Chapter twenty-seven | Ser Claeg

124 4 1
                                    


TW MENTIONS OF: (HUMAN) CANNIBALISM, GORE, GRUESOME MURDERS


LOCATION: AMASHA, VEQUERA & THE BLACK FOREST

YEAR: 621 C.E


"I'LL GIVE YOU TWENTY SLIVERS IF YOU THROW YOURSELF IN THE GREAT OCEAN OR EVEN BETTER, THE SHULI SEA."


Dame Estelle Armas said causally as they rode out of Amasha. It had been a long day of preparing for this journey, Ser Claeg Sinclair was exhausted. Eye bags decorated his youthful face, and his eyes were a little crimson. The winter wind pinched at his skin. He was a man of five and twenty, but he still found himself feeling as if he was much older. Much older than Ser Micah who was only two and forty. Ser Micah scoffed lightly at her sarcastic tone. "I would rather you give me the slivers first before I jump because then I can take you with me." He played along with her banter.

She was only doing it to pass the time. Claeg tightened his hands around his horse's reins. He had taken off his helm and thrown it in with his luggage. As much luggage, a knight like him could have anyway. He was just a merely low-born knight. Spending the last five years of his life in Amasha changed the way he viewed himself and his place in this kingdom. Both lowborn and highborn nobles would frequently visit Amasha for their own twisted pleasures; whether good or bad, it made no difference; they would still get drunk on repressed desires. He had even seen the crown prince at one of the pleasure houses, but he kept his mouth shut. "You're awfully quiet today, Claeg. Normally, chatting our ears off." Micah rode up closer to Claeg, their horses' shoulder to shoulder. Claeg glanced over at the man seventeen years his senior.

"Lots to think about," He muttered.

Knights were supposed to be honorable but the knights he had known were far from it. His mother had raised him with three rules of an honorable knight: duty to honor one's god, duty to respect any person made in the image of the saints, and to serve the crown with obedience, regardless of your personal ambitions. They had only been riding for a couple of hours before a howl broke through the air, sending a chill down his spine. "Lots of what?" Estelle pushed further, moving next to him, her playful smile making him feel a bit better.

Claeg shook his head as he stared down at his hands. "We should hurry, and reach Angarth before my mother starts worrying." Said Claeg as he relaxed as they grew further from Amasha and toward Arcadios, his home.

As the sky darkened, the air grew thicker. Claeg studied his surroundings without much thought. Estelle laughed and he turned to look at her with softened eyes. "On our way to see Mommy dearest." Estelle joked lightly. He had grown close to the two idiots next to him since he had arrived in Amasha. He had grown up in the countryside and the transition from his old life to being stationed to deal with nobles every day seemed to cause him a bit of trouble not knowing entirely how to speak to them at times even though his mother was a Lady of high standing. Claeg laughed humorlessly as he rolled his eyes.

"You're lucky that you aren't the eldest." Ser Micah said with a joking tone.

"Why?" Claeg turned to look at him.

Claeg's hair fell on his face. As a crescent moon looked down on them, the howling got louder until it was hard to ignore. They all stopped their horses. The dirt road that lay under them was muddy, but Ser Claeg was the first to notice the footprints buried in the mud, melted snow filled the print. He jumped off his horse and froze as he bent down to examine it. It was in the shape of a paw print but much larger. His heartbeat was the only thing that filled his ears as a howl to escape the forest again, but it was much closer this time. What followed was a scream that drained all the color from his already pale face. Turning to Estelle to make sure she was okay; he noticed the scream didn't come from her. She and Micah had been looking directly ahead with the same.

The Fall of Vequera Where stories live. Discover now