The drink was gone in one gulp, but the knight set the glass down with the elegance of a man who had just made a toast at a royal banquet.
The empty glass didn't bother him. He leaned forward on the counter, resting both arms as if settling in for a long story. His armor gave a faint metallic scrape against the wood.
"Strange drink," He deliberated but continued. "No taste. Yet it feels as though it lingers."
"It does," I said.
He chuckled while shaking his head. "Very well. If you wish to hear of my life, then hear it. You will not be disappointed."
I pulled another glass from beneath the counter, polished it slowly, not because it needed cleaning but because habits were hard to kill.
The rag moved in small circles.
But.
My eyes never left him.
"Let's have a look at it then."
He straightened with a rising voice, ready to give a abrading performance.
"There was a siege once," Cedric said.
"The fortress of Blackwall. My men had fought for three days without rest. Mana induced arrows rained, stones flew, and the enemy thought we would crumble. But I… I led the charge. I took the first step onto the bridge, shield raised, my holy sword raised high against them all. Behind me, the men found courage, the confidence, the hope. They followed. We cut through the enemy ranks like fire through dry grass. And when the walls fell, the people cried my name out loud."
His smile intensified at the memory, as he showed his flashing teeth. "Cedric the Unbroken, they called me. Songs were written of that day."
I slid the rag across the glass one more time. "What did the songs say?"
He blinked, then laughed. "Songs of victory. Of valor. Of gallantry, Of sacrifice, of course. The usual things bards put into those couplets."
"Do you remember the words?"
For a moment, his eyes drifted up as though searching his memory.
His mouth opened but then closed. The smile faltered just a fraction of an instance though.
"The words don't matter," he said quickly. "What mattered was that they sang."
"Mm." I set the glass aside. "So they sang. But you can't remember what about."
He frowned with a crease forming in his brow. "You twist words quite well. They sang for me. That is enough."
"Enough for you," I said.
"What?"
"Enough for you," I repeated. "What about them?"
His lips thinned. His gauntleted fingers throbbed once against the counter before he pulled his hand back, forcing his shoulders to relax again.
"They adored me," he said with a softened voice, smoothing out the crack. "I was their shield. Their protector. Without me, they would have been lost. I… was their hope."
My left eye pulsated. It was a bit different from the other eye and often reacted at seldom times. It's white marble like appearance really creeps me out sometimes.
"And the women?" I asked.
That got his attention. His smile returned with a shy but slow, curling, as if practiced.
"Ah. The women." He leaned back with gleaming eyes. "Of course. They admired me, as women admire all heroes. Their gratitude was… boundless."
He tilted his head, smirking faintly, as if recalling something pleasant. "A mother of two, beautiful, with hair like raven's wings, she begged me to stay after we saved her village. She offered her hand, her heart. I… comforted her. Gave her the solace only a true knight could provide."
His eyes gleamed with even more luster. "There were others, of course. Innocent hearts, overwhelmed by admiration. They saw me as more than a man. I was… a legend to them."
I rested my chin on my hand. "Did they tell you that?"
His smile stiffened. "It was clear enough. In their eyes. In their trembling."
Hmm?
I raised a brow. "Trembling from what?"
The question hung there.
For a second, his mouth opened without words. His jaw tightened, then loosened again. He laughed with a loud and booming thud, brushing the moment away. "Fear. Relief. Awe. What else. Emotions mix strangely in war. You wouldn't understand."
I said nothing. I let this voice echo in the silent space while letting the music play.
The bar seemed to lean in with me on this. The chandeliers above dripped slower. The bottles on the shelves rattled as if they are eagerly waiting, waiting for something.
Cedric shifted on his stool, perhaps noticing, perhaps not. He looked back at me as if trying to seeking something in my eyes, approval, maybe, or recognition.
That's not something I am able to do that easily.
Call it a skill issue if you may.
So I gave neither.
He cleared his throat. "Another battle then. The march on Drachuris. It was a grim affair, but a necessary one. The enemy was the army of one of the archbishop of the witch of Misplaced socks, so I was forced to match them blow for blow."
