A Hero's Journey: Interim

     The Grey Draik stood in the doorway, clutching a scroll sealed with the Meridell emblem. The colours had been washed out of the scroll, its seal, and the Draik’s tunic.

     “Yikes, looks like whatever happened south is worse than we thought,” said Reuben, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle Trestin hasn’t gone grey. And a miracle that you were here with us instead of at the castle.”

     “I wonder if it’s because we’re far north.” Rohane reached out and took the scroll, and immediately opened it to read. The White Blumaroo’s forehead creased steadily, and his expression shifted from uncertainty, to worry, to nervous dread.

     “What does it say?” the bigger White Blumaroo asked. “Are you…being asked to return to Meridell Castle? I wouldn’t be surprised if…”

     Rohane lowered the parchment, grimacing as he glanced from Reuben, to the Draik, and to the summons, where his name was written in splotchy black script as though the scribe had little care for the mess they left on the scroll. He sighed. “Worse. Not only will I be cutting my vacation short, but…Jeran and a lot of other knights have been hit by the curse. Of all the remaining knights who can still report for duty, I have the highest rank.”

     “Then, that means…”

     “I’ve been named Interim Commander of the Order of the Knights of Meridell,” said Rohane, as if he had just read the details of his dungeon sentence.

     * * *

     The average Neopian would have thought that Rohane would take to his temporary assignment like a Mallard to water, having led a band of adventurers across Neopia to victory – and of course, having lent his own experience to Jeran many times before, regardless of whether that led them to butt heads with each other.

     But this was different. The Order operated on a strict set of rules and codes. The Order was the entire army of Meridell. And just a few days ago, Rohane wasn’t Interim Commander.

     Now, he sat around a table with King Skarl and what was left of the council and magistrates, perusing documents that Jeran had unceremoniously dumped in Meridell Castle’s war room – which, along with the rest of the castle, had been washed in various shades of grey. Accounts of the progression of the grey curse, inventories of supplies, castle plans and active knight and guard rosters…

     “About thirty percent of Meri Acres Farm remains un-greyed,” a Royal Zafara said, pointing to a map that had been spread over the table. “Lady Lisha is still trying to find ways to keep the curse from spreading especially to our northern and southern farmlands, but…” He pursed his lips. “Her progress is slow, after she succumbed to the curse herself. We’ve sent a dispatch to Roberta of Brightvale to seek her assistance.”

     A frustrated growl rumbled from King Skarl’s throat, though it was more subdued than usual, considering the normally Blue Skeith was now a dreary shade of grey. “Do whatever it takes to save what’s left of our crops! I can’t let Meridell live on grey, tasteless, lifeless slop! Protect the fields that still have colour in them! Rohane, how much of the army do we have left who aren’t grey? Er, aren’t naturally grey?”

     Rohane slowly lowered his dossier, wishing, for the umpteenth time, that he didn’t have to be here.

     “About ten percent of the Order, and fifteen percent of the guards. I’ve also received messages from the local militia who haven’t been cursed, and my brother Reuben can muster a small force for Trestin and the surrounding lands in the northwest, but we’ll still be undermanned.”

     Skarl mumbled something that sounded to Rohane like a swear. “We can’t spare any of them for our farms? What if whatever’s greying everything out comes back for them?”

     “Can’t we send some of the knights who are still, I don’t know, not as grey as the others?” a Grey Meerca asked, yawning.

     “And risk them losing the will to fight while on the field? Risk them going totally grey? Well, no offence, Lord Alfe,” the Royal Zafara replied, although he sounded like he did mean some offence.

     “Just because you didn’t go grey like some of us, Duke Justin – “

     “Then what else can we do?” Skarl shrieked, glaring at the Meerca and Duke Justin, who both fell silent. “We can’t lose any more fields or lose the chance to find out what’s happening to our kingdom!”

     Shuffling his papers, Rohane nodded. “I understand, sire, I’ll do my – no, I’ll come up with a plan.” He groaned softly when some of the documents fluttered to the floor. “Ah, sorry – “

     “Sir Rohane, let me arrange them for you.”

     A short Blue Cybunny was swiftly at his side, swooping down to gather the paperwork, arranging them along with the papers still on the table. Rohane had no idea how his squire, Cavall Wincott, had gone unaffected by the curse, but that wasn’t a pressing matter right now when he needed all the help he could get.

     “Thank you, Cavall. If that is all your Majesty and the rest of the council need from me, I will take my leave.”

     “Sir Jeran usually sits through the entirety of these meetings,” Justin said, raising his eyebrows, quill poised over his scroll. “Unless Sir Rohane believes himself better than the Commander of the Order, or perhaps even better than his father, former Commander Reynold?”

     Rohane narrowed his eyes and felt his ears throb with the roar of barely contained anger.

     “Hmm, yes, why don’t you stay?” Skarl agreed, tapping his chin. “We haven’t discussed the castle supplies, or the reports from the active mages about the spread of this blight.”

