A Debt of Honor: When Age and Youth Collide in Battle

I recall the sounds of clashing steel, the scent of sweat and blood hanging heavy in the air. Our Golden Troop was deep in battle against a band of particularly vicious orcs, their green skin seeming to absorb the sunlight as they charged towards us. As I swung my trusty morning star, its spiked head biting deep into armored flesh again and again, I felt… different. Not quite myself. My swings weren’t as swift, my blocks not as sure. The weight of my armor seemed heavier than usual, and for a moment, I questioned if it was truly the years catching up with me. It was then that an orc axe came out of nowhere, slicing through my defenses and biting deep into my side. The pain was immediate and intense - I knew I’d have trouble moving quickly now.

I stumbled back under the weight of another orcish attack, but before their crude blade could find its mark in my exposed throat, a flash of gold appeared between us. Young Knight Razir had thrown himself into the fray without hesitation - his sword sliced through two orcs with deadly precision before turning to face the one who’d wounded me. With movements faster than any I could muster at that moment, he dispatched the beast and rushed to my side. ‘Sokhu! Sir!’ he cried out urgently as he helped me sit up against a nearby boulder, quickly assessing my wound.

You might think me proud Anonymous, too stubborn to accept aid from someone younger… but you’d be wrong. Seeing Razir’s earnest face filled with genuine concern for his elder knight made something warm stir within me - pride perhaps? Or maybe it was gratitude; this young man who looked at me not with pity for an aging warrior slowing down, but with respect for all those years on the battlefield which earned that very slowing down… He bound my wound tightly enough to keep fighting until we claimed victory that day.