Chapter Text
September 23rd, 10:14 AM
The sun leaks through the shuttered windows, spilling across his eyes and rousing Roman from his sleep. He groans at the disturbance, his muscles aching at his movements. His arms complaining as he forces himself to shift, propping himself up enough to open the shutters and see how high the sun has risen. He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face, a sour taste in his mouth. A bitterness that permeates his whole being. All he can think about is the truth he has learned and the bard’s promise of a grand quest somewhere on the mountainside. An unknown evil, lying in a wait for a true knight to defeat it.
Or at least that’s how Roman would usually envision quests. But the reality seems to be so different from the story. What would he really find on the mountain? And would anyone even care. Maybe the bard could at least make it into a song. He seemed interested in Roman attempting it.
Roman
shakes himself, pulling forth a tentative smile. He mustn’t dwell on the past. He must remain the noble knight. Always Chivalrous, always ready to protect. Gingerly, Roman rises from the bed, stretching out his arms and legs. The soreness from his fight the day before resisted such movement, but Roman knew he could handle it. A knight can deal with anything that might come his way, a little stiffness wasn’t going to stop him.
After dressing, Roman leaves his room. The stairs creak beneath his weight as he descends to the tavern below. Appraising the sparse inhabitants of the morning rush he spies his mentor sitting at a lone table, the elder knight scribbling fiercely away on a scroll of paper, his expression impassive and his eyes intent. Roman approaches with a greeting and upon not being heard the first time he repeats: “Good day, Logan. What has you so captivated this morning?”
“Hmmm.” Logan answers, still distracted. He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit down. I’ve already ordered you some food. We are running behind schedule”
Roman sighs as he settles into his seat, watching his mentor scrawl studiously away completely lost to his surroundings. The younger knight rests his chin onto his palm and drums his fingers against the tabletop.
Roman studies his mentor across from him, the graying hairs beginning to show behind his ears, the small crease in his brow as he concentrates, the knight’s insignia on his pin that is scratched with age but still meticulously polished. Logan has an air of authority about him, always has. It was what had made Roman so thrilled to be his squire. To gain the chance to learn underneath one of the country’s greatest knights. But no matter how much Roman strived to be his best, Logan always found something to critique, someway in which Roman was lacking. And that was fine. It was fine. He was his mentor, he was meant to critique his squire so that Roman could become better. But Roman wasn’t his squire anymore.
Now, as Roman watches Logan work, he almost feels like a kid awaiting the attention of his teacher. To think that he had hoped to gain glory from his quest against the Ya-Te-Veo. But it had changed nothing. Earning his knighthood had changed nothing. The bard’s words again ring in his mind. ‘ The mountain’ they whisper.
When the food arrives, Logan finally looks up from his work.
“Excuse me, Sir.” The donnish knight catches the attention of the waiter. “Is there a blacksmith anywhere in this town?”
The young man tells them of a forge on the far side of town. Near the base of the mountain. He said it should be past the butcher, but if you spy the cobbler you’ve gone too far.
Logan thanks the fellow and pulls out another sheet of paper, turning towards his pupil.
“The physician you met the other day, the one that sold you the…" Logan waves his hands through the air, searching for a word, " antidote . What was his name?”
Roman paused at the question, “May I ask why?”
“Roman, I do not mean to dampen your success, but-”
“He scammed me, I know. The bard told me.”
“Hmmm, alright.” Logan nodded his head, “Hopefully, you have learned to be more careful about who you trust. So what was the physician’s name? We should inform the mayor. They need to know that the town’s physician is a fraud.”
Roman thinks back to the night before, the physician waiting outside of the forest. He had praised his thinking in burning the tree… and he had offered to help again.
….what help was he .
“His name is Dee.”
Logan nods his head and scrawls the information onto the paper. “After you have finished your breakfast, I want you to have the smithy repair your sword. We should settle our affairs in this town. I wish to leave at first light tomorrow.”
“Already?”
“There’s no reason to stay any longer.” Logan’s gaze is searching.
“There might be.” The young knight swallows, the spit in his mouth tasting fowl. The bard wants him to have a grand quest. Roman wants it himself, but it isn’t just about that, “I’ve heard tale of something on the mountain.”
Logan raises an eyebrow, “Roman, I wouldn’t put much faith in local legends. They’re a coin a dozen.”
Roman purses his lips, it could be a legend. But shouldn’t they at least investigate a little? Roman was about to say as much when the server returned with a full plate and a cup of steaming tea, giving Roman an idea.
“Thank you, my kind gentleman," Roman began, "Listen, are you a long time resident of this town?”
“Aye, most of us are. We don’t tend to get many newcomers. Just those passing through.”
“Excellent, then you can probably answer some questions for me about a strange tale I heard.”
“Roman,” Logan warns.
