Going Home.
Heavy of heart, Graham trudged down the empty, quiet road. The only sounds he heard were his footsteps and his own breathing. His clothes and cloak stunk of smoke, his eyes still stung and tears threatened to fall again, his brow was deeply furrowed as he slouched and his head hung low and cap-less. He didn't care.
He hardly paid attention to his surroundings, and as his mind kept replaying the recent events down in the well, his thoughts firmly told him. Go home, Graham. Go home. You should never have left it, at least there you never got anyone killed.
Graham swallowed and gritted his teeth. Home. He needed to go home. It's where I belong, he thought as he went onward. Past the river, past the clearing where he met that strange Merchant of Miracles, uphill he briefly stopped to look down upon the Kingdom of Daventry, nestled among the hills, for the last time. What had once seemed so inviting and vast now only reminded him of his failure. If he couldn't protect even one person, who was superior to him in every way from his skill to his stature, then he had no business becoming a Knight whatsoever. That's what his fellow schoolmates at the academy had told him. When they looked at Graham, they saw no adventurer, they saw no brave future Knight who wanted to make a difference in the world and uphold his family legacy. They saw him as nothing more than a scrawny little kid who couldn't even hold a sword right and who'd decided to go with a wimpy bow instead, a simple minded boy who always dreamed of fantasy and his hyperactive excitement made him quite the annoyance to everyone in town.
They were right to dismiss him as nothing more than a practical joke. That's all he was to anyone there. Someone to belittle, mock, tease and put down. At one time, this wouldn't have bothered him. He kept his head surprisingly high, despite the sneers directed his way. After all, before he came to Daventry, he'd been under the impression that this venture would be one of his greatest, the best decision he'd ever make in his life. The travel books he'd often been seen devouring at the breakfast table every morning told of this fantastical, beautiful Kingdom of Daventry full of excitement and wonder and floating islands with a noble King sitting on a throne of crimson and gold.
And yet, what he ended up with was nothing but a broken spirit, a companion who died because of him all because he decided to help him along and believed in him rather than leaving him behind like he should have done, with a Kingdom that wouldn't ever live up to what it was meant to be with a withered old codger at her head who never truly cared.
He was done. Daventry held nothing for him now, and as he continued to trek down the path that led to the mountains, he knew that everything people had said to him back home… was right. Amaya described him as someone with a kind heart, which he took as a compliment, but then he remembered Muriel's words right after. Compassionate people get taken advantage of here. And sure enough, that's what happened. Nobody truly took him seriously. Acorn was irritated by him, Whisper disregarded him as nothing more than a weakling that he could easily leave in his dust, Achaka was gone for good thanks to him, and Manny? It wouldn't surprise Graham if he was spreading dirt on him just like he'd done for everyone else.
"Going somewhere?" a familiar voice suddenly broke through his thoughts. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Graham, however, just kept walking.
"Graham?" Manny called out as he went past him, not even glancing at him. "Graham! Wait, come back!" Manny shouted.
Graham kept walking.
"Graham, wait!" Manny repeated, rushing past him and standing in Graham's way. "Where do you think you're going, buddy?!"
The former Knight Hopeful glared down at the pintsized cavalier and roughly shoved him aside and continued walking without a word. He heard Manny shouting at him from behind, but they fell on deaf and uncaring ears.
He clenched his fists as he looked up at the narrow winding path up the mountain trail and steeled himself for the long journey home, and never looked back.