The Knight's Eyes

15: SOOTHER-BLOOD

A bowl of white rice smothered in chicken and gravy satisfied his rumbling stomach. He could feel the delicious lunch add an extra boost into his energy. If his leg wasn't bounded, he could possibly take a nice walk. The sun shone bright yellow through his only window, calling for him to feel its warmth directly. It nerved him to want information on what was going on.

He had given up asking Grutsha questions for after his digging into Galiathan's brain to retrieve his name, the young woman refused to answer anything.

He kept replaying the moment when the room crumbled and turned thick black around him and Galiathan. The scene that unfolded before his eyes was a memory- a lost memory. He had mentioned it to Walta once, how it was hard to remember specific parts of his life. Big memories and short memories, all jumbled together like a jigsaw puzzle scattered in every direction.

Maybe he forgot Galiathan because that scene was the only time they had met in the past. It would make since. He had met and come across plenty of people throughout a single day and probably wouldn't remember them a few weeks later. Then there was the troubling dreams. It amazed him that he still remembered the old man's name after so many years. And to have the dream unfold at different times leading to the man's death was unsettling. His mother used to call them his imagination in hopes of ridding any fears or constant questions, but when he'd tell stories of the gods it left his parents baffled.

Nothing seemed right. Nothing ever sat well with him all his life. And it felt good to ignore his body's strange malfunctions. To see himself normal made him smile and determined to be an honored knight and loyal citizen of Terra.

Alsin sniffled and listened to the spoon's head scraping the bowl's empty bottom. Occasionally, he'd glance at the cracked door anticipating Galiathan's return. He hadn't seen him since morning when he abstracted his name from whatever loophole he was pulled into. On the side of trying to pull answers from Grutsha, he had time to gather his thoughts.

Summer Terror was in two days and still his right leg was wrapped tight. Useless to what he planned to achieve. Leave the huntsman's house and finish the quest. Kill the witch and maybe return home as the kingdom's champion. He frowned thinking about Princess Javana.

A new thought popped into his head. His observation skills were strangely unnerving. Sometimes he noticed things other people didn't like the fact people say his king had a great sense of humor. In the years of working with him, the man never smiled or cracked a joke. And he never felt entirely in love with Javana, but mainly lustful, which Walta reminded him was not love. Then there was the obvious fact that she did not look like her father one bit.

He furrowed his eyebrows trying to remember who her mother was. When an image could not form or a name, he shifted uneasily. He placed the empty bowl on the nightstand, closed his eyes, and massaged his forehead. He dragged a sigh, "I need to get out of here."

The floor rumbled, trembling through the bed, and up Alsin's spine. He looked towards the door where the huntsman still dressed in his earlier attire stood. He didn't look pleased which Alsin assumed was his usual face expression.

"Hello," Alsindad said shifting awkward under the ridiculed glare.

Galiathan came to the bed and observed the wrapped leg. "How does it feel?"

It was all he could do but stare. All of the questions he had gathered earlier evaporated. "Better actually."

"Good. We should try and have you walk."

"Hopefully, I wont' fall."

"You won't."

"How're you so sure?"