The Knight.
David began to shuffle his feet in rebellion as the guards led him down the brightly lit hall. Torches on both sides of the hall gave him a clear look on what was ahead. It was a large, oak door with a golden crescent insignia on it. This was it. This began his life as a prisoner of war.
"Here you are, the 'Dungeon'." The guard said as he opened the door. The Dungeon comprised of a small room with a lavish bed, a bathtub, and an armoire that towered over David. This had to be some sort of elaborate prank, naming the guest room the Dungeon. David felt defeated, he felt as if he could hear John chortle at his own expression. "Please make yourself at home, the Maid will be here momentarily for you bath."
"For my what?" David's inquiry was cut short when the guard slammed and locked the door shut. David began to pace around the room. There were no windows, only that locked door. The door was far too heavy for him to break down, and trying would just harm him further. His back ached from the blow of Johnathan's hammer, his hands were twitchy and sweaty from anxiety. He needed go get out of there.
A rap was heard on the chamber door, a soft gentle voice with a tinge of a foreign drawl was heard, "Are you decent Sir Strider?".
"I…yes I am." David answered the voice. The door was unlatched and came in a maid, a busty made with short black hair, eyes that could make a river jealous, and a plate of food worthy of a king. "I see you're still suited, you did not sit on the bed, did you?" The Maid asked him.
"No, would you like me to?" He made his way to the bed.
"Absolutely not, Sir Strider!" She bantered at him. "Your armour is filthy! You shant sit on that bed I just washed it." She began to nag at him as if she were his nanny.
David was attempting his best to listen to her, but his eyes were fixated on her bosom. They were by far the largest breasts he had seen in his twenty-one years of life.
"Do you care to make a comment, Sir Strider?" She asked him, noticing his eyes trailing down the nape of her bodice.
"Yes," David looked at her, "I would like to state my jealousy of whatever man is lucky enough to plant his face upon your bosom. If I were to be executed, please, smother me in them. I wish to die happy." The Maid promptly smacked his hand with a large wooden spoon.
"Sir Strider. I will let you know that I am the head nurse of this castle, and I will be taking care of you during your stay." She firmly grasped his ear and pulled down on it, David let out a whelp of pain. "And whilst you're under my care I will have absolutely NONE of that immature drabble do you understand me Sir Strider?"
David nodded furiously, only wishing to be released from this torment.
"Very well Sir Strider," she said as she poured a bucket of water into the tub.
"Now strip."
"What." David asked abruptly, "Strip? I've yet to bear your name and you want me unclothed?" David said fearing another smack.
"I am going to give you a bath. You're filthy. There is grime under your nails, your hair is matted. Do you know what a brush is? Have you ever once bathed? Unclothe and I will make you fit to be a king."
"I am no…" David stopped himself.
"Strider, dear. I care not what you are or aren't. As long as you're in these walls you will be cared for under my agenda. Now." She gestured to his clothes.
"Strip."
David's armour clanked on the floor as he began to strip. He began to reveal skin and he hesitated. The Maid looked at him as if he was a child.
"There is no reason to be shy, Strider. I've seen many a limb! Many a limb. More limbs than you have killed men I can assure you."
David chuckled, but didn't deny that she was right. He took of his pants and tunic, letting them fall. He then got into the tub and squatted down as to hide his shame.
"Is this something all Prospitians are treated to? Is this your standard of living." David inquired.
"No, Strider…this is just my standard here in the castle. If I could take this much care of every skaian, I would."
"Every Skaian?" David inquired.
"Yes, every Skaian. It matters to me not that you're a Dersite. In you runs the same blood as I. We're no better than eachother than a King is to a commoner. That is why I follow Johnathan's rule. He is a kind man and will go out of his way to help anyone. "
"Your kindness could be construed as stupidity." David muttered.
"Your words are harsh but I know you're a good man. I can see It in you. A rude immature monkey of a man but good at heart."
"And Sir Strider dear," She leaned in and whispered to his ear, "Please take this gosh darned helmet off."
David shook his head. "No I cannot."
"You will Strider, remove the helmet." David slowly unlatched the helmet and set it aside, keeping his eyes closed. Jane gently took the rag to his back. He felt the warm water trickled down. This feeling was entirely foreign to him.
"Why must you keep your eyes closed Strider?"
She looked at him, turning his head to hers.
David opened his eyes, his irses a crimson hue that would challenge a flame for its intensity.
"Your eyes are gorgeous, I don't see why you're trying to hide them."
"Red is a colour of failure. Those with red eyes are born to a life of the common."
"And who spread that poppycock? Your success in life is not governed by your eyes but by your ambition."
"A prospitian would not understand. Your life is settled, your home is anchored. A Dersite must scrape the walls of its existence to survive let alone make a mark on this world.
"And you think our land knows not of poverty? No country is perfect Strider."
"David, enough with the surname." David interrupted her inquiry.
"Very well, David. My name is Jane."
David turned to her, noticing her eyes were an icy blue.
"You seem very similar to the Windcaller." David said, "Your eyes are the same."
"That would not surprise me, since he is my brother."
"Johnat-…The Windcaller is your brother? Then why are you here bathing a commoner."
"Because this is the life I have chose David. I am not fit to be a princess, dressed up in all those fancy garments. This is what I want, to care for others."
"Typical of a Prospitian." David stated.
"I beg your pardon? Just because I want not the throne of the blood of my enemies you insult me?" Jane pinched his ear.
"Ow…" David looked away, "Prospitians lack ambition, they lack drive. Things are just handed to them at birth. We must fight for what we have. We earn our keep."
"And you know what it's like to be a Prospitian? You've yet to walk a step in my shoes and judging by your behavior I doubt you could last a minute in them!" Jane rubbed the cloth under his armpit. She let out a soft sigh.
"What, what is it?" David inquired.
"Your back is riddled with scars. Legend would have you untouchable." Jane said in a whisper.
"Legend has yet to face my brother. Many a time he has served me a large helping of my posterior on a silver platter."
"I must applaud your modesty." She pats him on the back, "Up now."
David rises, the water dripping from his body. Jane gently wraps him in a towel and begins to dry him gently. "If you wish not to roam naked I left you a spare tunic and pants on the bed. I suggest you change and eat before your ale gets cold."
"Cold?" David ask.
"You've never had warm ale? You Dersites don't even know how to drink! Barbarians!" Jane exclaimed as she patted his forhead.
"Now I wish you good night, I will see you in the morn with your breakfast." Jane curtsied and exited the room, latching it behind her.
David could have killed her. Knocked her out, she was powerless to stop him. She was an enemy to him, and he should have been an enemy to her. It shook his outlook on reality. Had no idea why someone would be that kind, to the point of altruism. Instead of fussing over a maid's kindness he decided to take a seat and eat his meal. The meat was tender and delicious, savory to every last bite. The ale was warm and had an odd scent to it. Dave drank a huge gulp before spewing the ale out.
It was piss.
The ale was full of piss.
