Chapter II: The Soft-Hearted Highwayman & The Imitator Knight
A loud gunshot rang out in my ears, causing me to jerk in bewilderment. My eyes flashed open as I saw the brigand fall to my right, blood spewing out of a large hole in the side of his head.
"Hellfire!" I yelled in shock, crawling away wildly from the mutilated cadaver. I felt a nauseating feeling rupturing in my stomach as I involuntarily glazed my eyes over the recent corpse, yet contained the urge to vomit.
"Problem taken care of."
I heard a voice to my left utter the short insight, craning my head over to view the assailant.
"Oh, hell! Not again!" I crowed, stumbling around to arm myself with a loose rock. The shady-looking individual, whose outfit mirrored that of a common highwayman, brought one hand up in a sign of peace, though I was more so focused on the flintlock he held loosely in his other.
"Relax, bud. Not lookin' to take ya stuff."
His non-confrontational tone served to soothe my nerves, though my adrenaline was still racing from the high-tension battle only a few seconds prior.
The ruffian-looking fellow then swept his eyes around the perimeter, most likely ensuring there were no other deviants lying in wait. After such a moment, he sheathed the rather flimsy-looking dagger he had in the knife holster strapped to his waist, outstretching his gloved hand. After a moment of consideration, I decided it would be best not to get off to the wrong foot with this fellow by refusing. I whipped my arm around, clasping my hand on his forearm as he did with mine, and in one motion, he hauled me up onto my feet. Looking over my outfit, I groaned inwardly at the amount of grime and blood that covered the fine garments.
At the same time, however, I was somewhat grateful. Indications that I was of nobility would surely garner the attention of unsavory individuals, considering the road I seemed to be traveling.
Turning my head over towards the fellow, I bowed my head graciously.
"I must pay homage to your swift entrance, sir. I believe you saved my life."
The individual seemed uncomfortable with receiving my thanks, but nodded in spite of it.
"Well...count your coins lucky that I was here on time."
I had not a faint idea why he elected to use such an odd saying, but I nodded my head in gratitude nonetheless.
"May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of my savior?"
As I inquired this, my eyes scrutinized over his demeanor.
Aside from a dark grey bandana around his mouth, he sported a black, ragged overcoat and a brown undershirt tucked into his dark brown trousers, secured by the silver belt buckle at his waist. His pants were tucked into his brown leather boots, the extra folds spilling over the sides slightly. The handle of an elongated knife jutted out from the worn scabbard in his pants, a shabby flintlock revolver tucked into the belt that ran around his waist, covered by his overcoat. His stance was one that mirrored a criminal on the run, as his eyes would occasionally dart to his left and right, as if always wary of his surroundings. He always kept at least one hand on his knife or flintlock, and he was slightly slouched over, as a shady individual would often do when moving through a crowd to avoid being seen by authorities.
Everything about him suggested his occupation included extortion, muggery, and some other distasteful operations. And yet, the good samaritan act he had just executed was a stark contrast to his sightly presence.
Despite this kind-hearted and noble quality he seemed to possess, as he heard the question I had posed, his eyes slid away from contact with mine and drifted off to the side, as if he was unwilling to disclose this basic conversational courtesy.
"Erm…" The man's sentence trailed off as he hesitated to answer the question. I felt it necessary to prod him for one, as the idea of traveling with an individual whom I did not have a name for was not a pleasant idea to me.
"Come on now. We should not reside here for long."
"...Dedric." He muttered, and that seemed about as much as he would divulge for now. On a side note, it seemed that Dedric had no possession of a distinct accent, leaving me to wonder where he might be from. His voice was gravelly yet concise, as well as deep in tone, though his limited diction left something to be desired.
"Very well, Sir Dedric. Since we are resorting to first names only, I am Avonnius."
"Avon, then. For short."
I was a tad irked that he had already resolved to confer me a nickname, but now was not the time for deliberation.
"Very well." I muttered. "Are you heading somewhere, Sir Dedric, preferably a municipality? And if so, may I have the pleasure of accompanying you until we arrive at such a place?"
"Well...not a particular place, really. I've been wanderin' 'round for a while now."
"I...see."
I was a bit off-put by his lack of destination, figuring it to be some sort of lame excuse for banditry, though I did not care to dwell on that too much so. I had myself to worry about at the moment.
