Translated From Sarconian Annals - Draft Volume II

Warning - Contains mild thematic elements and some tragic dying.

Argon leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking north to where the army was camped.  His words of a few months before came back to him. I never wanted any of this to happen, but I have no control over the events that have been set in motion. I will be a warring king, it is inevitable. How many people will I send to their deaths, fighting their own countrymen?  And will I ever be forgiven for it?  He sighed.  He still felt that way.  There had to be a way out of the war; there just had to be.  Why are we threatening war anyway?  Why don't we just secede and leave Donovan to go about his business?  What has he done to anybody?
Daryn peeked around the corner.  "Milord?  The guards caught a small group of Strianelians at one of the passes.  The leader of the group has asked to speak with you and is waiting with his companions in the courtyard."
Argon nodded, turned from the balcony, and headed down to the courtyard, Daryn trailing in his shadow.
There were ten of them, all dressed in the uniform of the Strianelian Army.  Nine were standing; the tenth was tied onto the shoulders of one of his companions like a pack.  He did not appear to be conscious.  Argon had originally thought that it was a group of messengers, but these were definitely not couriers.  Their clothes were torn and dirty.  They all appeared to be exhausted. 
"Do you come in peace or war?" asked Argon.  He guessed that none of the boys were any older than he was. 
"Both," the youth who appeared to be their leader replied.  "We've come to join your army."
"What lead you to desert Donovan?" Argon asked.
"He is a fake," the youth said in disgust.  "He pretends to be good and kind, but underneath it all he is a beast."  His companions nodded in agreement.
"Did you people carry your friend all the way here?" asked Argon.
"Yes."
"Will you let me take a look at him?"
 The boys parted and carefully laid their unconscious companion on the stone pavement of the courtyard.  Argon knelt over him and gently felt his pulse.  The boy moaned softly.  "What happened to him?" Argon asked
"What happened to him is part of the reason we left," said the leader.  "Our story will explain it all."
"He looks like he's been whipped within an inch of his life," Argon commented.
Grief and rage mixed in the eyes of the boys.  "He was."
"Daryn," said Argon.  "Find a medic and send him down here.  Then go get General Carzim and tell him that we have some people joining us."  He rose and turned to the leader of the small group.  "I would like to hear this tale of yours.  Are you up to telling me at this time, or do you need rest?"
"I can tell it now."
They moved a little ways away from the group.
"I and my friends come from various towns and farms near the foothills.  When news of Donovan's draft came we all had mixed feelings, but, for the most part, we were not opposed to entering the army.  They took us to camps and gave us various tests to make sure we were capable of service.  After that, we were divided into squads of ten."  The boy began to point to his companions.  "That is Trent, there's Fane and Saith, brothers.  We call them Flint and Steel sometimes because of all the sparks that fly between them, but they're true as Nymphs and good to the core. The others are Carn, Mael, Gwyngad, Ninian, and Kynon.  Our wounded companion is Jeston, and I am named Cadwalladyr, though most call me Cadwal.
"Jeston had a widowed mother and a sister.  He was their sole provider.  He went to the commanding officer and told him of his family, who was depending on him for survival.  Then he requested permission to go home to them, or at least be given a leave to arrange care for them while he was gone.  The officer refused his request.  While Jeston was trying to get a leave, the king rode in and asked what was going on.  The officer told him.  The king asked Jeston what his squad leader said about the whole thing.  So Jeston came and got me, I was the squad leader, and I told the king that I thought Jeston should at least be given a leave, if not sent home altogether.
About this time, Jeston's sister came to the camp.  She joined our argument that Jeston should go home.  The king, however, backed the officer up.  We continued to protest as respectfully as we could, but they would have none of it.  Jeston's sister finally began to lose her temper.  'How can you claim to be a merciful king if you act like this?' she asked Donovan.  The officer became angry and sliced her head off.  'It would be terrible to separate mother and daughter,' said Donovan.  In no time, a detachment was sent to kill Jeston's mother.  Then the king left.
"Jeston was furious.  He challenged the officer to a duel on the spot.  The officer threw him a sword, and he fought bravely, but it was skill against incompetence.  Jeston lost.  That didn't stop him from yelling at the officer, however, and he used some very...colorful language.  That made the officer even more angry.  He grabbed Jeston, tied him to a fence, and flogged him within an inch of his life.  We got him back to our hut later that night.  We had become a pretty tight group, and seeing Jeston all bloody and half dead with pain made us mad.  Our dicision to desert was almost unconscious.  I don't even remember discussing it.  The next thing we all knew, we were sneaking out of the camp and heading for the hills.  We've been on the run ever since.  That was about a week ago.  Jeston hasn't gotten any better; the elements have been less than kind.   We've been taking turns carrying him, but he's unconscious most of the time.  I think the wounds might be infected."
"Don't worry about Jeston, Cadwal," said Argon.  "Most of our medics have Elvish training in the arts of healing.  All that can be done for him will be."
Cadwal moved off the join his companions.  Conan came over to Argon.
"Is the boy's story plausible?" Argon asked his friend.
"From what I know of Donovan, yes," said Conan.  "That is why I have encouraged you to demand Donovan's surrender and threaten war."
"I do not want to make the first battle move," said Argon.  "Most of the people are still blind to who Donovan really is.  We must wait for him to make the first move, and all our actions, at least at first, must be defensive."
Conan nodded agreeably. 
"We must merely defend our borders for now," Argon continued.  "I've looked at the agreement between Sarconia and Strianel when they merged into one country, and we have a right to secede when we want to.  I have demanded Donovan's surrender because of the agreement between the Breakers and the ConRays, but I do not intend to press the issue until he becomes violent."
"He has become violent," said Conan.  "Killing Jeston's mother and sister...that was violent."
"It heats my blood as well, but it is not something to start a war over."
"You are confident that Donovan will make a move as soon as he gets your letter?"
"Yes."
Conan folded his arms and looked east.  "You're probably right."