Edwin sat in his commanding chair within his office, marking out the which members of the King's Field Squadron he wished to take with him. They were twenty in total, and his king had said four would suffice. He stared at his roster. They were all remarkable men, each having proven to Edwin their capabilities. That was the issue. There was no clear cut choice as to who would take. He examined their abilities. Sir Miles Vallyrian, a young man with the rank of lieutenant. He had served well as a second in command, and had the making of a great leader. Edwin marked him down as a possibility and continued his search. His name came across Darius Crossburke. He was young, twenty one years of age. He still didn't like his mohawk, but he was decent with a bow, however. He could provide a ranged attack and offer cover support. Edwin marked him down as well. Next, he decided on Balamar Steelebone, a bear of a man. He could provide that raw strength to back up his squadron. He wouldn't need any of the horsemen, and only the one archer. The others would sit this one out.

A knock from his door was heard and he shouted come in. Gallador entered and Edwin asked him to take a seat.

"How can I help you, friend?" Edwin asked warmly.

"I was just curious as to how you are doing, and figured I'd stop by, old friend." Gallador winced as he sat in his chair. There was a click in his knee, and it brought on a dull ache.

Curse these old bones...

Edwin hadn't seemed to notice the sounds of Galladors aging. "I'm well. I just finished setting up my team. Have you done the same?"

"Aye. I'll send you their statistics soon enough."

"Good on you," he paused and stored away his Squadron's roster, "so, Gallador, besides business, how are you? It seems all we have spoken of is that damned castle."

Gallador chuckled. "It does, doesn't it? Well, my daughter broke some news to me yesterday...she is just like her mother, that wild girl." The face of Diana floated through his mind, beautiful as he could remember. He feared the day he would be unable to conjure her face, and prayed that day would never come. He missed her dearly, and more so with every day that passed. It seemed so long ago that he said his farewells to his lovely wife.

Edwin nodded for him to continue. "Diana was a wild one, I remember, and a lovely woman. What news did Jenna have for you?"

Gallador sighed. "She's with child. That girl." She was just as young as Diana was when Gallador put Jenna inside her. And she was just as beautiful, though in different ways. Where Diana had hair dark as midnight and eyes like warm hazelnuts, Jenna had hair as sunny as the afternoon, and eyes as blue as a clear morning sky.

She certainly took after the Thornshields...in more ways than just looks

Edwin smiled and shook his head. "Well, she certainly is her father's daughter. You and Diana weren't married when you first learned she was with child, were you?"

A bittersweet smile pulled at Galladors lips. "No, no we weren't, but best believe we married soon after. They're not bastards if you marry before they are born." He chuckled at the memories that came to life in his mind. "My father Lionel was furious. I thought for sure he'd slaughter Diana and I both, but his heart melted away when he first laid eyes on Jenna. All of ours did."

Edwin sat back in his chair. "I suppose that's one thing the Squadron has on the Rangers. I've never had to worry about children. Our oaths prevent us from having any."

Gallador smirked. "You're missing out on one of lifes greatest gifts, my friend."

Edwin shrugged. "I'm relieved of my oath in a matter of a few years...maybe then."

"I hope you do, friend. You're also welcome to attend their wedding in the next moon." Gallador knew he would, whether or not he gave him an invitation, but it was always cordial to extend one.

Edwin laughed. "Of course I'll be in attendance! She's betrothed to that ranger of yours, yes?"

Gallador nodded. "Yes she is, and he's good man as well."

Edwin chuckled. "As long as it's not that Whitelocke boy. That northern dog has enough bastards with enough maidens to make up half the Order of Defense."

"Edwin...I would think you had more respect for my daughter," Gallador chuckled. "Though he has asked for it, and more than once I should add, I would never give that spoiled brat my blessing. "

"They say never is the word of the fool, Sir Thornshield," said a voice from the door. Edwin looked up and Gallador turned in his seat. There stood Seigfreid in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his face.

Gallador sighed, and dropped his head as if the tension weighed down on him.

"Sir Whitelocke," said Edwin, clearing his throat awkwardly and shifting in his chair, "what is it you need?"

"The King has sent for Sir Thornshield. He asked me to fetch him, as I was the only ranger within earshot, unfortunately. So if you would, Sir Thornshield," he said, holding his arm out in the doorway.

Gallador nodded with some annoyance. "Excuse me, Edwin. I'll speak with you later." He passed Seigfreid on his way out, who in turn followed him.

*****

"How are you, Seigfreid?" Gallador asked as they walked down the corridor hosting the King's Field Squadron.

"Could be better, I suppose. Why do you care?"

"Because despite your arrogance, you are still one of my rangers, Seigfreid. And it's my duty to-"

"I'm not one of your rangers, Sir Thornshield, I am merely, just as you are, a puppet for my father. I wouldn't be part of this damned order if I had any control over my life."

"And what would you be doing otherwise, hmm? Working some stable or begging for coin? Chipping away at a rock in one of your fathers mines?"

Seigfreid laughed. "Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you. I wonder how little you really think of me Gallador. Clearly little enough to deny me even one outing with your daughter."

"Do not bring my daugh-"

"No, Sir Thornshield, if I had any say in how I lived my life, I'd spend it in the hills of Arnland, playing a harp, maybe a flute, drinking wine with beautiful girls dancing naked for me...that's what I'd be doing otherwise, Sir Thornshield."

"You wouldn't have such fantasies if your last name wasn't Whitelocke."

Seigfreid shrugged. "Suppose I could travel to Valdor, fight in the arenas like your second in command used to. Treat myself to a Valdorian women after a bloody fight. You know what they say about the southern girls. I'd like to see just how they-"

"Enough, Seigfreid! I'm trying to make an effort here. Must you be so callous?" Gallador shouted.

"I'm sorry, let me apologize for doubting the motives of a man who I know hates my guts," Seigfreid said sarcastically.

"I don't hate your innards, Siegfried."

Seigfreid stopped in the hallway. "Then why did you deny me your daughters hand?"

Gallador sighed. "Do you really wish to do this now?"

Seigfreid shrugged. "Why not? You never told me why, might as well do it now. "

Gallador rubbed his forehead. "Fine. You want to know why? You're a selfish bastard who cares for no one but himself. You are a bloody awful ranger and if it wasn't for your father, you'd likely be lying in a gutter, half starved to death eating rats for dinner."

Seigfreid's anger grew on his face. "What do you know about me, Gallador? I cared for Jenna, I-"

"Oh, spare me, you barely knew her!"

"I knew her enough!"

"She chose Cristomir. She made her own decision, and she chose someone else, not you."

"Well...I may have cared for daughter...but I don't care for you." He stormed past him, colliding with his shoulder.

"Seigfreid!" Called Gallador after him.

"What do you want," he said, staring dead ahead.

Gallador walked up until he stood to Seigfreid's right. "I am offering you one more chance to show me what kind of man you think you are. I've arranged for you to be part of the team to that castle. Show me what you are made of, and perhaps you can change my mind."

Seigfreid exhaled. "Please, we both know my father gave you no choice but to drag my ass along with you. I have nothing to prove to you." He left again, leaving Gallador to stand in place. He decided to let him storm off like the child he was, and left to meet with Joras.

*****

"Give me the finest wine you have," said Siegfried as he sat on a stool in his favorite tavern. He tried to hide his fury, but found it to be rather taxing.

Who did Gallador think he was, he thought to himself.

He hated Seigfried for his attitude toward the order and Seigfreid knew it. It's not like he wished to be a ranger. His father had forced him into the order, hoping to turn his son into what he called a "real warrior" and not the fake one he perceived Seigfreid to be.

Seigfreid felt a weapon, such as a halberd or spear could be used for much more than just killing men. He used his for sport. Seigfreid was once one of the most successful jousters in all of Sylvetria. He had conquered feats great and small. He had knocked great, mountains of men from their horses, dodged the dangerous of attacks and yet, he could never win his father's affection.

Ugh...northerners...what do they know, he thought to himself.

