[Flashback] [Solo] The Path to Knighthood: Homecoming

[Don]

Timestamp: 19th of Spring, 508AV. The journey back to Syliras had been a long, and silent one. Not much had been said between the party, as Anthor had spent half the trip mourning the death of his late brother. The other half had been spent sleeping, eating, and fishing to keep themselves stocked with food. Yet, at last, they had finally reached the city gates, an all too familiar and welcoming sight to the aspiring-knight. The guards on duty welcomed them on their return, and they passed through with little time wasted. Chastity remained close at his side as Don entered the city, taking in its surroundings, beautiful and glorious. Stormhold castle stood before him in all its glory, looming over him like a great shadow. No doubt, somewhere in that castle, they would find the girl’s father. But they were not looking for him. Donathon ran a dirt-stained hand through his mop of hair, turning to face Chastity, who seemed afraid that she would indeed be taken home. With a pat on the head, the knight-hopeful told her otherwise. ”We are not taking you back home, child. Anthor and I will find you a new one, a better one. Free from struggle, free from violence. All that we have to do is look hard enough.” He turned back to Anthor, unaware of the great white smile that emerged upon the girls face. Anthor squinted in the direction of Stormhold, then looked all around him. It seemed as though he was searching for something, something important. A few moments of linger silence ensued, then Anthor spoke. His voice was hoarse from all the crying he had been doing, and his eyes were rung with sorrow. A deep pit of emptiness now resided where his heart once had. “Mother Terra would be happy to take the girl, she is the one who taught me and Groth to cook.” He said, cringing as he spoke his brother’s name. ”She’s a great provider, and acts as a mother figure to me. Perhaps she could do the same for the girl.” He shrugged, and Don smiled. It had been a great idea. “Very well, Anthor. If you would be so kind as to lead us there, then I will have a word with Mother Terra.” Anthor nodded in response, and began to prod Don in the direction of Stormhold. Together, with Chastity at his side, the trio entered the castle. The day was young, so the keep itself was not littered with thousands of busy bodies like usual. A few did roam the stone halls, mainly knights and slaves. The slaves could be distinguished from other people because of their ragged clothing, and their dirt-stained forms. Don felt sorry for each of them as they passed by, unable to glance at him or anyone else, as that was seen as a disrespectful act to a slave. It was cruel, but it was reality. A long, silent walk brought them to the apartment district of the castle, where many of Syliras’ citizens lived, Don included. His apartment was not far down the lane, and he had never actually expected to be this close to where this woman lived. The trio stood outside for several moments after Don had knocked, before Anthor took it upon himself to open the door. What resided within was far from what he wanted to see, and far from what Don expected. Chastity screamed, and Don almost vomited. It was horrible.

[Don]

Blood stained the walls, the carpet, and anything else that rested within that room. The site was enough to make Don’s stomach rumble in the sad hope that it might puke, and Chastity quickly did so at the base of Don’s foot. He was unfazed by it at the time, as all his attention had been devoted to the room before them. The carpet had been torn up, books, pots and other assortments had been left strewn across the room, and there was a musky smell of vomit and urine that lingered about in the air. Don was the first to step into the room, followed by Anthor. Chastity remained outside, wiping her mouth of the remaining spew. As Don tried his hardest to step over the trails of blood, he could not help but notice something. There was a small window in the apartment, and it had been left open, remnants of shattered glass left upon the window sill. He approached it cautiously, and picked up the glass with a gloved hand. He could feel his muscles ache from the fight days before, and his entire body felt like one big pit of agony. His joints hurt and his muscles had regularly been cramping up, yet he fought it off with all the energy he had left. It was no time to be thinking of himself, for Don knew there was a murder at hand. He had to get to the bottom of it, as quickly as he could. If there was a chance the apartment owner, Mother Terra, was alive, he doubted she would be for long. “Who do you think would have the incentive?” Don asked Anthor as he walked past him, observing a collection of shattered pots along the kitchen bench. Anthor paused for a moment, before coming to a quick and steady conclusion. “Her father, the girl’s father. It’s the only explanation. He knew that I was under Mother Terra’s care, and he would target her to get to me.” It was a hasty conclusion, but all the same it was a very probable one. No doubt Chastity’s father knew she was returning home, and would kill or harm anyone who he believed she could run too. This man truly wanted to see his own daughter dead. “It’s possible. But we cannot jump to any conclusions until evidence is found.” Don replied, hastily opening drawers and cupboards to see if anything had been disrupted, or left behind. The search was fruitless, as he found or saw nothing. Anthor on the other hand, found something he wished he had not, lying down by the bedside. He gasped loudly, eyes filling with tears. Don quickly rushed to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, shocked at what lay before them. There, by the side of her bed, lay the mutilated body of Terra. Her right hand was no more, as each and every finger had been cut off, leaving nothing but small pits of flesh and blood. Her right foot was severed, and a small lake of crimson had formed around the stump that was left behind. Her eyes had been plucked from her face, leaving nothing but dark sockets behind. Her stomach had been cut open, most likely by a blade, leaving her entrails strewn across the floor. Anthor vomited as soon as Don came to his side, and Don nearly thought of doing the same. But who would do such a thing, to such a kind lady? And all the mess... what were they looking for? His eyes scanned the room for a moment, and then he saw it, a message written in blood, left carelessly upon the bed.

