A daily fiction writing exercise — one page on the first song that plays on shuffle.
When the Insurgency cavalry came to Redshire, we didn’t even put up a fight. This wasn’t our war. In fact, as soon as we got word that they’d made it to Brimsby, we readied our white flags.
Given how peacefully we greeted them, their response was disappointing.
They charged in from the woods on their handsome steeds in their handsome armor with their handsome weapons. They made for a nice-looking enemy. The three of us were waiting for them at the clearing. Anastasia came to represent Withinwalls, Hollis from Crafts Quarter, and me from the Rough. Each of us waved a flag. The soldiers of the cavalry looked at us and then smiled at each other.
“You’re not going to give us any trouble?” said the woman at the front, tall and chiseled, haloed by the light of the dawn.
“No, Ma’am,” I said.
“Great,” she said, smiling a strong, sure smile. She turned to the man behind her. “Soren, take the stronghold.” She looked at Anastasia. “Are you high-born?”
Anastasia nodded.
“Escort Soren,” she told her. “If anyone gives him any trouble, you lose your head.”
She nodded again, silent and wide-eyed.
“You two,” she said, gesturing to Hollis and me with her sword, “will be prisoners.”
With that, the men on either side of her dismounted flash-quickly, binding our wrists with rope.
“I thought the Insurgency showed mercy to those who surrendered peacefully,” I said as the man behind me pulled the knots tight. Hollis stared at me, warning.
“This is mercy,” the tall woman, evidently the captain, said. “We could destroy this town. Instead, we’re taking two prisoners.”
“Why take any?”
“Helps make sure the territory pays its tithes. Plus, it reminds them we’re not here to play, in case they’re thinking of pulling anything. You’re a talker.”
I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t a question.
“Ulrich, I’ll take her.”
The man behind me threw me onto the saddle of Soren’s horse so that my stomach pressed against it. He tied me to the saddle and ponied my horse to the captain’s. Craning my neck, I watched him throw Hollis into the wagon that trailed behind the group. Repositioning my neck forward, all I could see was the captain’s right thigh, her muscles visible through the gabardine.
“Why the special treatment?” I asked her thigh as we set off. Each canter hit my stomach hard, as if someone were tirelessly punching me from below.
“I like a good story teller,” she said. “I like to learn about our territories. Tell me about Redshire.”
I looked up at her, straining against my restraints to let her see my eyes, see the loathing. Why would I cooperate? Her gaze, however, was trained on the road ahead.
“You’ll cooperate,” she said. “You’ll get bored, and you love your town. You’ll want to talk about it.”
“What makes you think I love my town?”
“Everyone loves their town.”
The Rough wasn’t Redshire, and no one from The Rough loved their town.
“You love your town, Captain?” I said.
Now she looked down at me. “I love my commander,” she said.
“I bet you’re gonna fall in love with me,” I said. “It would be wildly inappropriate. You could be stripped of your rank. I’d advise against it — you’re definitely better off not falling in love with me.”
“Why do you bet that?” she said.
“Cause you’re blushing.” She wasn’t blushing, of course, but she didn’t know that, and after I said it she was.
“You’re a prisoner. Romantic relationships are out of the question.”
“I agree. It’s a very bad idea. Unethical. Unprofessional. I mean, it would be fun — I’m very fun to fall in love with — but definitely not worth it. You’d lose everything.”
The road was growing rougher as we got farther into the woods. My body ached with the impact and the restraints. But Captain Pretty-Eyes here was still blushing, so that was fun.
