Surprisingly, when you aren't fighting for your life against angry eldritch abominations or comically large lobsters, doing battle can be a rather enjoyable experience.
The pulse of blood within your temples, the adrenaline, the split-second decisions; you could experience it all in full, free from the very real possibility of being crushed under heel like an ant.
Raphael walked through a field of dead men, a small smile on his face.
Of course, it was hard to truly break a sweat against enemies of their calibre. Even the soldiers of Godrick had a leg up on those so-called 'bandits', and although it had been barely a week since his arrival in this strange land, the warrior already found himself craving epic confrontation once more.
A Golden form loomed over the corpse of the mercenary leader, inspecting his body for any signs of life.
It lay still as a corpse.
The tarnished turned back to the huddled villagers, and gave them a cheesy smile and thumbs up.
"I think that's all of them!"
A second passed, then two, before the people of Camelford broke out into happy tears and relieved laughter.
Raphael made his way back to them with measured steps, and was greeted with exultant praise. He smiled and waved at all the required moments, but despite the throngs of people vying for the man's attention, his gaze glossed past them, searching, before eventually finding what it was looking for.
Pushing past grasping hands and eager smiles, the tarnished strode through the large congregation until he had reached its edges, and was met with a sorry sight.
"How are you holding up, Gareth?"
The man in question, sat off to the side with hung head and trembling shoulders, perked up almost instantly at Raphael's approach. He scrambled to his feet despite the pain it must have caused him, and looked up with tearful eyes.
"My son! Did you find my son?!"
His words were that of a hopeless man, a man who had already come to a conclusion regarding the fate of his progeny. Rather than a question of the boy's wellbeing, it was uttered with such crushing grief that the real meaning was easily evident to Raphael.
'Did you find my son's body?'
"I did, in fact. He was a bit banged up, but I've done for him the best I can. The lad should be right as rain come tomorrow."
Gareth stared in awe. Slowly, as if he was just now comprehending the words said to him, his face twisted and contorted into hundreds of different emotions, before eventually settling on something that caused the warrior's heart to lighten.
Fighting could be fun, he could admit that readily- doubly so when in defence of a just cause- but looking at the expression of pure relief writ upon the old man's face brought Raphael a sense of fulfilment that was hard to find anywhere else.
That people could wake up the next day, happier than they were in the last, and look forward into the future rather than shying away, all because of something he did… There was nothing else that could compare.
"I…I…"
"There's no need for thanks, my friend. I simply did what any decent man would do."
And with that, Raphael left the man to his thoughts.
Gareth stared at a broad back clad in burnished steel, illuminated in pale hues by the light of the moon. He stared at the retreating form of his saviour, slowly dissipating into the gloom, and let out a gleeful laugh, full of wonder and delight.
He had finally understood.
Who was it that disguised himself as human to walk amongst the lands of men? Who was it that expelled the scum and demonic taint from the world? Who was it that posed as a divine physician, able to cure any man of any ailment?
Tears fell from his eyes, but the old man was not upset. Quite the opposite, in fact, for within his breast swelled a feeling of almighty rapture.
The faithful, the humble, the righteous; wielder of the divine light of God. Who else could the Lord have sent to cleanse this rotten land but he, the enemy of all evil, bane of the Devil himself?
From choked tongue left a whisper, full of reverence and steeped in awe.
"Raphael."
On that dark night in England, far from the eyes of most, an event of great importance took place. An event that would echo all throughout the world, and spark the beginning of something that would alter the course of history forever.
On the wings of a dove, the legend of the Camelford Angel was born.
/
The sky was lit in warm red tones. The sun, large and full, crested over the horizon as part of its eternal cycle, bathing the earth in its heavenly glow. The eye of God loomed over the earth, protecting it, cleansing it from the evils that crept in the dark
Evelyn looked up at the sight, deep in thought. For a second her eyes strayed downwards, morbidly curious, before quickly averting themselves.
"I figured you would still be here."
The girl didn't make any move to acknowledge the voice, familiar as it was.
"Everybody's already gone home, y'know? Although I can understand why you're still out here…"
The sound of shuffling feet emanated from behind her, and after a second a figure emerged from the corner of her eye to stand beside her, perfect features gazing up at the sky.
"This view really is something. The moon is beautiful in its own right, of course, but something about the sunrise just fills me with contentment. Almost like you're watching a great play, although it's performed every time with the same directions and the only actor is the sun itself."
The figure let out a chuckle at his own joke, and Evelyn found that the corners of her lips had begun to curl up into a smile, although they just as quickly straightened out.
A hand was placed upon her shoulder. Despite the figure's princely appearance and perfect bearing, his fingers remained in contrast to that image, rough and calloused as they were.
"Don't feel bad about them. They would have done much worse given the chance."
"I don't."
The girl whipped her head around, turning to face the warrior. Her usual poise and self-confidence was notably absent, visage pale and hands trembling.
"They were evil, scum of the earth. Murderers, rapists, pillagers… death was the only penalty they deserved, this I know, and I am happy they are gone! So why… Why do I feel like this?"
The man let out a sigh, one laden with a bittersweet aftertaste.
"There is no shame in having sympathy, Evelyn. Those bandits may have been evil, just as you said, but once they were simply known as 'men', same as you and I."
He spoke with a heavy tone, as if this was a conversation he had had before.
"Look at them, really look. What is it that you see?"
Evelyn found her eyes involuntarily dragging down once more, although this time she forced herself not to look away.
The field was covered in blood.
Dozens of corpses lay upon the grass, unseeing eyes locked upon distant points, devoid of any emotion. Guts and severed limbs were strewn around like macabre decorations, adorning the bodies in a mockery of an honest funeral. The whole place smelled like a slaughterhouse.
Evelyn thought that she might be sickened or disgusted by the sight, but all she could feel was a hollowness deep within her chest, a cold chill that pervaded her bones.
"Helping others isn't always as romanticised as you might think. A lot of the time, in an effort to save someone or to preserve justice, a cost must be paid, a price that may well ache upon your soul. I do not regret killing those men, and neither should you, but the mourning of life lost does not make you a bad person."
Raphael's gaze was distant, looking out into the dawn in search of something unknowable. His smile was tinged with melancholy.
"In the end, it does not matter who you were in life, for the corpses of good and evil men are indistinguishable from each other."
He seemed lost for a moment, eyes glazed over as if revisiting a distant memory, before he shook his head to dispel it.
This time when he smiled, it was notably lighter.
"I think we've had enough of heavy topics for one day. I will say, though, that I think you were mightily brave out there. It is one thing for a warrior like me, but for a lass without any training to stand against those men… Such a thing is impressive in its own right. Not many would have the courage to do what you did."
Evelyn seemed notably taken aback, pausing for a moment, before replying.
"You're over-exaggerating. I'm sure there were many that wished to do the same, I was just the one that got to it first."
The man gave her a mysterious grin, before chuckling and spinning on his heel.
"Whatever you say, Evelyn, whatever you say… Believe what you will, but that was the fist of a warrior if I've ever seen one!"
The sound of amused laughter followed in his footsteps, the clearing eventually engulfed once more in silence.
Grey eyes stared down at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed. A previously forlorn visage replaced with something tentatively hopeful.
'Bloody handsome bastard! Where does he think he gets off saying those sorts of things!'
Her cheeks pinkened underneath the morning light.
/
AN:
Really sorry about the short upload this time, been on holiday with some friends since Monday so not had much free time + typing on my old piece of shit phone is a nightmare in and of itself. Promise when I get back gonna release some longer chapters more frequently