The Manticore Hunter

IV

After instructing the living to bury the dead, Ethelston walked over to the incapacitated Sir Vermund.

As he knelt by his side along with Mutt, Ethelston struggled not to show his disgust at the distorted view of the once handsome middle-aged Knight. The venom of the Manticore's sting had blackened his blood, and his veins were of a poisoned purple. His face was writhing in agony as the poison was burning through his body. Somehow though, a smile seemed to appear at the sight of Ethelston.

"I mentioned before that you have the features of nobility; now it appears that you command like a noble too. Tell me, young sir, who are you really." He struggled to ask as every breath seemed to leave him in various states of suffering.

Ethelston sighed and then looked at Mutt before turning to Sir Vermund. He couldn't deny a dying man a last wish despite knowing it would reveal an identity he had long since forgotten and hoped never to speak of again.

"I am Sir Ethelston Darke, son of Sir Edric Darke, Former Duke of Ravenscourt," he replied solemnly.

Sir Vermund chuckled before coughing up black congealed blood. "That's where I recognise you; you look like your father. He was a mighty swordsman, tactician and warrior. Despite your choice in career, I'm sure he would be proud of you today."

Ethelston looked away, deciding not to show any emotion despite the words cutting deep into his heart.

"Sir Ethelston, I ask two things of you before I request your mercy," Sir Vermund struggled to say. "First, promise me that you will not take your revenge out on the disgraced Sir Searmundr. His moral compass is about as off as a two-month-old piece of unsalted meat."

A small smile crept on Ethelston's face. "That, my honour dictates, I cannot promise."

Sir Vermund struggled to laugh but laugh he did, despite the pain he was in. "You can take the noble out of nobility, but you can't take the nobility out of a noble. So be it, but this final request you must agree to. Take young Mutt here as a squire. He is young and has much to learn, but I believe he is a man of great potential."

Ethelston looked towards the big smile on the ginger-haired teenager. For years he had travelled alone and had enjoyed the isolation from others. He had always preferred not to be responsible for another, and the jobs he took were often dangerous without the need to worry about someone else. Still, something about this young enthusiastic, humble man brought a sense of peace to him. Something about this boy seemed to suggest that he could learn as much from him as the boy could learn from Ethelston. "Aye, that he has my Lord. I accept your request."

Sir Vermund appeared to relax as Ethelston agreed to his request. "Thank you. The boy has been a good companion these last few winters and very faithful. I'm sure he'll serve you just as well," he took a deep breath. "Now, please, end this suffering."

Ethelston reached down to his boot and released a dagger from it. Turning to Mutt, he looked at him as if to prepare him for what was to come, but it appeared that Mutt had already seen enough death in his short lifetime not to be worried by one more.

"It has been an honour Sir Vermund."

"The honour was mine," Sir Vermund replied.

Ethelston plunged the dagger deep into his heart, holding his hand as the middle-aged man grimaced at the gesture. As he gradually breathed his last, Ethelston lowered his head in respect.

Closing Sir Vermund's eyes, Ethelston and Mutt prepared his grave for his final resting place before preparing the remaining soldiers to head back across the distant lands toward civilisation.

"So, my Lord..." Mutt spoke.

"Ethelston!" Ethelston reminded him.

"Sorry, Ethelston. What now?" Mutt asked him.

"First, my boy, we get out of this damned heat, then I'm going to find me, Bertha..."

"Bianca?"

"Her too!" Ethelston chuckled. "Though first we find Sir Searmundr to make sure we get paid. I don't think Aryya would forgive me if we arrived back with lighter purses."

Placing the Manticore head on a spear, Ethleston organised the party for their arduous journey back to civilisation. The head would display their bravery and tenacity to all who came across them on their travels.

The journey was arduous, the quest relentless. There had been so much death and devastation that had left the caravan tired and empty but as Ethelston walked alongside Aryya and Mutt, he realised that what he had lost was nothing compared to what he had gained.

Riches awaited them, and renown was in their grasp, yet meeting the exceptionally enthusiastic Mutt and the intimidating Aryya had been far more rewarding.

As they eventually returned from their arduous journey, rumours had already spread throughout the kingdoms of Ethelston the Manticore Hunter and his band of Manticore Slayers. Tales of how they crossed the Sea of Sorrow travelled far and wide and how Ethelston slew one of the most dangerous and powerful beasts known to man in the name of honour, glory and Bianca.