Garinor looked at the demanding soldier, then down at himself. He decided he was a mess if he was to leave the house. “Sir, may I have a quick wash up before we get going?”
With a laugh, the man shook his head. “You are young, Son. How old, may I ask?”
“Fourteen,” Garinor responded proudly.
“I see. And you have never set foot on the castle grounds, I suspect?”
“No, sir, I’ve had no reason to.”
The guard laughed again. “It’s no wonder you make this request.”
“Let him wash up!” Luinna pleaded.
The guard shook with head with a sigh. “I cannot, I’m afraid. Orders are orders, you know. The boy must come now. As is. No delays.”
Defiantly, Garinor crammed the last bit of toast into his mouth, determined to have at least that much say in his fate. He walked over to his mother and kissed her cheek.
“Is it bad news, Mother?”
But the guard intervened. “Time for that later, boy. We go. Now,” he added, a bit sternly.
Luinna took Garinor’s hand. “Go, Son, and do as you are told. You must.”
With a heavy heart, Garinor nodded his head and turned to the guard. “It looks like I have no choice.”
“No choice at all,” the man agreed. “Let us go.” With that, they turned and left Garinor’s home.