“I can,” The server glances nervously between the pair, “if you want?”
“Do you know anything about the mountain? I’ve heard there are many stories involving it.”
“The mountain?” The server nervously wrings his hands, “Uh well, I mean, it’s a dangerous climb. And growing up we were always told to stay away. That we’d get hurt if we went up there. But I don’t know if it’s anything magical or what-not like some people say.” He trails off, laughing nervously.
“Anything magical?” Logan presses.
The server waves his hands in earnest rejection of the thought, “There isn’t though! It’s just a superstition that some people believe.”
Logan nods his head, “I understand, you can leave us.”
Roman watches dumbfounded as the server bows his head and departs. “Logan, why did you tell him to leave! Clearly, he was hiding something.”
“He wasn’t hiding anything. Roman, haven’t you noticed that the people in this town are all together more nervous or cold to you than those in towns closer to the capital?”
“I mean, a little…But- do you think the town is hiding something?”
Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “No, Roman, the town isn’t hiding anything. But they are scared that we might think they are.”
“What do you mean?”
“We are knights. Our job is to find and kill magical creatures. And of course, there are the witch hunters that search and hunt for witches.” Logan’s voice turns sour at the mention of the hunters and Roman finds himself grimacing as well. Their practices are far from chivalrous. “Many people associate us as one in the same.”
“What?!” Roman interjects.
Logan holds up a hand to silence him, “We both hunt for magic, of different kinds, but still both are steeped in magic. And the common layman, especially in a town this far from the capital, will not know all the differences in our practices in doing so. If they find out we have heard stories about a magical being on the mountain. And that magical being doesn’t actually exist. There are two ways we could react. We could believe them and leave. Or we could think they are lying. And I’m sure you have heard of how witch hunters respond to those who lie in protection of magic users.”
Roman shudders at the thought. “Alright, so I guess we should be careful in our questioning. But I still think we should investigate a little . Just to double check! If we leave and in the future someone gets hurt… well, I just think we should be thorough.”
“We can’t chase after every folk tale in every town we pass through. And we shouldn’t stay. Look, eat your food. I’m going to go talk to the mayor about your little physician friend and then find a rider willing to deliver your report. You get your sword repaired and do anything else you need to settle before we leave. And don’t try to climb that mountain. If it really is a dangerous climb, I don’t want you getting hurt before we leave on our next assignment.”
“You're going to deliver my report? But I haven’t written it yet.”
“I took the liberty of doing so.” He speaks as he begins folding closed his papers, “You can look over it if you like. But I can assure you it is flawless.”
Roman bristles. “You wrote the report on my quest?”
Logan pours wax from the table’s candle and seals the scroll using his ring. “You provided me with enough details in your retelling last night. Although I left out most of the frivolous embellishments you added.”
“It was my quest, Logan. I was the one who completed it and I should write the report.”
“Oh, please. I’ve read enough of your reports from when you were my squire. Trust me when I say this will benefit everyone.”
The bitter taste in his mouth grows, turning rancid. Roman purses his lips. He knew he had a habit of embellishing his letters, but he was a knight now and he has had enough. “I don’t think I will leave town quite yet. But, please, feel free to go on without me. We don’t really need to stick together anymore considering I am no longer your squire. In all honesty I don’t really understand why you are being so clingy.”
“Clingy?” Logan’s voice rises in volume. “Roman, I do not know where you are coming from speaking to a senior knight with such a tone.”
“And I don’t understand why you keep treating me like I’m still your squire!”
The elder knight takes a deep breath, fighting to maintain composure. “Roman, please remember. You were one of five squires that has been knighted into a functional role this past year, and the only one to receive your own quest. The king, himself, may hear of this report. Do you understand how important that is? The role of knights is diminishing every year. We have been demoted to nothing more than monster hunters. The king daily favors the witch hunters over us. They are what the kingdom now considers elite soldiers. And eventually, there will come a day when the king no longer has use for us, where a knighthood will be nothing more than a title, and I for one plan on making sure that day will come long after I have gone.”
Roman blinks as he takes in the information. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating? I mean witch hunters are nothing more than unskilled mercenaries. Their weapons do all the real work. They can’t really replace us. We train for years to be the best of the best.”
“They already are replacing us. A soldier that you only need to teach to fire a weapon is better in their eyes than one you have to train for years on the sword. If you really want to chase after a local folk tale, then fine I won’t stop you. You’re a knight now, congratulations. You no longer need me.” Logan pushes back his chair, grabbing the sealed report and turning to leave. “I know you want to take on the world now. To prove yourself or whatever. But what you do next will reflect on us all. And I… I just wanted…”
Roman watches him stumble for something to say, shocked at the awkwardness of his mentor. Logan’s eyes search the inn, “I will be heading to Crook’s Valley, if you have need of me.” he nods, grabbing his pack and departing the tavern.
