The Last Days

My name is Sir John Whittington; this is a recount of the most important part of my life. When I served William Walmsley the Lord of Midsummer Keep.

I’ve looked back on those few terrible days many times since the battle. I remember how I stood on the wall of Midsummer keep, alone except for the few men left on watch. I remember wondering how a small keep like William’s could withstand the onslaught that awaited them the next day by the enormous barbarian army camped just a few leagues beyond the wall.

"Why are you standing alone on this cold wall with a look of a defeat incrusted on to your face John", it was Brandon Stone, John’s good friend and the son of the late Arthur Stone the Lord of Stone Keep, which just happened to be smoking ruins as of last year. When barbarians sacked the castle and killed Arthur and the rest of Brandon’s family. Brandon barely escaped with his life.

"I was just trying to think of some plan that could improve our chances of survival on the morrow", I said.

"It’s not the time for war strategies and planning", said Brandon

"Leave that for the morrow, instead come with me and join the New Year festivities", said Brandon.

"I think not Brandon my friend, I am not in the mood for a celebration, I wish to be alone….", I said.

"Suit yourself, but I for one know that I do not wish to spend the last days of my life defeated and hopeless", whispered Brandon as he turned on his heals and began to descend to the festivities below.

Now, as I go over that particular conversation in my head, I realize that Brandon had the right of it. If it had been my last days in this world I should have spent them differently. This, of course, never occurred to me at that particular moment. I had been too worried that everything I had ever known in life was about to be destroyed and me along with it.

"WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!" cried one of the sentries on the wall, just before an arrow pierced his throat.

I woke with a start just in time to hear the gurgling noises made by the sentry nearby. I had fallen asleep leaning against the turret that rose above me.

I had just enough time to unsheathe my sword before the leading barbarian climbers reached the top of the wall.

As I fought the first wave of barbarians, I couldn’t help thinking how stupid William had been to leave only enough sentries on the wall to cover the battlements, even an insane man should know that’s not good idea. I remembered how I had argued with William, saying that we needed more sentries on the battlements especially in the turrets. However, William had ignored me saying that the moral of his troops was much more important and that the barbarians probably wouldn’t even attack for another week. He might as well have executed his whole army.

I had known the barbarians would attack; I had researched there past battle strategies. Unlike, most people during this age, I had known that the northerners or barbarians weren’t just brainless savages who threatened and killed by nature. I knew that all this nonsense of the barbarians being subhuman was just a clever plan created by the barbarians to insure that no one ever took them seriously. By not taking them seriously dozens and dozens of Lords and Kings had been overthrown. Almost half of the South had been taken over by barbarian rule but no one from the South would admit it.