A flurry of snowflakes blew through the ancient, storied streets of a twilit city, still bustling with activity despite the hour. Snow piled up onto every surface, covering the once impressive Gothic architecture in a picturesque blanket that glistened in the moonlight. Children adorned in rags ran through the streets, begging for spare change and crumbs of bread to take home to their families. Worn down peasants clutched their meager coin purses as they shuffled along, eyes wearily scanning the area for thieves lurking in the darkened alleyways. A tavern lay central in the slums, and a seemingly endless stream of heavily cloaked figures stumbled through its doors in either direction
"Ye best be ready ta pay up, pal!" exclaimed a barkeep as they slammed a dirty glass down on a rickety old table. "Oh? And just what do you intend to do to me if I don't?" Asked the obscured figure sitting in a corner not far from the door. "Oi! Don't think that because I can't see yer godsdamned face that I can't give ya a beatin' so good yer grandkids'll feel it!" the barkeep roared, and the figure scoffed as they idly tapped their fingers on the table.
"You know, it's almost adorable how tough you think you are," they said smugly, and with a whispered word and a flourish of their cape procured a fat velveteen coin purse. They slid it over to the angry barkeep as they nonchalantly took a sip of their drink, watching them inspect the contents with a casual interest as one might observe an insect scurrying by.
"I take it that will suffice? Bring another drink this way, I should have company any moment now," the figure barked, and the barkeeper walked off with a huff. Soon after, a short and portly cloaked figure entered the tavern, wheezing somewhat as they sat down across the similarly cloaked figure at the corner table.
"Humph! Would it kill you to be on time for a change? Gods sake, Corvo! You know how important this is!" The taller cloaked figure hissed in a hushed tone, and Corvo shrugged. "Whatever. You might be able to pull the wool over everyone's eyes, Dolum; but I'm the real brains behind this operation, and we both know it," he whined as he picked up his own glass with short and stubby fingers. "Ugh, good thing this is beer, I wouldn't want to drink something decent out of a cup this nasty," he muttered to himself, and Dolum crossed his arms in annoyance.
"Stop your whining! You won't have to deal with these filthy Geldian bars for much longer. Now hurry up, we've got work to do before that oaf of a barkeep realizes that I just gave him a bag of rocks," Dolum barked, and with a sigh Corvo took off his plague doctor mask just enough to down the hot beer with a generous helping of complaints.
"I'm leaving at dawn, I trust you'll take care of the rest?" Dolum said after a moment, and Corvo sat down his glass and turned toward his companion with a confused expression.
"Don't give me that look! You don't need me to finish the job, so it doesn't matter if I leave early," he hissed with urgency, causing Corvo to visibly deflate at his harsh tone. "B-But I lo-" he started to stammer out before being cut off with a hiss of annoyance. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm so dashing that it's only natural that I have your love. Now go finish what we were sent here to do," Dolum commanded as he stood up, leaving his companion to sulk in his seat.
Not a moment after Dolum left the tavern did Corvo hear the angry scream of the barkeeper. "HEY, THAT BASTARD SWAPPED MY COINS WITH SOME GODSDAMNED ROCKS!" they screeched, narrowing their eyes at Corvo, who was strapping his mask back on. "Well, that's my cue if there ever was one!...Why do I always have to take the fall?!" He wheezed as he pulled a large vial from a pocket, suppressing a laugh as he threw it as far as his fat body would allow him. "Too bad I can't stick around for the fun!" He said with a cackle as smoke began to fill the tavern, giving him ample time to escape into the night.
Corvo escaped the bar with the feeble first rays of dawn riding on his tail as he slid clumsily down a grimy alleyway, muttering something under his ragged breath. The sudden, jarring clang of metallic footsteps startled Corvo, who brought his sprint to a screeching halt. Panicked, he scanned the alleyway for something, anything, that would help him shake his pursuer off his trail. The swift, clanking approach only drew closer to Corvo; who now found himself diving into a nearby heap of garbage, thankful for his mask shielding him from the vermin and decomposing junk he now was squatting in.
