บท 3: Difficult Choices
27 April, 1358. Arlen Castle, Moraigth
The air was hazy and thick - dust from the battlefield mixed with acrid smoke rose from the village, which was engulfed in flames. Panicked villagers were torn between fleeing for their lives from the enemy soldiers and staying back to protect their meagre possessions. Most chose to run, terrified of the wave of soldiers in foreign looking armour who set their huts on fire and charged straight at them without mercy.
The noise was overwhelming but Prince William was quite unfazed. This wasn't his first battle. The din of clashing weapons, terrified screams of the common folk and the bellows of his soldiers were mere distractions in the background.
This is the way of war, he reminded himself. It's the innocent who suffer, always have and always will. If he allowed his heart to feel pity for the local families, if he tried to shield them, it would force him to question his own actions. Should he be here at all, invading a neighbouring country just because he had been ordered to? Should he be attacking a man he had no quarrel with, simply because he had been ordered to by his uncle, the King of Islia?
"Stop dwelling on this." William muttered to himself. "You have to follow your king's commands. We're here to protect our northern borders and fight alongside our ally. That ally might be a lecherous monster but he's still an anointed king. Islia has vowed to protect the rightful King of Moraigth. And neither monarch wants my thoughts or opinions, they just need my skill on the battlefield."
He surveyed the battlefield from his warhorse through narrowed eyes. His own battalion was fighting alongside several other Islian battalions, and he could see them slowly but steadily driving back the rebel soldiers. It was only a matter of time before the combined royal armies of Islia and Moraigth would overrun not just the town of Arlen but the the famed Arlen Castle itself. And once the castle fell…
The roar of flames echoed through the air as William glanced at the castle made from reddish coloured stone. Fires were licking the base of its tallest tower, meaning it wouldn't be long before the entire structure would catch ablaze. If the rebellious Duke of Arlington was hiding inside the castle and determined to make one final stand, William thought it would be best to find him quickly and kill him, before the castle crumpled into a smouldering heap.
William gestured at the castle gates, which were being battered open by his forces. "Follow me!" he yelled to the soldiers closest to him. "The duke must be inside. The quicker we find him, the quicker we can leave this hellfire!"
William and a dozen of his closest knights galloped down the muddy knoll leading to the castle entry, riding across the drawbridge which had finally been pried open, and into the main courtyard of Arlen Castle itself. His eyes watered behind his helmet visor, stinging from the smoke.
The courtyard itself was eerily quiet and abandoned. Most of the duke's remaining forces were either firing arrows from the castle ramparts or engaged in hand to hand combat outside the castle. A few dead bodies were scattered on the ground, all showing signs of intense and bloody combat.
Sir Francis Lowell steered his warhorse towards William. His voice was uneasy as he spoke, "If Duke Robert has any brains left in his head, he should have fled by now. It wouldn't surprise me if there's still rebels hiding in the castle though. We'll have to dismount and scour on foot to be sure."
"We can dismount and leave the horses there." William gestured with his sword to the empty stables to one side of the courtyard. "Two men will stay behind and protect the horses. The rest of us will split into two forces and start searching the castle."
Jumping down from his steed, William quickly divided his men into two groups. Leading one group, he moved stealthily towards the main keep and annex.
He wondered what had possessed Duke Robert to finally declare war on his brother and sovereign. The man was either mad or exceptionally brave. An aura of untouchability had always surrounded the duke and he was both admired and feared across the continent. He was said to be a great strategist on the battlefield as well as a reckless risk taker, though more often than not his risks paid off. He was also said to have three brave knights for sons and a young daughter who was destined to become an exceptional beauty when she grew up.
Then again, who knew what was true about the Duke of Arlington and what was simply rumour?
The sounds of the nearby battlefield sounded muffled and distant. A pang of anxiety thudded in William's chest. Not fear exactly, but apprehension. He shook his head to clear his mind. What choice did he have but to fight? He had orders from his king and he must follow them.
Sword drawn, he stepped into a darkened corridor.
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