepped in front of the man once more. He stared suspiciously at his cloak which covered all but the armor strapped to his chest.

“I bring no weapons with me in the presence of the King.” He lifted the cloak from his body revealing the most obvious of places where a man would keep his sword.

Nodding slowly, the guard bowed his head and backed away from the door. “He awaits your presence, sir.”

Without another word spoken to the guard, he hurried to the doors, pushing them apart so that he could enter. The cracking of the wooden doors filled the room as if it had been sung by a choir, the sound traveling ahead and back again. The windows here were much larger than those placed throughout the corridors leading to this destination, and he knew that just as he had sworn to himself the first night he’d been invited, he would never forget the awesome sight. The moon’s rays engulfed the room with an air of mystery, each stray beam striking one of the King’s precious objects, reflecting a silvery shimmer across the rock slabs beneath his feet. It could have been a fairytale.

The King grinned as soon as he saw the man standing in the doorway. “Leron, leave us.”

“Of course, Sire.” The guard nodded and stepped forward, taking hold of the doors and closing them behind the man waiting to be spoken to.

“Jonathan, it has been some time now, has it not?” In the middle of the large room surrounded by his treasures and sitting comfortably on one of the many thrones he had for himself throughout the kingdom, the King awaited the man’s answer.

“My Lord, it has been nearly a year since we last spoke.” Lowering himself to one knee, he bowed his head before rising up and speaking freely. “You wish to speak of the battle that faces us, I presume.” This wasn’t a question for he knew quite well what was coming their way.

“My dear boy, you have always been on top of things, haven’t you? I’ve been hearing rumors. Should I be worried?” His body language was discreet. As a man of power, he could not show his fear of what was to come.

“Yes, they have been scouting the village for nearly a month now.” He paused as the image of battle shook him from his securities. The army was small and ill-equipped due to the last attack brought upon them. He thought of lying to the King to not cause him any sort of worry, but choosing his words carefully, he spoke the truth instead. “We are not prepared, Sire. We will not prevail if they attack.”

“Rubbish, boy. We may not prevail, but there is always a chance we will as well, so do not speak so hopelessly.” He smiled to himself, noting the fear the man kept hidden, just as the King was hiding his own. “I called you here to share my battle strategy with you. You must ready the army to leave soon, lest we be ambushed.”

“Sire, what is it you have devised?” There was a mischievous gleam in the King’s eyes, and Jonathan couldn’t explain it, but this unsettled his stomach even moreso than the looming combat he would undoubtedly endure.

“They are watching us even now, I assume, so let us prepare a small army to travel northwest. They shall leave tomorrow morning.” He paused to see Jonathan’s reaction. He wanted to know what the man thought.

Noticing the obvious pause, he suspected that the King wished for his input, and he would not disappoint. “But Sire, a small army on its own will have no chance against their army and-” He was cut off before he could finish his sentence by a rather pleased King.

“You wish to argue with my strategy then?” The King smiled in amusement as he led the man into a word trap. He had to make sure Jonathan was ready for the task he would be assigned, after all, he was still a rather young man.

“Of course not, My Lord, but I think if we are to advance, our best chance lies in sending all of our soldiers into combat, and not simply a few.” He was confused now. He wasn’t sure what the King wanted him to say or do so he simply said what he had to.

“Indeed, this is why the small army will be our decoy. The morning after we send them, the rest of the army will depart southwest. It is this larger army that will ambush their kingdom while it is unprotected. With their women and children slain, and their village burned down, they will have no choice but to take time to recuperate. With our numbers growing steadily, we will overpower them soon after. We will prevail, my boy, but it will take time. I have chosen you as the larger army’s captain. Will you disappoint me?” Going silent, he awaited the man’s reaction once more. If Jonathan wasn’t ready for this kind of responsibility, the King needed to know it before battle.

Jonathan looked as though he had been frozen. His facial expression never once changed, though the brightness in his eyes did seem to dull at the mention of killing the women and children. What victory in battle was there when your enemy was helpless and unarmed? He imagined the screams and the panicked children crying for their mothers before being slammed to the ground by blades longer than they were tall. Without blinking he stared at the King and searched for some sort of sign that this was not truly his plan of attack. After a moment he realized that no such sign existed for this was exactly what the King wanted done, and in that case, he had no choice but to do as he was told.

“It’s a beautiful strategy, Sire…” He could feel his lips close together as if fighting to form the single word he wanted so desperately to say--but. Knowing he could not say such a thing, he bowed his head and once more slipped down to one knee. “I would be honored to lead us to a glorious victory.”