He hadn't expected to feel this way, not after long having accepted he might have to do such a horrendous thing in the pursuit of his goal.
Oh, so vividly did he remember that face, the look of shock like he couldn't believe what had happened. He pleaded for help, even as his lungs failed to function, "Stop! I yield, I yield, help me, plead dear god help me." Mathias had pleaded. "I'm dead, you've killed me." Then he died, curled into a ball like a newborn in the womb. The image hadn't left Edwin's mind.
Edwin cried out in pain from the arrow in his shoulder, and behind him, his savior pushed the arrow forward. His fingernails dug into his hand, tearing away the skin of his palms; it was all he could do to keep still. With a burst, the arrow exited his skin, his eyes red with anger, staring at the barbed tip of the arrow that caused so much pain.
His savior clinked and clanged as he walked to the opposite end of the house. Chainmail reached down to his knees; it fitted poorly, swaying with every step.
Buried deep into the fresh fire, the man retrieved a knife with an orange blade that sizzled from the heat. "I won't lie, it is going to hurt badly, now bite down into this." The man peeled off a leather glove and passed it over to Edwin, who promptly chomped down hard.
Without warning, the side of the knife burned the wound shut. Edwin groaned in pain, praying to whatever God inhabited this world for the pain to end. Just as he began to relax, the knife pressed against his skin again, this time on his back, where Serena's arrow had entered. Beads of sweat rolled down Edwin's face, mixing with salty tears. Mathias still haunted his mind. Edwin flinched as the armored man brought his hand to Edwin once more.
"Drink this, it will take some of the pain away." The man offered a cup full of a dark red substance. Edwin nearly retched from the sight; the red looked just like Mathias's blood. It was wine, not blood, much to Edwin's pleasure.
"What I would do for painkillers, at least this isn't the diluted stuff."
The man took the emptied cup back from Edwin and set it on the table as he took a seat on a chair he dragged over. He looked well into old age, but also aging well; a scar like a fishhook showed on his right cheek, giving Edwin the impression he was well-versed in battle. He had a pug nose that looked odd on his skinny face. He was bald, but by choice, patches of hair were growing back after some time without shaving. He was built like a pencil, with long arms and legs, and a body stretched over his frame.
"I feel like I've seen this man before."
Edwin, now with a bearing on his pain, spoke up, "Thank you, sir, you've saved my life." Edwin remembers well how he cut down Otto and Serena.
"I suppose Serena's looks didn't stand the test of time," he thought grimly.
"Just in time, too, it seems, looks like they had you cornered." The man was too jovial after having taken a life. Edwin noted that he should ask him how he managed that later. "How did you find yourself in those woods?"
Deciding he owed the man at least 'some' of the story, Edwin recapped the events of the previous night and the following morning. How bored of not being allowed to go anywhere, he, when presented with the opportunity, spent some hours in the woods following the Sonder, and of running into the poachers and deciding, unwisely in hindsight, to follow them. The man sat silently, listening to every detail of how Serena had surprised him and how the group had questioned him at their camp. Edwin didn't want to lie to him, but he also knew he couldn't mention everything; the man was clearly a knight, and they, even with high-minded ideals, would most likely not hesitate to use him against his parents in some way. So, he left out how they saw his brooch with the bull symbol of his house. Instead, he lied, "They were going to kill me, 'he's a witness,' they said, so I ran." The part about running was true; he made it as far as the first trees from the clearing when Serena's arrow hit him in the shoulder.
"One of them, Mathias, caught up to me at the river..." Edwin shook his head at the thought of the man trying to stuff his organs back into his stomach. "Mathias caught me at the river, and we tumbled; he slipped in some mud, and we both went into the river. He didn't know how to swim, and we almost drowned in the river, but somehow, we ended up on the opposite side of the bank." During the struggle, the Bull brooch had fallen off and was taken somewhere else by the river. "He tried to hold me down while his companions found a place to cross...." Edwin wanted to forget the next part, but he couldn't. He wasn't sure he would ever forget it. "I fought back, I. I gutted him, it was awful, sir."
Silence followed, neither knowing what else to say in that moment. Piecing together the rest of the story was easy; the others caught up to Edwin as he ran away. He tried to hide behind those misplaced boulders to no avail. When, like a knight in shining armor, the man rode in on horseback, slaying the two others.
Edwin didn't feel like some princess being saved by a fire-breathing dragon.
The man drained his own cup of wine, "That is quite the story..." He looks expectantly at Edwin.
"My name is Edwin, sir."
The man raised an eyebrow at Edwin's name. "Edwin? Where do you live, Edwin?" He leaned forward, his eyes examining Edwin with newfound Curiosity.
"Orkney," it was a lie, Edwin knew he had made an error lying, Orkney, one of the twin towns that dominated trade on the Sonder, was a far distance away. Too far for Edwin to have walked in just a few hours.
The man no longer smiled; it was clear to Edwin that he did not enjoy being lied to. "Who is the Lord of Orkney?"
Edwin's wits fled him, 'Remfrey maybe? Or was it Colet?" He couldn't remember. "Colet is the mayor of Orkney, gifted the city for his monetary support of the king during the ducal rebellion years ago." He answered, his voice confident not to betray the uncertainty in his mind.
The man frowned. Suddenly, Edwin felt just as unsafe as he had been in the forest. "Boy," he said unpleasantly, his voice was raspier than before, like a facade of chivalry had been dropped.
Footsteps sounded outside, drawing their attention before the Man could say anything else. Edwin gripped his dagger hidden under his shirt. "More poachers?" Edwin asked the man, his sword was in hand once more, blood dried on its length from earlier.
He lifted the shutter just slightly enough to see through; with a smile, he leaned the sword against the wall and exited the building. Edwin found himself alone in the timber house, dagger in hand, ready for a fight. The people outside were talking among themselves; they seemed to know each other, but Edwin couldn't see who was outside, only that there were multiple people.
"Serfs, maybe? I spotted two fields and some extra houses as we entered this hamlet."
After some time, the door to the house opened once more, only it was not the same old man who had rescued him, but a face he was grateful to see again.
Robert Sonder had to duck underneath the head of the door frame to avoid banging his head against it. He scanned the room until his eyes fell upon Edwin. His face, tired from fear, lifted at the sight of Edwin, and he rushed over to take Edwin in his arms. The embrace was strangling, and Edwin nearly cried from the pain in his shoulder.
"Oh, my son! Thank God you are ok." Edwin had never seen Robert cry, but he swore he was about to in that moment.
"I had a feeling he was your son." Behind Robert, Issac Barfoot spoke, "He has your broad shoulders, it's a shame too, I was hoping my grandson would get my good looks."
"So that's where I remember him from. He is my mother's father." Edwin had only seen him twice: once, when we were a few months old, he arrived to congratulate Edwin's mother; and a second time, when Edwin was two, he arrived to discuss some matters with Robert.
"Son," Robert no longer looked relieved to Edwin, more so angry, "You have no Idea what you put us through, if you thought I was tough on you during training before just you wait.