Holding Ground
"There's no such thing as fate, only the lines drawn in the sand by our own hands."
Goshen was aware of this all too well as he peeked through the tall grass and down the hill toward the ocean of men in the Mongul horde encampment. They were resting up before the raid on the nearby village; Goshen's village.
Many were preparing their steel, some repaired their armor. A few had instruments that played glorious and boastful music as a group of men sang along to the tales and exploits of their respected fallen. A good amount drank rice wine and plenty of them were eating large meals. Some here and there had taken to their tents for solitude or sleep.
Goshen had no idea what he was doing. His village wasn't anywhere near prepared for a siege of this size. He first thought to run and flee, without telling anyone, but he realized he had no place to go besides home. He thought of warning the villagers, but knew they wouldn't even be packed up and running before they were invaded. Lastly, he realized what he had to do.
"You're going about it all wrong! It's just all wrong!" He sloppily trudged down the hill, spouting nonsense. The warriors were thoroughly confused by the lone man coming down to them through the tall grass. Many placed their hands at the ready, beside their weapons. Many were so confused that they just stared in wonderment at the solitary imbecile approaching an entire horde.
The leader of these terrifying men came through the crowd and held his hand out in motion for them to stand down. He knew one man was no match for the power of his many, so he was willing to see what he had to say.
"All wrong... A- a- all..." Goshen lost his breath as he approached. He was far from the physicality of running and conversing, so as he began gasping he just stopped where he was in front of the mass of men. "All wrong." He shook his head no as he dropped his head between his knees to help compose himself."You're doing it all wrong." He waved his hand up toward the crowd and whipped up his head in a captivating and dramatic tone. "You are not prepared for the next village." His eyes went dead as they gazed equally into the faces of every warrior."This town will take you!"
"No man shall take my army!" Ro Ken Ba clenched his fist and gave a confident rise to his brow as he engaged with the lone man. "How is a trade village capable of taking on my men?"
"Because this village has the greatest wall of mountains protecting it on three sides." Goshen held up the number with his fingers in front of his chest and then pointed his free hand to the horde. "They'll see you coming." His pointed finger scanned the crowd as he made a cocky smile. "They'll see you and their alarms will go off. They'll go off and off and off, and the guards... The guards will come out and the army will ready and they will launch catapults and smash you with rocks and fiery bails of hay and the ground will explode with fire all around you..." He got serious. "And consume you and your men in a furious hell fire."
Ro Ken Ba's pupils tightened and his men held their breath. The army knew it had to make a new strategy, as their seemingly fearless leader had only one fear.
Fire.
"But have I got a deal for you." Goshen was the finest salesmen this side of Crete and if any man could sell you into the poorhouse with his alluring wares and silver tongue, it was this man. "I know a better way in. A way in from the mountains, through a tunnel, up into the center of the city and behind the greatest steel in all the land... But it will cost you."
"Name your price." To surprise an army of men would be an extreme tactical advantage. "You have my attention." Ro Ken Ba was very interested.
The army packed itself up and finished preparing for their assault. Nightfall came and the land became deathly cold as they marched through the hills, up to the mountains and down the cliffs to a cave upon the ocean which lead into the sewers of the great stronghold.
Goshen assured them of their certain victory every step of the way as they approached a ladder leading to the surface. One by one, the men filed their way upward, rung by rung, they filled the room above and waited for Goshen to follow behind, but the scrawny and mischievous middle aged man did not follow them to the surface.
Goshen locked the steel hatch above him and went back down the sewer to the previous hatch. He climbed the ladder, closed his hatch and laid down on the cot in the drunk tank inside the office of The Night's Watch.
"Guard!" The guard casually strolled down to his cell.
"I thought they kicked you out this morning, Goshen. Let me get you out of there, so you can get back to peddling your wares. I'm sure your wife will be unhappy to know that we kept you in here any longer than we should have." The guard let Goshen out of the drunk tank and began to walk him out of the halls of The Night's Watch.
"Thank you, sir. You have been a gracious host, and as such I would like you to know that I left a present for The Marshall in the riot cell."
"What?" The guard was completely confused as Goshen walked away.
"And tell Ro Ken Ba he can keep his silver."
