When the rabid attacked, Sir James had been laughing at something. I don't know if it had been because of Miss Lidia or the booze in his system but his voice rang out through the hall like a blanket despite it. He hadn't the opportunity since we all arrived at camp, but that day he joined us in the dining hall for dinner. His knight's helmet was laid out on the table next to him, a dark and fierce metal which contrasted with the man it belonged. I remember thinking that it was unhygienic. And that I wished he went away.
A strange rabble of noise reached my ears from the outside, muffled by the dining hall door.
"State your purpose!" said a knight from the other side of the door. His voice was that of a young man, barely old enough to don armor.
But boys were always eager to grow into men.
A cold feeling washed over my bones, and I stood so suddenly the chair fell from under me with an echoing thud in the now silent room. A rancid smell hit my nose, knocking me back a few steps further. My stomach rolled in on itself. I had always been highly attuned to my surroundings, ready to bolt at the first provocation. Never needing much reason to run.
A hushed murmur began among the rest of the nobles. They were all gathered in close proximity. They were always socializing and speaking of useless things. They shared the same tables and shared pleasantries over the subpar dinner we got.
And I always chose to sit alone.
A rasp followed as Sir James unsheathed his sword.
I began to walk further into the room, my footsteps quiet and gentle on the creaky floorboards.
It was unsafe. I had to create distance.
The two knights began to yell, their voices tangling together in twin horror. I felt my hair snag on a loose nail as my back pressed roughly into the wall, wanting to meld into it. Perhaps hide in its depths.
Sir James threw open the door, a resolute expression on his face, before a look of dread and confusion settled on him, barely restrained. The usual humorous idiot I had thought he was — gone.
I was always wrong about him.
Blood splattered on his face. I heard nothing except for a hollow ring as time slowed. Sir James stood calmly at the door. He didn't step out.
Instead he looked back into the room, seeming to take note of each one of our faces. When his wrinkled eyes met mine, something indecipherable passed through them.
Then the door slammed shut like the blow of an executioner's axe.
I had thought him intelligent. Maybe a coward. Better for it, I thought.
Or that maybe years of being the commander of the Greer Knights had taught him the difference between a fight he knew and a fight he didn't. That's what I told myself, because I couldn't contend with the real answer.
He shut the door on those men out there.
That day all of our fates were sealed because of his choice.
His. Ours. Mine.