The Knight of Honor (The Arising Evil, Book 1)

by Ulysses Troy

  “I’m glad I don’t know this game of yours, noble Baron,” Conrad said. “I hope it stays that way.”

  “And I hope this wish of yours comes true, my friend. Although these little games of ours can be fun to play sometimes, they are quite disgusting and unethical as a whole.”

  While Robert was still talking, a woman in fancy yellow clothes appeared on the scene. She was in her early thirties but was moving as if she were ten years younger. Her well-groomed hair was long and auburn. Conrad couldn’t see the color of her eyes from that far but dreamed them to be light blue, a color that would match her perfectly.

  The woman saluted the audience as cries of applause were heard from all over the inn. After waiting for a moment as a courtesy towards the audience, the elegant woman sat at a table and raised her lute to her chest. Then, she started to sing her song with such a beautiful voice, a voice Conrad would never have believed could exist until now. As the woman started to sing, all the applause stopped.

  Our love will only be tormented

  For ours being such vile souls

  If the bliss is a grace from the God

  It was not granted through us

  And only for going after our hearts

  This world of gloom punishes our lives

  I am still here, standing in our corner

  To see if you are still dreaming about me

  My dreams, all of them belonged to you

  Was your love a lie, or was I just a fool

  Behind these ruthless walls of stone

  The body you once loved is turning into a reek

  Will I ever see your eyes gazing into mine?

  The ones you relished, now wet and weak

  And will you ever return love, into my arms

  From the cold of the dark and its harms

  In a day as bright as the one we met

  With the songs of the white birds arose

  I am still here, standing in our corner

  To see if you are still dreaming about me

  My dreams, all of them belonged to you

  Was your love a lie, or was I just a fool

  This ruthless fate tears us apart

  Creates a lake made of our tears

  To slake our greatest, darkest fears

  And we are weak against its spears

  If it was a war, we have already lost

  But for what love, and at what cost

  I am still here, standing in our corner

  To see if you are still dreaming about me

  My dreams, all of them belonged to you

  Was your love a lie, or was I just a fool

  The time flies, and daisies have already died

  I wonder if you have forgotten me by now

  I can’t forget you while I still have a heart

  And I will wait for yours, under the light of the stars

  Until a day as bright as we met finally comes

  And the white birds sing their songs anew

  I am still here, standing in our corner

  To see if you are still dreaming about me

  My dreams, all of them belonged to you

  Was your love a lie, or was I just a fool

  When she finally finished her song, everybody in the inn, from the highest blood to the lowest one, got up and started clapping madly. It was an interesting sight to see precious nobles losing themselves to a moment of joy like that, but humans were humans after all, and the right thing was always able to capture their hearts. No matter if they slept over straw or silk, theirs was the same flesh and heart. But that one woman, Elessayn, was able to capture Conrad’s heart too. Conrad of Battum was not the type of man who would be impressed by someone that easily, but this woman’s voice was a vivid dream. The kind one would never want to end, no matter what. It was something that had to be sacred and untouched, able to remain pure from the world’s dirty smudges. Conrad looked at her a bit longer as she saluted the audience once more with elegant moves and walked off the stage.

  “Conrad? Do you hear me?”

  Suddenly, Conrad realized that Robert de Lothiré had been trying to speak to him, probably for seconds.

  “I am sorry, I must have been mused for a moment.”

  “There is no need to be sorry! Don’t be afraid, Lady Ellessayn has that kind of effect on those who are lucky enough to hear her art by their own ears, especially those who are experiencing it for the first time.”

  “So, the famous Lady Ellessayn was her.” Conrad took a sip from his wine.

  “Yes, even though she is not a real lady. She only uses the title as a stage name.” Robert drank beer from his mug. “Last summer, I tried to bring her to my castle for the Merion day of my son, but she was too expensive for me to afford. You can’t imagine how many bags of gold are needed to hear these master artists under your roof. It is very unfortunate Lady Elessayn will depart for the North tonight. It would be wonderful to listen to her sweet voice once again.” He looked at Conrad. “So, did you like the song?”

