Forward from the author: Some things in this story are not from Medieval times. The hero accidentally does (and says) many modern things and by that I’m trying to be funny. Enjoy! – Tanner
How I Got Promoted.
Once upon a time there were heroic kings, leading their soldiers into battle!
This story is not about them.
This story is about me, A HEROIC PAWN LEADING SOLDIERS INTO BATTLE. Okay, a hopeful first line of defense, leading a few of the king’s soldiers into an unimportant battle. But hey – I’ve got a good imagination. I’ve got a lot to tell, so let’s get started!
I grew up on a farm not far from the castle. I got married to my lovely wife Rhia and I am the only one in the army that loves sushi. I only have time for three things because any second the loudspeaker (which is my friend Leofrick shouting into rolled up parchment) will – “FORWARD MARCH!”- do that. Showtime.
Before going into battle, our King is praying, as he does before every war. Unlike you, I can’t skip parts, so I’ve got to live through this…
A gajillion hours later, we are marching. The enemy is in sight. The war got off to a very bad start, with someone in my line getting squished by the drawbridge trying to run into the city. I start to sword-fight with my nearest foe. CLANG. CLANG. The sound is beautiful, but I have to pay attention. The details are too violent for you kids, but let’s just say that I lost a ring finger and got several cuts (including a paper cut from the feather on one of my arrows).
When climbing up the siege tower, an arrow-man seized me, and the last thing I remember is falling. I woke up at a head-cutting-off session. “YER’ NEXT!” Said some manager guy. I closed my eyes as Fredrick’s head got cut off. I try not to be emotional, but who will share their cookie with me now? Also, I hate looking at insides. My turn. GULP.
As I am about to be placed at the head-cutting-off station, I punch my holder in the face. I’ve always wanted to punch someone in the face. I rush to escape, a mixture of sweat and blood running down my face, that tastes like salty iron. I run to a fabric shop and “borrow” some fabric, tie it together, and climb a ladder. “Geronimo!” I yell.
I jump off the castle wall and the fabric slows my fall. What should I call this new invention? A para…para…CHUTE! The arrow-men start shooting at me! “Not that kind!” I yell, starting to run back toward the castle, OUR castle. I must alert the king. I haven’t drank for a day. I am very, very hungry. I wish I had sushi. I wish I had a cookie. I wish I had someone to talk to. A friend.
Finally, I get back to the castle. I try to get to the king ASAP but the Warwick, the king’s time-traveling wizard stops me, looking at my finger very closely and mumbling something about unique prints. “Hmmm….” He said. “Okay, go ahead…” I rush to the king. I am checked again by his personal servants. This time for weapons. In my pockets, up my sleeves…They even searched IN MY PANTS! I finally got to him. In our conversation he said he was proud of me for being the only one to survive (especially because I was a first line of defense!) and if I survived and won the next battle I’d be promoted to a general!
I rush home to tell Rhia, and when I do, she says, “Oh, good! Because I’m having a baby!” “WHAT?!?” I scream. But I do my best to keep it together and get prepared for the battle.
“FORWARD MARCH!” The king has a longer prayer this time. We start at sunset, and by SUNRISE we are marching. With my new armor, I am undefeatable, or something like that.
I do my fierce war cry: “RRRAAAAAAHAHA!”
I start to sword-fight with my nearest enemy. Ching. Ching. CHOP. I swoosh my sword and cut off his nose! As the warrior falls, I zoom over to the next nearest soldier of Cast. Lastly, the fight was down to two people, me and Thou General o’Cast, Leeard.
We both had bows and arrows.
We both shot at the exact same time.
We both hit.
We were both knocked out.
I woke up at a head-cutting-off station. “YER’ NEXT!” said a manager guy. I was beginning to have déjà vu. Then I realized he was pointing to Mr. Blah Blah Blah Leeard.
I was a general. And my negative-three-month year old will have a good life. A life of laughter. Isaac. Laughter. Isaac Rupert. Isaac, son of Rupert and Rhia.