10 - A Knight's Duty

 

Shortly after Lady Agnes’s arrival, Bernhart, along with Rudolf and Luitold, returned to the pit to continue Luitold’s training. It would still be multiple hours until it was his time to guard the princess. Once back at the pit, Luitold again was instructed to climb down inside and retrieved one of the glass jars on the shelf beside him. This would be Bernhart’s fourth time observing the boy transform.

“The goal for this session will be for you to first replicate what you did this morning,” Rudolf said to Luitold, “Once you’ve regained control over the beast, I’d like to try something new.”

“I’ve got it,” Luitold said confidently.

“Good,” Rudolf replied, “Break the glass whenever you’re ready.”

Without much hesitation, Luitold held the jar above his head and smashed it against the ground once more. Even after seeing this so many times, there was still something so unreal about this darker magic. It was so beyond anything Bernhart had been prepared for in all his years as a soldier. One week, he was riding on horseback in a battlefield, and the next, he was training a teenage boy to harness the power of hell. Although, as he thought more about his task at hand, he realized he hadn’t really done so much training for Luitold yet. Everything so far had mostly been of Luitold’s own discovery with the coaching of Rudolf and Dietrich to guide him along. How would a peasant horseman like him have anything of value to give to this boy?

Before long, Luitold emerged from the black cloud in his beastly form, appearing just as fearsome as the day he first transformed in Rheinmark. As it always did when it first appeared, the beast stood completely still, looking up at Bernhart and Rudolf with its demented eyes and haunting smile that seemed to be permanently etched into its face.

“Will I need to throw a stone at him again?” Bernhart asked Rudolf.

“We’ll see,” Rudolf said, “That did work well last time, but I’d like to see if Luitold can assume control on his own.”

“Very well, my Lord,” Bernhart said.

Rudolf jabbed Bernhart in the side with his elbow, catching him off guard.

“Did you forget already? I’m not your lord anymore,” Rudolf said, “For the purposes of this experiment, we are all peers.”

“I just don’t get it,” Bernhart said, “Why would you so willingly sacrifice your own birthright? Just to stoop to the level of commoners like us?”

“Nobility is a lonely place,” Rudolf said, “I’ve learned it all too well. You spend your life clinging to the scraps of power left to your name, and in return all you’re left with is your servitude to the man next in command. I’m no freer than a peasant, I only dress in wool instead of hemp. Pawns like us—me, you, and Luitold—we aren’t allowed the luxury of companionship, not for as long as we are used like tools. That’s why, in the rare chance like this, I want to be your friend, Bernhart, and I want to be a friend of Luitold.”

“I want to be your friend, too,” Luitold said from the pit in the deep growl of the beast’s voice.

Bernhart jumped as he heard the boy speak, as he had almost forgotten he was there while he listened to Rudolf. Hearing Luitold’s youthful way of speech through the vocal cords of a demon was always an adjustment.

“Ah, you’ve regained control, Luitold,” Rudolf said, “How did you do it so quickly this time?”

“It just… happened,” Luitold said, “I didn’t have to try or anything.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good sign for things to come,” Rudolf said, “Now, for the next step of our training…”

Rudolf turned his head to face Bernhart.

“The reason Count Dietrich wanted you to join us was for this very reason,” he continued, “Now that Luitold can comfortably control his body, we need you to train him physically.”

“And just what would that look like?” Bernhart asked.

“You will head down into the pit and spar with him until he is ready for combat,” Rudolf replied. 

“Sparring?” Bernhart stammered.

“With your armor on, he shouldn’t be able to harm you. Plus, now that he’s in control, he’s hardly much stronger than a normal human, I would guess.”

Bernhart glanced down at the sludgy black beast that laid beneath him, then turned back to Rudolf with a fearful look and a sigh.

“If I must,” he said reluctantly.

Bernhart headed back into the castle to retrieve his plate armor, and after cumbersomely putting it on for about twenty minutes, he returned to the pit, where Luitold patiently waited within, still in his beast form.

“How has he not turned back yet?” Bernhart asked through his echoing helmet.

“Oh, he did a few times, actually,” Rudolf told him, “It seems his beast form lasts around five minutes now that he can control it himself. While you were gone, we learned that if he breaks another jar while he’s already a beast, it extends his time in that form.”

“I see,” Bernhart said as he stared down at the pit in stillness.