"Oh, I see you're hiding amongst the garbage you belong in? Come quietly with me back to the jail house for questioning, unless you'd prefer that I draw my sword?" A knight said, his authoritative voice sneered as he forcibly grabbed Corvo's hood. Corvo squirmed, but was unable to slip away from the knight's grasp. "I didn't know you wanted to get physical, Sir Stupid! I should've worn my lingerie," Corvo chortled as he gave up the fight against the knight.
"For the last time! My name is Faron, you godsdamned bastard! You cause nothing but trouble, and from what I hear, it'll be a miracle if the people you gassed in that bar will live! Do you have anything to say for yourself?!" The knight exclaimed with an exasperated wave of his arms.. Corvo simply snickered in reply, which only frustrated Faron further. "Spit it out, you disgusting hyena!" he hissed as he lifted Corvo up onto his nearby horse.
"Heh, thanks for the ride!" he cackled as he threw a rotten tomato at Faron, and in the brief moment of chaos, had managed to get the horse into a full gallop. Wiping the tomato off his helmet as he ran off in pursuit of his steed, Faron huffed in frustration. "IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DEAL WITH, YOU ASSHOLE!" he yelled as he ran, dismayed that he was no longer able to see his horse in the distance.
Humiliated, Faron turned around with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Gods! What will the other knights do when they hear about this?! I was just given a squire mere weeks ago, and now that bastard stole my horse!" he muttered as he slowly walked back into town, dread tugging at his boots all the while. Faron was too preoccupied with his troubled thoughts to notice much of his surroundings, though he was vaguely aware that the world around him was beginning to look nicer than before.
"Faron! What happened to ya?!" cried a familiar voice, snapping the knight out of his thoughts. He noticed his squire, Oliver, was on horseback just a few feet ahead. His emerald eyes and voice alike were clouded with worry, a stark difference from his usual carefree attitude.
"...My horse was stolen by that damned alchemist, who escaped my grasp." Faron said with a sigh, shaking his head for a moment before he hardened his gaze. "I hope you're not referring to me that casually around anyone else, Oliver. Not that I personally mind, but the other knights give me enough trouble without my own squire not respecting me," Faron said after a short pause, causing Oliver to turn as red as his scruffy hair.
"Disrespect ya!? Awh, that's the last thing I'd do!" Oliver cried, still quite embarrassed. "Er, anyway, the knights sent me to find ya, we're runnin' late!" he continued after a brief pause. "Gods! I almost forgot we're to escort that princess!" Faron cried, a hint of frustration in his voice as he sighed once more. "There isn't enough time, please tell me that saddle has room for two," Faron said, and Oliver nodded perhaps too quickly.
"Good. Let's hope that we'll still make it in time!" Faron said as he mounted the horse. Without further ado, Oliver got the horse into a gallop, and was still blushing quite profusely as he tried to focus on the task at hand, and not Faron's arms wrapped around his torso. The city was nothing more than a blur as they rode in silence save for the thundering hooves hitting the well worn ground.
"There's no time for freshening up! We can't be late for escorting Princess Cereza, lives are at stake!" Faron huffed angrily as his squire began guiding their horse to the knight's barracks. "Lives?!" Oliver squeaked, sounding more embarrassed than anything else. "Do you think the senior knights would take kindly to their least favorite knight and squire being late to this?! They've been doing their best to get rid of me since I was thrust upon them!" Faron said with a scowl that Oliver could feel piercing through his back.
"...Do ya really think they'd kill ya for somethin' like that?" Oliver quietly asked after a moment, causing his companion to sigh, but offer nothing but silence as they sped through the bustling streets. Merchants hawking their wares from all walks of life lept out of the way as the horse thundered past them, yelling after them for kicking up dirt on their inventory.
