A true soldier

Donner stood with three other militiamen in an open field north of the castle. A clear stream ran by the side, the sound of gurgling water adding a hint of solemnity to the atmosphere.

There were nine squared out mounds of dirt a dozen meters to his right, each had a simple grey tombstone erected on top.

The young soldier heard from some serfs that because of the need to save time the tombstones were moulded out of cement before being baked in a kiln when it had hardened to give it a glossy finish.

Although they weren't carved from stone like the few he had seen on the graves of some noblemen they still looked quite respectful, especially when considering they were meant for peasant men such as themselves.

Each tombstone had some words written on them.

Sir Carter mentioned earlier that the dead soldier's names, ages and a few words personally composed by the young master were written on them, but because he couldn't read, Donner wasn't sure if that was true or the older knight was just fooling with them like he always did.

In front of the graves were his fellow militiamen dressed in clean black overalls much unlike their usual dirt brown work clothes. They stood in a formation to the right of the graves while the families of the deceased were seated at the right.

To the far left were the knights dressed in plain grey aristocratic garments, they were seated along with the Lord of the town. Donner could see a solemn expression on the duke's face

To Donner's left was a six-pounder cannon loaded with a blank round.

Donner and his fellow two militiamen similarly dressed in uniformed cream coloured garments, plain shirts and coats with hoses and black leather shoes stood there awaiting their orders.

Donner stood at attention, feeling a tense feeling well up in his heart.

'Isn't it just some soldier's deaths? Why are the Lord and young master making such a huge fuss over their passing.' He thought to himself.

Unable to think of an answer he turned towards a small commotion that just started

The young master and Sir Lancelot had arrived and unsurprisingly drew the attention of the crowd.

Donner watched the viscount split away to join the remaining seated knights.

The young master instead paused and glanced at the Lord who was dressed similarly in plain white aristocratic garments and gave a small nod. Unlike the duller cream white worn by Donner and his colleagues, the clothing worn by the young master was clearly much purer and of higher quality than theirs

The duke smiled faintly and gave a nod of his own.

With a questioning gaze, Donner watched the young master walk to face the congregation with his back facing the graves.

Looking around at the expressionless faces of the militiamen and the reddened eyes of some relatives of the deceased the young master sighed softly his gaze softening.

The young master shut his eyes and let out a long breath.

Folding his hands behind his back, his eyes snapped open, his gaze grown steely.

The young master stared at the people in front of him and spoke in as loud and authoritative a tone as his voice could allow.

"In the name of the Creator and on the behalf of the people, I Levi von Grienfenburg, ranked Marquess, successor to the von Grienfenburg household, under the authority of my father, Aden von Grienfenburg, Duke of the Northern regions of Greenfields, Redwater, the Aiga territories and beyond, Sworn brother of the true king and former Grand-duke of the kingdom of Algrim hereby presents Lavis aged 32, Gunar aged 34, Throe aged 22, Clicbate aged 19, Benner aged 24, Howie aged 27, Flis aged 32, Jonas aged 30 and Hiba aged 20, who were members of the Garrison tasked with the sacred responsibility of protecting the townspeople and the defending the motherland."

Donner had a strange look on his face. On his and his fellow colleague's faces were expressions of surprise.

'We were?.' The young soldier muttered.

'I don't know, don't ask me.' The other soldier who was standing beside him replied subconsciously. The men stared at Levi's ramrod straight figure with an intrigued gaze.

Donner noticed Lord Aden look towards Levi and squinted slightly, it was unknown what the duke was thinking.

"These worthy men who passed away valiantly protecting the interest and dignity of the people from the oppressive Heras have being interred in the soils of our Motherland."

"Today we pay respects for their sacrifice, may their spirits now be led on the journey to paradise, their memory and legacies be to us a guide and inspiration for generations to come."

"Salute!"

Donner who was staring blankly at the young master, snapped out of his revere at the order.

Turning towards the cannon, he expertly primed the ignition before joining his fellow soldiers in performing what the young master referred to as a salute.

Donner's right hand curled into a fist and was placed over his left chest while his left was folded behind him slightly above his waist.

"Men, give your hearts!"

"For the motherland!"

*Boom*

An explosion, then solemnity.

Donner looked forward at the young master also performing the salute and suddenly realized something.

'Everything done today was to respect those men who died during the battle of Redwater.'

'So the young master wasn't lying when he said he was pained by the loss?'

As soon as that thought crossed his mind something changed in Donner's countenance.

His gaze became firmer, his chest stuck out and his chin rose proudly.

He changed,

And he felt it.

The pride of a man,

The arrogance in fighting for a worthy leader,

He felt it,

What it is like to be a true soldier.