A Tale of Blades & Blood-Chapter 32: Forsaken Child

[Ryene's Point of View...]

After the others had left, I was left with a sulking warrior, who the common folk say had shit for honor, and whose heart was filled with none but sin. His name, was Mareste of House Abberan.

Though others saw him as a fool, he was the only one that showed care for me for the days that I was held captive. Ironically, the one they deemed dishonorable was the only one out of them all to tend for an old man. He sat in his chair, his haid over his forehead, shadowing his eyes from the lights of the lanterns, and his words nothing but mumbles and whispers.

Leave. My mind did not want to stay with him. Leave. Some part of me wished that I could be away. Then leave. Most of them, however, wanted to help. Don't... just leave. He cared for me... he considered me... why should I not consider him?

He is an enemy soldier... leave him be.

"What in the gods are you still doing here?" he asked in a loud whisper, not even bothering to look me in my eyes.

"I do not know myself, Ser..." I replied, "...just... caught in thought I suppose." I said softly with a smile. You know very well, my mind objected.

"Nonsense." he said, waving his hand around, disregarding the idea. "If you ever wished to think you would be out there in the fields looking at the moon or whatever shit you find amusing." he explained, his eyes still fixated on the map that laid on the table. That is true, my mind remarked, you wanted to go out... but you stayed.

I looked him in the eye, trying to read his thoughts, his emotions, and the silent pain he felt. "Why the long face, soldier?" I asked, my voice loud and my tone clear, but together they seemed gentle.

For a moment, he finally looked at me, but his stare was quickly taken back. "Haven't you heard the words my brother spoke?" he asked, a smile covering his pain. "He called me many things... but all mean the same: Failure. Do you not think that did not hurt me-"

"Of course it did." I said, stopping him from enumerating a list of things he was called. All I knew was he was hurt. That was all I needed to know. "Do you believe your brother's claims? That you are a failure and a knight who only adores whores-"

"What choice do I fucking have?" he asked with a laugh. "It doesn't matter what I feel about it- it's what people know about me!" he exclaimed, letting his hands fly open as he leaned forward, looking me in the eye. "I cannot- for the life of me -fix the reputation I've given on myself- I can't-"

"You can- I assure you." I reassured him, not taking my eyes off of him. "Do you think you are so unfortunate that your brothers and the common folk call you a 'cunt'?" I asked, my voice louder and my hands free, no longer folded among one another. "Do you think you suffer more now than when I did when I was a peasant just because they say you have shit for your honor? Do you?" I asked once more.

For a moment, he gave it a thought. He then began with a scornful voice, his tone bearing so much... pain. "It bothers me... it humiliates me... it defiles me of my reputation-"

"Reputation?" I asked with a subtle chuckle. "You sulk in this room because of your reputation? Why do you care so much about what other people think of you-"

"I could care less what they think of me-"

"Now- see?" I began. "Now you contradict your own words-"

"How?"

For a second, I give him a smile and a raised brow. My expression, was nonetheless, dumbfounded. "You blame your brother..." I began, lifting my finger upwards, "...you blame the common folk for calling you cunt..." I added, lifting another finger, "...you despise what they think of you..." I added once more, lifting a third finger, "...and finally, you sulk in a room because your brothers called you a fool... and you say they don't bother you at all-"

"Who wouldn't be?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "If people called you 'old cunt' behind your back doesn't it bother you?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"No..." I answered quickly, "...it doesn't, really... I learned to disregard the opinions of people way before I became a Ravenman-"

"Impossible- you fake it..." he laughed, swaying the thought away, "...no man is like that- all the men I knew... are not like that at all-"

"Haven't you given it a thought that these men are the reason you do care?" I asked loudly, interrupting him. "Perhaps the sayings of the old men before me were true, Ser... a man becomes what he surrounds him-"

"I'm surrounded by men who hold great honor- do you see me as honorable?" he asked, his hand on his chest. The soldier shook his head and rested his back against his chair. He grit his teeth and he curled his lips. "I'm surrounded by soldiers... but what do the common folk call me? A coward and a disposable cunt-"

"Do you really think of the opinions of the common folk more important than yours?" I asked him. "You are a soldier! Even if I am a supporter of the common people- don't consider them any higher than you! You do have honor-"

"You're starting to sound like my brother." he said with a chuckle. "Even before I met you at that school for grown fucking men... he gave me this same crappy sermon..." he remarked, setting down his hands and taking a deep breath. "I tried believing him, but it seems all those sweet words are just lies in disguise..." he said with a smile... whether it was one of agony or simply just him laughing off the pain.. it seemed like both. "What a fucking pity..."

"Don't call yourself a failure-"

"I FAIL AT EVERYTHING!" he exclaimed, his hand coming down on the table with a loud bang, sending the guards outside into a state of unease. They chattered nervously. We could hear. "I failed when Magrae got his damn scar!" he exclaimed, slamming his hand again, tears now flowing from his eyes. "I failed when I charged so stupidly having him save me and..." his voice failed him. They did not exit his throat. "I failed when I was given the first chance to prove myself all those years ago... I failed my brother and I failed myself more..." he said in sorrow, his voice strained, and his once ready words swiftly blown away. His head rested on his hand which laid on the table. "What more is left of me, old man?"