     As the White Blumaroo sank in his seat, willing the irritation within him to ebb away, Cavall found an extra chair and pulled it next to his mentor before piling up the documents in front of him in such a way that would allow him to hide his face from everyone else on the table.

     * * *

     “It doesn’t matter how we spread out the active forces and reservists alike. We’ll be spread too thin if we focus on both the defenses of the castle and the remaining farms,” said Rohane as he and Cavall walked through the halls of Meridell castle.

     “Maybe we should focus on the food supply?” Cavall frowned thoughtfully as he clutched the documents in his arms to his chest. “That’s always more important.”

     “Yes, but we don’t know what could happen next. What if whatever – or whoever – is causing the grey curse returns, and decides to attack us more directly? I don’t want Meridell to be caught off guard, especially not on my watch.” Rohane sighed. “Jeran would never let me hear the end of it. ‘You were only Interim Commander for what, a few days? And now the whole kingdom’s destroyed? Wow, that’s a new record!’” He frowned, peering at the papers the Blue Cybunny carried. “Hmm, we could place the militia in strategic points for better coverage…by the way, Cavall, how are your friends? How’s Will?”

     Cavall also sighed softly. “All Grey. Mulligan and Joanna are excused from training, and Philip is still trying to train by himself. He’s barely making any jokes or pulling pranks, though. And Will…” The papers in his grasp rumpled slightly. “I write to him every day. He tells me he does his best to continue studying, and sometimes he can, but on other days, all he can do is clean his room, or write a reply to me.”

     “King Skarl may have gone grey, but he’s still attending meetings, probably to make sure Meridell will be fine while he’s at that leaders’ summit with King Hagan.” The White Blumaroo glanced briefly at his squire. “You were quite lucky, not turning grey.”

     “Mmm, I don’t know how it happened either. I woke up and suddenly a lot of Neopians in the castle were grey. Not everyone, but a lot. Many of them were still trying to push through their work as usual, as if the curse didn’t happen, like the castle cooks, and Lord Alfe and some of the other council members. I know I would’ve done the same.”

     “The same,” Rohane repeated softly.

     “Sir Rohane, what did you say?” Cavall’s eyes widened as he stepped in front of him and looked up at him, gasping. “Are you…are you turning grey? Sir, you could fight it!”

     “What?” Rohane blinked and shook his head. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s nothing.”

     The Blue Cybunny frowned. “Are you sure, sir?”

     “I’m sure, Cavall. Don’t worry about it.”

     “Rohane! Hey, Rohane – or is it Commander Rohane now? Really taking after your dad, huh – “

     The two of them whipped around in time to see a short Grey Kougra, whom they both knew to be a Striped Kougra normally. He was toting a bow and a quiver of arrows.

     “Oakley? You really don’t have to call me Commander.” Rohane winced.

     “Good day, Sir Oakley.” Cavall bowed.

     Oakley let out a short, barking chuckle. “Good. Looks like both you and your squire escaped the curse. You were in Trestin, but how did Cavall…well, not go grey?”

     “Maybe I’m already gloomy enough to be grey on the inside,” the Cybunny suggested.

     “If that was supposed to be a joke, that just made me sadder.”

     Rohane glanced at the bow and quiver Oakley was carrying. “Were you at the training grounds for target practice?”

     “Listen, I was going nuts holed up in my quarters, and I’m not going back home where my family’s either gonna put me to work in their business or leave me alone to mope when I’m all moped out.” The Kougra grimaced. “I tried to fight the curse, pulled myself out of bed, and then when that worked, I pulled myself out of my quarters. Soon, I was walking the castle, and today, I decided I missed shooting arrows, so here we are.”

     Cavall’s eyes widened. “Wow, Sir Oakley, that’s amazing.”

     “Eh, I still get days when I’m too blah to even pick up my bow, but today was a non-blah day. I noticed a few other archers on the field with me, too. All just trying their best to do something, even if they don’t get as many targets as they’d like.” Oakley shrugged. “Just like the mages struggling to research through the grey.”

     “Duke Justin mentioned that during our meeting,” Cavall commented.

     “Kind of wish he got a shot of grey, that snooty duke. He’s not picking on you again, is he?”

     “No, sir, I didn’t talk much and just helped Sir Rohane with his paperwork.”

     Another halfhearted attempt at a chuckle escaped Oakley’s lips. “Heh. Good. Uh, Rohane, I hope the grey isn’t creeping up on you, you’ve been really quiet.”

     “What?” The White Blumaroo blinked and shook his head. “No, no, I was thinking.”

     “Thinking about what?”

     “You said you weren’t alone on the training grounds when you did target practice, right?”

     “Uh-huh, Bethy was with me, too. Poor Ixi, it’s like she went from white to really off-white. There was Floralle from the guards…”

     “Cavall?”

     “Sir?”

     “File and arrange those documents for me, please? Separate the rosters of knights and guards who have been affected by the curse.”

     “Wait!” Cavall and Oakley exclaimed together, before the Blue Cybunny followed that up with, “Sir Rohane, do you have a plan?”

