The Final Days of Springborough

Corson had joined the Lishens of Springborough when he was a man of twenty four years of age. At that time, he had fought in nearly five battles, escaping every one without a scratch on him, and he proved himself to be a knight of honor under two different kings from his native land. The Kingdom of Cherry Valley was the farthest castle from Springborough, appropriately named for it rested in a valley where cherries grew like weeds, set on the shores of an endless sea. Cherry Valley was a kingdom that spawned beside a village of merchants, a marketplace where people from all over would meet to trade, sell, and barter. From there, rule had to be established, and so, several hundred years prior to Corson’s birth, the Noble’s moved in. The family took over by politicking, managing any of the qualms brought forth by the merchants, and became rulers by the absence of any current rulers in place.

Once the Noble’s were respected by everyone in the Village of Merchants. They built their Kingdom in the Valley of Cherries, quickly becoming one of the Kingdoms of Consequence that would be written about for royal children to read and study. The Noble Kingdom was one of impressive charm, respectable patience, and very little internal strife. Many would claim that it was hard to be foul with the sweet smell of cherries about. Others credited the Noble’s, who never seemed too greedy, never abused their power, as being competent managers of an eclectic group of dwellers and villagers.

Either way, Corson hailed from such a place, and such a place did not need decorated swordsman. Corson always felt a pull to the life of a knight. He loved the honor that came from standing tall, adorned in steel, decorated with medals and paint strips, gifted horses and lands, and talked about amongst young boys who would look up to Corson like he looked up to some of the greatest knights of his youth. Since the Valley of Cherries did not fight in any wars, when Corson was just a man at eighteen years, he went out into the lands, searching for other Kingdoms of Consequence that were greedy, that sought more lands and more control. For those were the Kingdoms that went to war. And where there were battles, there were knights to train.

Corson fought for several Kingdoms before finding himself at the doorway to the Lishens. He met with King Daniel whose wife, Queen Jenniffer, was undergoing bedrest as she was with child. The child would later be introduced to the world as Prince Patrick, the future Royal Giant. King Daniel and Corson walked the grounds of Springborough, talking about Prince Thomas, and how the young lad was more of a politician than a warrior. King Daniel didn’t mind one over the other, but he definitely wanted his son to be a mix of the two, regardless of how small the fraction was of warrior. He simply wanted Thomas to know how to protect himself, especially because he was second in line to the throne behind Kyrstin. He would not only need to know how to rule in case he was called upon, but also how to protect the ruler if he wasn’t.

The Knight talked with the King of the battles he had seen and the perils he had survived. The King asked to inspect his arms, legs, and sides in order for proof that Corson did not carry any scars from others’ swords. Corson proved to be untouched, citing how he had been trained by the finest swordsman he had discovered in a closed off town which was nestled carefully on the rocks by a river. Corson came about the town soon after he had left the Village of Cherries, and knocked on the front gate only to discover the grounds went unguarded. It was only when someone opened up the doorway in the evening to go for a stroll that they found the young eighteen year old, sitting on his rump, sleeping soundly while waiting for someone to answer his knock.

“What do you want?” the stroller inquired, a white man, dressed well, clearly agitated by guests.

The young lad blinked sleep away from his eyes and looked up into the setting sun at the man. “I come to inquire if you have need of soldiers.”

The man laughed, heartily, as if there was no need for soldiers anywhere.

“We have no need for soldiers here, sir. We are all soldiers. Retired. We have no more fights to fight. We have no more battles to see. We live in peace.” The man, thinking that was the end of that, began to walk on, dismissing the man at the gate.

“If you are all retired soldiers, that must mean that you are all survivors of, at least, one battle, right? That’s what I’m hoping to be as well. A survivor. I’m looking for training on how to fight, how to defend, and how to-“

“Not die?” The man inquired, his eyebrow cocked in the air. “Maybe the men in this town don’t want to be disturbed with memories of the life they lived. Maybe they want to live on, with the past buried. Maybe they want no part of the likes of you.”

Corson looked down at the dirt, thinking maybe this man was right. Maybe he’d come to the wrong town, and he needed to find a town on the brink of battle. Some Kingdom that would accept him, enlist him, and send him out without question. But, that would mean less chance of survival, and all Corson wanted to be was a hero. Was that too lofty a goal?

But, the man hadn’t walked on.

“Just so happens, I hate walks. I’m bored with life. And I think it’s something called fate that brings you here tonight,” Corson looked up at his new instructor.

For years, Corson trained with this man. He learned everything he would someday teach one of the royal children of the Lishens, how to thrust, parry, how to dance in defense, how to use the opponent’s strengths against him. The young man would learn just as he was taught. He would get scrapes and bruises, he would get ridiculed and verbally abused as he tried to keep up. But he would never have the audacity to forget his sword for a lesson, since he couldn’t back up his behavior with the excuse of being a Prince.

He did see himself in young Thomas, though. When he accepted the position to be the lad’s sword instructor, Corson had resolved himself to no longer fight in any more battles. He figured one day his luck would run out, and he hoped it would be a day when he was old and gray. So, he sought out a Kingdom that was immersed in a period of peace, with young children that he might hope to train. Springborough was perfect, and he found himself at home. All he had to do now was find himself a woman to marry, and prepare himself for their life together with their children. For now, he’d look after the royal children like they were his own.

And so, with a paternal alarm going off in Corson’s head, he watched Thomas run into the woods after who-knows-what. Even if Thomas had his sword, Corson would feel the young Prince was ill-equipped should he run into anything within the forest. Corson looked at the five guards that Thomas didn’t send off after his brother, perilously dressed in metal as lightening clouds gathered and rumbled above them, and he looked at the forest, which seemed like an endless abyss of shadows and hiding places. He sighed, knowing full well that he could never leave the Prince to such an unpredictable future.

Besides, the King would probably have Corson killed should anything happen to his son.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to die today, I won’t judge you should you return to the castle,” Corson turned his horse to the opening in the trees where he last saw Thomas. “Everybody else, follow me.”

Three guards followed Corson into the woods.

The other two helped the lightening struck soldier, laid him over his horse, and trudged back down the path toward the castle.