A metallic sheen on the horizon was more than enough to mark their destination, let alone the ancient castle that loomed over the entire city. Purple banners of all shades fluttered in the wind, mimicking the capes shrouding the ornamental armor adorning the row of knights just ahead. As Faron quickly dismounted the borrowed horse, he joined the lineup with a twinge of embarrassment, painfully aware of how shabby his armor looked against his peers’ shining armor.
"Finally. I thought you wouldn't show up! Guess the thought of real danger wasn't too much for your pretty little head!" Sneered the knight beside him, causing Faron to wince as he braced himself for the onslaught he was sure to face. "Aww, look at the bastard pining over our armor! Too bad peasants like yourself aren't fit to wear this!" another quickly chimed in with a smug grin under his helm.
"I'm not a peasant," Faron said as calmly as he was able. "Yeah. Whatever, orphan. You might've been knighted, but you'll never be one of us!" the first knight retorted, causing Faron to flinch as their captain rode over to the scene.
"Oi, you lot! Stop bickering, you make us look like laughing fools in front of the king! Silence, all of you!" scolded the captain, voice deep and gravelly with age. The knights stood up straight, embarrassed about getting caught more so than the actual act. The captain eyed his men with a scowl just visible under his helmet. His eyes eventually settled on Faron, who met his weathered gaze with his own.
Just as the captain opened his mouth, a large banner fell off its post, crashing to the road with a bang. The captain’s horse instantly panicked, and in the blink of an eye the captain fell off his horse, one of his feet tangled in the saddle. With a jolt, Faron found himself running after the bloody trail left of the horses wake.
Sprinting faster than he'd ever ran before, Faron lead the charge by a mile with a firm grip on his unsheathed sword. His shoes barely touched the ground as he ran, touching down with a metallic clang that mirrored the hooves just ahead. A wordless cry left his lips as he lept towards the unmoving captain with sword in the air, targeting the leather holding his senior hostage. His aim was true, and was able to cut through the stirrup, freeing the unconscious man.
The horse didn't slow its mad dash, but that was the least of Faron's worries. Kneeling beside the captain, Faron winced at his bloody and torn face, gravel and dirt embedded his wounds. Biting his lip, Faron swiftly checked for a pulse. A horrible, frighteningly long moment passed before he was able to detect a faint heartbeat.
“He's alive! Barely, but he’s alive!” Faron yelled to the silver figures in the distance as he tore off a sizable portion of his pant leg as a makeshift bandage for the worst of the old knight’s head injuries. Carefully, he then lifted the captain in his arms, and began to run as fast as his exhausted limbs would allow. Almost collapsing in the street, it was all Faron could do to cry out for help for his captain. A pained groan left the captain's lips, drawing Faron's attention. “We lost your horse, but you'll be okay, Sir,” Faron quickly said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.
“You...saved me..?” he asked, clearly disoriented at best. “Yes, Sir. Help should arrive at any moment now, please rest,” Faron replied as he desperately scanned the horizon for anyone who might’ve heard his desperate pleas, damning his legs for being unable to withstand supporting him any longer. Insidiously, his exhaustion ate away at Faron, his long day quickly winning the battle between staying conscious or not. His vision blacked out just as the other knights appeared just ahead, enveloping Faron in a comforting darkness that he'd rarely experienced.
“...he’ll wake up?” Oliver’s voice came into focus as Faron opened his tired eyes. “Of course. Did you not hear the doctor?” another familiar voice chimed in. A small groan left the knight’s lips as he slowly blinked. “What...happened? Is the captain safe? The king? The princess?” Faron questioned before he even realized who else was with him. A warm chuckle echoed through the room. “My boy, we are all safe, thanks to your quick thinking,” a deeper voice said, snapping Faron back into reality.
