[EGoT] SE03: Devil Take the Hindmost

posted on 20 Feb 2014 07:07 by cyanic in EGoT
Ep 1 : Turn 10
Sub-Event 03
“Maester, do you remember Fredrik?”

“Of course I do. Do you think I am a dotard?”

“Why did someone like him die? Why does someone like me live?”

“He died well.”

Yes, Fredrik died well, everyone said. He was born to be a knight and died a knight, an honourable death. However, Winfryd still thought Fredrik shouldn't have died.

What would Fredrik do, if it were him?

The Eyrie stood still in the dark. The night was cold and desolate. Winfryd walked slowly along the corridors. The watchmen didn't seem to pay him any attention as he wandered around. Eventually he found himself in his favourite corner at the end of a hallway that opened to the garden. There, no one would disturb him. He was left alone with a sword in his hand, his remaining hand.

He would not give up. It was just a scratch, Maester Merwen would say. A little scratch should not be troublesome.

Winfryd lifted his sword, tried to recall every movement he used to train himself, every words his brother and his former knight master have said. He had tried hard, now he could try even harder.

He lost his balance, the sword fell to the floor. The clang echoed through the empty hallway. He waited if a watchman would come to see, but no one appeared. Winfryd picked up the sword and struggled to his feet.

People might call him a weakling, he didn't care much about them. Since long he had learned not to mind the whispers behind his back, or even to his face. They could not hurt him more than a blow of the wind. However he could not escape from himself, from his own thought, his own fear.

He might actually be weak, but weakness doesn't always mean useless. He feared to be useless. He feared to disappoint his lord. His right arm hadn't really done well enough, but without it he felt even more weak and useless. Winfryd knew there were still things that he could do, but he also needed to prove it. He needed to show he was still capable as a knight. His life and duty was not only for himself.

Thus he got up again and again, no matter how many times he fell down.

“Maester, what do you live for?”

“To be bothered by people like you,” the maester snapped, though he didn't look really annoyed.

“I'm delighted to hear that.”

“Don't you have anything else to do?”

“What should I do? What can I do?”

“How would I know? At least you should be able to think that yourself, don't you? The kitten didn't drag your brain out of your skull as far as I know.”

Maester Merwen was a plump man with frizzy hair, but his hands were nimble and incredibly gentle when dealing with his patients. However, even Maester Merwen or any skilled maester could not bring back what was lost.

He was fortunate enough, Winfryd knew, that it was not his throat.

He might not have that luck again next time.

It was probably just a mischance. He never meant any harm to Lady Isabeau, but he didn't have any time to explain. One moment he saw the vase falling and reached out, intended to save her. The next moment he heard the vase hit the floor, saw blood running from Lady Isabeau's hand, and then ...

The vase shattered on the floor, with his blood and bones.

Maester Merwen had done his best. At least the cut was neat and didn't take all too long to recover. And although the vinsonge could not relieve all the pain, it was not totally unbearable.

Lord Ilkay was angry, Winfryd had no doubt, though the lord didn't say a word to blame him. His tasks were assigned to someone else. There was nothing he could do about that, but he couldn't just willingly accept what happened either.

Some would jeer at him, some would try to encourage. He didn't mind the sneer, yet he didn't like to be abetted. It made him feel pathetic, and that was as bad as being scorned.

Nevertheless, he covered his face with smile and uttered polite words to everyone, or at least as polite as he usually be. As soon as he could get up and walk around without tottering, he managed himself to act normally, as if nothing mattered at all.

It was just a scratch, Winfryd repeated to himself. He was still alive, while someone like Fredrik was dead.

Why did he live after all?

Still, Winfryd never thought he should rather die. He might be just a coward who feared the death, but he didn't think anyone would gain anything from his death.

He didn't have a reason to die, therefore he lived, weak and maimed, yet he still breathed.

And he would live well.

He started over again, from where the basic begins. He practiced cutting and thrusting, striking and parrying. His left hand was tediously clumsy. His unbalanced body became an annoying burden. Yet he desperately kept on moving with his sword.

In the end he sat there exhausted. His shoulder ached and his hand was trembling. Winfryd inbreathed the cold night air, let his lungs filled with the familiar feeling.

Then he heard quiet footsteps approaching, followed by a shadow cast by moonlight and torches on the wall.

Winfryd turned his eyes and saw a man, not a watchman as he expected nor any man of the Eyrie he knew. And the stranger at this hour was not a welcome sight at all.

The man set a step nearer. Winfryd tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword.
To be continued ...
... if there's a chance <3





แต่เราอ่าน.... /หึ _ _)++

วินนี่เป็นคนที่ร่างกายอ่อนแอแต่จิตใจเข้มแข็งมาก ซึ่งจริงๆแล้วถ้าวินนี่ร่างกายแข็งแรงดี จิตใจก็อาจไม่เข้มแข็งขนาดนี้ก็ได้นะ...

สรุปว่าที่แขนหายเพราะถูกลีเข้าใจผิดว่าคิดทำร้ายเลดี้ใช่ไหมคะ.. แต่การที่ตบทีเดียวแขนหลุดนี่.... /จะไม่ไปหาเรื่องลีเด็ดขาด... /สั่ลลลลล


#3 By BloodyPena :: Through Ages on 2014-02-20 23:14

ตัวอักษรทั้งหมด 5,184 ตัว
รวมทั้งหมด 5184/7 = 740.57
ผลตอบแทนที่ได้รับ: Money 741

#2 By EGoT on 2014-02-20 22:30

ยิ่งรู้จักวินฟรีดนี่ยิ่งคิดว่าเป็นคนที่ไว้วางใจได้ /ซับหัวตา
รูปลักษณ์ภายนอกอาจดูอ่อนแอ แต่ภายในแข็งแกร่งนะเนี่ย
รับมือกับเรื่องเลวร้ายได้อย่างสงบ คนที่โผล่มาจะใช่คนเดียวกับที่เราคิดหรือไม่! /กัดเล็บบบ

#1 By jackywinter on 2014-02-20 21:08