[Don]

Don moved forward scooped up the note, staring down upon it with blank, frightened eyes. The note had been hastily written, thin lines of crimson replacing what would usually be ink letters. It only took Donathon a moment to read the letter, and what he saw shocked him. He had believed it to be true, and now knew it to be, judging by the contents of the note. As he finished reading it and moved his head away in disgust, Anthor gave him a worried look. He passed the note to his companion, and the large man read it aloud. I know you will find this. I hope you find this. If you are back in Syliras I take it you know my plans, and I take it you will be trying to find me, trying to find a new home for my daughter. I assure you, you will do none of either. I have already taken the liberty of removing Anthor’s mother from the fray, and I will continue to do remove those you care about until I find my daughter. Anthor looked up from the note at Don, then to the doorway. He read it aloud, but not loud enough for Chastity to hear. At least, he hoped she had not heard. Don moved towards the note and took it from Anthor, tossing it upon the ground with force. It soon soaked into the blood, and the writing was replaced by a field of crimson, no longer visible. He did not want anyone else reading it, even if it was the other knights. This matter had become personal, for both Anthor and Don. They would see the man dead, and find Chastity a new home. All in good time. “What should we do?” Anthor asked, looking down at the crimson-covered note. A cold chill darted through the only window in the apartment, and Don knew that it was the only way. He could have apprehended the man, though it would have more than likely only caused more trouble. A rich man was always able to get out of jail faster than a poor one. No, the only way to finish this was by putting an end to the man who had caused his own daughter so much grief, and those around her so much despair. “ We must kill her father, and put an end to this injustice once and for all. I rarely come to such a conclusion, though in this situation.. there is nothing else I can do. If he is put behind bars, he will only escape through treachery and wealth. His head must been removed from his neck if we wish this to truly end.” He looked away from Anthor as he spoke, before returning his eyes back to Anthor’s. Neither of them knew where this man was, and only one of the group did. Yet Chastity was the one in the most danger, and bringing her into it could have put them at risk of losing her. Don would not have it. The Knight-hopeful brisked by his companion, and walked back outside. Chastity had been leaning against the inside wall, her eyes squeezed shut and her head hung toward the ground. Don knelt down and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently on the soft skin that covered it. Chastity grimaced, though Don’s voice soon soothed her. “Chastity, you cannot follow us any longer. I have a friend, you will stay with him until this is all over. I fear that if you come with us, your life will be in danger. My friend is a good and honourable man, he will take care of you until we return.” As Donathon finished he rose to his feet, and ran a hand through her hair to mess it up. “Anthor, we’re leaving.”

[Don]