“Your Highness!” Faron cried as he scrambled to bow the best he was able in the cot he found himself in. “Oh Faron, you would not believe why His Highness has graced our presence!” exclaimed the second voice. “Dua? How did you get out of your duties at the temple?” Faron asked his old friend sitting beside a nervous Oliver. “I am allowed to leave if it is an emergency, you know. You were guarding me for how long?” She said with a playful smile.
“Yes, as our High Priestess mentioned, I do have something of great import to discuss. The Head of the Guard -- your captain,” The king began to say, pausing for breath as Faron’s eyes grew wide with fear. “...He will be fine. However, he has sustained enough injuries that he will no longer be fit for combat. As he was of retiring age, we had agreed that he will step down tonight,” he continued, only fueling the knight’s anxiety.
“Gods, I’m so sorry… I should’ve done better! If I had arrived on time-!” Faron cried, barely able to calm himself enough to let his liege speak once more. “Yes...about that. You were late, yes, but I could tell by the state of your appearance that you were preoccupied with an incident. Your squire informed me of the details, and I am quite impressed with your talents.” he said warmly as he smiled at the quivering knight before him.
“So, with that out of the way! When is the soonest you may be measured by my blacksmith? The quicker, the better my boy, we cannot have our newest Head of the Guard to be adorned in armor so shabby after all!” the king exclaimed as he moved to rise from his bedside seat.
A rare smile rested on Faron’s face as he looked himself over in a grimy mirror. Darkened metals reflected back at the knight, adorned with ornate filigree and stained with rich purples. “Well? How’s the armor treating ya?” the blacksmith eagerly called out from across the room. “It matches my eyes!” Faron cried, swishing around his new cape with gloved hands and a sparkle in his eyes. “I never thought I’d ever don armor so beautiful in my life, I can't thank you enough,” Faron continued with a twinge of embarrassment in his tone. The room resonated with the blacksmith’s hearty laugh, and for a moment Faron’s worries were swept away. “Glad you like it, hopefully His Highness’ll feel the same!’ he said, and Faron nodded in agreement. “Hopefully so. Again, thank you, but I must be off now. Burgestede won’t protect itself!” Faron called out as he left the blacksmith.
With a pep in his step, Faron mounted his newly assigned horse and rode through the area with a slow trot. Seeing nothing of particular interest or concern among the storied streets, Faron made his way back to the barracks, frequently glancing over his shoulder to watch his cape flutter in the wind with a small smile on his face. After a surprisingly peaceful ride Faron arrived at his home, perhaps too eager to address his squadron. He dismounted and gave his horse to a nearby squire, then swiftly opened the weathered doors. A deafening scream rang out through the halls no sooner than Faron could take a single step inside. Startled, Faron drew his sword and ran to the source of the outburst. Throwing open a door with a shout, Faron found himself shocked.
A group of squires were laying around the room with needles strewn about on the floor. Oliver’s lanky limbs were curled up into a ball on top of an old wooden table, hands firmly clasped around his head. “Gods! What’s going on in here!” Faron cried, causing the group to stiffen up as they realized the situation they were in. “We pooled our money together and bought a couple piercing kits,” one said, with dull metal hoops hanging from his earlobes. “Oliver over there couldn’t handle it despite insisting that he could handle getting three piercings at once,” another squire sighed with disapproval, her piercings dimly catching the light of a nearby torch.
Oliver merely whimpered in reply, causing Faron’s scowl to worsen. “Do you know how dangerous that can be? None of you are qualified for this, not to mention I doubt you could afford enough decent quality metal for the lot of you!” Faron scolded with a shake of his head. “Complications from these piercings aren’t an excuse to get out of your duties; and if any of you try something stupid like this again, I’ll see to it that you’ll be given a fitting punishment! Is that clear?” Faron continued, and the group of squires nodded solemnly with a chorus of “Yes, Sir Faron.“
“Good. I’ll be having a talk with your knights about this, and they’ll do with you as they see fit,” Faron sternly said as he turned heel and walked back towards the door. “Oliver? Come with me at once,” He called over his shoulder as he left the room, not waiting on his squire to uncoil himself. Sighing as he leaned against the cold stone wall, Faron found himself in a sea of troubled thoughts, and barely noticed Oliver timidly call out his name. “We’re going to have a talk, let’s head to your room,” Faron said in a gruff tone, leading a silent walk up a few flights of stairs. Oliver fumbled for his key to unlock the door, emitting a dreadfully nervous aura all the while. The door creaked open, and the duo stepped inside with icy silence.
