Well, here is the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy.
"O, Holy Father and Son in Heaven, please grant thy mercy upon this poor soul." Silas prayed softly, fingers interlocked and eyes tightly shut as the man sat on a chair parallel to the bed where his kin lay.
"Please...grant thy mercy, Lord...grant thy mercy...I beg of you..." Silas broke off, licking his chapped lips, tired eyes reopening and glancing to a small cross just above the tent's entrance, fingers to interlaced.
"He does not deserve this. He does not deserve this, Lord. Please do not do this. He is just a boy, a child! Please, if there is anyone that should suffer for this travesty it should be me. Allow me to suffer, allow me to burn so long as he can live. Please...do not abandon us...do not abandon me..." Silas begged, pleaded, eyes beginning to water yet refused to flood as he looked upon the bed. The sheets were stained with thick and drying blood, Berend completely still, eyes yet wide and lacking focus, a thick film of sweat covering his pale body. The only thing that could give the boy's status away was the slow and fragile rise and fall of his thin chest.
"S...S...S..." Silas turned his head towards the boy, mouth slightly a gap before realizing that it was not the wind blowing, but the softness of the boy's voice struggling to break free.
"Berend? Berend, I am here." Silas responded softly, getting off of his chair as he kneeled down to the boy's level, Berend slowly turning his head towards the man's voice, saliva flowing lazily out of a corner of the boy's mouth.
"No, no, no. Do not look, do not look. You do not look at your arm, you look at me. Do you understand?" Silas asked, unsure if his kin fully understood as the man propped the boy's head so he now fully looked upon him.
"Berend, you look at me, and only me, do you understand? Look at me and remember the guilt and embarrassment that I am. It should be me that is laying upon this bed, not you. I pray that you understand that. It should not be you. Even though you are but a boy, I do not see you as such. I see you as a man, for what you did, for your suffering...I could not do. Even as a child, you have shamed me, embarrassed me, for you had accomplished something, and had turned the tides. While I tried to protect you, it was you have began to protect me, and for that...I am most proud, and I love you even more because I know-I know-that you will not become me. If something...if something goes wrong, I swear to you that the serpent shall pay. You have my oath, and you have my love. Please, just know that even though I claim you are the most annoying, vexing, aggravating boy turned man in the world, that I would give anything to trade places, and have you be spared of pain and misery. I love you, cousin, and should I falter and you thrive, do not become me." Silas spoke, his voice breaking and tears welling in his eyes as the knight kissed the boy's brow, allowing him to drift into unconsciousness.
Sullen, Silas made his way back to his chair and heavily sat down, thoughts racing, heart racing in terror as he eyed the small body, fearing that each breath may very well be the boy's last.
"Hail, The Litch of Bavaria returns!" Ember's head snapped in the direction of the shouting human tongue, her eyes glazed with curiosity and joy upon seeing a familiar man emerge with one of the Duke's soldiers.
Ember approached the direction of the man, several of the soldiers giving her a wide berth. The Duke had ordered them to not attack the pink dragon, yet they were still highly wary of the creature. The only thing that disturbed them more as the return of the Necromancer, many of the men crossing themselves in fear that the man would steal their souls just by looking at him, or performing hexes when Rorek was not looking at them.
"W...What happened here?" Ferox asked, eyes wide as Seraphina looked around in the man's arms, eyes wide with alertness and nostrils flaring. Arias did the same, the young drakeling alert as he followed the black clad man, Rorek looking slowly upon the smoldering camp.
"A dragon attacked. Big, nasty one that the Duke ordered captured. Many of the men do not agree that we should keep the beast alive, but while we do not agree, we respect his word." A paladin answered, Ferox eyeing the approaching dragoness with wide eyes.
"And that one?" Ferox asked, eyes alight with admiration as Ember's eyes shined upon seeing the children safe.
"Safe. It helped us fight the sky-plague when it attacked. I give it a wide berth though." The man replied, Ember ignoring the comment as she approached, the drakelings screeching with excitement.