Considering the circumstances I had found myself in, I knew it would be insanely irrational to further pursue this trail without any form of serious protection.
"Then, Sir Dedric, if I may be so bold as to request a guarded transport to the next town? I will pay in coin."
Of course, it was necessary to add in the last sentence, for I was afraid that Dedric would not put effort into safeguarding my life unless there was some sort of incentive behind it. Dedric reacted as I had expected, his eyes glimmering at the prospect of payment.
"I mean...sure, yeah. Why not?"
I nodded my head in affirmation.
Predictable, as most people are, I thought cynically.
However, I did inwardly sigh in relief that he did not try and wager a specific price, for it was painfully aware to me that I had little coin to spare at all.
"Then let us depart from these sinister grounds."
Dedric seemed perplexed by my statement, and I only then realized that he did not have a good grasp of 'ascended' vocabulary, per se.
"Let's leave."
Dedric nodded in understanding, and departed we did, heading down the trail, the moon gazing over us in ominous prognostication of what was to come.
Week 1, Day 1, Midnight
As we had continued following the dirt-paved road, the night grew on in ever-blackening darkness, the only source of light hailing from the half moon that casted its luminescent shade over the lands. It only served to enhance the already-ominous woodlands around us, as rays of the pale light shot through openings in the dense thicket of the treetops.
We dared not venture into the woods on either side of the trail. Neither of our persons carried light sources on us, and considering that the mesh of the forest was pitch-black, it would surely be a reckless and possibly suicidal notion to even try and make our way through such an uncharted area.
Even grimmer was the prospect that we could not establish a camp for rest, as we did not have any supplies to construct a campfire nor proper sheltering from nature's elements.
As I was beginning to understand our predicament, I couldn't help but fathom why my traveling companion was so ill-prepared from the start. After copious amounts of small talk and a few long-winded conversations, I did not peg Dedric for a fool of any sort. It bewildered me, his nature.
Despite this pattern of conflicting behavior, he was a decent travel partner, considering the circumstances. As we made our way down the trail, the barrier between us began to break down ever so slowly, till the point where we were jesting and conversing informally. I soon came to develop a liking for this crass yet interesting individual.
Time grew on as the road stretched forward, and the hours began to fly by quickly. And yet, so did my wariness of the environment around me. The fact that we had not reached some sort of village or town by this point was beginning to worry me.
Then again, this world was terrifyingly large.
"Ay, so Avon, ya ain't told me where ya came from, why yer 'ere."
My previously casual attitude was butchered as Dedric's question prodded my memory to reminisce over the events only a few hours prior. Dedric seemed to notice my change in manner.
"Sumn' bad 'appen? Don't mean to pry, but I noticed ya garbs are quite...important-looking."
Superlative or polished would have suited as better terms, I thought haughtily. Of course, I was fully aware that Dedric was most definitely...uneducated, to put it simply.
"Very well. I see no harm in disclosing this." I uttered.
Despite his eyes darting around warily, I knew Dedric was listening in on my tragic tale. I ensured to 'dumb down' my diction so that he could properly understand the story.
"My father's estate, in Drakmenis...it was...attacked, for lack of a better word. Some terrible creatures had breached the defenses, having sneaked in over the outer walls. They laid waste to everything in sight. Buildings, supplies, people, children...The surrounding hamlets had also been raided by these creatures."
"Ya said creatures, I've noticed. They weren't...human?"
I shook my head solemnly.
"I didn't get a good look at them, but from what I could make out amidst the fog, rain, smoke and chaos...they were monsters, to say the least."
A sparse moment of silence passed by as Dedric seemed to digest the information.
"What about you? It seems a bit surprisin' that ya weren't caught up in all o' that."
"I had just come back from Yannesburg, a mill town in Tilryn, when I had discovered the state of the place. It was...a dreadful feeling, seeing everything my father had built, every person I had come to know in that estate...all of it gone."
As I was now confronting the reality of the situation, my chest tightened, my throat clenching as I resisted the urge to sob. I bit the inside of my cheeks to hold back my sorrow.
"...That's tragic. I'm, uh, sorry for ya loss, mate."
I nodded in silence.
"But, ah, if it makes ya feel any betta, you've got a fresh start, right? I mean, eh, now ya don't have anything tyin' ya down. Ya can go and travel and, uh-"
A knight stepped out of the darkened forest right onto the trail in front of us.