“So. Did the others force you into this?” Faron asked, tone gentle as he gestured for Oliver to take a seat on his bed. “Nah, We all thought it’d be cool,” he said as Faron sat down on a nearby stool. “May I take a look?” Faron asked, and Oliver silently nodded as he pulled a chunk of his messy hair away from his red and swollen ear. “Gods. All that pain for crooked piercings! Tell you what, Oliver. We’re going to go get some fresh snow to put on your ear. I’ll meet you outside there as soon as I can,” Faron said, causing Oliver’s face to twist in confusion.
“I can put snow on myself no problem, I know it’s good for swellin’. Why’re you comin’ too?” he asked, making the knight raise an eyebrow. “I’m taking you to a jeweler, both to assess the damage, and buy you a decent set of earrings. That metal you’ve got in there now will be nothing but trouble, I’m sure.” he said as he stood up. Faron paused for a moment, eyes dancing around his squire’s room with an unreadable expression.
“I-Is there somethin’ wrong?” Oliver managed to squeak out, fingers anxiously tapping on his bed. “What? No, everything’s fine. I was just surprised to see your room is nicer than mine,” Faron said as he turned his attention back toward his squire. “But you're the highest rankin’ person here?!” Oliver gawked, prompting a sigh to leave Faron's lips. “Oh that's right, I think the only times you've fetched me from my room you were too distracted to notice that I sleep in an old broom closet,” Faron replied with a sorrowful expression.
Oliver let out a grunt of pain, causing Faron's expression to soften, though there was still profound sadness in his deep purple eyes. “Forgive me, I’ve kept you waiting too long. Go on ahead before your ear gets worse,” Faron said as he left the room. His brisk pace down several flights of stairs ended below ground, the corridor far more empty and desolate than any above it. With a sigh, Faron unlocked the door to his room.
A small bed took up the vast majority of the space, only leaving enough room for an armor stand and small trunk serving as a nightstand to be tightly packed into place. Lighting the lantern looped around the bed frame, he sat down on the old straw mattress and leaned over to sort through his meager belongings. He quickly found what he was looking for, and placed the goods into a small satchel that was then tucked safely into his breastplate.
With that, he blew out the lantern and made his was back outside, where he was extremely disappointed to see a vaguely Oliver sized snow angel of sorts in the old mound of piled up snow just beside the road. Aren't you freezing in there?” Faron asked as he peered down upon his snow caked squire. “Nah, feels good actually!” he said cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the look Faron was giving him. “Get up and clean yourself off,” he said coldly, shivering as he winced at the mountain of snow before him.
Oliver shortly then erupted from the pile, pelting Faron with an impressive amount of snow. “Gods. I don't think I've ever been more thankful to be in armor in my life,” he muttered as he wiped off the snow Oliver so generously thrust upon him. Once freed, Faron pulled out the satchel from his breastplate and grabbed a rag that was handed over to Oliver. “Make an ice pack with this,” Faron instructed as he returned the bag to its resting place atop his chest.
“I really didn't need to grab all that, the picture especially, but I just can't shake this bad feeling,” he thought nervously as he waited for Oliver to finish his task. “Right then, let's get our horses. When we finish at the jeweler, assuming you don't completely empty my wallet, we'll go get something nice to eat. Sound good to you?” Faron asked, and Oliver nodded over enthusiastically with wide and shining eyes.
