The Forsaken Knight

Code of Knights: Sheathed for the innocent, unsheathed upon thy enemy. Honor among the sword, dishonor among magic.

A procession passed through dead trees. Clouds blocked the sun. Thick layers of snow covered the land. The harvest was unfruitful. The once lively village became quiet. All was bleak.

Carrying yet another deceased warrior, the villagers held a funeral for the fallen. Deep within the snow-crusted forest was a knights’ cemetery. The effects of the war made it more crowded. The body was laid to rest among his many brothers. Amid the tears, an old man stepped forward and spoke:

“O Lord of Lords, we gather here today to remember the life of another of your sons lost to bloodshed. Here lies a young man of honor, of distinction, who answered the call of our kingdom in this time of war. A man who left his family behind to defend them. To defend us all. I pray that you shall welcome him into the beyond with open arms. For he deserves to move on from the woes wrought upon us. I know that troubles come and go, but our current predicament is profoundly serious. Our little farming village tires of this prolonged war. Our wives, mothers, and children miss their husbands and fathers. And then this extreme winter came upon us during these summer months. The recent harvests have yielded subpar crops. Hunger rises. Many of us have either fled or lay here among the warriors. It's clear that we’ve committed some sort of sin, so we shall pray with rejuvenated fervor for your blessings. We will neither leave our land nor seek any magical means. Please, O Lord of Lords, bless us once more as you have in the past. Please end our suffering. Please make this young man the last casualty of this war and bring our sons home. Amen”.

The old man placed his hand on the deceased. Still clad in his armor and holding his sword, the young knight seemed to be sleeping. If only they all were. “Forever shall you stay in our hearts”, the old man said. Then, each of the few remaining villagers placed their hands on the young man before he was finally buried.

As the procession was preparing to return home, a young girl noticed another guest. A lone knight on the other side of the cemetery. Coated in snow, he was kneeling, holding his sword to the ground. Curious, she walked towards him. He was whispering. It sounded like a prayer. Before she could ask why he was here her mother grabbed her and pulled her back. “That so-called knight is a disgrace. Returning home as war rages on”, the mother said shaking her head, “Stay away from him”. Then, they walked away, but the girl couldn’t help but stare.

Alone among comrades, the knight continued his whispers seemingly unaware of a dark mist slowly forming and encircling the cemetery. Blanketing the graves, the circle closed in on the still knight. Eyes appeared within the mist in front of him. This was no ordinary mist. This was the being of Sorrow. Although the knight was surrounded, he didn’t stop whispering. He didn’t even flinch. Sorrow became intrigued by such focus and listened to the words:

“Your wisdom guides my every move, O Lord of Lords, from my humble beginnings till my knighthood. However, I ask for forgiveness for my newfound thoughts. What I wish to do is blasphemous, a sin. No longer can I commit to the creed of my knighthood. I shall forsake them. I shall forsake myself with what I seek to do. But, I shall never forsake you. My emotions are my truth to you and myself. My afterlife in the beyond is surely settled by now. However, I ask that you have mercy upon my soul, O Lord of Lords”.

The knight was silent and still. Sorrow peered into the knight’s inner being and saw darkness. Elated, Sorrow hissed, “It’s astounding how death can create such sorrow”.

“These men were heroes”, the knight responded.

“And what of you”?

Silent, the knight took a deep breath and slowly stood up. Facing the eyes, he stated, “I’m no hero. I’m barely a knight”.

Puzzled, Sorrow asked, “Yet, you wear armor”?

“Armor that’s damaged and impure”.

The bass of its voice deepened. “Good”, Sorrow stressed. “The sadness of the villagers is already great, but I sense much sadness in you, too. There’s so much to feed upon”.

Raising his hand, the knight said, “No villagers. Only me. I submit myself to you”.

“A sinful knight is unheard of. You would give in to your own emotions”?

“I would gladly take on the sorrows of my village”.

“You wish to become a warlock? They don’t respect you and they wouldn’t respect this decision. They’d rather you gone instead of the fallen. Why do you care for them”?

“This is my home. My birthplace. I’m blind to my own salvation, but this is the only good deed that I can see”.

“Pathetic. Risking your life for others that disrespect you”, Sorrow said as it widened the circle, ready to move towards the village.

Grabbing his sword, the knight assumed a fighting stance. Sorrow laughed at the display. However, the knight said, “My village is a simple village of farmers. Unimportant across the wider kingdom. Yet, we have produced many knights. I among them”.

Sorrow faced the knight with its peering eyes.

“I took on the creed: Sheathed for the innocent, unsheathed upon thy enemy. Honor among the sword, dishonor among magic. Knighthood was the greatest honor of my life. I believed that I could do no wrong. But, with war approaching, everything changed. Once I stepped onto the battlefield, I lost my knighthood. My comrades committed acts of heroism. They saw it that way. The villagers see it that way. Yet, I felt different. I’ve seen and done things that no man should ever experience. To say that I’m a hero would be a lie. I cannot live with such a falsehood. Once I saw a chance, I left and returned to a home surprisingly blanketed in snow. A blizzard in the summer. I understood what had happened. My friends and loved ones looked at me with disgust, yet I couldn’t blame them for their ignorance. After thinking long and hard, I’ve decided to sacrifice myself and take on the sadness, suffering, and sorrow of my kin. I have accepted the thought of becoming a warlock”.

“Few can hold such magic. In time, you will die. The Lord of Lords would not approve”, Sorrow said.

“I can no longer live with these haunting memories. I’m a failure. This is the only good deed I have left”.

“You can’t guarantee an end to my reemergence”.

The knight solemnly sighed. “But, I can guarantee more time for them to improve their lives once your plague lifts”.

“A very dishonorable act, man of the creed. An act that I’m willing to agree with. I can feed on your sorrows for a long time. Until you’re nothing but a rotting corpse. Are you ready to perish”?

The knight took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Swiftly, the mist pounced upon his armor, staining it black. Screaming in agony, the armor merged with his skin, squeezing his body. At the same time, the snow melted away and the clouds fled, giving way to sunlight and warmth.

Alarmed by the screaming, the villagers returned to the cemetery. Shocked by the sight of the environment and the knight’s new appearance, the people began to murmur. “How could this be? Did he do this? Such an act can only be done with magic. His armor is black, he must’ve embraced the way of the warlock. Did he make a pact with a daemon”? Aroused by anger, the villagers pelted the warlock with rocks.

Gazing upon his people one last time, he noticed the young girl. He could understand her emotions. She felt sorry for him. That thought gave him solace. However, he turned around and walked deeper into the woods. He could feel Sorrow throughout his body, especially within his mind. “I truly am a forsaken knight”, the warlock said, feeling the happiness within Sorrow.