The Seeress

Chapter Twenty One

Edwin could barely open his eyes, as the cold made him all the stiffer. He limped his body upwards to sit, resting his head on cold wood. He still could not believe that he still breathed the cold air.  He never liked breathing that air. 

Unlike what Harold thought he was, Edwin was fully aware of the consequences that has arisen from their actions. He saw an entire troop of men burned to ashes. Their eyes blew as their cries were swiftly undone. He could not sleep for that reason alone. He wiped his face away, remembering the last time he washed it. Perhaps it is the reason why his eyes lacked vision many times before. 

"How many days..."

Edwin echoed the phrase in his mind, for he himself did not know how long since he accepted the request. Rather... it was his father that accepted it. Stupid, Edwin thought. The one time when he should've exposed his father's mistakes, he instead obeyed them without question. A foolish silence, indeed. 

Edwin still heard the howling winds, and gradually, he became sickened by it. As if they could never end at all. He was glad then, that the kind Catheryn chose to let them inside. And then his attention turned to Agnetha.

He still smells the ashes of the dead in his mind. When he mentioned the seeresses to Agnetha, it was merely a rumour to him, a topic to pass off a conversation. He did not know that he himself would witness one himself.

Edwin thought of the prospect of leaving her. Or rather, something that Harold should have done long ago. But where off to? Without a doubt, they had something in mind. Something that Edwin was apparently too dull to understand. He looked at the paper being left behind on the table. It looked rather familiar to Edwin, he had seen it many times at a familiar temple.

Edwin could not help but dart his eyes at them. He spent hours writing them, perfecting them in his mind. Edwin could remember those poems and stories that he had always wanted to learn. Even if it meant being part of the monastery forever. To be locked away from the royalty that his family ever loved. A sacred art, one his family thought was not worth it.

Not the crude matter of death that he dealt with his hand many times, Edwin thought. As his mind drifted away, a soft rumbling was heard. Edwin took notice but did not know whether to be alert to a light sound. 

'Go... wait...'

Edwin could hear them, either that, or he was hearing things in his mind. Edwin's hands reached for his sword without him knowing it. He could not see the window, as it was only then that it started to clear up from the blizzard. But he knew he heard sounds, footsteps from outside. 

'Who...'

That word was a tad louder, and one that Edwin could assure himself that it was true. A slow walk and he breathed heavily with his sword. His eyes could not take themselves away from the door. His breath slowly warmed the door itself as his hand firmly grasped his sword. 

'Who are you...'

The loud crack was heard, followed by loud, chaotic screaming. It was from the benefactor who provided for them, no less. Edwin didn't have enough time to think, as he barged out of the house. In his horror, he saw Bronson's body lying in the snow, gasping for his guts to be struck down heavily covered by burnwood.

As his eyes lay lifeless, Edwin immediately parried. He could barely see their faces under the dark dawn, and his fear has almost overtaken his mind. 

"Father!" Edwin yelled, retreating to the house soon enough as the man with the large axe went for another thrust. To his luck, the axe refuses to leave the wood that is chipped. Edwin, in a moment of assurance, swiped his sword into his neck. The business of killing which he had been coerced into joining, did not make him feel uneasy whenever he takes a life.