Misplaced socks? What kind of epithet is that?
"But in the end, it was worth it. They retreated. The land was freed. The people rejoiced." Cedric said.
"And what happened to Drachuris?"
He paused for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"You said it was freed."
"Yes." His jaw tightened again. "Freed from tyranny."
I could see this face curling as if something is trying to ooze out but he has still managed to contain it very well.
I kept my voice steady and casual. "So the people remained in their homes, then? Went about their lives as before?"
"They…" He hesitated. His hand shifted against his thigh. "The village was… damaged, of course. War spares nothing. Some houses burned, yes. But better ruins than chains."
"Better for them, or for you?"
His fist clenched, with his knuckles creaking under the gauntlet.
I could feel the intense spiritual pressure. He forced his hand open and exhaled through his nose, smiling once more. "You twist words. You are no bard, no annalist. You wouldn't understand."
"Maybe." I reached behind me and pulled another bottle from the shelf, one filled with liquid like molten copper. "Or maybe I've heard a lot of stories. They all sound the same."
His golden eyes glowed as he side eyed the bottle and then me. With a stern expression he said, "You doubt me."
"Ice?"
He nodded.
I poured the drink. The liquid hit the glass with a chime like steel striking steel. I slid it across.
"Not my job to doubt. My job is to listen. So drink. Let's see the story for ourselves."
His nostrils looked a bit flared, but he lifted the glass. His hands were steady, but his eyes weren't. For just a moment, something flashed in his mind, an edge of defensiveness, maybe even fear, but it vanished as he threw back the drink like a man seizing victory.
The glass came down empty.
The silence continued for a while.
Then the bar was gone.
He stood on a bridge of stone, his shield raised and his armor blazing in sunlight. His sword gleamed as he charged forward against the enemies who were wearing dark violet capes trying to attack him from all directions.
"You are not getting away , fucking scums of this accursed world!!" Cedric shouted as he closed his eyes.
His sword shimmered with light and he sliced the air cutting through hundreds of apparitions, making way through the illusions with the power of the divine.
Behind him, his comrades surged with a hope and courage.
"That's wild, hahaha" Lamine, one of Cedric's close friends laughed out as he looked at Cedric going at the puppets of the archbishop recklessly.
Doing his incantations, Lamine ordered to shoot the arrows in the sky.
"~Sagitta Myriad~" He said as he amplified the mana induced arrows in the sky by hundred times.
Arrows darkened the sky. Flames arose from the fortress ahead.
And above it all, the villager's voices rang out, raucous with triumph, crying his name.
Sire Cedric! Sire Cedric! Cedric the Unbroken!
He laughed with a glorious smile, feeling invincible, every stroke of his blade killing another part of the witch. Blood sprayed all over him but it was a victory ceremonial for him, nonetheless.
This was his memory. This was his truth.
And yet.
Somewhere in the crowd of cheering voices, one note cracked. A scream not of triumph but of fear.
His head turned sharply, and his eyes widened creepily scanning for the traitor.
For a flicker of a heartbeat, he saw not joy but a woman clutching her child, dragging the top half of his body behind a burning cart, eyes wide with terror.
He died not of the witch's puppets but because of…
The image broke.
And then it was gone.
The cheers returned to its original rhythm, loud and perfect. The villagers raised their hands, with their praises and shrilling voices.
Though the fortress crumbled in light, the sky was shining bright, and the theatrical laugh filled it all.
"Hahaha, what would have happened if I was not there for you all. I am a need not a choice." He thought as he looked at the night sky with eyes filled with bizzare obsession.
All of a sudden, the night sky clouded over and a gigantic face approached, covering the entire sky. His snow gray hair framed two intense eyes: one black and one marble white. It continued to ask its question with an aberrant smile plastered over his face.
"If they loved you," I asked, "why are their eyes afraid?"
His vision trembled for half a breath before his smile faltered.
Then he roared with laughter once again, louder than before, trying to drown it all out.
"More!" he demanded, slamming the glass down on the counter as the vision brought him back into the bar. His chest hurled and his smile looked stretched this time.
"Pour me another!"
"Sure, Sire."