A short but cautious walk led the trio to another level of the apartment district, where the poorer people resided. These apartments were generally lacking windows, and only small vents allowed fresh air to come through the homes. His friend from their youth, Augustus, lived within the area. He was the largest of their group in his youth, though had seemingly grown into a strong, muscular man. He was a squire of the Knights already, and had been one for almost three seasons already. In a perspective, Don was slightly jealous. Hei wanted to become a squire, he wanted to become a knight. Patience was a virtue. Augustus was a good man, and one of Don’s closest friends. As they approached his apartment door, Don only prayed to Tyveth that he could help. Don knew that the girl’s father would not know about him, nobody really did, and the girl would be safe within his home. If any harm came to her within his house, the burden of the loss would fall upon Don, and he knew he would never truly be able to live with himself again. He just hoped that it would not be the case, and Chastity would be safe with Augustus, even for a short while. “Augustus, open your door. It’s Don.” The knight-hopeful said as he beat the wooden frame with his knuckles, closing his eyes in a silent prayer. He heard footsteps resonate from inside, and soon the door came creaking open, revealing a tall, tanned man. His hair was shaggy and black, his beard non-existent. He looked at Don with a smile, then peered over at Anthor and Chastity, who had been standing a few metres away. His tongue moved slowly across his bottom lip, and he beckoned the three to enter. They did so in a rush, and Augustus slowly shut the door behind them. His house had been just like Mother Terra’s, to a slightly cleaner and less-bloody extent. A short walk through the hallway brought them to the living room, where each took a wooden chair by the dining table. Augustus leaned against the kitchen bench, brow raised. “What brings you here, friend?” He asked, eyes darting between the two strangers. Don stood, leaning one hand against the table. ”A favour. This girl,” He waved a hand to Chastity, “her life is in jeopardy. Her own father seeks her undoing, and I have vowed to protect her. I was wondering if you would help me, and let the girl stay here until..” He looked at Chastity, who seemed confused, then back at Augustus, who knew what he meant. The squire nodded, and bowed to the girl. “Augustus, and you are?” He said as he rose, and Chastity said her own name in a hushed tone, yet one loud enough for him to hear. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. You will be safe here, Chastity. Come, I’ll show you to your room. My mother used to sleep there, but she has been away from me for many seasons.” Augustus took Chastity and disappeared back down the hall, re-emerging minutes later without her. His face was stern and blank, and his surcoat was marked with the symbol of the knights. Chastity had been left in the room to look around, giving the men time to discuss the threat that was at hand. “The girl is in danger, by her own father?” Augustus asked, unable to fathom it. Don nodded simply. “More danger than you know. I appreciate you letting her stay here, Augustus. Anthor and I will return as soon as we can, once her father has been dealt with.” The two shook hands and Augustus waved a hand towards the hall, bowing. “Then do not waste any time, I am a squire, I no longer spend all day inside. She is under my protection, and I will do my best to look after her. Yet I also have my squirely duties to attend to. Make haste, Donathon.” Don nodded in response, looking at his old friend with burning ambition in his eyes. "This man must see justice, he must face the iron sword. I trust you with this knowledge, that I will not be dealing proper justice upon his wretched soul. He will be slaughtered, just as he has slaughtered Anthor's mother and brother. I take it you will keep this to yourself." Augustus smiled, closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head. "You can trust me, with both the information and the girl. Now go, put an end to all this. Return to me when you're done, and return alive. We will reconcile when you come back. Good luck." Don nodded, and motioned for Anthor to follow him down the hall. He passed by Chastity’s room without saying a word, and only smiled to Augustus and muttered thanks as they left his apartment. The door closed behind them, and no longer was Chastity’s safety his main priority. The only thing that dwelled on his mind was her father, and what he would do to him when he found him.

[Don]

As they left the apartment, Anthor stopped, scratching his large round head in thought. Don turned to him slowly, looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, or following them. When he realized there wasn’t, he spoke in a whisper. “What is it?” He asked, staring into Anthor’s confused, expressionless face. A veil of silence fell over them, until finally Anthor spoke. He did not choose to whisper. “What did we do now? Where do we go? We have no leads, and no clue where this man lives. We were assigned the quest from letters.. not the man directly.” After analysing his words for several silent moments, Don realized that his companion was right. He had no clue where this man lived, nor did he know what he looked like. He could have been anyone, anywhere. He could have been a man dressed as a knight, or a peasant, or just about anyone. What Anthor said changed Don’s perspective very suddenly, and he soon began to think. In fact, he became lost in it. He was very quickly snapped from his thoughts by Anthor, who now stood in front of him waving his arms about maniacally. Don shook his head in realization, then clutched tightly at the hilt of his blade. Anthor smiled and turned back down the hallway. “Good, you’re back. I think I might know someone who can help.” He whispered, and nudged Don to follow him. The Knight-hopeful did so, his leather shoes leaving soft sounds in his wake. He moved in measured paces, whilst Anthor’s large legs seemed to pull him forward in strides. It was difficult at first to catch up with him, though eventually he managed to stick by him. No words, nor even glances, were exchanged as the two moved through Stormhold, a much smaller man being towed along by a human giant to wherever he was taking him. It took only ten minutes before they stopped in front of a door, one that resided below a clear, newly-made wooden sign. Donathon didn’t notice it at first, though when he realized it was there, he read it immediately. Above the door it said ‘PETTIGREW’S HOME’ in elaborate writing. Why anyone cared why it was Pettigrew’s home, Don did not know. It seemed to be the only apartment with a sign plastered above its door. Whilst it seemed slightly odd, Don trusted Anthor, and would not question his intentions. “Pettigrew.” Don read aloud, staring up at the sign. Anthor nodded, unnoticed by his companion. “Long time friend. He’s powerful, very rich. He once owned half the market, bought it out with his dead grandfathers mizas. He made coin that way, and since then has lived a good life. He deserves it, too. Lived in the slummy part of the castle most of his youth, now he's richer than half the men I have met.” Anthor explained, and Don nodded. He had never heard of the name, though judging by the mere fact that this man’s apartment was located near the castle walls, he assumed he had a window. People were rich if they had a window. “What can he do for us?” Don asked quietly, as Anthor proceeded to knock upon the door. Before his beefy fist collided with the wood , he stopped and turned to Don. “Probably nothing. But he does know a lot of people. Tell him the father’s name, he’ll more than likely know. If we can find out where he lives, then we’re set.” Anthor turned back before Don could reply, and banged three fists on the door. It opened moments later, revealing an exquisitely robed man, bald and pale. His thick brown moustache was curled out at either side, though the rest of his face and head were free of hair. His crimson robes draped down against the stone floor, lined with intricate patterns and gold stitching. He looked at Don, then Anthor, then Don again, before curling his thin lips into a smile. “Anthor, It’s been a long time, friend! What brings you to my humble domain? And with a friend? May I know your name, sir?” He asked, turning to Don and greeting him with a bow. He was friendly. Too friendly. “Donathon, Donathon Varius.” Don replied, responding with a bow. Pettigrew smiled, his teeth as white and glowing as his skin. “My name is Marcus, Marcus Pettigrew. Now, what is it you need of me, Anthor? Unless you and Donathon have only came for a visit.” He turned back to the large man before him, waving a hand for them to come inside. They both did so willingly, and the door was shut behind them.