"Oh, thank the Ancestors that you are safe!" Ember spoke, breathing a sigh of relief as Seraphina broke from the soldier's grip and plummeted the short distance to the ground, her natural baby fat breaking her fall.
Ember's eyes softened as she nuzzled the chicks affectionately, blue eyes locking with Rorek's green in a language yet unspoken.
"Hello, honies! Auntie Ember will take good care of you now!" Ember chirped, a level of excitement rising in her voice as the dragoness moved towards Rorek, voice hushed, "Go see Silas! Something terrible has happened!"
"Joy." Rorek replied, looking around the ruined camp briefly before slowly moving off, passing Spyro tied by chain, yet the man did not give the dragon any heed.
Moving through the camp, Rorek felt his heart drop. They would never win this war. They would never be able to avenge the dead. He would never be able to protect Anaya in death, whereas he failed whilst she still lived. All because of that damned dragon.
Rorek ignored any feeble attempts the men made at performing ward spells or crossing themselves as he passed. Most stared upon his form, and gave the Necromancer a wide berth in terror.
"You there, boy. Do you know where the Duchess' knight is?" Rorek asked a boy, the boy draining of color, eyes widening in terror as his body shook at the man before him.
Rorek stared at the Page before him, awaiting an answer as the boy stuttered. It looked as if he were about to cry in terror.
"Come now, I do not have all day." Rorek spoke, feeling irritation build in the pit of his stomach, yet his voice did not betray him. A foul smell hit the man's nose, causing Rorek to scrunch his nose slightly as he looked down at the rapidly growing stain between the boy's legs. Much to the boy's embarrassment, he had pissed himself.
"Yes, piss on yourself because that will solve all our problems. Truly wonderful." Rorek replied, sarcasm heavily in his voice as he began to wonder off, leaving the boy to further embarrass himself.
Rorek wandered until he heard the groans of wounded soldiers, seeing a few men on makeshift beds on the ground, burt and bleeding. Looking around, Rorek noticed there was no healer tending to the fallen. Moving inside the tent, Rorek saw Silas sitting near a bed, several others in cots.
Silas said nothing as he looked upon the man, Rorek gazing upon the knight in a silent agreement before the shorter man towards Berend laying on the cot, studying the boy.
"His veins need stitching. The wound will get infected otherwise." Rorek asked, Silas looking upon the man.
"Are you suddenly a healer now?"
"I very well may be, considering I see no healer in this camp." Rorek stated, Silas watching as the man produced a small wool of thread from an inner pocket, biting the thin thread with his teeth.
"Do you know what you are doing?" Silas asked, his unease growing as Rorek kneeled next to the boy, fingers fiddling with the thread.
"I have years of practise." Rorek stated, removing the cloth to reveal the Berend's bloody stump, blood still rushing freely.
'You are a very lucky boy.' Rorek thought, seeing the amount of blood the boy had lost, skin now horribly pale.
"I will make this quick." Rorek stated to himself, fingers touching tendon and and bone, finding the major arteries and veins as he pinched the ends shut, tying knots around the blood vessels as the blood ceased to flow. It only took a matter of minutes.
"There. At least the boy will not bleed out from any major blood vessels. Our only concern now is if the blood vessels burst." Rorek replied, Silas smiling, yet his eyes shown with sadness.
"Yet he is not fully safe."
"Only time will tell. Well, if anyone else needs stitching, I might as well get to it." Rorek commented, Silas looking at the man oddly.
"But what of your wounds?"
"They will heal in time." Rorek stated before exiting the tent, observing the soldiers outside before settling on a man that had a deep gash in his arm.
"What do you want, corpse walker?" The man asked, the slightest hint of aggression in his voice as Rorek kneeled down, arm stinging in pain from his previous wound, and his side burned, yet he let it show not to the man.
