Alasia Castle, Wardens Office
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"Huff... puff…"
A muffled breath echoed in the dimly lit office, the air thick with the scent of ink and old parchment. A man, his head covered by a rough, stained sack, sat slumped and disoriented on the cold floor. The world was a blur to him, his senses robbed by the cloth sack and the knights who had hauled him here without a word.
With a harsh tug, the sack was removed, revealing his face: dark brown skin marred by a faint scar that cut a sharp line from his cheek to his right ear. His eyes darted around before falling upon the figure across the room, seated behind a heavy wooden desk, illuminated only by a small oil lamp.
"Grall," Nyx intoned, his voice steady as stone. A wave of his hand dismissed the knight who had escorted the prisoner, leaving them alone.
Grall's mind spun as he looked at Nyx, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. What does he want with me? he wondered, feeling an inexplicable dread settle over him.
Nyx raised a thin parchment, his eyes scanning the page with calculated ease. "Grall. Twenty-eight years old. Fifth son of Baron Sleuvice's household." The words slipped off his tongue like a slow knife cutting through tension.
The language here is almost instinctive now, Nyx thought with a flicker of amusement. Convenient.
He lowered the paper, locking his gaze onto Grall, who fidgeted, avoiding the piercing look.
Nyx's eyes seemed to bore through him, seeing more than the surface, reading the years of effort hidden under the armor and title. Grall tried to look away, but the intensity in Nyx's stare was relentless, as if forcing him to confront the truth he wanted to avoid.
Nyx's voice, low and almost mocking, broke the silence. "I wonder, how does a baron's son find himself as a Royal Knight? Was it... connections?" He lingered on the last word, allowing a hint of doubt to creep into Grall's heart.
"...Hard work," Grall mumbled, still on his knees, wrists bound.
"What was that?" Nyx leaned forward, cupping his ear in feigned ignorance.
"Hard work!" Grall's voice rose, his words filled with an anger that had simmered for years.
"Everyone thinks I got here through a back door, because of my family name, my title! They don't see the sweat, the bruises, the work!"
His voice grew ragged, a surge of bitter frustration cracking his composure. "Just because I'm a baron's son, just because I'm the fifth son... they judge and dismiss me."
Nyx watched, a faint flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as Grall's anger twisted into resignation, his head lowering in defeat. "And now... it ends like this," Grall whispered, voice heavy with despair.
The room fell silent, save for the quiet crackling of the oil lamp.
Nyx's voice, cold as the stone walls around them, shattered the stillness. "Do you want it to end like this?"
Grall froze, eyes wide, but he quickly shook his head as if to shake away the foolish hope his heart dared to feel. "I... I don't care anymore," he muttered, but the tremble in his voice betrayed him.
"It can go on" Nyx's voice was as unwavering as his stare
Grall raised his head slowly, meeting Nyx's eyes, where he found neither pity nor ridicule, only a ruthless certainty. The look alone was enough to ignite a spark within him.
"Do you not want to?" Nyx's voice was a whisper, his words carrying a heavy weight, daring Grall to break free from the binds he had placed on himself. Grall's lips parted, his mouth dry, yet he couldn't turn away from the gaze that now held him captive.
"Yes," he murmured, the word escaping his lips almost without his consent.