The Hero

Chapter 8

"Must be hope... must be..." the Champion murmured repeatedly, as he kept his stare at the window ahead. Night would be over soon. He just had to wait.

A sudden figure popped into focus, which startled him into clearing his view. Though dark, he could still make out who it was along with few details of what it was wearing. Black hair with a red stroke hiding the right brown eye—it was obviously Nightstrider. Why he cared about her name was unknown, but he needed to know names to get business done.

"Alone this time?" he asked.

"I'm not happy with him," Nightstrider replied, then stopped in her normal position, her arms crossed. She narrowed her eyes in grave seriousness. "Listen, the work is easy and all, but I need more money. I'm in high demand, you know."

"Done," the Champion agreed carelessly, bored at her presence.

"Well, that was settled rather quickly..." Nightstrider coughed. Her eyes sparkled for a brief moment. "Um, anyway, just to make sure, the next target is the woman with ties to the ruling cabinet and is responsible for..." She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Eh, whatever. They all do the same crap. Why bother taking up a title when the jobs are basically identical. It's pathetic!"

"Hmm," the Champion muttered, as she laughed to herself. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" Nightstrider narrowed her eyes, then turned around and shrugged. "Good enough for me. See ya tonight. I hope a whole boat load of king marks are waiting for me!" She happily left the throne room after singing the final sentence whimsically. Once she was gone, day began to seep into the darkened floor and walls.

"Never a dull moment with this bunch," the Champion whispered, sighing. He pushed himself off the throne and jumped to his feet. At long last, he was standing. With a huff, he made his way out of the lightening room and out into the hallway. Servants and guards were already appearing on his left. Though, on his right, nothing. That side of the castle would remain untouched and unseen.

"Morning, milord," the soldier outside the door greeted. The other bowed. They were the first to arrive at their posts.

"Hmph," the Champion replied. After eyeing them, he proceeded down the hallway with his cape fluttering behind him. His gauntlets clenched but lowered at his side, he walked past his faithful servants and guards. They would fight for Good and give their life for him. Of course. It was part of the job—but a time would not come. His life would never be endangered.

As he walked around and scanned his surroundings with a distant mind, he slowly realized how long he had been here: a few days. Already, time was passing by without meaning, it seemed. There was no battlefield to give him any sense of a purpose. No Shimmer to fight for and confess everything he's done.

"Milord!" a voice called out, which brought him out of his trance. The Champion looked beside him to see the man from yesterday who relayed the news. He was more red-faced and exhausted than last time, and he was already a nervous wreck then.

"Speak," the Champion requested impatiently. He moved his gaze ahead, wanting to leave the castle and venture around the streets. He hoped Shimmer would be out there...

"The cabinet has been collected in the dining room," the man relayed, and aimlessly tugged at his feathered hat. "They wish not to be in the throne room, standing for hours on end they say. And they also wish to eat."

"Lead me to them," the Champion ordered. The man obliged by scrambling forward. He seemed to know the castle quite well, weaving through the crowded hallways without any hesitation at all. It was a relief for the Champion knowing he didn't have to know everything—others could guide him through it. The path could always have light in some places. But without Shimmer, it was quite dark.