     Rohane folded his arms across his chest, brow furrowed in deepening thought. “Not yet. But if my train of thought is on the right track, I just might have one. But I need time to think about it. I’ll be back.”

     Before anyone else could say anything, he turned and strode away quickly, not looking back to see Cavall shake his head at Oakley, who had wanted to follow. Instead, the Blumaroo walked through the corridors of Meridell Castle, thankful that if there was one thing the grey curse had been good for, it was the resulting silence in much of the castle.

     I never wanted to be Commander. Even when I was a kid, I just wanted to be a knight. I dreamed of being a knight alongside Father as Commander, fighting by his side…

     Rohane clutched his forehead and paused in the middle of a hallway.

     Jeran wanted it. Father prepared him for it. I’ll never know if he would’ve done the same for me and Reuben, we were too young. He clenched his hands into fists and whirled around to face the wall. I’m not like them. I just wanted to finish Father’s mission, travel the world, help others…I don’t have the kind of charisma Father has, or the way Jeran is able to bring the knights under him. Well, most of the time. And I knew being Commander was far more than leading others into battle, being the chief strategist…it’s too much for me. Which is why those rumours about me wanting Jeran’s position, wanting to be Commander for real…they were stupid!

     Drawing back, he raised one fist toward the wall before dropping it again.

     Now I have to think of a plan, not just a plan to infiltrate Count von Roo’s fortress or a war game plan. This is a plan for an entire kingdom. For Meridell’s entire army. Or King Skarl, and the council, and the knights, and everyone…including Reuben and Mother and the rest of Trestin…

     After unclenching his fists, Rohane began to pace the floor.

     And if I don’t, who will? Who will? I only have to be Interim Commander till this is all over. Not like Jeran. Not like Father.

     He stared upward, with only the lit chandelier overhead to stare back down at him.

     I’m not like them. I don’t have to be them. I’ll think of something. I’ve thought of plans before, I’ve shown I can be a leader. But whatever I come up with… I hope it’s something Father can be proud of.

     * * *

     The war room was full, compared to the council meeting a few days ago. But everyone sitting in it – knights, guards, staff, mages, nobles, even ordinary Meridellians who looked like they suddenly decided to visit Meridell Castle – had one thing in common.

     All of them were grey.

     And all of them were facing a White Blumaroo in front of them, standing next to a board with several headings written in chalk like “sentry duty”, “field medics” and “Meri Acres Farm”. He was dressed simply, in a shirt, breeches and boots, but he wore the badge of the Commander of the Knights of Meridell pinned to his chest – and an unfathomable expression that was probably a mixture of nervousness and uncertainty. Next to him, a Blue Cybunny sat at a desk, quill and papers at the ready, scooting to his left so his face would be mostly hidden behind a stack of books.

     “Thank you for responding to the urgent dispatch I sent through our messengers,” Rohane finally said after breathing in and out. “I already mentioned it, but it’s worth reminding you that choosing to fight, to put yourself on duty despite being affected by the grey curse, is a risk. Nobody knows whether it will worsen while you are on the field or on your shift. Now, if you have changed your mind and would rather not sign up for this, you may leave the war room at any time. I won’t force you.”

     Not a single Neopian budged from their seats or from where they stood. Oakley, in the front row, tried to smile and wave at Rohane even though the best smile he could give was a muted one.

     “Once again, thank you, and Meridell thanks you for your service. I’ve decided to spread out the uncursed personnel throughout the castle and Meridell’s farms and fields and round out our forces with you. They will help you. No, we will help each other. If there is anything you need, just let us know. Right now, we don’t know what’s causing the curse or how to dispel it, but whatever this is…”

     We can fight it? We don’t even know what it is, how do we fight an enemy we can’t see? Ugh, nice job, maybe I should’ve had a scribe write my speech. Rohane opened his mouth to either try and continue what he was saying, or make a noise of frustration; he wasn’t sure which, at this point. Father was so much better at this, inspiring morale and talking to his subordinates…

     “Whatever this is,” he added steadily, “we won’t let it bring Meridell to its knees. Right now, King Skarl is at the summit with the other leaders of Neopia, and our job is to hold the fort. So, think about what you can do, what you can push yourselves to do, and sign up for a duty and a shift. Remember, you can back out at any time, if the curse proves too much, or ask for time to rest. Got it?”

     “Yes, sir!” Oakley, and Philip, a Brown Moehog squire, answered. The others raised halfhearted cheers, but they were cheers, nonetheless, and they stood up to begin writing their names on the board, or speaking to Cavall, who was still trying to hide until Philip came over to his side.

     Rohane watched the bustle of Grey Neopians lifting chalk to the board, conversing with Cavall and Philip and with each other, talking about whether they wanted to protect Meridell’s food supply or wanted to help the guards who were left.

     His plan was well and truly in motion, and he allowed himself a small smile, turning away from them briefly and reaching into his pocket to touch the summons he had received back at Trestin.

     I’m not Jeran, or my father. But I am Interim Commander, and I also have a duty.

     The End.