The snowflake melted in his mailed hand. It was hard to ignore the cold metal entombing him now that the fighting was over. Stupid. I shouldn't have worn plate in weather like this. He looked up at the sky, the movement making him aware of his bruised neck. Still, I guess it saved my life.
"Please, Chase, let me go. I'm no treat to you now". The voice disrupted his thinking, took him back to the present. He looked around slowly. In the distance, on of his men was dispatching wounded men and horses. He had enough work in front of him. The ground was littered with dead and dying. Hundreds. Some of them friendly. No matter, I have more. There are always more. He looked at the lord kneeling in front of him. He looked old. Old and scared. Dried blood covered the left side of his face, and it looked like his arm was broken.
"Think of the times you have eaten at my table, of the toast we have shared. Let me go, Chase. For the friendship we once had". Chase Delarock looked more closely at the man in front of him, his eyes squinting. Perhaps the old lord did seem somewhat familiar beneath the dirt and blood that was caked in his face. We were friends? I can't even remember your name.
The two guards standing behind the prisoner laughed quietly. "Look at 'm, almost pissing himself 'e is", one of them said, smiling. Chase looked up quickly, catching the guards eye. The laughing stopped instantly. I would have begged. So would you.
"Why?", his voice sounded dry even to his own ears. Dead. Lifeless. It was perfect. "Did you think you could trick me into an ambush? Did you think you could kill me?" In truth he had been tricked. Outnumbered two to one, only experience and discipline had saved the day. They both knew it, but perhaps the people around them did not.
"I told the King it wouldn't work, but he wouldn't listen. He is afraid of you, you know. Getting more and more nervous as you creep closer to his castle". Their eyes met as the old man raised his head. "Why are you doing this , Chase? You had everything."
"Not a kingdom, not a crown. Now I do."
"And how many have died for this crown of yours? How many is now only food for the crows, because of your arrogance and greed? How many more will it take before you end this futile rebelion of yours?"
"As many as it takes. The rivers will run red before this is over, and they will overflow until everybody bend their knee to me! And then... then there will be peace."
"Madness..."
Before he could think he lashed out, backhanding the old lord, blood and broken teeth spraying onto the cold stiff ground.
"Please", the lord repeated, the words almost not understandable as they bubbled from his shattered mouth. Chase looked at his gauntlet. The blood stain somewhat looked like his brother on the end of a pike. He wiped it on his dark purple tabard. Madness? Perhaps. But what of it? Isn't all great men just a little bit mad?
Chase felt a hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he quickly turned a round, and looked straight into a beautyfull face. He's mouth opened slightly in awe, as it always did. So pretty, so perfect, if not for the hate in its eyes. He felt an urge to maim, an urge to kill, but it was over quickly. Captain Ivieraso was to valuable to waste, and Noldors didn't break their oath once given. He had nothing to fear from this... thing.
"Your Highness", Ivieraso said, " Lord Knader fought bravely, and should be treated with honor. There is no need for this." Knader. That is his name. I know him.
Chase forced himself to smile. "Offcourse, Captain, you are right. We should treat our enemies with the respect they disserve." He turned back to his old friend Lord Knader, still on the ground, struggling for every breath.
"Here, friend, let me help you back on your knees." He kneeled down and hoisted the old man up. Spit, snot and blood dripping from his chin. He wiped most of it away, the purple tabard coming away red. Still, he could see doubt in the lords eyes.
"Dint be afraid, I will not kill you", Chase said as he stood up again, catching one of the guards eyes, and giving a small nod. He could see some hope return to the Lord, then disappear again as a knife was stabbed into his neck, leaving nothing behind.
Chase looked up into the sky. It was getting dark. He liked the dark, sometimes even preferred it. Let it cover me in its dark arms. Let it hide my regret. Let it hide my pain.
"Lets get moving. Plenty of people that still need killing, and they will not kill them self."
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Perhaps not your typical PoP story, but I've emerged from lurking 2-3 years or so to write it, and that got to count for something. All feedback is welcome. Please ignore the spelling mistakes as english is not my native language.
Anyway, thank you saxondragon for making this mod. I've enjoyed it alot so far, and are looking forward to the next version. Your mod is the only one I'm playing these days, and that says a lot 'cause there are lot of talented people out there.
