Death of a Ranger

Nine years ago today...

The armies of the south were marching toward Shalalah. If they arrived unscathed they would take the city in mere days.
Duban strides into the room. He is dressed for battle in his leather armour, scimitar at his waist and his longbow strapped across his shoulder.
“Mendoza. Estaban. Come gather the boys, we need to help the militia take the battle to the enemy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Duban. This war needn’t be our concern. Let the armies battle. I’m sure I can persuade the city’s new Regent to leave my land unmolested.”
“I can’t do that Estaban. This won’t be a bloodless coup. The Southern army will kill a large portion of the population just as an example. Some say they intend to kill at least half of the men, warriors or not. Their leader is an evil man and I cannot abide evil.”
“You’re a fool Duban. I won’t allow my sons to involve themselves in a pointless war. I forbid you to go as well. I'll need you and Mendoza here, just in case.”
“I’ve always stood by you Estaban. Even when I wasn’t sure of your reasons or methods. But this is too important. If you won’t come with me then I must go alone.”
With that Duban the archer and idol of the thirteen-year-old Mendez, left the room, never to be seen alive again.