Free Examples of Creative Writing – Read “For Honor” Book No. 3

. . . As soon as he could handle it, the man known as Mickael or Péale snatched Christophe from his father. Wry amusement flashed in Mickael’s eyes. “You’ve always had great word skills. But you’d better look at that colorful vocabulary of yours or you’ll never survive to see the next decade arrive. Not to mention, courtesy is next to godliness, too.”

“Where we are?” A single stern warning look Thomas fired from across the room prevented his son from saying more than those three forced words.

Mickael leaned his elbow against the wall, still sporting every inch of a gentleman. “Technically you are in Belgium, but in the area of ​​land that many Germanic princes have claimed.”

“In shorts…”

“Territory in dispute,” concluded the handsome young Prussian for Christophe.

“Just imagine,” the boy grumbled and then fell into stubborn silence. “Danka. Christophe belatedly recalled his manners, this time in German, and a moment later asked to be excused so he could rest as the weight of exhaustion suddenly crushed him. The young man nodded and watched as the young man curled up and quickly fell into a deep sleep. What had possessed Thomas to continually take his only son with him on such dangerous missions? Of course they were Mickael’s friends, and he owed them his life, but.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Thomas raised his hand and gestured for his son to come closer. His pursuers had to be dangerously close, was the thought that left him speechless. This time, Thomas was well prepared for battle. No child of hers was going to linger longer than the day he had already spent here.

Christophe walked over to the bed where his father was leaning. The marquis already seemed much improved, but it would still be a few days before he regained his proper strength. Thomas gestured again for his son and heir to come even closer to provide some privacy. Reluctantly, the boy obeyed.

“You’ll go with Peter,” Thomas said firmly. Christophe looked nothing short of rebellious. Thomas snapped, “Not my little one, you will go with Peter, immediately, to the heart of Belgium and then you will return to France. Enough. You will listen! I will not be responsible for your death and I will not allow your uncle or cousin to rule my lands as your guardian or in any other capacity. Don’t bring that fate upon our family, especially after all my efforts to avoid that outcome. “

Another protest was interrupted by Thomas’s determined gaze. “I repeat, if nothing younger, don’t stoop to dishonor your name and heritage. Now you were saying?”

“Dad,” Christophe insisted quietly. “I do not mean dishonor, and I have grown up with this lifestyle. I will not die if I stay to help you. And I can help you get out of here. I beg you.”

“A lifestyle I should never have led you to,” Thomas barked. “Hush! I have not done you any favors by raising you this way. You will always be too wild and too headstrong for proper society. I should have trained you properly, but since I can’t change that, I will at least make sure you survive this mission. and that my properties have a suitable heir. Also, they are looking for a man of my description who runs away with a child. If we separate, we can disguise ourselves better and we will increase the chances that we will both escape. You Will go or I’ll see that the marriage that was arranged for you years ago takes place. “

Christophe was abruptly silent again. How could he do it, having promised that his son could choose his own wife? But he had no doubt about the seriousness of the marquis’s words. Check and mate. He would go, and heaven forbid anything happen to his father. Mechanically, Christophe stood up and was about to approach Peter when his father touched the boy’s hand.

In Thomas’s hands was a collection of papers. “Take them,” Thomas told his son. “Whatever is found in me will doom me, and I have every intention of returning to you alive and well. Take care of my property until I return.” Christophe knew that Langeac was referring to his father, as he had always been the most prized of his father’s possessions, at least to Thomas, regardless of their humble size compared to his numerous other possessions.

Without a word, the boy grasped the papers so deftly that neither the best-known man like Erik nor Peter saw the exchange. Quickly, his anger at having his forced hand still simmering, Christophe gathered up his belongings and wrapped himself tightly against the cold before joining Peter. The pair were about to leave when Christophe ran up to his father and hugged him fiercely before returning just as quickly to the door.

In dry-eyed silence, Christophe followed Peter out the door, and as he passed Erik said, “Fear not, Qiara, I will do what I must and your father will be safe. I give you my word.”

The young Prussian watched as Peter and his guard headed for the safety of Belgium. At least the boy would be out of the woods, he concluded and turned to Thomas.

Damn intrigue! He wasn’t very good at it, but he had given his word that he would see to it that Christophe’s father escaped safely. Of course, if Christophe knew the half. . . . Better to deal with that obstacle when he or Thomas ran into it. They would certainly never hear the ending, if they managed to get out of this quagmire alive. . . .

Kat Jaske © 2006