"How had it come to this?" John depressingly thought to himself.
He had sworn an oath when he had become a knight, an oath not to tarnish his family name, an oath to live up to the goodness and greatness of God. But somewhere along the way, he forgot the pledge. Maybe he forgot it in Nordan, when he first wet his blade and became a man, or perhaps in the empire when he had joined the forces that sacked the city of Falkenstadt. The thought of what he had done during that day still sent a shiver down his spine.
"What does it matter?" John muttered to himself, " He lost his honor a long time ago. There was no redemption to be had for him now.
He squeezed the coin purse. A week ago, he had accepted the payment. Money was what drove him now, not oaths or rules or anything else, just money. Lady Talbot had paid for his services, and he would complete the job, if only so that he could get the rest of the money to spend on booze.
With a grunt, John picked himself up off the floor and walked over to the table that was the only furnishing in the dusty room. An assortment of gear was laid out messily: a knife, an empty leather pouch, a cloth-wrapped loaf of bread, and what he had come to retrieve, A filled wineskin. He bit the cork off the top of the skin and took a long, refreshing gulp of the alcohol. For a long moment, John leaned against the wall until his hands stopped shaking. When he finally stopped, he gathered all his gear together, donned his ramshackle collection of mismatched armor, and strapped his rusty short sword to his side.
The room had been picked out specifically for the task he had been given. Old and in disrepair, no one would think to find him here if they came searching for him. Though he knew that if someone was searching for him, he had most likely been caught in the act.
Properly dressed, John made his way from the room and into the damp hallway that connected his room to the cellars beneath the castle. He walked around puddles of water originating from leaks and cracks in the stone walls. Once he reached the stairs leading to the first story of the castle, he ascended until he found himself in a room full of preserved food and other goods. A moment later, he walked out the door that brought him into the courtyard.
"Good morning, sir," a servant boy greeted him as he passed, his hands clutching a bucket of water.
"Morning," John replied. He enjoyed the respect he had been given recently. It had been a while since anyone had shown him any.
The courtyard was the same as usual. A horse groom worked by the stables, feeding and cleaning the expensive warhorses of the duke, servants ran about completing tasks, and two boys sparred with dull swords in a fenced-off arena that hugged the castle wall adjacent to the open gate.
John walked up a covered flight of wooden stairs that brought him up to a walkway that clung to the side of the Castle wall halfway to the proper top of the wall. He leaned against the wooden railing and watched the two young men sparring. Each was clad in a thick layer of padding, along with layers of cloth and fur, to cushion the blows from weapons. Sat atop their heads were wooden helms more akin to upside-down buckets. Altogether, it made for a rather comical sight, one that brought memories of John's own childhood to the fore of his mind.
"Real shame I'm going to have to kill one of them," John thought as he watched Edwin land several strikes on Arthur's body.
Edwin was easy to recognize, even to someone who wasn't actively planning his death. He was much too large for his age, almost as tall as his sparring partner, who was a few years older than Edwin. John could tell he was going to grow up to be a dashing young man or could have if he had made it that far in life. Watching as the two sparred, John was thoroughly impressed by the child's skill with his blade. A proper sparring blade was often made heavy and unwieldy, so that the one training would build muscle and grow accustomed to fighting in unfavorable conditions. Yet, despite these circumstances, Edwin was wielding the weapon with incredible ease, as if the blade were a perfectly balanced feather.
"Frightening," John shuddered to think what type of monster combatant he would be if he were even a few years older. As it stood, Edwin would be able to match John in battle, given enough time to grow, though John was nothing more than a mediocre warrior.
The two sparring kids took a moment to rest and drink water, then they removed their equipment and headed back towards the keep. John followed from a distance; he knew they would be heading to the library to take lessons from the castle's head scribe, Julian. Before that, he knew they would return to their quarters to refresh themselves.
John entered the room directly next to theirs; Lady Talbot had assured him she would keep it empty for him. Once he was in, he closed the door and pushed aside a wooden dresser to reveal a tiny peephole into the room next door.
John drew level with the hole and looked through to spy into the room.
"It's good that you're fully healed, it's nice having a decent sparring partner," Arthur spoke, the voice was slightly muffled through the wall.
Edwin wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead, "So much lying about has made me much too slow with a sword."
"Too Slow, ha, that is a good joke," Arthur laughed,
"I'm not joking," Edwin replied, "I feel so weak compared to how I was, but I'm already regaining some of that strength."
Edwin walked over to his bed and picked up his skin of water. John pressed his eye as close as he could against the wall. He had put a small amount of Red Leaf poison into the water skin; it was more or less harmless against a grown man, but to a child, it would result in a swift sickness, then death. People would likely assume it was nothing more than a child catching a passing sickness and dying, an all-too-common occurrence in the world.
Edwin opened the lid and made to pour some of the water into his mouth.
"Give me that," Arthur swiped the skin away with a laugh and began to chug down the water, "You kicked my butt in the arena today, the least you could do is give me your water."
Edwin swiped the skin back. "You drank all of it!" He turned it upside down, and only a single droplet fell to the floor. "That's just plain rude, man."
Arthur chuckled and slapped Edwin on the shoulder, "We don't want to keep Julian waiting now, do we?"
"No, no, no." John clenched his fist, "How? All he had to do was drink the water."
John slumped against the wall in disbelief; his plan had just been ruined in a single motion. "I just killed the wrong child," The thought brought a tear to his eye. He wasn't a mindless barbarian that could maim and kill as he pleased, at least not children. A warm, wet streak slowly descended his face, A tear, he realized. He could not remember the last time he had cried; it must have been decades ago, when he was still a child himself.
He pulled himself off the floor. He still had a job to do; even if he regretted accepting it, he would see it through. John exited the room and made his way toward the battlements outside the keep. He had contingencies in place that he was hoping to avoid; there was nothing he could do while they were with the scribe.