It was a fragile tale, one filled with both pain and happiness. It was their story.
Year 1799 — Irianeas Capital City: Windasell
A child looked out the window, watching a bird fly. His eyes brimmed with curiosity as he followed the little creature going about its day. Across the room, a man sat in a wooden chair. It was the boy's father, and in his hand rested several letters.
The man opened one intently; the delicate paper carried an origin unknown. Perhaps only he could understand its meaning. With each line he read, his expression shifted—calmness giving way to concern. His gaze lifted from the letter to the boy, as though burdened by an unseen worry.
"What's wrong, Papa?" the boy asked, puzzled by the sudden shadow on his father's face.
"Nothing… worry not, my child. It is nothing but something that belongs to the past," he said softly, his hand reaching for the boy's head and caressing it.
"Would you like to go outside for a little while? We could stop by Old Man George's house," he asked.
The boy's face lit up before he burst into a cheer. "YAY!"
Windasell Centreport: Old George's House
"If it isn't my friend, Richard Bowman! Haha! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" said the old man, his eyes turning to the boy.
"This must be Adrian! You've grown up so well! Feels like just yesterday you were the infant Richard carried around," he added warmly.
Adrian's father handed him a coin. Suddenly, the old man's face soured, and the jolly air turned grave.
"My, my… ah, well… Adrian, would you like to go play with Miss Ethel outside?" he asked just as Miss Ethel walked into the room.
"All right, Gramps!" Adrian happily followed Miss Ethel outside.
The two old friends remained in the house, sitting at the coffee table as they began to speak in hushed tones.
"Is it really true?" George asked Richard, stroking his beard.
"Yes," Richard answered.
"That man… I thought everything had ended years ago, and yet I can hardly believe it. Seems he's still trying to haunt you, even from beyond the grave," George muttered, leaning back in his chair.
"To think he would name my son… even in his dying moments… knowing full well the consequences this could bring," Richard said bitterly, unable to contain his anger.
"Careful there, Rick. I'm as mad as you are, but don't let your anger show—especially with your boy outside," George warned.
This man… seriously? I just fixed the house, George sighed inwardly.
"Well, now you have no choice; your hands are tied unless you would defy the principles we both swore to," George said, his tone hardening.
The principles they both adhered to were the immutable laws they once lived by.
"The will of the emperor is the knight's truth under the setting sun, under the black night, under the eclipsed moon, and beyond. A knight's vow shall never be broken, even in death."
That vow bound them as knights in such a way that neither could escape it. The price of betrayal to the empire was paid in blood—for a knight could not forsake the grace of the empire's sun.
"I had longed, my friend, that the little one might not be burdened by the world we once knew. Foolishness on my part, to think I could guide him to another path." Richard sighed, his hand covering his face.
"You and I were both wretched fools, once blinded by fate. We marched, believing we chose our own path, while denying the truth we both knew. Would it not be foolish to think that our spring could have been otherwise?" George said, reminding his friend.
Just as George raised the pot to pour Richard another cup of coffee, a noise came from outside.
The sound of a man's voice pierced through the door of the house. It was not his friend's wife or his son, so he quickly stood up, alerted by the noise, and rushed outside to his son.
Indeed, there was a man, and behind him stood another twenty men dressed the same as him, wearing armor that Richard knew very well.
"Leave now!" he yelled to the men, standing with his son safely behind him.
The man at the very front looked coldly at him, drawing his sword before staking it into the ground and holding onto it like a cane.
"You know well that we can't, do you not?" he asked.
"Calm down, gentlemen, and you too, Richard," George said, standing beside his friend.
"Sir George, out of respect for you, it would be best not to intervene," said another knight behind the man.
"How could I not when you're standing in front of my property? State your business or be on your way."
"Very well… We are here in the name of his late majesty," the leader of the knights proclaimed.
"You know well that his majesty's business is no longer my business. The emperor himself agreed so."
"Well, indeed it is, but we are not here for you…"
"Then for what?" George asked.
"We are here to escort the prince back to the palace."
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, plus the will means nothing as long as the council doesn't approve it, and I don't think they will."
"Well… that's where you're terribly wrong, sir. The council has already approved it."
"What!" both Richard and George yelled.
TO BE CONTINUED.