…
…
…
"What in the…"
His appearance was so sudden that it took me a good moment to comprehend his presence. Dedric, on the other hand, was rapid in his response.
"Didja need sumn', fella?" He responded in an overly aggressive manner.
The knight, who I noticed to be rather mudstained, was resting his hand nonchalantly on the pommel of the sword in his scabbard, his other hand having previously been left hanging in the air idly, was now brought up in a friendly gesture. His visor was lifted up, so that I had view of his surprisingly youthful face, clean-shaven and lacking the wrinkles and scars that most knights often had.
"Greetings, travelers!" He announced, the pitch of his voice changing rapidly as he continued speaking in a wholehearted manner. "I am Sir Haedyr Ponsertaine. To whom doth I oweth the pleasure of meeting on this fine night?"
I could feel Dedric's presence lean in close to my ear as he whispered to me.
"This sob popped out of the woods withou' a torch in his hands. I don't trust this batty bastard one bit."
"I agree." I whispered back. "But let's not make haste with rash measures just yet."
Once again, it eluded my mind that Dedric had a minimal grasp of complex diction, which was further confirmed by his furrowing of the eyebrows in frustration.
"Mate, can ya please speak like a regular basterd, for fuck's sake?"
I resisted the urge to backhand this blithering imbecile for being so terribly unrefined, and reiterated my statement.
"Don't try anything yet. He is a knight, after all."
Dedric nodded in understanding, to my utter relief, and receded his head back. I turned to the knight, who had been uncomfortably awaiting my response with laudable patience. It would not be favorable to lie to a knight, no matter how bizarre their situation seemed to be.
"Apologies for the lack of reply, sir knight."
To my surprise, the knight seemed to take great joy in the way I addressed him, his helmet tilting up slightly in what I conjectured to be delight.
"...We were nonplussed by your sudden entrance, sir knight. I am Lord Avonnius Crestentille of the Sevenaire Estate. This-" I gestured formally over to my travel partner, who seemed to be visibly uncomfortable with the second-hand introduction I was conferring. "-is Dedric. We chanced upon each other a while back down the road, when he honorably saved my life from the clutches of a few brigands that had taken run of these lanes."
The knight's helmet shook as he nodded his head.
"Quite a scrupulous tale, I wilt concede."
I was a bit puzzled by the word he elected to use to describe my retelling, as I didn't find it to be particularly detailed.
"Er…indeed. Aside from that, I would politely inquire as to where you had...originated prior to this meet."
The knight nodded his head slowly, much to my confounding. He acted as a foreigner would to an alien language.
"I see...eth." I heard him mutter.
I was getting more confused by the second. Had I not spoken clearly enough?
I repeated the question, and this time the knight's face shone signs of hesitation and nervousness. I first suspected that he must have had something to hide. And now that I was pondering the situation, there were other problems with this lone knight.
"Sir knight, where is your squad? Don't you soldiers travel in groups, or with an entourage of footmen?"
It was at that remark that the knight seemed to finally grasp, his eyes clearing up in understanding.
"Ah, yes! Mine own platoon..."
What in the hell? I thought, disturbed. Did he not comprehend my last assertions?
"Well, you see, sirs, I am a...scout! Aye, a scout, f'r mine own platoon!"
My eyes narrowed in harrowing suspicion. Even a fool could tell this knight was lying out of his backside. I could feel Dedric's presence once more as he leaned in to speak into my ear.
"This guy is lyin' out of his-"
"I noticed." I hissed, much to Dedric's chagrin. I directed my voice back to the knight, ensuring to raise my volume under the pretense that he had auditory problems.
"Very well, sir knight. In honor of your status, I will hold credence in your affirmation."
I was confident that I had firmly resolved the situation, yet I almost lost my composure when I noticed the knight mirror a most similar expression to Dedric when I spoke, as if I was speaking an entirely foreign language. This befuddled me greatly, as I was under the impression that knights, irregardless of their nationality, were universally given a higher form of education than most other individuals, alongside other training regimes.
Something here is amiss… I thought to myself in grand suspicion.
"Aside from yond," The knight continued. "I did notice thee two art ill-equipp'd f'r thy travels. Might I spare mine own supplies f'r the night, as a purported sign of goodwill?"