"I have noticed that you have the absence of a healer, so I am taking that place." Rorek stated, the man grunting.
"Better for you to be strung up and torn apart by horses or burned at the stake." The man replied, the slightest tug at the corners of Rorek's mouth showing.
"I fear they have already tried, and failed, my friend."
"Not hard enough. All your kind should be hunted to the ends of the earth and put to the stake."
"My kind?"
"All you devil worshipers do is raise the dead and have them be your slave, steal souls, feed on the dead, harvest their organs, defile them in your bed, and torment the living by seeing their dead!" The man roared, Rorek feeling annoyance quickly creep into his soul. If anything pushed his buttons more, it was being labeled as such a necromancer.
"But they are not I. I have never raised the dead for my own gain. I have always raised the dead or contacted the spirits for the family members, never for power, never for wealth, and never for worldly gains. I do not-will not-raise the dead in such a disgusting manner." Rorek stated, barely flinching as the man spat on him, feeling a large glob on his cheek.
"You are one forked tongue lair! The Duchess should have suffered more before they cleaved her head!" The man hissed, Rorek feeling his anger rise. He didn't care if this man was drunk, or got thinking clearly from blood loss, or was a fecher. No one dared speak about his lover in such a manner.
"How dare you-"
"They should have ripped the bastard-demon out of her belly and serve it to her in cooked meat!"
"You bastard!" Rorek snarled, pouncing on the man and clawing at his eyes, Silas coming out after hearing the commotion.
"Good Lord!" Silas cried, running towards Rorek and pulling the shorter man off, easily holding him back.
"Rorek, stop it! Stop it!"
"No! I shall kill him! I shall kill him!" Rorek screeched, sinking his teeth into Silas' arm, causing the knight to yelp in surprize and allow the man to slip out of his grip.
"Stop! I said stop, damn you!" Silas cried, watching in horror as the man tried to quite literally rip the man's throat out with his teeth.
"Enough!" Silas shouted, ramming the smaller man off the soldier, pinning him to the ground as the pair began to struggle on the ground.
"Good God, what is the meaning of this?!" William cried, Silas finally restraining the necromancer, much to Rorek's dismay.
"He insulted my love and your daughter! Death is what that man deserves!" Rorek hissed shrilly, Silas watching the Duke for any sign of confirmation.
"Let him go." William ordered, Silas letting Rorek go, the man not budging from his place.
"Is this true?"
"I heard shouting from outside the tent. Would I did not hear all of it, I did hear the aggressive shouting. He spoke off...ripping the child from your daughter's womb." Silas answered, William looking at the man.
"Put him in stocks. Let the wolves eat him." The Duke replied, Silas nodding before taking the man away, William looking at the man before him.
"You should never have come here."
"With or without your fancy, here I am." Rorek stated, William looking at the man long and hard.
"You killed my daughter."
"In all due respect, it was not I, but the King, your brother, and the uncle of your precious daughter." Rorek answered.
"True, but you played your part in her death."
"That I did." Rorek answered, the pair remaining quiet for the long time.
"I am still not sure whether you are friend or foe." William spoke, "I should, and do rightfully, detest you, yet...you have no reason to be here, rather, by coming here it will most likely lead to your death. Why?"
"My answers are my own, but do not doubt me when I say that I am loyal to your daughter, even while she lay dead."
"I see. Answer me this, truthfully. Did you truly have feelings for my daughter, or did you simply use her for your own personal needs?"
Rorek stared at the man for the longest time, to which the father awaited anxiously.
"I..." Rorek started, yet found the words dying upon his tongue, and he found himself unable to speak the words that he wished to say.
I'm not sure if that question will ever be answered. I apologize if this story is getting boring, but I like to take my time with chapters and prevent creating a cluster fuck of half assed chapters that rush the plot. You can imagine whatever you want Rorek to say. And the next chapter will explain why the people are suddenly calling Rorek a Litch instead of a Necromancer. Thank you all for your support and please review! :)