Rudolf put his hand on Bernhart’s shoulder.

“Remember, it’s just Luitold in there,” he said, “There’s no need to fear him.”

Bernhart walked away from Rudolf and headed to the wooden ladder that laid in the grass. By himself, and through the limited peripheral of his helmet, he lifted it up and set it against the pit’s edge. Before scaling down, he looked behind him one last time to see the beast waiting for him, sitting in the dirt on his bottom like the child that he was. Despite Luitold’s innocent mannerisms, the sight of him was still one not for the faint of heart. Bernhart’s fear expanded with every step down the ladder. As he made his way halfway down, he turned to Rudolf with contempt in his eyes.

“Hey Rudolf, we’re equals, right?” he said.

“That is right, Bernhart,” the baron replied from afar.

“Then I must say, you’re—you’re a real bastard,” Bernhart said hesitantly before lowering his visor and stepping down.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Rudolf smile.

“You can call me whatever you want,” he said, “I apologize for assigning you this.”

Now in the belly of the pit, Bernhart stood before the beastly Luitold, who towered half a foot taller than him in his dark form. Luitold himself seemed to be a bit scared, too, as his posture was sunken and he held his arms close to his chest.

“Is this going to hurt?” he asked.

“As a soldier, the more you hurt now, the less you will hurt in battle,” Bernhart said, feigning his confidence through the mask of his helmet. From his left hip, he drew a rounded wooden sparring sword from his belt, and held it in front of his body at an angle with his left foot forward.

The beast backed up defensively.

“Where’s my sword?” Luitold asked.
“Your arms are five feet long,” Bernhart said, “In Rheinmark you killed twenty men that all had weapons. You need to find a balance between the strength of the beast and the intelligence you have as a man. I won’t give you a sword.”

Without warning, Bernhart stepped forward and swung the wooden stick at Luitold’s shoulder. Luitold recoiled back, leaving an opening for Bernhart to strike again. Bernhart lunged ahead, jabbing Luitold in the stomach and then arcing his weapon around to swing at his head. As the stick hit his skull, Luitold crouched down and grabbed his head, moaning in pain.

“You just got your arm cut off and took two fatal injuries,” Bernhart said, “You’ll need to fight back if you don’t want that to happen in real combat. Show me some aggression.”

Luitold rose from his stupor and charged forward, winding his right arm up behind him with his massive hand in an open claw. Bernhart felt true fear seeing such an attack before him, but his years in service had taught him not to let fear cloud his instincts. Swiftly, Bernhart sidestepped Luitold’s arm and cast another fierce jab at his stomach. Luitold groaned and coughed up phlegm as his body stiffened.

“That was far too broad a stroke,” Bernhart said, “The most valuable thing in battle is surprise. I could see what you were doing from a mile away.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do anything?” Luitold asked as he held his stomach.

“Like any skill, battle proficiency comes with time,” Bernhart replied, “Now, let’s continue.”

Bernhart thrust his sparring sword at Luitold’s abdomen once more. This time, the beast took a quick step back, avoiding the weapon’s reach. From there, Luitold pushed off of his back foot and lunged at Bernhart, his feet airborne as he held his claws out to his face. Quickly, Bernhart raised his sword overhead and swung down at Luitold’s skull. Luitold instinctively reached out his right arm and grabbed the sword before it could hit him, using it as a grappling point to pull himself closer to Bernhart and swing his lower body forward. With this push, Luitold shot his legs toward Bernhart’s chestplate and knocked him back off his feet. As he began falling, Bernhart quickly reached his right leg behind him and then found footing with the other, skidding his feet through the dirt as the impact sent his body backward.

“Heh, that’s something,” Bernhart said as his posture stabilized, “...but you should have kept going.”

Without warning, Bernhart charged forward yet again, seeming completely unfazed by the previous attack. He swung his sword with great speed at Luitold’s head before the boy had a chance to react, and before he knew it, Luitold was sent barreling to the ground.

“No one attack will win a battle on its own,” Bernhart said, “You must be relentless to the enemy, especially when they are on the backfoot.”

As Bernhart looked down at the beast, he noticed steam beginning to form from his skin. Before long, the black cloud surrounded Luitold yet again, and when it dispersed, he was laying sideways on the ground in his human form.

“Hey, I hit you though, didn’t I?” Luitold said meagerly.