  “Yes, I bet it has a history.”

  “A heartbreaking piece, that much of it is clear,” Robert said. “The ballad’s name is Tormented Souls. It’s actually pretty well known on this side of Baltaire, at least since it was written. It was about Claudia, and her endless wait for her true love,” Robert looked into Conrad’s eyes with grief. “Lady Claudia lost her virginity to her lover. The tale says ‘under the light of the moon and stars, they became one and united their hearts,’ and her father punished her for it by imprisoning her to the highest tower of a castle. There, she waited and waited to come together with the love of her life. Until . . .”

  “ . . . until she couldn’t wait anymore.” Conrad knew the rest of the story through Merlon. Suicide.

  Baron Robert looked down.

  “Do you know who wrote the song?” Conrad asked.

  “No, no one knows. Probably a roaming bard not lucky enough to make himself a name, who else can it be? Yet smallfolk like to fantasize that it was written by Lady Claudia. I have my doubts about that possibility, though.” Robert laughed, becoming cheerful again. “And also, even though Gannáts are likely to deny that, the song is mostly known among the folk as being written for Jacquard de Wellon, the Lady’s true and only love.”

  “So, this was . . .”

  The Baron of Lothiré smiled. “Yes, this was an intimidation to Baron de Gannát and his supporters, to remind them who was right in the feud, and to be honest, a pretty good one.” He pointed out a large and well-crowded table at the center of the inn with his finger. “Ser Evrard made sure this was Ellessayn’s choice for tonight; it cost him some tourins though.”

  “You nobles and your little games,” Conrad grumbled.

  “What, are you surprised to see one such as Elessayn accept bribes? Well, I won’t judge you after seeing how charmed you were by her presence.” Robert tried to stifle his laugh. At least he was kind enough to do that.

  “Charmed? No, but I’ll admit that she was . . . impressive.” Especially her voice.

  “Sorry for ruining your dreams, but according to some rumors, which are most likely true, she is seeing Ser Reuven nowadays.”

  “Reuven? I have not heard about him before.”

  “Then you are among the lucky portion of the population!” Robert said cheerfully. “Well, you can’t miss the fucker when you see him anyway, not in his shiny armor and winged helmet. I bet he emulates those Winged Knights of Utornia.” Robert paused for moment, to drink more wine. “Reuven, my friend, is one bigheaded bastard with no redeeming quality, however, a very ambitious one. He tries to make himself a name worth praise but has nothing for that except for the power and riches of his father, Count Erregon. And I can’t really understand what Elessayn finds in someone like him. He is one lucky fucker to have a woman like her. Too bad Ellessayn’s choice of men is not as good as her voice is.”

  “Why are you surprised about that Reuven?” Conrad took a sip from his glass of wine, finishing it. “I tho
ught that kind was pretty common among you nobles.”

  “Of course, but it is just that Reuven sets a whole new standard.” Robert laughed while proposing more wine to Conrad.

  “Thanks, but no. I’d better visit the Baron’s table,” Conrad said. “It was an honor to meet you, Baron Robert, and quite interesting.”

  “You can’t say it was not educational!” Robert said, reaching out his hand to Conrad. “It was an enjoyable conversation, my friend, better than most of the ones I have in places like these. I hope we will meet again.”

  “I bet we will.” Conrad shook the man’s hand, then left the table to search the Baron Edmond’s. Thanks to the Holy One, it did not take long. It was closer to him than he thought it would be.

  As soon as Conrad appeared near the Baron’s table, Edmond’s eyes caught his presence, as if he was already waiting for his arrival. The young Baron of Gannadár put the fork in his hand on the table and turned his head towards Conrad. “Ser Conrad, it is such a good fortune to have you here! Please, sit with us and share our wine.” He said with a sincere tone.

  Conrad nodded at the Baron and started to walk towards the table. He was the Baron’s guest after all, and if he did not honor him by sitting at his table and sharing his bread, that would be disrespectful, and disrespecting a noble was the last thing he desired at the moment.