[Don]

“Pettigrew, we need your help. I know you know people, and it’s a person we are looking for.” Anthor said, shooting a glance at Don. The knight-hopeful knew that standing around a doorway in the middle of Stormhold was not a wise idea, and was pleased when he followed his companion inside. The house was spacious, with a tapestry hanging from the living room ceiling. Everything inside the home seemed so glorious, as though it had been crafted and designed by gods themselves. Don was left in awe as they walked through the house, finally stopping at a room that was full of wooden drawers. “A person you seek? What is their name, Anthor, I am not a mind reader, as you surely know.” The man asked, pulling open a drawer that seemed to be full of scrolls and other trinkets. Don knew that his companion didn’t remember the fathers name, and decided to interject. After all, he had heard it when he was speaking to the captive mercenary. “Christos, I believe. That is his name.” Don said, and Anthor breathed a sigh of relief. He was clearly glad that Don knew it, as he did not. Yet, as the name was spoken, Pettigrew’s eyes opened in disbelief, in shock. Don grimaced for what laid ahead. “Christos Nelifon, that’s the man you are after?” Either man nodded. “Madness, blasphemy. That man’s very apartment is guarded by at least twenty men. You won’t get in alive, and if you do, you won’t be leaving it.” The robed man shut the drawer hastily, as if to point out the fact that he would no longer help them. Anthor sighed again. "But he must be stopped! This man is dangerous!" He pleaded, though Pettigrew shook his head. "If I help you, I am sending you too your death. I will not do that to a man I have known over half my lifetime. Please, leave it be. Whatever he has done will catch up to him in the long run. You do not need to lose your life for another man's justice." He replied, and Don felt an uncomfortable ease in his stomache. He had to intervene, he had to show this man that their justice was the only this man could ever be dealt. “Please friend, we need your help. He has attempted to take our lives, and even the life of his own daughter. He hired us to rescue her from other men he hired to kill her, so that it would not seem like he did not care. We were never meant to be here right now, not after the dozen or more men he sent in our pursuit. We were never meant to succeed, we were meant to die. And so was his young daughter. He has to be stopped, and without you we cannot do so.” Don spoke the truth, and he spoke it harshly. They needed the information, for Christos was far too dangerous and powerful to be left alive. Don did not truly care whether there were twenty or a hundred men guarding him, he would find a way to overcome the odds and put an end to him. Pettigrew’s slender hands wrapped around the iron knob to the drawer once more, and this time pulled it slowly open. He looked to either man before he began to rummage through the scrolls, finally pulling out a rather large piece of parchment, tied with a red string. “Here, Christos Nelifon.” He tossed the scroll to Don, who caught it with a single hand. The string had been marked with a seal, and ‘Christos Nelifon’ had been printed along the back side, clearly the way that Pettigrew identified what scroll belonged to which person. “Thankyou, your help is very much appreciated.” Don said, moving his body into a bow. Pettigrew grinned and shook his head as Anthor copied his companion. “Truly, it is not a problem. Just be careful, he is more dangerous than you think. Perhaps not the man himself, but the power he holds. I am only a tome of knowledge, I am not a fighter, though I know what lies in your path will not be easy to overcome.” Pettigrew warned, slamming the drawer shut. Don used his free hand to grip tightly on his sword hilt. “I will cut down any that stand before me, until I cut down Christos. The innocent, especially the youth, should never be harmed. This man has crossed the line on several terms, and we shall see to it that justice is brought upon him.” Don’s grip only tightened as he continued his vows, then left as he finished. Pettigrew rolled either lip back into his mouth, biting them slightly, before he ushered the men out of the room. “You haven’t any time to waste then.”