Prince of Dragons

Chapter 24 - Confession

Slowly, carefully, people began to trickle out of their houses onto the streets of the town. Their faces were pale with terror, and they were anxiously eying the knights who had entered the town. A father was clutching his little daughter tightly in his arms.

The knight in black armour opened the visor of his helmet. There was a vicious look on his face, and Arwund noticed a vile enjoyment in the knight's eyes as he drew his sword and used it to threateningly point at some townspeople.

"As most of you scum probably already know," the black knight loudly proclaimed, "the duke has been assaulted and stabbed today."

Some people let out horrified gasps. From the corner of his eye, Arwund saw that Nibelinde, who was standing beside him, began to tremble slightly. Adalmaer put his arms around her.

"Oh, yes, now look at you acting all shocked," the knight said in disdain. "You may count yourselves lucky that His Grace hasn't died. Otherwise what horrors would we, his loyal knights, have been forced to inflict on you?"

If he was seriously trying to fake compassion, Arwund thought to himself, he was doing a terrible job at it.

"However, you will know what it means to attack your rightful ruler!" the knight bellowed. "So we are offering you a choice. Either the assailant turns themselves in, or we will have to find out who did it by ourselves. And for that purpose, we will take away and interrogate every person in this worthless town one... by... one." He emphasised the last three words, while letting his gaze go over all the people assembled. Then, his lips twisted in the most cruel smile Arwund had ever seen, and asked, "Well, is there anyone here who would like to surrender themselves to us?"

The crowd stayed silent. Arwund could see people looking at one another, and he could read in their eyes that they were all hoping for someone to step forward and confess. But no-one did.

He cast a sideways glance at Maréin. The wandering knight had tears in his eyes. Arwund immediately understood what he was thinking: he was at the verge of kneeling down to the knight in black and admitting to having stabbed the duke, but there was no point. As soon as Hadufried would see his guest, the duke would know that he had been lied to. It was a miracle that none of the duke's knights had recognised the two strangers yet.

"You filthy, secretive bastards," the black knight said, sneering. Once more, he let his gaze slide over the crowd. Then, he pointed his sword at Adalmaer and looked at his companions. "Take the boy," he ordered.

Adalmaer screamed in fear. Nibelinde opened her mouth, but no sound came out. As one of the knights roughly pulled him away from his mother and dragged him away, she did not move an inch. She was petrified.

At that moment, Maréin began to move. He made his way through the masses until he stood face to face with the black knight. He uttered three simple words. "Let him go."

His voice was not loud, nor did he emphasise anything. He did not shout or bellow. Apart from the fact that he gave the knight an order, there was nothing commanding to the sentence. And yet, the command held an almost superhuman authority. It was as if an entire choir had spoken, although Arwund had not heard anything but Maréin's own voice. The rogue felt the words resonate through his veins and he knew that, had he been the black knight himself, he would immediately let the boy go. Not only because Maréin ordered him released, but because somehow, deep down, he suddenly held the unshakable belief that that was the only possible right thing. Although he had already believed the abduction to be wrong before, now, it was no longer just a belief; for a moment, it was almost an instinct, a piece of knowledge deeply imprinted in his heart, his very soul.