“As soon as you kicked me, you should have dove at my abdomen and pinned me to the ground while I was still off balance,” Bernhart replied, “You were so proud of doing anything useful at all that you forgot time was still marching.”

“It’s a good first step, Luitold,” Rudolf said from behind. As Bernhart looked back to face him, he saw the baron was sitting at the edge with his legs dangling inside in a casual manner. Gone were the times where this pit was avoided like a plague.

For two more hours, Luitold and Bernhart continued to spar, growing more and more weary as they burned through jars of Heaven’s Blessing until the shelf was nearly empty. With the sun halfway fallen since noon, it would soon be time for Bernhart to take over guarding Princess Agnes.

“We can be done for today,” Bernhart said, “I presume you’ll be training in the same way tomorrow, so enjoy your rest while you can. You should come out of this a powerful soldier.”

“Yeah,” Luitold said weakly, his face caked in dirt and sweat as he hobbled over to the ladder, “I think I’m going to take a bath.”

“Perhaps you should do the same, Bernhart,” Rudolf said, “I’d imagine you’ve built up quite an odor in that armor of yours. Agnes may not take kindly to having her personal guard reek of shit.”

“The hell’s your problem?” Bernhart asked as he looked up at the baron scornfully.

“I’m just telling you what you need to hear,” Rudolf replied, “You’d best try to make a good impression on the princess. It’s quite the privilege you’ve been dealt to be so close to her at all.”

“I don’t intend to intrude upon her personal space whatsoever,” Bernhart said, “In fact, if it is her wish I remain on the other side of a closed door outside for the duration of the night, I will gladly do so.” 

In his stillness, Bernhart caught a whiff of the smell radiating through his plate armor, and to his dismay, it was indeed quite unfriendly.

“Perhaps I will visit the bathhouse while I have time,” he said to himself.

The three of them split, with Luitold and Rudolf briefly sticking around near the pit while Bernhart headed off to the bathhouse that sat near the castle’s east wall. The bathhouse was a small stone building similar to the alchemy lab that stood next to the pit. It had been placed strategically near the wall so that the dirty bath water left inside could be dumped through a drainage pipe that travelled through to the castle’s moat. 

As Bernhart entered through the building’s thick wood door, the familiar aroma of smoking wood and lye soap filled his nostrils, clouding the pungent smell of his sweaty armor. Around this time of day, the other knights would typically be bathing too, but today he seemed to be the earliest, as the only other person inside was Thomas, the bath attendant, a peasant boy that spent his days filling and cleaning the bathhouse’s many wooden tubs and heating up water in the furnace room nearby.

“Good day, Thomas,” Bernhart said.

“Good day, Bernhart, I’ll read y a bath for you,” Thomas replied.

As Thomas took trips back and forth between the cloth-lined wooden tub and the furnace room, dumping newly filled buckets of simmering water each time, Bernhart spent his time removing his cumbersome plate armor, which was as heavy as it was slick with sweat. After about twelve minutes, Bernhart was finally able to submerge himself in the bath’s steaming water as he scrubbed himself with a brick of lye soap.

A few minutes later, the door to the bathhouse opened again. The brightness of the outside world obscured the identity of the person entering, leaving Bernhart with only a silhouette to identify him. 

“Bernhart, is that you?” the man asked. His scratchy yet lively voice alongside the tall and skinny proportions of his silhouette told Bernhart this was the knight Aldritch. 

As the knight walked inside and closed the door behind him, the lighting became less overbearing, and the gentle illumination of the candles within revealed his appearance to a greater extent. It was now certain that this was Aldritch. His stretchy body culminated upward into a gaunt face, with eyes that seemed to permanently rest at a disturbed angle of opening. The right side of his face was concealed under the greasy veil of his long hay-colored hair. He was clothed in dirty training garments, the same ones he wore to breakfast that morning as he sat beside Canagan and the others. Despite his unsettling appearance, Aldritch was probably Bernhart’s favorite of all Dietrich’s knights, as he found him to be the most inoffensive of the bunch, just a kind man with a good listening ear.

“It is me, indeed, Aldritch,” Bernhart replied from the comfort of his bath.

Hearing the commotion, Thomas stepped out from the furnace room.

“Oh, Aldritch!” he said, “I’ll have a bath ready for you in just a moment. I started preparing multiple tubs as soon as Bernhart came.”

