PART V
Crono wasted no time in setting out on his campaign to quell the rebellion of Truce. Though he barely slept during the night, he was up before dawn, gathering his Knight’s Captain, Sariah, and an escort of five men he assured him were reliable: Arch, Redmond, Pierre, James, and Ghetz. Ghetz was the Captain’s own son, a handsome lad of 18, and Crono knew him more than the others. He was an amicable enough man, but contemplative for his age. Crono used to fence with the soldiers when he had a spare moment (and he hadn’t since taking up the burden of rulership) and had clashed blades with Ghetz. In combat the man was cool as ice, silently marking his opponent and striking blows with seemingly no effort. It was in direct contrast to Crono’s own method of fighting, which was full of constant movement. But he found comfort in Ghetz’s silence, and the two had become as close of friends as their distant ranks allowed them.
Though he trusted Sariah’s word, Ghetz was the only man accompanying him that Crono felt truly comfortable around. As he saddled his horse and donned the gold armour that would label him as King, Crono reflected idly on the fact that there was no one at the castle that had been brought in after he’d been king. All of the people who worked in the castle, from the lowliest servant to the Knight’s Captain himself, had served Nadia’s father. Crono felt, once again, the burden of taking over the old man’s reign.
The day was still foggy and cold when they set out. Despite their early departure, a few servants and their families had come out to see them off. Nadia was not amongst them. Crono wasn’t surprised. He actually hadn’t told her of his plans to ride to Truce. He told himself that he was riding early in order to take care of business. He tried not to think of himself as a thief, slipping away before his crime is noticed. He knew Nadia would disagree with his decision, and he didn’t want his mind changed.
The chill of the morning air was refreshing and put all doubt out of his mind as he rode through the Gaurdia Forest with his escort. The Forest had always been beautiful, and in recent years that beauty had been tamed and cultivated, making the forest a place of true serenity. Crono himself had been at the head of this restoration project during his years as prince. It was one of the few projects he could truly call his own, and he was proud of the results. The paths, which had begun to be overgrown, had been cleared, and beds of flowers lined them now, creating a visual masterpiece, waves of color disappearing into an eternity of green. Over these paths the trees hung their leaf heavy branches like arches, leaving just enough room for the sun to make its way through, casting the path in dappled yellow and greens. The achievement he was most proud of, however, was the termination of the monsters from the woods. The Shittake and the Blue Eaglets that had once plagued travelers in the wood had been all but eliminated through sanctioned hunting and paid extermination. Unfortunately, this had its consequences as well. Whereas his people had first rejoiced at the removal of these threats, after the creatures were gone they began to complain. Suddenly numerous supporters for the Blue Eaglet began to come out of the woodwork. Facts he hadn’t even known began to emerge, such as that the Eaglet had once been the symbol of the Knights of the Square Table. As for the Shittake, Lucca herself had come to him with scientific evidence showing how important the mushroom creatures were to the soil of the forest. He’d banned the hunting and slowly the ecosystem began to balance itself out. Everyone was happy and he received no further complaints. But it was the last time he ever tried to involved himself directly in politics.
At least, until now. Though in his mind, this wasn’t politics... this was war. This was something he knew.
Leaving the Gaurdia Forest behind, the riders entered the wide plainsland that stretched east to the sea town of Truce. Here and there was a small village, which Crono led them through. The villagers came out and bowed to him as he passed. Occasionally a child would stop their playing to wave. The sight would sadden him, and he couldn’t bring himself to wave back. His heart was generally light, however. He hadn’t ridden through his kingdom in ages, it felt like, and his feeling that being stuck in the castle was affecting his demeanor was confirmed. His body felt more comfortable in the saddle of his horse than at the tall backed thrones of his reception hall.
The Zenan mainland was relatively small. Really it was two connected islands, with Poore and Fiona’s forest taking up most of the Southern island, and Gaurdia, Truce, and Thera taking up most of the Northern island. One could ride from the southern point in Poore to the northern Gaurdia mountains in little under a week. Going from the West Gaurdia coast to the East was possible in three days. The small size of the continent was one of the reasons a Kingship was manageable. Putting down a rebellion was an easy busy, as well, since an army could get anywhere on the continent within a week. Even so, Chrono had little hope of reaching Truce in a single day so he didn’t try, letting the party ride fairly leisurely, though they rested little. The men behind him chatted pleasantly, and by listening to him, Crono started to gain some understanding of their character.