Roman stares after his former mentor, his food cooling in front of him. He was… he was angry. He felt guilty and he was so very angry that he felt guilty. He just wanted to be an equal! Why does the entire fate of the rank of knighthood rest on him now? Logan had trained him well, and he wanted to prove that. Why was that considered wrong? Why was Logan so offended that after eight years of traveling together Roman wanted to set out on his own? That he wanted to travel... alone .
Roman pushes the plate away from himself. Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyways. He thinks to himself, Logan was right about one thing though, he should get his sword repaired.
September 23rd, 11:20 AM
The heat of the forge is overwhelming. Thick and sweltering. The loud clanging of the smiths hammering heated metal, reverberates throughout. The sounds rattle in Roman’s bones. He stands by the door, trying his best to feel the breeze as a woman with long white dreads neatly tied back, and scarred and callused hands inspects his blunted sword. The smithy scoffs, shaking her head at the sorry state of his once expertly crafted weapon. “What a shame. What a shame.” The smithy mumbles again and again.
Roman, looks out the door, trying his best not to be too offended by the blacksmith’s remarks. He studies the mountain. This is the closest he has been to the landform. The mountain seems to be split in two halves. The upper half looks like you’d expect any mountain to look, small shrubs and trees dot its surface, it appears steep but walkable. But then a ragged cliff scars the mountainside, an open wound that leaves behind scarred rock. Below it is nothing but a pile of rubble and soil that form at its base. It would be difficult to climb, to say the least. But Roman feels he could do it.
The blacksmith interrupts his thoughts. “Welp, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Give us the day and we’ll have it right as rain.”
“Good, thank you. In the meantime, could I trouble you for a borrowed sword?”
“Uhh… I guess we could find something for you to use. You aren’t planning on fighting someone?”
“No, not someone, but I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about the mountain.”
“I suppose I could.” She rubs the back of her neck. “What exactly did you want to know?”
“Have you heard of any beast that lives there?”
“Hmmm… So you’ve heard the gossip.” The smithy shakes her head. “That’s all it really is… gossip. People say it’s cursed because of its history. Gregons, it’s called now, after some general. But in the old days, it was dedicated to a minor goddess of the old religion, Triteia. There was a shrine to her up on top and a convent of priestesses that lived on the other side of the mountain. Our town used to be full of the pilgrim’s that sought her intervention, you should have seen it in its hay-day. Heh. I was only a kid then. My, how the world has changed.”
She studies Roman’s armor for a second. “That is to say, I never followed the old gods. So don’t get any ideas about me being a witch or somethin’.” She points a threatening finger at Roman, the knight raises his hands in innocence. The smithy studies him a moment more before accepting his silence, “Anyways, after the old religion was abandoned, the shrine fell into disrepair and twenty-some years ago a landslide made the mountain damn-near unclimbable. Of course, there are some who still try. Dumb kids. And they get hurt. Blame it on some monster. Or a curse left over from the old priestesses. A witch made of light or something. It’s best to just stay away.”
“I’m a knight. I don’t just stay away. Is there any common thread to these stories?”
“Hmm… I suppose a bit. A few mentioned seeing the witch of light. But when you go looking for a curse on a dangerous mountain, you’ll see anything as confirmation. Others talk about the mountain acting as if it was possessed. Rocks slipping where they shouldn’t. Animals of all kinds attacking unprompted. I don’t put much weight on it all to be honest. That landslide did a number on the terrain. And you know not everything is caused by a witch. Sometimes it's just good ol’ mother nature.”
“It could be. But if there is some curse or this lady of light then the mountain isn’t just unclimbable. Something is fighting back. Keeping people off of the mountain. And it is my duty to find out the truth, I have to investigate it.”
“Right, sure. Well, I’ll get you a sword.” The blacksmith shakes her head. Roman does not care. There is something odd about this mountain. He can feel it. Roman knows he has to climb it, so he begins unstrapping his armor. The metal plates will only hinder his ability to climb. He needs to be able to really move to succeed in this quest.
The smithy returns as Roman is placing his armor beside a nearby worktable. The woman raises her eyebrow at the act.
“I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on my armor, while I’m out. You can add it to the price for my sword if you’d like.”
The weathered woman waves her hand. “Ah, I don’t care. Here’s a spare sword. Don’t blunt it like you did your own. I’d like this back when you’re done. It’s my daughter’s.”
“I’ll take good care of it, you have my word.” He bows graciously to the smithy. The smithy scoffs at the display and Roman departs, leaving behind the oppressing heat of the forge.
In the open air, he sees the mountain. It encompasses the horizon. A looming presence, its jagged cliff side standing tall over the town. It would be a hard climb, but Roman knew he could do it.