“Thanks, boyo,” Aldritch said as he began removing his layers, “So, Bernhart, are you getting ready to meet the princess?”

“I suppose that must be what I’m doing here,” Bernhart said.

“You’ve been made awfully busy this past week. First you’re assigned to train that devil boy and now you’re Lady Agnes’s personal guard on top of that. I can’t tell if that makes you lucky or cursed,” Aldritch said as he eased himself into his bath.

“I can’t really see myself as either,” Bernhart said, “If I am assigned a task, it is my duty to perform it. There is no luck in the matter, any order is the same to me.” 

“Hm, you’re really something else,” Aldritch said with a chuckle, “I suppose when you haven’t got the nobility to fall back on, you have to make up for it in dedication.”

“Is that what makes me different?” Bernhart said, “I understand Dietrich has taken a liking to me in particular for my service. This whole time, though, I feel I’ve only done what’s expected.”

“I’ll be the first to admit the rest of us like to have a little fun every now and then,” Aldritch said, “Maybe it is possible we’re the ones slacking, and you’re the one doing what us knights should have been. I will say I’ve begun to see your influence on Canagan with all of the promotions you’ve been getting lately. He seems to be much more eager to please Dietrich than ever now that he sees you as competition.”

“If he understood his place, he would have always been this way,” Bernhart said, “It is our purpose to be the hands and swords of Dietrich. Anything less than that should mark us as failures.”

“I guess you’re right,” Aldritch said, “Although I think there’s a little more to this life than just our jobs, but that’s just what I believe.”

For a few moments, the room carried on in silence, with nothing but the bubbling of a cauldron in the room over to be heard. Bernhart’s contemporaries had it all. Land, brotherhood, titles, and yet they treasured the system that allowed them their power less than Bernhart did as a peasant who possessed none of those things. It was quite the mystery in his eyes.

“So, tell me about that monster boy,” Aldritch said, breaking the silence, “Is he really a demon from hell? As they say?”

“He’s just a kid,” Bernhart said.

Suddenly, the door to the bathhouse opened once more. This time, the silhouette in the doorframe was that of a short young man. His posture was timid and uncertain, like he had entered a place he didn’t know if he belonged in.

“Oh, Luitold,” Bernhart said, “I forgot you were taking a bath, too. I don’t get what took you so long.”

“I got lost,” Luitold said softly, “I’ve only walked here once before. I’m still adjusting.”

Aldritch leaned in from the wall of his tub with an eyebrow cocked. He turned to Bernhart.

“This ain’t him, is it?” he asked.

“It is,” Bernhart replied, “His name’s Luitold. He saved my life, actually.”

“Hm! Well, I’ve heard a lot about you, Luitold!” Aldritch said with amusement.

Luitold looked at Bernhart with a confused expression, seeming to be a reaction to his last comment.

“When you first became the beast in Rheinmark, Luitold,” Bernhart explained, “I would’ve been dead if you hadn’t done it. I think you forget you’re the reason Alemannia ran off.”

“Oh,” Luitold said quietly, still seeming uncomfortable in the presence of another knight.

“The bath in the middle is already filled. Just come on in, it’s first-come-first-serve,” Bernhart told him.

The three men sat in the tranquility of their baths for some time until Aldritch started to get back into his more inquisitive mood.

“So, Luitold, if I’ve got that right, how’d you get that power of yours?” he asked.

“I don’t know myself,” Luitold said.

Bernhart looked at the boy with a worried expression, fearing he would tell Aldritch about Heaven’s Blessing, which at this point was only known about by a few people.

“It seems I was chosen by dark magic,” Luitold continued, “Or some kind of force that controls it.”

“Like the devil, perhaps?” Aldritch replied, leaning in from his tub in intrigue, “Ah, but what do I know? You’re nice enough. Maybe it’s too harsh to assume you’re in leagues with a man like him.”

“No, maybe it is the devil,” Luitold said solemnly.

“Huh?”

“I see strange things whenever I go in there. Ghosts, bleeding skies, giant trees. Maybe there is something hellish about it,” he said. As Bernhart listened in, he figured the more Luitold said, the more Aldritch would just end up confused.

“There’s a lot going on, Aldritch,” Bernhart chimed in, “Magic really is a strange thing.”

“I see,” Aldritch replied, “Well, I ought to get going. I’ve got a bad habit of bathing too long.”