Arch, a young handsome blonde with a clean shaven face, was the most talkative of all of them. Arch always seemed to have something to say, and he usually found a way to tie any conversation back to himself or his history. By the end of the first day of riding, Crono knew a good chunk of this history. Arch had been born in Poore to a wealthy family. He’d joined the knights ostensibly as a way to get away from such wealth, thinking that he should get out from his pampered life style. It hadn’t worked, judging from the way he complained about everything from the briskness of the air to the uncomfortable nature of his saddle. He owned his own horse, too, and it was a remarkable breed, better than Crono’s own stallion. Despite his spoiled way of living, though, his good nature endeared him with the other and Crono quickly learned to recognize his barking laugh, which he sounded often.
Arch was good friends with Redmond, who had also grown up in Poore, though to a poorer family. Together the two provided most of the entertainment on the trip, as Redmond always had some witty comment or comeback to anything Arch would say, usually some galling insult or attack on his character (which Arch would answer with another laugh). Redmond often wore a smile to match Arch’s laugh, though he didn’t share in his friend’s good looks. It was mostly the way he carried himself, riding with a slight slouch and seeming to take no care with his messy brown hair, which often hung in his eyes.
Pierre was an older man with a thick mustache, supposedly a veteran of war who had rode for the previous captain and who had helped repel a short lived Mystic attack in 980 AD. He was truly comfortable with a horse, and he would occasionally doze off in the saddle, subconsciously guiding the animal with his knees. He seemed to save his words, though Crono wasn’t sure what for. When he spoke it was rarely to say anything important or even interesting.
James was a bit of a mystery. He conversed freely with Arch and Redmond, and seemed an accepted member of the group. But something was strangely off about him. It was little things, such as his naiveté around the politics and economy combined with an extensive knowledge of science and history, or his tendency to go from intent to care free in a single sentence, that clashed in his character to lend him a curious air. It also made everything he said interesting, as one never knew what angle he was going to approach a topic from.
Crono came to see that Sariah was a good captain. He kept himself out of most of the conversation and from time to time gave small unimportant orders (such as to close formation), keeping everyone aware that he was in command, but at the same time he didn’t hold back from laughing at a joke or making one of his own. From the easy way his men carried themselves around him, he knew that they both respected and (more impressive) liked their captain. There was certainly a lot to like. The man was tall, well built, with strong features and rugged good looks. He was intelligent and, from what Crono had seen in the training halls, a master at the sword. If he had one weakness, it might have been his son, whom he doted on as much as decorum allowed. That wasn’t really a weakness in Crono’s mind.
Through all of this Ghetz rode mostly silently, though he would occasionally break in on the conversation with something either so witty or so profound that it would start a new conversation. Crono’s already high respect for the man grew during the ride, and he complimented himself on his decision to bring him. His skills and charisma were going to be put to good use in this campaign.
That night the party camped in a small glade. After a pleasant meal consisting of more conversation over smoked meat, they slept. The hard ground felt better to Crono’s back than ever his feathered mattress at the castle had. In the morning, Crono got up and strode to the edge of the glade to find himself on a cliff overlooking the sea. The sun turned the sea to gold. Seagulls sung their hearts away on the easy breeze that smelled of life. He was overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. The feeling came over him suddenly, as wine will pour out of an uncorked cask. It was as if the feeling had been within him for ages, but only now was coming to the surface. He realized, too, that this beauty was his. It was his kingdom. He would care for it, he would preserve this beauty and keep it to pass on to the next age. Wasn’t that what he had fought for five years ago, what they had all fought for?
Even as the feeling came, it left, leaving him aware of it but unable to recapture the emotions that had pulled his heart into his throat and brought tears to his eyes. Crono watched the sun rise, only returning to camp when he heard the captain ordering the men to look for him. When they set out to ride, he established a more brisk pace. They’d be at Truce by the end of the day.
