Knights didn’t have to worry about these things. They were strong, and they appealed to class and the battlefield alike. They appeared at banquets; they fought wars. They were honored, they were known, and they were glorious.

Click.

He was glorious. He was honored. His was a noble cause. He fought for king and country. He fought for his lord, his lady, and their cause. He would have died for the protection of their daughters.

Crack.

He would have died, now he’s not so sure. He has seen the townes. He has seen the villages, the cities, and the people. He has collected tariffs and taxes; he has escorted shipments of cloth and foodstuff.

Creak.

He has met with bandit and cloaked elf. The dragon, the beast, and man – he knows by name. He sees torture, hate, prejudice, and there’s no righting it, not in the name of his king. It weighs on his majesty, but the cost is too high. Instead, find a way to rescue the damsel, slay the dragon.

Silence.

He was a knight, once... an honorable man. Now he’s not so sure. There’s too much blood on his hands.

The sound of his heart fracturing, splintering, shattering.

To be loved? To be hated? To deal with the Enemy of Man, and come to his knees.

Then, or now, he sees no difference.

Garland.