Does this man have any inkling of what he is saying? I thought in dismay. Not only was his use of Rattlerodic Anglish in actual conversation exceedingly outre, but his misuse of elevated diction was even more bizarre, judging by what he seemed to think 'purported' meant.
Nevertheless, I tried in full measure to move past his queer mannerisms, nodding my head in steady affirmation.
"May Tog bless you, kind sir knight." I responded, bowing my head slightly in gratitude. As surreal as the encounter was, I considered it to be a blessing in disguise. Surely, Tog was looking over me and in my travels…
Within the hour, and after fervent searching, we had finally settled within a small grove further down the road, a clearing to the side of the trail that served as a near-perfect encampment spot. Giving us a healthy view of the road, yet hidden well enough that a passerby would have difficulty uncovering our position without effort at trying.
As the knight Haedyr laid out his traveling supplies, Dedric took initiative and gathered the ingredients for starting a campfire, whilst the knight himself began laying bedrolls down and, to my surprise, took out some type of wooden object with a hoop and began calmly beating the bedrolls.
"What in the dickens are you doing?" I exclaimed. The knight lifted his head up in question.
"Wherefore, sir, has't thee not ridden thy bedding of the bugs ere?"
I was indeed ill-familiar with this ritual of beating bedding to rid it of bugs, though I vaguely recalled my father describing these practices in his extravagant tales to me prior to his days as lord of his estate. Of course, I never utilized this technique in my travels, as I was scarcely without quality camping supplies in those times.
"...Forget my outburst, sir knight."
He nodded once, resuming his work. Meanwhile, I surveyed our camp site.
Frankly, there wasn't much to analyze. It was a simple campfire, with a carefully-laid rock formation encircling a small mound of twigs and leaves, with the bedrolls laying a few feet away in a triangular arrangement around the fire. I was concerned by the pathetic gathering of sticks and flammables that was meant to serve as fuel for our flame. I discerned that one of the nearby small trees could provide substantial branches for the fire. I directed my attention to Dedric, who was still collecting fuel from amongst the ground and low-hanging trees.
"Dedric."
His head perked up. Remembering the annoying conversation an hour prior about my 'diction', I made sure to limit my vocabulary as I spoke.
"Might I suggest breaking off the branches of those small trees cropped at the edges of the clearing? They could...help…in the...er...making and...uh...how long the fire lasts."
It was shockingly difficult to try and get my point across with layman speech, but alas, it paid off as Dedric acknowledged my suggestion, albeit with a confused expression relating to my fragmented speaking. He began making his way over to a group of said trees, breaking off the smaller branches and bundling them under his arm.
I couldn't help but notice a small swelling in my chest, what I assumed to be satisfaction in my contribution. Or rather, was that a feeling of authority?
Oh well. It was not worth pondering at this moment. Seeing the camp being put together, I felt a strong urge to further contribute to the work at hand, though I wasn't entirely certain in how to implement myself effectively.
"Sir Avonnius, may I impl're thee to see-eth to thy wounds?"
Hearing Haedyr's voice, my eyes instinctively flickered towards his presence. I was starting to notice the lack of proper addressment to me as a lord, even if my father's estate was in shambles. I had then also noticed that his pitch was not as screechy and ridiculously exaggerated as whence we had first met, but rather taking on a soft and quite clear tone instead. I even noted a slight Morvenican accent in his words.
"Sir Avonnius?"
"Uh, indeed, I will, sir knight. I presume you have the supplies to accompany this request?"
"Right thou art, sir!" He exclaimed, pulling out a miscellaneous set of field bandages, stitching supplies, and a bottle of potion, outstretching his burdened hands to exchange with me.
I eyed the needle for the stitching, feeling dread. I was not accustomed nor particularly likened with any sort of piercing object, especially surgeries that required much stitching of the flesh. It was one of the main reasons I served to prevent myself from many rough adventures in or outside of the estate growing up.
Nonetheless, I no longer had the protections I once possessed. Steeling my nerves, I offloaded the supplies off of him, bowing my head gratefully.
"Many thanks once more, sir knight."
The knight seemed off-put by my expression of gratitude, which led me to further doubt this man's legitimacy of claim to occupation. Knights were often some of the most respected and revered figures in Moneian society, and it was ill-often that they did not receive praise and recognition in most venues of travel.