“I should probably be on my way, as well,” Bernhart said, “It can’t be long before I’m needed at the Guest Pavilion.”

A few minutes after Aldritch left, Bernhart put on his clothes and headed off to the main keep to drop off his armor, leaving Luitold alone in the bathhouse to finish cleaning up. From there, he walked through the keep’s twisting halls until finally he reached the side entrance that led him to the gardens, where the Guest Pavilion laid beyond. Down the garden path that stretched between rows of flowers stood the opulent building, one far more decorated than any other within the castle walls.

The Pavilion, unlike all other buildings on the castle grounds, featured architecture completely devoid of any fortification or defensiveness, instead fully embracing a Roman-like beauty, one that couldn’t afford to exist in the warring times of Europe in these ages, at least anywhere that wasn’t Avaria. Though moderate in size, it featured white marble pillars all around, alongside exterior walls that glowed in a similar brightness, surrounding large windows decorated with colorful glass murals. At the center of it all was a set of double doors, made of fine cedarwood. It was unlike anything Bernhart had seen before. 

Appearing humbly in front of the Pavilion’s doors was Sir Canagan, who firmly stood with his feet planted in the ground, a stern emotionless expression covering his face.

“I’ve come to relieve you of your duty,” Bernhart said to him as he approached.

Canagan looked back into his eyes with contempt.

“Very well,” he murmured before turning his neck to speak into the door, “Lady Agnes, I will be switching off with another guard for the day! I will return here early in the morning tomorrow!”
“Thank you, Sir Canagan,” the princess said politely from within. 

With Bernhart seeing the simplicity of Canagan’s job first hand, his anxieties for the nature of this guard duty subsided. As Canagan hobbled away in silence, Bernhart assumed the same stance that the knight had just a moment prior, solemnly parking himself right before the front door as he looked out at the gardens.

What seemed to be an hour passed in silence, and the sky became pink as the sun fell closer to the horizon.

“Is this other guard actually here?” Agnes called out from within.

Bernhart jumped as he heard her voice, snapping out of the trance-like stupor he had been in for the past hour.

“Y-yes m’lady! I am right here on the other side of this door and at your service!” he quickly replied.

“You knights are all the same,” the princess replied through the muffling of the door, “So formal for no good reason. I understand it’s your job, but if anything, I find it impolite. A lady gets lonely in a place like this, you know.”

Bernhart thought back to what Rudolf told him earlier that day.

Nobility is a lonely place, he said. Did the same idea apply to even someone like Lady Agnes? She wasn’t even noble, she was of full royal blood, so how could someone like her feel lonely?

“I’m sorry I’ve displeased you, Your Highness,” Bernhart said, “I can talk to you if you wish.”

“That would be great,” Agnes replied, “To begin, tell me who you are.”

“My name is Bernhart, m’lady, and… I’m actually not a knight. I’m just a peasant, you see,” Bernhart told her.

“A peasant, you say?” Agnes said, “I’m shocked you’d be given guard duty without being a knight. I must say, you’re scaring me a little bit.”

The princess giggled to herself.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry, m’lady, I’m like a knight in all but title,” Bernhart said, “You see, Lord Dietrich has taken quite a liking to me over the years for my loyalty to him. I used to visit this castle as a child and beg him to let me be a knight. He must have found it amusing, since when I turned fourteen, he took me under his wing and let me train alongside his knights like I was one of his own. Since then, I’ve become one of his most trusted men.”

“Ah, what a unique story, Bernhart!” the princess said, “How long have you been of this profession, then?”

“Just over five years now, m’lady,” Bernhart replied.

“So you are nineteen now, I presume, just a year older than me,” Agnes said.

“That is right, m’lady.” 

“It’s not often I get to talk with people my own age.”

“Is that so? What about Sir Canagan who was just here?”

“Canagan? That man may as well be a brick wall. He didn’t say a word all day aside from announcing his presence.”

“Yeah, I suppose he’s not the most personable. I’m hardly different, though.”

“Well, you’re talking to me now.”

Bernhart, beginning to feel more comfortable, relaxed his firm posture and gently leaned against the cedar doors behind him.

“That’s only because you talked to me first,” he said as he smiled to himself, “What about back home? Do you have friends there?”