He hated the people. They were of such little humor with the harshest of faces and a personality to match. He remembered the birthday of the Princes' son, Agner II, and the tournament held to honor the young future king. Seigfreid himself competed within the tourney, having just returned from his warding at Arnland under his fathers close friend, Lord Normyn Karfell. It was a cold day, and Seifreid could still feel the snowy winds sending shivers down his back.

*****

Seigfreid set his helm on his short blonde hair, which almost glowed white in the sun. He strapped on his shield, and took his lance from his squire, who scurried away. The snow came down hard, and between the slits of his helm, he could hardly see a thing. Sir Chester Mundale from across the way had armed himself as well, and he trotted across the field on his horse, kicking up snow and dirt. Seigfreid snickered, and cracked the joints in his neck. He looked over to the crowd, and saw a mass of unfamiliar faces, cold and stern, but delighted at the tourney.

At the top of the stands was royal booth, King Agner, dozed off in his chair, his crown lodged sideways on his ashen head. Next to him was his son, Prince Agner II with his wife Princess Marilyn, and their two sons, Agner III and their infant, Cayden. The princess looked annoyed, cold and preoccupied with her baby, the prince's gazed focused on the field. Among the rest of the crowd were a few more faces he recognized, lords, knights and ladies, but not the one face he searched in vain for.

The commissioner of the tourney stood in the stands, and silenced the crowd. The jousting horses reared, and scraped at the ground with their hooves. Across the field, Sir Mundale had his eyes locked onto Seigfried, though Seigfried couldn't see them. Though in truth, he didn't need to see his eyes to feel them. The commissioner then blew into his horn, and the crowd roared as the jousting match begun. The knights whipped their reins, and their horses took to galloping down the lane. The noise of the crowd had nearly deafened Siegfried, and he could hardly see Sir Mundale in the flurry of white. Finally, he came into sight, his black armor smeared with heavy snow. Seigfreid held out his lance, and brought his shield close to his chest. His lance skirted off of Mundales shield, and Siegfried barely blocked Sir Mundale's lance.

Their horses reared, and galloped once more into the jousting lane. Seigfreid dug his heels into his horses side, spurring the animal further. There was Chester, galloping towards him quickly. The noise of the crowd hadn't ceased, and the weather had little affect on their excitement.

Sir Mundale was close now, and Seigfreid brought his lance down. The blunted point met Sir Mundale's breastplate, and the knight flew from his horse into a big, cold pile of snow. The crowd roared even louder, and their echoes rang in Seigfreid's helm. He brought his horse to the center of the stands, removed his helm, and beamed a bright smile. The Prince and Princess were standing tall, clapping and smiling at Seigfreid's victory.

The crowd was a swarm of smiling faces and clapping hands. Seigfreid nodded to them, and waved his hand. A blue rose came flying through the air, and Seigfreid just barely caught the stem with his fingertips. He brought the rose up and held it in his teeth, much to the pleasure of the crowd. And that was when he saw him. The one face he searched for, the one face he hoped to be there.

Nolan, his father, wasn't smiling or cheering, clapping or even standing. He sat there, a scowl on his face, and long blond hair plastered with snow. He shook his head, and stood, weaving through the crowd, quick to leave the scene.

The rose fell from Seigfreid's teeth, and the blue flower sunk into the snow. He had won the tourney, but felt only as if he lost.

*****

Later that day, he ordered Seigfried to travel to Jorden to join the order of the Rangers, much to his despair. What had his father expected? He sent his son to Arnland, as a ward for Lord Karfell, to learn how to war, and instead, it was there he learned the trade of jousting. He honed his skills of both the spear and horse riding, and returned to Farenhelm as a jouster, not the warrior his father had hoped for.

"Here you go, Seigfreid. Wine from the grapevines of Aldergate. Enjoy," said the bartender. Seigfreid thanked him and downed the goblet. He hardly tasted it. He flung gold onto the bar and ordered another, and another, another, until there was more wine than blood in his veins. There were times when he enjoyed wine for it's taste and there were times he simply drank wine to get drunk. This was a time for the latter.

*****

(Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! Sound off in the comments! Your feedback is always appreciated!)