At the end of the bridge where the fort lain…265Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyT63UZNJq8
The walls were forty feet high, and its shadows had descended before its battlements. The sun illuminated the ancient bricks and modern concrete that had undergone replacement over time. It was known that the fort had not fought in a single battle, but it was the wind and salt that had eroded its stones. As the sea lapped against its shores, weathering away its base, the fort stood tall, guarding the strait, which it had done so for the past eight hundred years. Although not once had it seen bloodshed, its loyalty stayed true to the kingdom it protected. Cannons poked out of its battlements facing the opposing shore, its crenels mounted with repeating guns. If not for its imposing fangs borne before invaders, denying entry was a gate tightly shut. Above the entrance was a gatehouse two storeys high. It was the tallest structure for leagues around, where the fluttering flags of a lion wielding an axe flew.
It should have been derelict, but the walls seemed heavily reinforced for a fort that was protected not only by the raging waters beneath it but also by the rocky landings around it and a single bridge of death that funnelled down the centre of every mounted gun’s line of fire. Many guards were on patrol that day, well-equipped compared to their allies of the continent, each armed with a rifle and a blade. Their duties were neglected, as they lounged, sure that their foe was unlikely to appear. Instead of tending to what they had sworn to do, many were found playing cards and drinking. Their officers were much alike, satisfied, without a dime of work that needed to be done. All the while, their more vigorous comrades would patrol the walls out of a better sense of duty, for which their friends thought them insane. However, that was not to imply that they were all drunkards and no good soldiers. They may have entertained themselves to a capacity that was unheard of among their allies, but they maintained a quietness that befitted an army on guard. Even their footsteps could be heard, which was precisely what alerted one soldier.
He was marching along the walls beneath the gatehouse when he heard a cluster of footsteps approach him. His first instinct turned him to his nearest comrades, but no one approached him with the same intensity as this group did, which compelled him to search beyond the walls despite his disbelief. Yet, it was there where he found the source of the noise.
“K-Kapidæng, de fændne! (C-Captain, the enemy!)” The young soldier grew pale as he stammered.
His comrades were instantly alerted, and they looked over the walls for themselves. Soon, curiousness got the better of the garrison, and even those who lazed questioned what they had just heard. But the panic that befell the fort made it seem like the enemy had come.
Hurrying, the soldiers threw down their cards and snacks before following their officers scrambling to the battlements. Their caps were barely fitted on even when their rifles were already in their hands. Gathering to see what it really was, the hundreds on the wall frowned and expressed dubiety. Even the lieutenants did not dare act without their commander’s support.
The captain’s interest was slow, and the commotion that brewed eventually moved him, however fatigued from nothing. Standing up from his chair on the second storey of the gatehouse, he sluggishly moved into the daylight as if he had been woken from his sleep. Peering down on what had stirred his troops, his eyes widened from the unwelcome surprise. By his logic, it could not have been, and he was initially reluctant to put his men on standby, carelessly sticking their heads over the walls, but his doubts overwhelmed him.
Slamming his hand on the walls of the balcony, he yelled out for his men to heed, “Jægrene, skutten de maure! (Rifles, to the walls!)” The captain’s eyes ran along the front, making sure that his troops did as they were commanded.
Squadrons of riflemen poised ready to defend their country with the butts of their rifles by their feet as they stood to attention along the battlements.
“Halten! (Halt!)” The captain warned his guests.
It was the only word that they could understand thus far, and the eighty did as they were told. With the sun against their faces, casting a shadow behind them, they gazed upward in anticipation when their lieutenant-elect showed himself. It was only natural for him to speak on behalf of his comrades, but he had not taken into account that the commander may not have spoken his language.
“Hail, we are your allies.” Arminius began, confident in his speech.
The captain drew a confused frown and turned to his party beside him, wondering whether anyone was able to translate what he had just said. But they either shrugged or shook their heads, clueless, and he was forced to return to Arminius without an answer. Though he was able to tell that it was Zhermanner, it was apparent that he could not speak it. In the long, ensuing awkward silence, they stared at each other for a whole minute before one who could communicate stepped forward.
Taking up the mantle of the negotiator, Julien stood before his allies and the watchful eyes of his countrymen. “Weres werlettet soldadne de Endendæsk. (We are soldiers of the alliance, and we have wounded.)” His accent was showing, but it was recognisably Danner. “Wille hune relauben wur kæfen nebeng hune? (Will you let us by to join your struggle?)” He humbly asked, his choice of words old-fashioned.
Pausing to compute what intentions he may have conveyed, he understood the boy perfectly well, and the captain relayed his thoughts aloud. “Hu klingennej Dænisk, nonde hu schpækenkan Dænisk. (You do not sound Danner, yet you speak Danner.)” The gatehouse commander wanted to test him, to force this supposed Danner to reveal his aim.
“Jeges Hœjtumisk. (I hailed from Tastschren.)” Julien replied without hesitation. “Jeg hæmkerennej sæd jarne inged. (It’s been years since then.)” He told the truth about where he came from and how long he had been away from home, which explained his slightly foreign accent.
There were some who were still unconvinced, especially by the appearance of the entourage behind him, mostly ununiformed and under-equipped. Even more suspiciously, none among them except for the corporal spoke nor understood a word of Danner, the country they had come to seek refuge in.
Pointing with his head, the captain was agreeably cautious. “Frendne huisk? (Your friends?)” His hands were tightly gripping onto the balcony wall as uncertainty lingered over him.
Julien looked back as if he had wanted to introduce his comrades to his countrymen, but his comrades would not have understood him anyway, and he abandoned the idea of doing so. “Dejes Lekisk. (They are Lecher.)” He replied. “Dejes bewœlen Warnæsk auf Krakau. (They serve Warneńczyk of Krakau.)” Revealing their allegiance, he hoped that it would be enough to convince the captain.
Nodding, the gatehouse commander raised an eyebrow, half accepting the blonde-haired boy’s answer. “Warnæsk es bekenget… (We have heard of Warneńczyk…)” But it sowed further suspicion when he noticed that crucial evidence was missing. “Aben wores hen? (But where is this man in question?)”
“De Rusisk hindrehalded wur und weres tæleder sœding. (The Rus ambushed us and divided us on the southern border.)” Growing impatient, even for Julien, he informed the stubborn soldiers as much as he could. “Dej kan jaden wur jett. (They are approaching as we speak.)” His hand began to quiver, wondering whether they would even be let past.
The captain stepped back, aghast from the revelation, and allowed his morals to cloud his thoughts. For a moment, he wished to open the gates out of kindness, but when he turned around and aimed for the stairs, an aide of his stepped in front of him and held him back. Only a friend could have freely intervened with another soldier of a higher rank, and it was their friendship that compelled him to stop, if nothing else would, to at least hear what his comrade had to say.265Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrZbEj7GXJ8
265Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdhTzTOi9kX
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