Nonetheless, I served to put aside the suspicion, seeing as his intent thus far nay seemed to hold malice, and resolved myself in tending to my lacerations.
As I made work in first inspecting the severity of my cuts, I was thrice-fold relieved to find that they had little need for stitching. Most of the gashes seemed to be barely half an inch deep, though there were some noticeably deeper slashes.
And yet, I knew that there was still a painful segment to go. I eyed the potion I had been given by the knight.
"A cleansing tincture…" I noted aloud, popping the cork off and wafting the scent of the contents inside towards my nose. It was quite strong, which was to be expected of a bottle with alcohol mixed with various medicinal herbs. As I once more reflected on the suffering that awaited me, I was inclined to prod the sir Haedyr for any spirits he could grant me to spare my mind from the physical pain that was to come, but I reluctantly decided against it. I was resolute in increasing experience for my pain threshold, for I was undoubtedly assured that there were far worse pains down the path I was heading.
Pride yourself, man! I thought in affirmation, tipping the potion towards my cut arms. Tis but a mere flesh wou-AAAAAAHHH!
It took considerably great effort to hold back a ghastly yell of pain as the contents of the bottle stung my skin like several lashings from a whip. I almost dropped the bottle, quickly placing it on the ground and holding my wound as I seethed through my teeth in extravagant pain.
By Tog, I thought to myself as I nearly keeled over in pain. What type of hilarious irony is it that the very brew meant to heal causes pain in the process?!
Then again, it was also quite poetic. I oft considered myself to be the 'goblet-half-full' type of fellow.
"Art thee suff'ring, Sir Avon?"
Wouldst thou shutteth the fuck up? I almost spouted. I chose to keep that little quip to myself.
"Sir knight, I do not wish to sound crass, but I would ask that you please address me with the titles befitting a lord of his estate, if you so kindly will grant that etiquette."
I went through great pains to not sound arrogant or overbearing in the course of the matter, and it seemed to pay off, as the knight humbly bowed his head in acknowledgement of my request.
"Very well, Thy L'rdship."
"Nah, mate. I ain't doin' that."
I heard the familiar rough voice chirp up from further away, and raised my head to confront the disrespectful cur, my eyebrows furrowing in slight irritation.
"Pardon, Mister Dedric?"
"You 'eard me, mate. You told me that your estate is cocked up, so what're you the lord of, exactly?"
"You vexatious wretch!" I hissed in utter indignation. "How dare you mock up the name of my father's estate! Have you any idea of what prestigious accolades it has attained, the vast wealth and power it has accrued over decades?"
"'Parently not worth too much now, then." He fired back as a quick retort. I felt my anger boil over as the remark reached my ears.
"Come here, you flagrant bastard, so that I may show you the back of my hand!" I yelled, running over and tackling Dedric by the waist. We tumbled to the ground, wrestling for a few seconds before Haedyr came over and forcefully separated us.
"By Tog, men, calm yourselves! Stop acting like children!"
I was quick to feel terrible shame for my behavior, losing all of my fighting energy. Grunting in frustration, I rested the palm of my hand against my forehead, trying to shield my eyes in embarrassment.
"Togdamnit, what am I doing?"
Silence ensued as the situation became tense and awkward. I could hear the shuffling of footsteps and grumbling, which I assumed was Dedric retreating to some corner of this alcove we had found. I suddenly felt something grab my shoulder softly, looking up to see Haedyr's sympathetic expression.
"Enough of this moping, comrade. I understand your situation, so why don't we distract ourselves with a little wine?" He said, slightly waving a bottle of the crimson substance in his other hand. I felt a good bit better, both through Haedyr's consolation, and from the alcohol he brandished, which I eyed with a strong craving.
I briefly had a moment of reminiscence, back to when Father told tales of a 'Crimson Plague' at another estate, one that was lost to some ancient evil and was being retaken by adventurers from all corners of the continent. His tales of the Crimson Plague were gruesome yet intriguing, as he described insect-like humanoids drinking from bottles of blood. I happened to reflect upon this as I was staring at the bottle in Haedyr's hand, but my thirst for the tangy rich liquor was more motivational force.
"Let us drink, then."