Truly nothing, I wanted to say. It was all I could see. You have and you are... nothing left. For a moment, I questioned my choice. It was as if I had forgotten the reason why I had stayed to talk to him... why was I here again? I had no answer for the young man. All that was in my head... were memories.

"You remind me of my student..." I told him, "...always sulking and always in sorrow- he asks the same questions you do-"

"Don't compare me to your soft cunts of pupils..." he interrupted, "...that's more shitty than whatever the common folk can come up with-"

"He had the same thought about common folk when he learned he was finally a Ravenman himself..." I continued, ignoring his insults. "He was always an arrogant prick but he was quite the fragile boy-"

"Where are you going with this?" he asked, his head tilted up, his eyes red from the stinging tears. "Do you really think telling me some story about a grown man being a pupil is going to make me smile and skip around the camp cheered up as ever before-"

"Perhaps you will see your own self as a reflection..." I began, nudging my chair forward as I leaned towards him. "There are three people in the world- the Wise, the Smart, and the Fool. The Fool doesn't learn, the Smart learns from his mistakes, but the Wise learns from the mistakes of others..." I explained. "Choose who you are and learn from the past... don't let it wrap around you like a rope over a helpless rabbit... lest you become prey to the hunter that is called regret... do not be like my pupil. He was a fool... he always was even when I tried to teach him..."

For a short second, he pauses, taking it all in. He looked at me, then at the ground, then at the glimpse of the camp outside. "What ever happened to your soft cunt of a student?" he asked curiously.

I let out a chuckle as the memories flow back in. "He never learned..." I told him, "...indulged in wine and met with harlots... he gave himself so much pleasure that the teachers at the Hall of Ravens deemed him unclean, therefore unfit for his position-"

"So he got demoted..." the soldier assumed, "...to what- a less privileged cunt?"

I shook my head. "When you are seen as unfit or unclean... you are expelled from the entire institute..." I told him, "...and so, he was expelled. I watched him pack his bags and take his leave..." I explained, taking on a serious expression, "I saw him in the streets begging for copper heads as he no longer had the Hall of Ravens to support him financially at all... he lost his whores and his gold because he was so..."

"Arrogant." the soldier finished. "He fell because of his pride..." he realized, fixing his posture and clearing his throat. "How fucking awful-"

"Indeed." I replied, standing up and ready to leave. At last you have made the right choice, my mind remarked, relieved. Now go, before he calls you.

"Leaving so soon?"

Too late.

"I must take my leave, my lord- it is past time I slept..." I said as a lame excuse, "...if it please you, I will-"

"Sleep." he commanded with a smile. A genuine one, I noted. This one was wide, and his lips relaxed. His eyes were still plagued with tears, but in a way, they glimmered beautifully as the light hit them. The knight's youthful face had returned. "You have done me a great service... thank you." he finished, standing up on his own and preparing to leave as well.

As quick as I entered that tent, I left. The dawn had not yet come, but the moon was nearing its end. It was as if my mind had forgotten I needed sleep... but it finally remembered. I was the only one awake besides a few soldiers... a few soldiers I remembered too well.

Visit freewebnoveℓ.com for the best novel reading exp𝒆rience.

"Old man!" a soldier greeted aloud with his two companions. He was as black as black can be in the night, but his scar on his cheek was obvious, and the one across his forehead was even more so. "What are you doing so late?" he asked, stopping me in my tracks.

The name nearly escapes me, but I grasp it just at the right moment. Ser Jenos, I remember, the other two... I could not recall. "I could ask you the same question, Ser..." I said lightly with a laugh, "...why are you up late and drinking the night before the battle-"

"Nothing gets you in a fighting mood more than great fucking wine!" the tall one answered, raising his cup into the air as he leaned on Ser Joras.

"A whore with spoils so vast is better than any wine you can give!" the smaller, more petite man objected with a laugh, shoving the knight's arm off of his shoulders.

"As if a whore would take you to fuck her, Joras!" Ser Jenos argued, laughing at the knight that was more feeble than the other two. "The best you'd get are the desperate ones that charge you cheap so they can eat-"

"Horrible harlots those are..." the tall one agreed, taking a sip of his wine.

"Horrible indeed, Jasson... can't imagine fucking them- am I right, Joras!?" he asked aloud, laughing. Now I remember, I thought to myself. But now I need some well deserved rest. I am an old man.

"Boys!" I called out. "May I rest now?" I asked with a warm smile.

Quickly, the knights shuffled out of the way, making apologies left and right. Children, I thought, they are all just like children- even the superior of them all.

My mind sways back to the student grown to be a beggar. The child... I remembered, the child... my mind echoed. Even if it had seemed a made-up tale... it truly was not. The child... my mind said again. I could not save him that time... I never could have done any different. Sweet child... my mind continued. It was not was my fault... surely. Poor child... my mind added. I wonder what has he become now? Surely, he does not remember me anymore... or at least, not as the person I was to him... Forsaken child... my mind further said.

Out of all the things it had listed... one inevitable thing remained:

My child...