460Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR9KPEgmI1g
At one time, my life was free for the taking. I didn’t care how it was used, so long as I was never forced to suffer. I knew I would be forced to live a long life under the dominion of another. At any point in time, I could have freed myself. But free from what? If not an instrument, I was a servant to alienation.
My memories imply feelings that I no longer recognize. In the present, nothing I do can return the forgotten feelings. But they are forgotten, so how would I know them if they returned?
It’s nice outside. I remember it - the way the sun brightens my skin, the feeble pitch of partridges brushing my ears with minute bliss. Everywhere am I environed by emerald blurs I can touch and tell: the grass, the leaves, and sprightly stalks. I look down, see flowers, and I decide to pick one from its roots. Their yellow petals stand distinct, reminiscent of the sun. Except, I can look at these. I cannot look up. They grow in abundance by the sparkling stream. Creeping closer, I stare into the water. It is a mystery what I see. Everything about me appears different. Why do my hair, my eyes… my face appear as snow? Ought it be this way? No one else is. I gently caress my cheek, moving my head closer. Then something glitters in mine eye. Perhaps I can reach it. There it is in my hand! But why does it sting so? Pulling it out, I realize ‘tis a sharp thing; a small arrowhead. I’m excited, but my excitement is nearly overshadowed by the pain in my hand.
I run now, back to the place I barely remember, clutching metal in one hand and a flower in the other.
“Dane, there you are!” I hear her voice upon reaching the stone steps! A tall woman in elegant silks, flashes of white and green velvet. Then nothing but flashes of long brown hair and a smile. She grabs hold of my arm and kneels down to hug me. “Were you playing in the sun again?” she questions. I hand her the flower. She sighs. “Dane… Goodness! You’re bleeding!” As I lift my shame, the sunlight fades and my vision blurs.
I remember something else. A night where it rained, she lay close at a man’s bedside, weeping. This was a man close to us, a downtrodden figure invisible in the sheets while few strangers stood over and around his motionless body. Every one of them stood stoic and gaunt, sorrowful in the dim light of candles. I couldn’t understand it, them, what had happened. One man, in particular, arrived at the doorway and stalled before me. Something about his air… disquieted me.
“I’m sorry, young lad,” he lied. “Thy father hath found his path to Eternity.”
The wails grew louder. “Mother?” I call.
“Come, let us outside.” He walks me away and into the darker corridor. Looking down at me, he speaks, “As of the late duke’s death, I shall inherit the title of this castle and the entire duchy. This, perforce, entails my charge for thine upbringing, boy. One last task left by the departed.”
I don’t know what to make of his words. And with effort, I try gazing once more into the room, but he drags me further away. “For the sake of peace and unity, this shall be our new beginning.” Looking up at him, I find a twisting and contorting grin serrating me. “You are no longer the son of a duke, no longer whimsical to the sin. No. In time, you shall be numb to the fear that plagues ordinary men, then become that fear for the enemies that await.”
Fading. It all fades.
My breath, I can hear it now! “It was a dream…”
There’s a knock on the door. Yet whoever stands on the other side does not deign to wait, for I hear it creak open. Steering my gaze, I see a shadow standing just outside. “Lord Valeroșu requests your presence,” uttered a man's voice. I sit upright, catching the muffled sound outside the stone walls. I leave the bed of my gray chambers, then walk towards the gray walls directly outside, continuing after the guard down a stone corridor. Like the others, I can’t remember this man’s name or describe his face; but he wears the usual steel plate beneath the crimson garb visible in every corner, and the broad-brimmed helmet like the ones I see patrolling the grounds nearly every sun and moon. As we approach a bright light at the end of the corridor, I hear noise – the murmurs of a crowd. It grows louder as the outside light burns my visage.
I lower my head and leave my hat to shield me. I check my shoulders, fasten my pauldrons: layer after shrinking layer of steel plate running down to my elbows, followed by the steel vambraces my forearms, and my riveted gloves. Then I evaluate the rest of my armor - the metal greaves clenching my shins and knees; my encumbering black gambeson of wool and cotton; finally, the girdle always tied around my waist, holding that scabbard which in turn holds the sword restless for my grip. Dressing for such occasions has become so automatic and mechanical to my life that I no longer notice. My body has become numb to battle-readiness. Up my sleeves and along my belt, all instruments rest where I habitually keep them.
We stand amidst torrential voices within the square keep of solid stone. One step out of the hollow exit, and from atop the battlements I witness the commotion: Villagers rioting, the anger seemingly leveled against the steel-clad figure in crimson, Lord Valeroșu. Behind him stands a wooden palisade barring the red doors of a towering stone keep. Before him stand the gathered rabble of concerned commoners. And he… He stands between them and the gallows, facing the wooden gate segregating inner fortress from town. Those gallows are as a stage, the surrounding guards like plate-armored stage hands tilting their halberds at the crowd. And Valeroșu, lord of the castle, stands among the criminals. Though he stands among men, he may as well be their deity, for the ropes that fondle their necks remain by his design. They shall tighten once the floorboards give way.
I hear the anger and sadness bellowed by the masses. Who are those few to be executed? I wonder.
460Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmllARKFByE
