Blood of Kings ✔️

T W O

Aleksander gave Rowan a push towards the exit of the village. He could no longer stay here. The war was looming closer.

"Leave now."

"I cannot. There is no one for me to meet. They are all dead," Rowan stressed.

"That problem is of your own making. You have stayed here for more than a day. You must go."

He saw as Rowan's eyebrows kneaded together. There was a sense of anxiousness about him as well. To have revealed something as great as that, to a stranger, was strange in of itself. Aleksander knew there was something more to it and he wanted no part in it.

"I will work," he breathed.

"Your fingers are soft as a woman. You have never seen a day of hardship in your life until now," Aleksander hissed back. "What do you know of work?"

In truth, he worried about his men and how they would go about treating him. There was a significant reason for why his regimen was small in comparison to most others.

"Still, I can be of some use. I am a man in good shape. You are in need of that, no?"

Aleksander shut his eyes as he heard him weaving the sound of each word together without interruption. Not only was he high born, but he carried a strong Northern accent one would hear in Artis. It bled through his voice. There was no hiding it.

"I look around and see only fifty men here." Aleksander picked up the soft V's, between each word, enunciated much clearer now.

"There is good reason for the number of my company being as small as it is," Aleksander warned.

"Train me, and I promise you, I will become something."

Again, his green eyes met his. It caused Aleksander some hesitation. Rowan was stubborn, yet resolute in his words. If he wanted to join then so be it. He had given him fair warning.

"Join if you must, but do not think I will show you any more favor than I do with the others. Do not use your wound as an excuse for slow labor. Do not lag behind. Your work begins today."

Besides Rowan, he had received two new recruits from the nearby prison cells. Seeing how he would fair with them brought Aleksander some unfound amusement. The determination he had shown would wither away come nightfall.

"Reginul!" Aleksander said, searching around for the old man.

The old man was not far. He was nearby spying and gathering information, as always.

"Yes, My Lordship."

"This is our newest recruit, Rowan."

"Surname, if I might ask?" His dark eyes peered into Rowan's.

"Auber, sir."

"Aye, look at the ole ' scrawny girl, here," Marcellus jeered as he passed by with two of his other men. They laughed and made more japes at his person.

Rowan had little muscle mass for any soldier. Even his height was quite low for one. However, Aleksander's company used to have six-hundred men. They were in desperate need of more men.

Aleksander took a hand through his own hair before scratching his head. "You handle the first half and I will do the rest." He stalked back off to his tent gathering his leather armor and sword. He tucked his stash of daggers into the sides of his boots and all along the top of his pants. He lived in a time where trust was not to be trusted, not even his men.

Evening was approaching fast and he needed to get his rounds done. He walked out of his tent and headed back into the town. There was something about that man, no matter how much he tried to dissuade his mind otherwise. It was the look in his eyes that brought some unease.