  Conrad approached the table, but he did not have a hard time trying to pick a seat to sit. Even though Baron Edmond was half of the reason why this feast was being organized, the table that was assigned to him was rather a small one, with room for only a few people. A young squire at sixteen at the most, two old but epicurean noblemen with long white beards in the same style, four landless knights under the service of noble friends of house Gannát, and Merlon . . .

  The fat servant was recklessly eating and drinking whatever he was able to find on the table with remarkable dedication. It appeared that Edmond wanted to give him a small reward for his courage and loyalty by sitting him next to himself, something he could never dare to do in his own caste normally, where his mother apparently held the real power.

  After Conrad sat on the empty chair next to the Baron’s, he grabbed a mug that was already filled with cold suds, saluting those at the table with his head. A Knight welcomed him, one of the noblemen said something that he couldn’t hear due to the loud music, and the rest just preferred to nod. While taking a sip from the beer, he decided not to go for another. He had already drunk too much, at least for his standards as a man who did not like alcohol. But he had to honor the Baron’s offer by sharing his food at his table, so he would have this last beer.

  While Conrad was sloshing down the beer in the mug, the Baron spoke to him. “Would you not take wine, Ser? Lady LaPellás said this is the best harvest of the year, coming directly from the vineyards of Jaldore. I am not much of a drinker myself, but Merlon said it is a good one. Fresh and tasty.”

  After hearing his lord mention his name, the fat servant stopped his process of ingurgitating for a moment and tried to clean his throat to talk. “True, my Baron. I have tasted as much wine as I could in Gannadár, but that one is really something special; there is no doubt it is fresh!”

  Edmond nodded. “My Grandfather had always said the line of LaPellás knew their taste, especially in women,” the Baron said while looking through the window, to see through the darkness outside. It was a cold and windy night, full of stars. “What do you think about all of it, Ser?”

  “About what?” Conrad curiously asked.

  “These events. About this contest. About my Grandfather and Jacquard de Wellon’s rivalry. About their common love for the late Lady Claudia?” His voice belonged to a man in confusion, who was not sure about the righteousness of the cause he stood for.

  “Forgive me if I am overstepping, but I think it is quite meaningless.”

  “You know what? Sometimes I think that far too.” The Baron’s eyes were sad. “All of this enmity between my family and Wellon’s is wrong. We have been foes for years, have built up schemes to weaken each other, and made promises to have our revenge. Like men without dignity . . . I think this is wrong and will always be. The whole thing was a fatal mistake that should have never happened in the first place, no matter who started it or who was on the right side. And now, I am feeling its responsibility on my shoulders as the head of my house. If It were up to me, I would like to do everything to stop this rivalry without a contest, and I had intended to do so . . .” He paused for a moment and looked down, then continued to speak. “ . . . but then, I remembered my duties over my house. You see, Ser, I gave my word to my grandfather in his dying bed. I said to him I would protect the honor of our name and finish what he couldn’t during his life. I know there are mistakes made by both sides. But I have to clean our name. Someone must defend the house of Gannát on the field of the duel, and it has to be no one else but me.”

  “Do you know who you will face?” Conrad was sad too, maybe even more than Edmond was. He had always valued virtue in men, and even though Edmond was naive and still too young, he had virtue in his heart. More than most, perhaps. Conrad did not want him dead because his kind was dying out, while his opposites were growing in number with each passing day in the world that they lived in. In the world of the bitter truth.

  “Yes, Ser Evrard de Wellon. Baron Antonin’s late middle uncle Gerald’s only son. The Black Knight.”

  “Why did Baron Antonin send him instead of facing you himself?” Even though it was obvious, Conrad wanted to know Edmond’s opinion about the matter.

  Edmond leaned forward. “The Baron knows it very well that he has neither the necessary courage nor the skill to attend this contest on his own,” he said in a confident voice.

  “Back there, you fought valiantly, my Baron, but this will be different,” Conrad said, without holding himself back. “Maybe you should have sent one of your cousins too.”

