I spent the last two hours on this instead of working on my novels or other projects. This may have been a mistake. Then again, I haven’t made anything else for a while and Lorequest is growling at me from the corner.
Not like that ever worked in its favour, though.
Title: Our Names, Forever Burning
Character: An Uncrowned King
Word Count: 325
We lost twenty gallant men in our escape from the capital; I knew them all by name. Our prince rode well through it all. But his chainmail was damaged and he slumped like a willow.
Prince Armand Hannabelle the 2nd of Kingdom on the Mont, Westernmost Kingdom under Heaven and Gods, rode into a nameless village under cover of nightfall. There were twenty of us knights left. Twenty to fend off a kingdom. A dozen peasant boys pledged in an ignorant hurry to join us.
In a nearby glade, my prince wept quietly. Yet he stood stately and proud in the red of the coming dawn.
“My lord,” I said. “Your father’s host is almost upon us.”
Prince Armand sighed. The sword he held was far too heavy for him. “What chances do we have?”
“Even with the peasants? Pitiful. At best.”
“Perhaps this is justice,” he said. “My sins are riding to meet me. And their claws are long and steel. Armand the Kinslayer. That’s how they’ll know me. Are they wrong, Sir Armand?”
“Right or wrong, for good or evil,” I said, “I am your noble knight.”
My prince looked at me, his eyes tired.
“They are not wrong,” I sighed. “Your brother is dead by my hand your word. History will never understand what you did.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I sold my brother’s life so I might buy his crown. I fear that history will never forget what I did.”
There was a rustling in the bushes. I turned to see a peasant boy standing there, his eyes full of disbelief, fear.
“Don’t you want the chance to die for something, boy?” I asked. He just stared at me, glass-eyed like a dog. “Your prince needs knights by his side. Where will you be when the battle is joined?”
He tightened his grip on his sad little pitchfork.
“Good,” I said. “We’ll burn away the stains in our pasts with our glory.”
Here’s a thought. If songs and albums can be written about books, why not the other way around? Music plays an enormous role in my writing, so why not try to just make a whole story around songs? Suil a Run, the Orla Fallon edition was what gave me the inspiration for this story, as it turns out.
Or an entire novel written only during autumn? That way you can just smell the maple!
Good luck, you brave writer folk!