The fight between you and the rebel knight keeps repeating over and over in your head.
You've killed many people. You've killed so many that you can't even remember the exact number in your head. This was uncharacteristically brutal. You, however, were characteristically brutal.
Because you're a killer.
You grip your bare wrist tightly.
I did what I had to do.
That man had a family. A life.
So do I, for fuck's sake.
Suddenly, a man speaks from beside you. "M'lord, may I speak with you?"
You turn your head to the side. He must have approached you while you were lost in thought. You release your wrist and study the man.
He's wearing the drab brown habit of a monk, although his hood is pulled down. He wears his hair and beard long, making him look almost like some kind of hermit.