A death of a Soldier

[Endovelicus 614]

Rain fell from the skies as a weary and aged veteran entered the halls of of Geldren. As per usual he gave the lord who sat upon the Lord’s chair a salute, his chest puffed in an outwardly fashion, his messy grey hairs escaped his helmet and his white amice embroidered with a golden cross of lorraine seemed more worn than usual. The aged chaplain stepped forwards, heavy bags under his eyes, he coughed violently into his arm, before resuming his walk towards the Count. A wrapped object laid upon the aged Chaplain’s hands, he fell to one knee  before raising himself. “With your permission my lord.” The Count looked upon him, giving a single nod, Jürgen step upon the dais he unwrapped the object, a pristine and golden lorraine cross was revealed.

 

 

 “As my father gave it ‘pon your brother in the day of his departure, I give it ‘pon you in the day of mine.” The Count looked perplexed but took the cross examining it. “Your departure?” Jürgen responded swiftly and with vigor, his visage was a sickly pale yet the man’s blue eyes gleamed with a God given strength. “Ja mein Herr, my departure, my departure from your service into another’s.” The combat hardened and aged veteran looked down, a slight tone of sadness appeared in his features. “God bless you my count, God bless this land, God bless Savoy. Ave Lucien, Deus Vult.” His last words filled with vigour and strength. Jürgen made his way upstairs towards the barracks, he fell to one knee as he coughed violently into the ground, he grabbed his throat almost if choking. Emery, a young knight paced forwards. “Everything alright, Chaplain?” The nigh dying man smiled as he was helped up. “How could I forget? I give you the task to keep and protect the relic which lays upon the chapel. Be its Custodian for me in my absence.” Without another word he made his ways up towards his private room. He laid upon the bed, and closed his eyes, said his last prayers and goodbyes and never opened them again.               

[thesmellypocket 1859]

Francois d'Ibelin couldn't believe the news. Jurgen had expanded his knowledge on many things:- combat, the virtues, even the very essence of bravery. In shock for hours, he couldn't speak a word; this was the man who had saved his life on and off the battlefield, an old irreplaceable comrade and a worthy mentor. 

 

And now he was gone. 

 

After a long hours, he had only two words. 

 

"Non nobis."

[CheekyNolan 5420]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.