“Not young ones,” Agnes replied, “Ever since my father got sick, I’ve been tended to by our Lord Chamberlain Dominic. He’s kind and very considerate, but he can be a little overbearing at times. He gets anxious when I speak to anyone of a lower class and always steps in to pull me away. He thinks everyone’s out to get me.”

“Your father is sick?” Bernhart asked, “I had no idea.”

“Oh, I forget that’s supposed to be a secret,” Agnes said, “Yes, I haven’t been allowed to see him for a few months now. Dominic is the only one permitted to enter the Sanctum Hall where my father spends his days isolated. I worry for him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, m’lady,” Bernhart said.

“I just wish Dominic would tell me what’s going on with him. Don’t you think I deserve to know?”

A forceful vibration travelled through the door, shocking Bernhart as it rumbled into his body. Did Agnes just strike the door from the other side? And did that mean she was also leaning on it just like he was?

“W-why of course, m’lady!” Bernhart replied, “It is only fair that you should know the condition of your own father. You are the princess after all.”

“I’m glad someone else thinks so,” Agnes said, “I have no one else to talk to about this.”

“Where is Dominic now, if I may ask?”

“He’s still at the palace with my father. He said he would have liked to come with if not for his other responsibilities.”

“And what reason do you have to be visiting Isenburg?”

“Apparently Dietrich would like to marry me.”

“Oh!”

Bernhart shot up from his slouched position against the door.

“Why, I had no idea!” he said, “Do you wish to marry him?”

“The Count? Absolutely not!” she exclaimed, “He’s an old man! My father told me I would have the right to choose my husband, and I certainly haven’t been reserving that choice for Dietrich of all people.”

“Really? The Count is quite a strong figure, though,” Bernhart said, “He’s the most influential noble in the kingdom. Are you sure you wouldn’t benefit from a marriage?”

“You’re a fool,” the princess said, “I don’t need to marry for political gain like some barbarian. As the daughter of the King, I have all the power I’d ever need.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Bernhart replied, “Still, I think Dietrich is a great man.”

“Never,” the princess said sternly, “That bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to show up after making me come down here. Now I have to wait all alone in this guest house until he comes back.”

“I admit I may be biased toward the man,” Bernhart said, “He did give me everything I have.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a knight.”

“Well yes, but what of it?”

“Then you don’t owe him anything. What have you gotten from him? The right to die in battle on his behalf?”

“The right to be here talking to you, m’lady.”

“Oh, what do I matter to you? Where’s your value for freedom? That’s what matters! Peasants like you are so willing to serve. I’ll never understand it.”

“It is my purpose to fulfill the Count’s wishes.”

“This is what I’m talking about, Bernhart. You need to find some self-respect.”

“You do strike me as someone who is very free, Princess,” Bernhart said after a moment to internalize Agnes’s words.

“Well, not free enough, apparently,” the princess chuckled, “After all, I’m still cooped up in here.”

“I mean that you are free in your words,” Bernhart said, “You share your thoughts with little revision. I suppose there’s few who could punish you for such a thing.”

“There are enough lies in this world,” Agnes replied, “I don’t want to be the bringer of more. I can tell you’ve trained yourself to ignore what you think, to ignore the critical parts of your mind.”

“Do you think so?”

“Bernhart, for as long as you are stationed here, I want you to speak your truth.”

Bernhart thought to himself. What did it mean to speak his truth? He thought he knew what the truth was, but did more than one truth exist? Was there a truth he had failed to see?

“I’ll try my best,” he said.

“I hope you will,” Agnes replied.

Bernhart continued to stand in silence. The sun had now completely fallen beneath the horizon, and now the only light illuminating the gardens was that of the moon.

“I’m going to sleep,” Agnes said after a while, her voice sounding more distant than before, “I assume you will have switched out with Canagan again by the time I wake.”

“I suppose I’ll speak with you tomorrow night, then,” Bernhart said.

“Yes, I’ll be waiting,” she told him, “And next time, I would like to see your face.”

“Very well, m’lady. Good night to you.”

“Good night, Bernhart.”

For the rest of the night until dawn, Bernhart stood in the silence of the cold wind, waiting for his shift to end as the princess slept peacefully inside. In such a short time, he had made such an interesting collection of companions, Agnes being the newest of them all. Tomorrow would be another day to speak with these people, and another day to question what really mattered to him. Would it be the loyalty to his lord or the bonds to his new friends that would define his future? 

Only time would tell.