Arcadia's Ignoble Knight: The Sorceress of Ashtown

Hard Truths

Sleep had not come last night. No matter how hard he'd tried, Caspian couldn't get the image of that elf dying, of his blade biting into her flesh, of her life's blood leaving her, and of the things she had said, out of his mind.

His sword had cut through her so easily, like cutting through a stick of warm butter. Not to mention the blood. There had been so much of it. Even now, every time he closed his eyes, he could see the blood as it splashed against the floor, crimson ichor creating a warm puddle on the ground. How could he rest when every moment he closed his eyes was another moment he'd have to see that?

Lying on the bed, hands placed behind his head, acting in place of pillows, Caspian tried to find something to occupy his mind with other than the knowledge that he had become killer. It wasn't something that should have bothered him, he knew. As a Knight, killing was just something he would have to get used to.

That didn't make dealing with this situation any easier.

The sound of something clicking echoed throughout the room seconds before the door leading to the hallway opened. Caspian paid no attention to the person walking in. Their footsteps made heavy clanking noises before stopping somewhere near the foot of his bed. Even then, he still didn't look at the person eying him from a short distance away.

"Are you going to lay there all day?" The voice was deep, if tired, and held a sickly quality to it. Derek, then.

"Hn."

"Wow, that's an articulate response."

"Hn."

"You know, speaking in grunts is often a sign of stupidity."

"Hn."

The figure at the foot of his bed sighed. There was some more clanking noises, followed by the jingling of chains, before the bed he was lying on formed a small depression to accommodate for the weight of someone sitting on it.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The time that passed seemed indeterminable. It could have been seconds, or it could have been minutes. Finally, after what felt almost like hours to Caspian, but was really just a couple of minutes, the man sitting on the bed spoke again.

"You know, I remember the first time I ever killed someone. Back then, I was a foolish young man. I was eighteen, and I had just become Erica's Knight. I remember how I felt, like I could do anything."

Derek stopped talking. Caspian waited, wondering if the man would continue. When he didn't, Caspian realized why. Derek wanted him to talk. He'd spoken to draw his curiosity in and make him start talking. And unfortunately for Caspian, it worked.

He turned his head to Derek. The older man sat on the foot of the bed, his armor glistening from the light that streamed in through the window.

"So what happened?" Caspian asked.

"It happened on our way back from a meeting with the Sorceress Council, an attack in an open street by a group of discontent elves who, I am guessing, had been kicked out of their homes-similar to the elves from last night. Each one of them was a malcontent. They reveled in violence and causing chaos."

Derek's already sunken eyes seemed to gain a melancholy to them that Caspian had never seen on another person's face before.

"I remember when the attack happened. They had used a large scale magic circle that caused several buildings in the area to explode. All the people who'd been inside of them died instantly. Anyone who was near the exploding buildings also died, their burnt bodies flung through the air like dolls thrown by an angry child, and the scent of charred flesh stinging my nose. It had been a horrible sight."