It was an hour into the drinking that we began to enjoy the proclivities of nature, as our inebriated spirits were enlightened with the soothing tint of a drunken stupor, if only slightly. The brew of the wine was surprisingly much stronger than anticipated, and quickly overwhelmed my innate tolerance for the alcohol. As I my mind was beginning to swirl into crapulence, I only barely noticed Dedric joining the fray of drinking, and sooner than later all three of us began singing folk songs (despite them being drastically different due to our differing origin locations), and plenty of confessions.
Of course, despite my intoxicated condition, I always considered myself a sort of 'information gatherer' through most means, illicit, immoral and otherwise. So one could easily understand how I just couldn't pry myself from listening in to these confessions by my fellow travelers.
"You know...I must admit to you both, even if it pains me…" Haedyr started, his terrible use of Rattlerodic dropping completely from the conversation. I was intent on his next sentence.
"Ey, uh, Avon, bud...I, uh, just wanted to apologize for earlier, you know-"
"Yes, yes, tis but water under the bridge, Mister Dedric-"
"And, uh, I just wanted to give thanks fer, uh, travelin' with me, ya know? These roads been mighty lonely for a good bit now-"
Togdamnit, would you shut the hell up?! I thought in great ire. I noticed Haedyr's mouth was moving, and I was quick to strain my ear, listening in on his little spat.
"...not really a knight."
"Pardon?"
The knight's head craned up towards me, the shame in his eyes all too revealing as he repeated his statement prior.
"I...am not really a knight."
For fuck's sake-
"In fact, I just happened to picked up this armor from after a skirmish between a group of knights and a band of war orcs-"
I had already distrusted his credentials when we had first met. If anything, this was a confirmation, and not even a stifling one, at that.
"Ehh…" I groaned, opting to take a seat on the nearby log. The mere action of just listening to someone was nearly overpowering to my bogged down mind. It was in fact that I was starting to...feel...woozy…
I could feel...my...consciousness...slipping further...into the darkness…
Oh Tog…
"Huh?!"
I at sudden jolted up from where I was on the ground, and was immediately ambushed by an impressionable headache.
"Urgh...that damned wine…"
My strength was fleeting, yet recovering, if only slowly. After a few moments, I had enough to place my forearms against the ground to take a look around the campsite.
To my immediate right was the imitator knight Haedyr, who was passed out on the ground in an undignified manner. My eyes moved past him to focus on, to my surprise, the seemingly awake and responsive Dedric, who was in the midst of checking over his own gear.
"How...in the hell...are you awake?"
Dedric looked up at me and shrugged indifferently, which, if I am being honest, kind of pissed me off.
"I've been travelin' fer a long time now by myself, Ave. You gotta learn how to look out fer number one if ya gonna keep livin'."
There it was again. Yet an even shorter nickname than the one he had whence proclaimed.
"Dedric, I would thrice-fold appreciate it deeply if you did not elect such shortened names for me. It is getting to the point where it sounds like you are calling for a beloved pet."
That sentence seemed to amuse Dedric, who only snickered in response upon hearing that. I experienced a terribly powerful urge to close the gap between us and deck him in the face, but I felt that would be unbefitting of a lord such as myself.
Besides, this headache was preventing me from doing much of anything currently. However, I was desperate to get up, and did so, even at the cost of amplifying the headache that overtook my skull.
"Well, I gather we shouldn't idle here any longer." I announced, offering a slight kick to Haedyr's being, causing him to emit a louder than usual snort. "We should be going now."
It was then that a sharp pain went through my forearms, and I looked down to see that I had not actually dressed the wounds yet after pouring the tincture on them from the night prior.
"Blast it. I'll do it on the road." I conferred to myself, moving to pack up my gear.
"What...prithee...would be going here, sirs?" Haedyr mumbled as he stumbled up onto his feet.
"We are getting a move on. Pack your gear so we can head further down the trail." I took a moment to look at Haedyr. "That is, if you plan on continuing to travel with us."
Haedyr looked up at me, and for a moment there was a sort of...shining...in his eyes, as if he had been given a great opportunity.
"But of course, comrade! It would be my sincere pleasure to be a part of this group!"
He seemed to have more energy than before, and was now getting up and starting to pack his things. I chose not to respond, instead continuing to pack my own as well. Dedric did the same, and within minutes we were on the road.
And we had a ways to go.
A long ways to go.