Before either of them knew it, they'd arrived to the stable. It was quick work to saddle and tack their steeds, and faster still for them to have made headway into the ancient city. “It's hard to imagine this place being here for so long, yet, here it stands,” Faron muttered under his breath ad they rode, curiosity sparkling in his gaze for a brief moment before they dismounted their horses. In front of the pair was a small store nestled between a tailors and woodworking shop, their old and worn stone walls a backdrop for a multitude of signage and banners being rustled by the chill winter air. Eager shoppers bustled around the road, filling the air with their idle chattering and occasional laughter as they went to and fro. Opting to not waste more time than necessary, Faron held the jeweler’s heavy wooden door open for Oliver, who scurried into the shop without a word.
“C'mon in!” The jeweler called out from behind a glass counter. “It’s been so cold out that it musta froze all my customers, the store’s been deader than a fresh bloom in a blizzard today!’ she continued as she moved away from the counter with a stretch. “What can I do for you?” she then asked with a warm smile, though neither knight or squire had none of their own to offer in return. “My squire,” Faron said with a sigh, “Decided it would be a good idea to get multiple piercings from his highly unqualified peers. Would you be willing to assess the damage, and fit him with earrings of a decent quality?” he continued, causing Oliver to shuffle his feet in embarrassment.
“Ah, yeah, that’ll be no problem. It’ll take a while though,” the jeweler replied as she unlocked a nearby cabinet with one of many keys she wore on her waist. “Very well then. I think I’ll patrol the area while I wait? Oliver, I’m trusting you to be reasonable and not spend too much here,” Faron said as he handed over his wallet to the blushing squire. With that, he left the store as quickly as he came. “Someone bought all of your stock?! You’ve got to be kidding me!” loudly complained someone across the road as Faron mounted his horse. “That’s what I thought too, who needs that many candles?” laughed the artisan closing down their booth in reply. The wind picked up, wafting the unmistakable smell of roasted meat to the knight’s petite nose. Resisting the urge to drool, Faron began to urge his horse closer to whatever was cooking nearby.
A terribly shrill scream cut through the air before Faron’s steed could take a single step, causing the rider’s heart to skip a beat. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking that the shriek originated near the castle.
Something was terribly, horribly wrong. The plaza was filled with smoke and the pungent smell of burning fabric in the air. Frenzied people scattered about while they screamed, and while Faron was unable to see clearly through the smoke in the air, he heard the unmistakable sound of a horse bolting away from the chaos not too far away from him. This wouldn’t cause much concern, given the situation, however a shrill cackle was more than enough of a tell for trouble. “CORVO?!” Faron screamed as he coaxed his horse to begin pursuing the fiendish alchemist. “I’LL MAKE DAMN SURE YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!” Faron continued, voice shaking with rage.
It wasn’t long before the air cleared, and Faron was able to get a better view of his surroundings. They were on the outskirts of the city now, and just up ahead was his stolen horse, her rider wearing a ratty old cloak. Corvo turned his masked head back toward Faron, sinister plague doctor’s mask hiding what Faron could only assume to be a maniacal grin. “Chasing after me, Sir Stupid? I’m flattered, I would’ve assumed you’d much rather be the dashing knight to save this helpless princess instead of dealing with me!” Corvo said with a cackle as he gave the burlap bundle behind him a hearty whack.
“You WHAT?!?” Faron roared, seeing red as he chased Corvo into the looming forest, praying that his current steed could gallop faster. “You kidnapped the princess?!? What do you intend to do with her?!” he continued, following Corvo’s every twist and turn through the trees. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” Corvo replied, coaxing his stolen steed to run even more erratically than before. Unable to lose Faron through the maze like forest floor, Corvo fumbled with something underneath the threadbare cloak for a moment before he suddenly threw a glass bottle toward Faron’s direction.
Unable to dodge in time, the glass shattered with an explosive impact, the unprotected portions of his face now embedded with shards of glass. In an instant, a noxious green gas cloud formed, and despite his best efforts not to breathe it in, Faron lost consciousness in the blink of an eye, vaguely aware that his panicked horse launched him into the air.