  “The duty is mine as the head of our house, Ser. The duty to protect our honor and name. My cousin Louis insisted on joining the contest instead of me, reminding the one time he was able to beat me in drilling, but I am not going to let someone else do what I have to do as the rightful Baron of Gannadár. As I have said before, this duty falls only upon me. And unlike Baron Antonin, I value my duties.”

  Merlon raised his head from the table and interfered. “Louis was lucky, my Baron. He was wielding the family sword.”

  Conrad could just ignore the whole thing and nearly all of the Baron’s words, and simply continue to drink, but he wanted to share the thoughts roaming in his head this time, without any restrictions. “If half of the things they say about Ser Evrard are true, you will need someone much better than your cousin Louis.”

  The Baron looked into his eyes and tried to speak fearlessly. “I don’t fear death.” He knows what will happen if he faces the Black Knight.

  Merlon whispered as silently as he could, “That much of it is obvious.”

  To his luck, the Baron did not hear him, or at least pretended not to. “I know Ser Evrard is a better sword than I am, but I believe the Holy One will help me in my fight if the cause I am standing for is right.”

  “And what if it is not?” Conrad asked.

  The Baron raised his head and looked at Conrad’s face. “Then it means it is and has always been my fate, and I will have to pay the price with my life.”

  “Not every price has to be paid.”

  The Baron seemed to be disgusted by the idea. “Some must be. If I die in the duel, by the sword of the Black Knight, the world would not lose too much. But if I break the promise I made to my grandfather, then the world would lose another honorable man, and it has already lost too many.”

  Conrad drank beer to be able to speak more easily, as talking to the nobles like this was never comfortable for a lowborn. “My Baron, please forgive me, but you are making a mistake. I know you gave your word to your grandfather, but just as not every price has to be paid, not every pledge in this world i
s worth keeping.”

  “A man must keep his word, Ser. I thought of you as one who would understand that more than anyone.”

  “I understand you, but that doesn’t make any difference. This is a fight that should have ended years ago. A fight that you have not started or caused. A fight which is not yours.”

  “None of us in this world can choose their battles, Ser. But we still fight them.”

  “You are risking your life.” Conrad looked at his mug, now empty. “But for what?”

  “For honor,” Edmond looked right into Conrad’s eyes. “There is not a single motive better than that in all Bralon.”

  “Some may count a few things,” Merlon said silently, yet his lord heard him this time.

  “If we become deprived of virtues like honor, bravery and honesty, what do we have left for our humanity, Ser? What can distinguish us from the lesser beings? I will defend my honor as long as I am able to because it is the right I know. It is what makes me higher than the others, Ser. It is what makes me.”

  “Some think thoughts like these are foolish.” Those with a brown beard, sharp words, and a whole Barony.

  “They may say so.” Edmond took a sip from his wine, then continued to talk. “Even my lady mother says these kinds of things sometimes. She wants me to think for myself more and less for the others. She still talks about how the tales of heroism and righteousness have influenced me too much during my childhood, shaping and creating my current ideas. Yet she does not understand one thing: unlike what she thinks, I don’t want tales of my own. I don’t want fame, and I don’t want glory, nor a name to be spoken all over the land. I just want to get it right, Ser. I only have one life, and I want to be sure it will be one worth living. A life spent in virtue and good, not in unimportant little games and meaningless enjoyment.” He went on, “Lesser men can create excuses; that’s what they do. Making up lies to deface their vision, to feel comfortable while pursuing their path of wickedness. Yet, at the end of the day, a man’s worth is not weighed by his masses of gold, but by the value of his deeds. Men of less value, they may spend their lives with their little lies, Ser; I won’t. They may fight in unnecessary battles for nothing but their own selfish gains; I won’t. They may pretend to be knights while carrying the hearts of robbers and defending the evil’s interests; I won’t. And I can’t, while the truth stands still, rising in front of me with all its light and crying its very presence out to the world. No, Ser, I must go after the path it sets for me, no matter what happens. Not because I am destined to do it, but because I have a chance to do it.”