Twin guards walked side by side. Their gold-plated greaves clanked with each step on the gravel road. Their gold armor bulged in elaborate flower patterns, and their blue flowing capes scraped along the Earth. Both had long swords at their hips secured by leather belts and sheaths. Beautiful peacock feathers jutted from the back of their open helms. One had his eyes switching between the sides of the warehouse illuminated by the crescent moon resting among the stars, and then to the palace orchard on the opposite side of the path. The other watchman kept his sunken pupils focused on the road ahead.
Eventually, the restless sentry looked to his self-conscious partner. "You ever gonna lighten up?" He asked in a husky voice.
"I don't like the night." The other replied. "It's all dark, and creepy looking. And I never liked the moon that way."
"What way? When it looks like one of those pastry things? What're they called again? Croissants?"
"Yes, a croissant is a type of pastry, but it's not what that moon is called."
"Enlighten me then."
"They're called crescent moons."
"Oh yeah. Gotta be very fucking specific with my wording. My syntax goes off by a few letters and people lose their shit."
"That's not the point-"
"Yeah, it is you twat." He spat.
"Are you getting this angry over a moon? Do you have sand in your armor?"
"It's not the moon." He stopped for a moment at the side of the warehouse. He took off his helmet and whipped his sweat-drenched hair. The man had crow's feet accompanied by some wrinkles along his forehead and a receding hairline. "Had to do some crowd control earlier. Lots of young people were there too. They were rambling on about how the patriarchy's a tyranny and that it needs to be overthrown. It's making me lose my hair. I might as well shave it all off and go bald."
The other guard took off his helmet. He had leathery skin and baggy eyelids. Age hadn't touched him past his twenties, which meant his muscles were still full of youthful energy. "Lots of them are like that now."
"Yeah, I saw. As fun as the charade was, I had to tell'em to piss off. Course, they weren't happy about it, so they put up a fuss. Not like we didn't win though." He leaned his back against one of the wooden boards and maintained focus on his companion. "God, these young people're so ungrateful for what they have. Especially the ones in the strawberry generation."
"Strawberry?" He cocked a grin.
"Yeah, strawberry, Leonard." De La Croix, the older man, waved his arms mimicking someone in a fit of hysteria. "They're like strawberries cause they're too god damn soft. They think their pain of how imperfect the kingdom is outweighs the need to maintain it. I'm sorry, but what do they think will happen if we tear down the palace along with our walls? That our eyes will open to how perfect and nice the world is? Really?" De La Croix wheezed. He took the time to recover his breath and did not realize how light-headed he became.
"You alright?" Leonard laid a hand on La Croix's pauldron.
"I'm not dead yet." He cleared his throat. "It's going to take more than the nagging of children to do me in." His scruffy arms pushed off the structure and placed the helmet where it once rested. "Come. We can talk more while we walk."
"What were you saying then?" He too fastened his helmet. "Before you lost your breath."
"Preaching the word of God?" Leonard grinned. A brief period of silence passed as De La Croix collected his thoughts. "A lot of the young people are ungrateful." He repeated. "They don't realize the place they're living in is a fucking miracle. I mean come on, think about it, Leonard! With all the shit people give each other I'm surprised every morning when I walk outside my home that I don't see everything burning."