Under the dark forest canopy, far too dense for all but the most determined rays of sunlight to trickle in; time was nigh impossible to tell for even the most experienced woodsmen. Faron, whose eyes were just now fluttering open, groaned as his pounding head rendered him more conscious than he’d be comfortable being at the moment. Though his vision was spinning, he was able to tell he was crumpled up against the base of a mighty tree. Struggling to his knees, he noted that he was still fully dressed and armed, a small blessing in the otherwise hellish mess he’d found himself in.
On his feet now with gritted teeth, Faron shook his head as if to stop the terrible pounding, but to no avail. He moved to rub his temples, and accidentally pushed some glass shards further into his head. “Argh!” Faron screamed, sending a large flock of birds into flight. “What in the God’s names did I ever do to deserve this?” he asked as he resisted the urge to pull the glass out of his bruised face. “No, not now. I’ll just hold out until I can get someone to look at this when I return home. There’s no point in risking it,” he muttered with a huff. “I can’t catch that bastard on foot! Where did my horse go?” he continued, squinting as he gingerly turned his head side to side.
As he turned his attention to the forest floor, Faron cursed the lack of snow for the first time in his life. There was no trace of hoof prints on the frozen ground, only leaves and the occasional fallen tree. Sighing, Faron tried calling out his horse’s name several times to no avail. “Gods! I can’t afford to spend any more time here, I need to get back to the barracks to organize a manhunt! If I have to go back on foot, then so be it!” he cried in frustration, sour look on his face as he began walking. “Damned bastard,” he muttered after awhile. “How could anyone know where they were going with him riding like that?! I’ll be lucky if I find my way back at this rate,” he continued, praying he’d get home in time.
Faron had traveled for quite awhile, pushing through his aches and pains admirably; when he was hit with nausea so acute that it sent him to his knees. He let out a soft cry, but otherwise didn’t move in fear of violently puking. “The last thing I need is to weaken myself any further,” he miserably thought as he closed his eyes for a moment.
“Food, Oh Gods, I need to eat!” Faron realized as his eyes snapped open, somewhat wild as they darted around in search for anything edible. He crawled toward a nearby log with fervent prayers there would be something, anything, he could eat hiding behind it. As he drew closer toward the log, a small white mushroom cap came into focus.
Eyes alight, Faron found newfound speed and reached the log in just mere moments. The mushroom was slightly larger than he anticipated, and after some careful scrutinization, Faron took a large bite out of it. He devoured it without another thought, a rarity for the anxiety ridden knight. Finished eating, he stood back up, only to face plant immediately after.
Faron regained consciousness some point later with quite some pain. Sitting up, he spat out dirt and other things he didn’t want to think about. Sharply inhaling, he plucked the glass shards out of his face, bracing himself for the bloody mess that was about to be his face. Fumbling inside his breastplate, he located a bandanna and pulled it out, reading to tie it into a makeshift bandage. He took his helmet off, and tied the bandanna around his head as quick as he was able.
Finally patched up as best as he could manage, Faron resumed his walk through the forest in a desperate search for some familiar landmarks. “Why does everything have to look the same in this damn forest?!” he sighed, biting his lip while trying his best not to think of the trouble he’d face when he’d finally make it back home. Too busy with his troubled thoughts to realize where he was going, he found himself in an unfamiliar part of the forest. “Oh great, just what I needed!” he muttered as a bird flew right by his face. Alarmed, Faron spun around to see a large pile of snow in front of him.
“Snow!” he cried as he ran toward the blinding light, a small laugh leaving his lips as he realized the trees were thinning. “I won’t die in there after all!” he said with rare glee, falling down into the snow pile and looking up at the afternoon sky.
