ArcticAvenue
Randomly Pawing At Keys
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2013
- Posts
- 1,650
(Closed)
His orders were to stand guard. Nothing more. Hours later, he remained at his duty. Remaining at his duty is all Paul had anymore.
Yet one realization soaked into Paul’s mind over the long hours. Royal guardians have only their own thoughts to keep them company. So in it’s own way, ‘remaining on duty’ had a partner in ‘losing yourself in your mind’.
Paul only took duty as a guard that morning, but is now facing the long hours of the first real test of his medal; a test of will over strength. Such a simple command given by the duty officer: Go to the hallway outside the Captain’s office, and stand until ordered otherwise. Now, as the day turned to night, he had little idea how long this test will continue. The boredom maddening. Already in his mind he had receited every poem of his childhood, sang every song from his army days, and counted the bricks in the opposite wall. Yet if Paul was nothing, he was duty bound. If duty meant he as to stand in this hall until he was ordered otherwise, he will do so.
Now he retold himself the hundredth time how he found himself on the guard. Men dream of such an honor, to put oneself at the behest of Royalty. But it is typically something granted to those whom done something to bestow that honor on their family. Not some footsoldier fresh from the Western Front. The story in his head started like it did those hundred times before. His former field captain called him to meet and the commander’s tent. Paul, finishing his patrol, was muddy & hungry. No good condition to find yourself in the presence of the field commander for the first time of his young life. Paul only knew the man by rank, not even by name.
Yet it seemed the commander knew of him. Knew of his past was just as so. Knew more than Paul ever could believe.
“You came from the royal stables,” he asked.
“Aye, sir. My father were of the horsemen,” Paul replied.
“Were?”
Paul, standing at attention in the commander’s tent. “Aye. Killed in an accident before I was six.”
“Anyone else still there? Family, aristocracy?”
“No sir, me mother is in the city now; be none there at the stables I know anymore.”
The commander smirked, “they seem to know you. At least someone at the castle does. You’ve been selected to join the Royal Guard.”
“Sir?” Paul was stunned by news.
“You heard me. Her majesty's protectors. I have the papers here, if you can read.”
Paul took them and stared at the parchment. It was a short statement, direct and blunt. But it was clearly stating his name, and his appointment.
Before he left, the Commander gave one last comment. “You’ll have your work cut out for you lad. I hear the new queen is quite a handful.”
Of course, change like this takes time for one to really embrace, to really understand. Now that he has arrived. Probably more sense is made from being here as well. The Royal Guard, for all of its tedious boredom, is as prestigious of a position in the Queen’s Army as one could be. To be amongst nobility and charged with their protection is the ultimate in the ability to sacrifice oneself for the cause. Men would give their everything for this position. Yet Paul made no effort to request it. Someone chose him instead.
To him, it would be fleeting to think of this as returning home, because it would not be as it was back then. When he was a boy, Paul ran around these grounds with the other children. Children, especially when the royals are interested in playmates for their own, were given more freedom than their parents along these grounds. Paul assumed that along the way, he must have impressed on someone, like one of the old guards or keepers of the house. Yet in the hours since he had returned, it seems few remain from his youth. With the trouble he got into back then, maybe it was a blessing.
What was unthinkable was that he was there at the Queen’s request. Unthinkable. Surely she had not remembered him. They were so young, so fleeting. Over the passed years, she had surely come across hundreds of people, and now he would be someone in the past she has forgotten. Of course, he would never forget her; how could he. But to believe she would remember him … unthinkable.
Unthinkable.
His orders were to stand guard. Nothing more. Hours later, he remained at his duty. Remaining at his duty is all Paul had anymore.
Yet one realization soaked into Paul’s mind over the long hours. Royal guardians have only their own thoughts to keep them company. So in it’s own way, ‘remaining on duty’ had a partner in ‘losing yourself in your mind’.
Paul only took duty as a guard that morning, but is now facing the long hours of the first real test of his medal; a test of will over strength. Such a simple command given by the duty officer: Go to the hallway outside the Captain’s office, and stand until ordered otherwise. Now, as the day turned to night, he had little idea how long this test will continue. The boredom maddening. Already in his mind he had receited every poem of his childhood, sang every song from his army days, and counted the bricks in the opposite wall. Yet if Paul was nothing, he was duty bound. If duty meant he as to stand in this hall until he was ordered otherwise, he will do so.
Now he retold himself the hundredth time how he found himself on the guard. Men dream of such an honor, to put oneself at the behest of Royalty. But it is typically something granted to those whom done something to bestow that honor on their family. Not some footsoldier fresh from the Western Front. The story in his head started like it did those hundred times before. His former field captain called him to meet and the commander’s tent. Paul, finishing his patrol, was muddy & hungry. No good condition to find yourself in the presence of the field commander for the first time of his young life. Paul only knew the man by rank, not even by name.
Yet it seemed the commander knew of him. Knew of his past was just as so. Knew more than Paul ever could believe.
“You came from the royal stables,” he asked.
“Aye, sir. My father were of the horsemen,” Paul replied.
“Were?”
Paul, standing at attention in the commander’s tent. “Aye. Killed in an accident before I was six.”
“Anyone else still there? Family, aristocracy?”
“No sir, me mother is in the city now; be none there at the stables I know anymore.”
The commander smirked, “they seem to know you. At least someone at the castle does. You’ve been selected to join the Royal Guard.”
“Sir?” Paul was stunned by news.
“You heard me. Her majesty's protectors. I have the papers here, if you can read.”
Paul took them and stared at the parchment. It was a short statement, direct and blunt. But it was clearly stating his name, and his appointment.
Before he left, the Commander gave one last comment. “You’ll have your work cut out for you lad. I hear the new queen is quite a handful.”
Of course, change like this takes time for one to really embrace, to really understand. Now that he has arrived. Probably more sense is made from being here as well. The Royal Guard, for all of its tedious boredom, is as prestigious of a position in the Queen’s Army as one could be. To be amongst nobility and charged with their protection is the ultimate in the ability to sacrifice oneself for the cause. Men would give their everything for this position. Yet Paul made no effort to request it. Someone chose him instead.
To him, it would be fleeting to think of this as returning home, because it would not be as it was back then. When he was a boy, Paul ran around these grounds with the other children. Children, especially when the royals are interested in playmates for their own, were given more freedom than their parents along these grounds. Paul assumed that along the way, he must have impressed on someone, like one of the old guards or keepers of the house. Yet in the hours since he had returned, it seems few remain from his youth. With the trouble he got into back then, maybe it was a blessing.
What was unthinkable was that he was there at the Queen’s request. Unthinkable. Surely she had not remembered him. They were so young, so fleeting. Over the passed years, she had surely come across hundreds of people, and now he would be someone in the past she has forgotten. Of course, he would never forget her; how could he. But to believe she would remember him … unthinkable.
Unthinkable.