Finally an update!!! I’ve been agonizing over this chapter for weeks cuz it felt too short but i decided that I like it haha
CHAPTER 31
Untitled
A low hanging mist crept across the road. The sky hung low thick with dark gray clouds. All this and the twitching deep in his shoulder, foretold of the rain to come.
Beside him stood the sheriff Jak and any others foolish enough to brave the inevitable melee. Hands filled with clubs, cudgels, axes, knives, branches, table legs, and anything else they could find. Only one among them carried a sword. They all stood watch in the middle of the street, grim sentinels awaiting their enemy and his efforts. All were silent, all were still, all set to their task.
It came in slow spaced out droplets, here and there, slowly gathering strength until the sprinkling became a downpour; each fat drop pattering off the plate of his pauldrons. Normally wearing a legionnaire's armor in this kind of weather would not have been his first choice. You'd get soaked and frozen to the bone, joints would chafe, and mobility would suffer as a result. However none of that had even crossed his mind as he had gotten dressed that morning.
The old man's armor fit surprisingly well, the cuirass was only slightly snug around the chest. No gaps in the pauldron segments, the vambraces fit tight against the thin gambeson underneath. All the straps and fittings were good as new.
The old man must have taken great care of this thing, he had thought while putting it on. All the plates maintained their original satin finish, thank the gods because Jared hated mirror polishes, and despite a few knicks and small dents here and there it was practically immaculate.
Unfortunately the old soldier hadn’t kept his shield so Jared had to make do. The Undertaker had been kind enough to affix some straps to an old coffin lid he’d scrapped for whatever reason. The macabre irony was not lost on Jared but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The ferrier had even been gracious enough to apply a thin iron band around the shield’s perimeter for a little added strength as well as coating it in some pitch to avoid the rain soaking in.
Under his shield arm, gripped firmly in his gauntleted fist, was the old man’s helmet. It’s visor a tad crooked, the arming cap sewn inside a tad musty, but the crest - the crest marking this as the armor of an officer - remained perfect as the day it was made.
Looking down briefly Jared let his free hand graze over the medal riveted to the suit’s breastplate. An ornate piece of brass lovingly shaped into the legion’s traditional wings proudly splayed, and between them sitting a simple shield. All legionnaires knew and respected it, hell he’d only been one less than a month and even he had a reverence for the thing.
A man could only earn it one of two ways; by saving the lives of fellow legionnaires or giving his own. Jared hoped with all his might to prove himself worthy of this armor, worthy of these people’s trust, worthy of his sister’s help, worthy of all of this.
‘You dooooooon’t deserve it… You don’t deserve this armor.” A hoarse voice whispered. “You’re not a heroooo.”
His breath hung in the air and the sight of it brought him back to reality for the time being.The cold didn't seem to affect him, it didn't seem to affect any of them for that matter, not him in his plate, nor Jak in his heavy gambeson, nor the others in their jackets, tunics, or doublettes. They didn't shake, shiver or shudder. There was no chattering of teeth or knocking of knees. They simply stood there silently, waiting.
Jared's fierce eyes gazed down the road from under his furrowed brow, trying desperately to keep the rain out of them, scanning the mists ahead, straining to make out a form or shadow. His ears strained to hear anything over the rain, such as a snapping twig or errant sneeze.
His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword impatiently. Patience had never been his strongest virtue and he was sure Skye must have been miserable on the rooftops waiting with the others. He suddenly found himself hoping whatever explosives or incendiaries she’d concocted could work in this rain otherwise they were going to be forced to resort to roof tiles, rocks, dishes, furniture, and whatever else they could find.
From what the legions taught him; a city under siege usually falls one of two ways, quiet or bloody. He’d heard of towns surrendering before the enemy army even set up a tent; but, he had also heard of inhabitants fighting tooth and nail for every foot of their city. Contesting every gate, every street, every room of every house. He didn’t have a city or an army in this instance, not even a city’s worth of people. Just one road and about a hundred peasants.
“You’re all gonna diiiiiiiiie.” A voice whispered in his ear. Clenching his jaw and closing his eyes Jared tried to ignore the demon’s voice.
With a sigh Jared opened his eyes and he was met with a surprise, a dark mass appearing in the mist about a hundred yards out, it slowly grew larger and larger coming into focus bit by bit.
Deciding it was time, he finally put the old legionnaire’s helmet on, adjusting the chin strap and gently lowering the visor. He could hear the rabble horde he’d raised behind him shuffling, planting their feet and squaring their shoulders. Letting out sighs of resignation, relief, and expectation.
Beside him Jak adjusted the straps of his own shield, and kissed the sheriff’s pendant hanging around his neck. They all, at one point or another, rolled their shoulders and cracked their necks as if it were some kind of tough guy prerequisite.
Eventually the familiar outline of an army, or in this case an armed rabble, began to take shape. Above the rain he finally heard something, a horn blasting in the distance. It's baleful cry splitting the cold morning air.
"A war horn? Seriously?" Jak whispered behind him.
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