Getting a hold of himself, Faron shook the snow off and resumed a gloomy expression. “Just because I’m out of the forest doesn’t mean I’m in the clear yet, I better find out where I am,” he sighed, squinting as the snow illuminated by the sun’s rays blinded him temporarily. He trudged forward, movement severely hindered by the waist high snow as far as the eye could see. Some larger, house shaped show piles to the east caught Faron’s attention, and so he started moving in that direction.
The sun was setting by time Faron arrived, and while the snow was piled up disturbingly high for a village, there was no doubt what he stumbled upon. He went door to door, knocking and peering inside the frost covered windows. He got no replies, nor was able to make out anything in the windows beside his sorry looking face.
“Odd… You’d think there’d be someone here, otherwise the snow would be much higher than it is. Well… I suppose it’s my duty as a knight to ensure that everyone is okay,” he muttered as he nearly tripped over an odd shaped lump in the middle of the slim road. With a heavy heart, Faron dug away at the snow to uncover a ghastly sunken face, bone structure so disturbingly prominent that it sent Faron spinning. The frozen, dead eyes stared at nothing, and it was everything Faron could do to not vomit on the spot.
Unable to speak, Faron silently said a prayer as he recovered the body with snow. With shaky, unsteady feet, he stood up, just in time to hear a horrible shout from a few houses up. Running as fast as he was able, Faron kicked in the door with sword in hand, blindly rushing into the one room cottage.
There was a frail, far too thin person lying on top a straw bed, who seemed too exhausted to have really noticed or cared about the intrusion. They were grunting and moaning in pain, and as Faron walked to the front of the bed, something caught his eye down toward the end of the bed. Flustered, he quickly turned his head away, careful not to take another glance back down.
“Thats a...thats a baby,” He said quickly, looking down toward the mother’s face. “D-Do you have a -” he started to stutter out, before something moved out of the corner of his eye, causing him to fall to his knees as soon as he was able. With a red face, Faron was able to catch the newborn just in the nick of time. “I uh, forgive me for the intrusion,” Faron said as he started to hand the baby over to its mother, before the sickening realization that she had stopped breathing. Faron froze, unable to move as he was consumed by horrible flashbacks from his childhood.
A strange, revolting noise snapped Faron back to reality. With eyes wide with fear, he turned his attention toward the source of the horrible racket. A mass of afterbirth was convulsing at his feet, squirming and pulsating. With each pulse, the mound grew, with the middle of it bulging out. Unlike the squishy afterbirth, the center mound looked to be a solid shape. More convulsions passed by as quickly as Faron’s fervent thoughts.
“Is this normal?!? Why haven’t I heard about the afterbirth doing this!? Oh Gods, is THIS why their stomachs get so large?!? Perhaps this is why so many pregnancies are fatal?” he thought as he watched the mound grow before him. He took a sharp breath before bending down to get a better look at the anomaly. Faron let out an alarmed cry, for there was no mistaking the shape of a foal before him. “T-This isn’t how horses are born! I know that much!” he cried over the louder squelching.
A moment or so passed before a little pop and a tiny neigh caught Faron’s attention. To his horror and amazement, a foal was looking up at Faron with deep eyes, and while it was still caked in blood and mucus; it appeared to be a healthy beast, which brought the knight an odd sense of relief. Turning his attention back to the human baby in his arms, Faron knew in his heart that if anything happened to the now sleeping child, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
“I can’t take you to an orphanage, not after witnessing its horrors firsthand! I admit, I know nothing about childcare myself, but I’m sure I can find a midwife that can help back home. I...I’m a father now,” he said solemnly, giving his baby a tender look. “I swear to you upon my honor as a Knight, and to Mother Herself, that I will protect you from every harm that I’m able to do, and to be the best parent I can possibly be,” he swore with a determined look in his eyes. “...Now then. As soon as this foal can walk, I’m going to get you both cleaned up; and from there we’ll do our best to navigate back home,” he concluded a moment later, pride and fear alike dripping from his lips as he spoke.
The harsh winter is deadly for even the heartiest of creatures, after all.
