103 War Stories (1/2)
With his bottom on the ground, Benedict raised his cup filled with diluted wine.
”Glory to us! Glory to the defenders of Knightsend!” he shouted with glee.
A soldier not far from him raised in the air what appears to be a rib of the roasted pig.
”Aye to that sire. Knights my ass! Knights don't matter when faced with Castonian steel. Ain't that right boys!?”
The soldier's remark was met with cheerful howls.
Benedict was pleased by this. The tension that lingered in the air for the past days was no more. The men now show the unique bravado of victors.
He swirled the wine in his cup, perhaps a little too hard as some of the liquid splashed onto his hand. He then drank from the cup and his taste buds were met with the stale flavor of diluted wine.
Too stale, he lamented. His tongue had been spoiled with expensive beverages that the taste of diluted brassy wine dodged his senses.
Bernie, also with butt on the chilly ground beside him, nudged him arm with bottom of a bottle. Upon closer inspection it was a bottle of the mouth-watering Angel's Wings.
”You are a devil Bernie.” He commented to Bernie's evil temptation.
Benedict grabbed the neck of the bottle and was about to pop the cork when he froze his fingers. A good plan to arouse the soldiers' fighting spirit just entered his mind.
He raised the bottle and grabbed a torch to illuminate it. The blue glass glinted in the darkness of the night.
”Have any of you lads, seen this bottle before?” he said with a loud voice.
A soldier at the back drew his finger towards the bottle. ”Angel's Wings! The second best and rarest wine coins could acquire. I would kill a hundred Tulosan Knights for that!”
”Ha! A hundred?” The man beside the soldier snorted. ”I would kill a thousand with my bare hands!”
”Good!” Another soldier sounded. ”It seems we only need thirty bottles of Angel's Wings and thirty drunkards like you to break this siege. King Timothy would be surprised if he heard that thirty thousand Tulosans perished because of drunkards!”
The jest drew laughter from the soldiers. Benedict himself almost dropped the bottle in his hand.
After the laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat to muster their attentions.
”I shall give this bottle to the man who can tell us of the best story of the best kill he made. I will be the judge.” Benedict declared.
The soldiers were silenced until one of them sprang into a stand. Benedict could see the desire to clinch the bottle in the man's eyes.
”It was three years ago when I was assigned in the East. Now for any of you lads unfamiliar with the east, there were still tribes there that constantly raid our borders. I was on patrol that time with my mates and then suddenly we were attacked by the enemies. A brawny man rushed towards me with an axe in hand. He swung the thing and I tell ya, I could hear the air tear like a harlot's flower. I ducked, with the axe passing just an inch above me head. A second later and me brain would have scattered in the sand. I lunged forward and tackled his legs. It was not effective. Heavy. Yea, that man was heavy as an oxen. Guess what I did next? I stabbed him in the balls with this dagger of mine. He brayed. He was hurt. I mean who wouldn't be hurt when stabbed in the balls! I then passed in between his legs and delivered a blow to the back of his neck. I lived and he died. With his balls punctured if I may add.”
Another soldier stood up. Benedict recognized the man as one of the Centurions.
”That's nothing compared to my story brother. Unarmored enemies are easy kills. Mine is when I killed a Tulosan Knight with a spoon! A wooden spoon I tell ya. It happened just months ago during the Siege of Greenwater. Remember when they breached the Eastern Gate and the brothers from the third Century of Second Cohort sacrificed themselves to hold the enemies?”
”Aye, may them brave souls rest in peace.” A soldier said and the rest nodded. The soldiers pounded their balled fists on their chest as respect for the men of the third Century.
The Centurion continued. ”I was eating my porridge that time when I heard of the attack. I was anxious because my best friend Mort was in the third Century. My Century was just a block away so we were the first respondents. When we arrived there, most of the brothers had already fallen. I ordered my Century to attack and hold the breach. I also charged myself but then I noticed that I forgot my sword. The one in my hand was the wooden spoon and I left my sword. I was about to go back when I saw in the corner of my eye the body of Mort. He was impaled by a lance through the heart. It was a quick death at least but I still grieved for Mort. Seeing his corpse made me furious lads. God, I was furious that time. So even though I only had a spoon in me, I attacked one of the Tulosan Knights. The guy was in his full armor with his sword raised above his head. He was ready to intercept my attack. He swung but I evaded his strike. That was when I punched him in the armpit. My knuckles hit him hard and true and he staggered like a drunken man. I then kicked him and he fell. I again lunged at him and pulled his coif down to reveal his bare neck. I broke the tip of the spoon and buried the thing in the Knight's neck. That's when he died and that's how I killed a Knight with a wooden spoon.”
The Centurion's tale brought silence upon the garrison. Even Benedict's tongue was tied. He could feel the emotions from the Centurion's voice. Losing a comrade was painful and it could drive men to do extraordinary things like attacking a Knight with a wooden spoon.
”Good story Centurion” Benedict said. ”But I want to hear the story of the others before making a decision”