#it's about laying down your sword not because you no longer are prejudiced

[vahilor]

Remorse (Chapter X)

The story of Réynaud, Kitai and Arik.

Chapter X

The Great Cold, Day 35, 619 K.C. Howling Fjord Reynaud stopped his big horse on top of a snowy hill and observed the small village of no more than twenty houses nestled into the valley beneath him. Near the center of the little settlement stood an inn with a creek which passed on the western side. Someone else might call the sleepy, snow-covered village beautiful. He hated it. People who lived in such places were often prejudiced against his kind, so clearly that was where Kitai had gone. He had not seen her for days – not since he had behaved like the biggest asshole on all Azeroth. He hadn't even had to violate the orders Mograine had given him. He should have been happy. No one tells him what to do. No one tries to befriend him. So why did he feel so bad about the situation? He growled, angry with himself for beeing worried about her shortly after she disappeared. She was all alone only, save by her wolf which he had gifted her in a fit of sentimentality some month ago. Kitai was no child and she knew how to master the land she grew up in. He did not doubt her abilities, but he had thas bad feeling something was totally wrong. This feeling had driven him here, at a place he usually would have avoided. Reynaud focused back on the village which lay still before him, unnaturally quiet. Normally at least a few people would have had to do their daily work despite the cold but Reynaud saw no one, something he should have recognized earlier. He softly kicked his horse into motion and started to trot down the hill which churned up the snow covering the ground. The snow swallowed most of the big beast's sounds and only its soft snorting and the gentle creaking of leathers could be heard. The Death Knight did not care. His black form could have been seen from afar long before someone could have heard him. But there was no reaction. No one closed the shutters, no one who watched him mistrustfully, no insults were hurled, no mothers dragged their children back into the house. The village was like dead. Near the outskirts Reynaud restrained his horse and slowly dismounted. He could see why nothing in the village stirred anymore. Someone had killed the inhabitants, but killing was not the right word for what the Death Knight saw. Most if them had been slaughtered. Some others had been tormented and nailed alive to their own front doors where they had slowly died. He patted the neck of his horse and walked to one of the doors where an older man had found his death. He must have suffered long before he finally was allowed to die. With his armored hand Reynaud carefully closed the dead eyes that stared at him. His stomach clenched and Reynaud was glad his condition made it impossible to vomit. The sight did not even leave the death knight cold, which many would be surprised about. Many believed he and his people were cold, heartless monsters. A lot of the Ebon Blade are broken individuals who try to find a place after all the suffering they had to endure and all the things they had to do - A hard task because his kind was not well liked and only tolerated, not accepted. Reynaud understood the prejudices to some extent but he could not accept the fact that most people would not even give his kind a chance.” Reynaud took a deep breath, more out of habit not because he had too. He slowly surrounded the house, looking for a window to take a look inside. He simply could have opened the door but the dead body nailed to it had stopped him. At the back of the house he found, what he had been looking for and carefully peered into a small dark room, the kitchen by the look of it. Nothing seemed unusual in there, and he suggested that they must have gotten the poor old fellow in the living room. Reynaud smashed in the thick uneven glass with his armored fist and squeezed through the small window, which was harder than expected. It took a moment to finally make it through but in the end he stood in the dimly lit room. Reynaud waited until his eyes had adjusted to the dim light before slowly making his way to the narrow passage that led to the large living room. Chaos dominated the room. He could clearly see that someone had raged in here. The simple furniture had been overturned or destroyed; blood stained one of the walls. Looking closer, he could see the curved shape of an old woman, obviously dead. One of her hands had been cut off and a big blood stain bloomed like a red flower on her chest. The Death Knight approached the corpse carefully and closed her eyes. “I will make them pay,” he promised with a hushed voice,“ and made his way to the small staircase which nestled against the east wall. Reynaud was glad his armor was not as bulky as what most of his brethren wore and therefore had no trouble getting upstairs. The lowercase staircase was tight and even the pauldrons of his armor scraped slightly along the wall. The wood creaked under his heavy footsteps and almost swallowed the short, soft whimpering. Reynaud stopped at once. Silence. He did not move. Only his eyes searched the corridor that lay before him. At the end, a door hung awkwardly on its hinges, as if someone had kicked it in. It must have been closed afterwards. It was strange. No one who ravaged a village and slaughtered its inhabitants would care and close a door. The death knight continued cautiously to avoid any noise, yet the leather of his armor creaked softly and parts of his chain mail collided with a slight metallic scratching. He unsheathed one of his swords, which he carried on his back and used his free hand to push the door open. The door squeaked in protest, but swung open until it stuck on a fallen drawer. A bed was pushed against one of the walls. Opposite had been a wardrobe, now overturned on the floor. Some clothes were scattered in the room. Someone had caused destruction just for the sake of it. Reynaud could hear the whimper again and now he could tell where it came from. He walked over to the bed and kneeled downto peek under it. Huddled under the bed was a small figure visibly trembling, staring at Reynaud with large fear-filled eyes. Reynaud was staggered by what he saw. A little boy, maybe four or five winters old. The Death knight hadn’t expected that and did not know what to do. He hated children. These little monsters annoyed him and always asked stupid questions. Nonetheless, he felt sorry for the child whose family must have been slaughtered like the other inhabitants of the village. The boy had been very lucky that nobody found him here. A simple look under the bed would have been enough to find him. The little boy whimpered again softly and pressed himself against the wall. It already annoyed Reynaud, but he could not just leave him alone. He took a deep breath and removed his helmet to void scaring the child any further. Hopefully the sight of a normal human face would help to get him out under the bed. “It’s all right.” The Death Knight spoke in a calm voice. “You can come out. They are gone. I am not one of them and I can bring you home.” “There is no more home.” The boy sobbed so softly that Reynaud could barely hear it. “They broke everything, even mommy and daddy.” He shivered again, as if he remembered what happened. Tears had started to run down his face. “You can’t stay here alone.” Reynaud watched the boy cowering under the bed. He carefully held out an armored hand. “I can bring you somewhere safe, somewhere warm.” “I… I am not allowed to go with strangers.” The little boy wiped his tear-wet eyes with his sleeve. It felt strange that after all what must have happened the boy still insisted on something so banal he had learned. Reynaud suppressed a sigh. He had no time for such silly games, but he also could not leave the boy behind. He would stand no chance and either starve or freeze to death. “When I tell you my name and you give me yours, then we are no longer strangers.” Reynaud still hold out his hand. “I am Reynaud ” The Death Knight forced a narrow smile. The boy hesitated for a moment before placing his hand carefully in the man's much larger one. “I am Arik.” The boy stated with his tiny voice tear-chocked voice. Reynaud carefully pulled Arik out from under the bed. Arik was extremely thin and the dirty clothes he was wearing seemed way too big for his tiny figure. He would need something to keep him warm otherwise he would not survive the ride to the Ebon Blade Outpost. Reynaud stood up and pulled the small boy to his feet who had started to sob again. “We need - “ Reynaud started to explain, when the boy clung tightly to the much larger man. Arik shook all over and his soft sobbing passed into a heart-melting weeping.

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Story in a World of Warcraft setting.

#wow #world of warcraft #human interest #death knight #story