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I spent the rest of the afternoon gathering my gear and preparing for the long time away. It struck me that this would be the last time that I left Roiglan as a youth and would return as a full Knight. Yet at that moment the mocking voice of doubt pointed me to the fact that I needed to complete the quest first before I could return with honour. This might prove to be my banishment from ancestral grounds for eternity. Fighting against my tears I rose and fled out of my room, as I needed air. When I reached the balcony of the keep, I once again saw one of my most favourite sights in the Olde World: Roiglan sleeping in the dark hours of the night. I can still, today, stand there for hours, gazing at the darkness of the sleeping city.
I must have stood there for an hour or so, never noticing I was being watched. Finally my mother came forward from the shadows, holding in her left hand a sheathed sword. I noticed that her eyes were red: it appeared that she had been crying a lot since the ceremony. I managed a brave smile as she strode towards me. She returned the smile and said: “My brave Gissy, it seems ages ago that I could hold you in my arms. Now sixteen years later and I still can’t let go.”She stroked my hair gently while studying my face. She seemed to view another world as she looked past me, as if I wasn’t there. She sighed and her eyes focussed once more. Weakly she continued: “To be gifted such an Errand is dangerous and foolish. My young and brave son, I beg of you: let me talk to your father. I’m sure he’ll come around.”“I know this mother… but that would dishonour me. I could never look into the face of any noble again. They would honour me in public, but would mock me behind me back. I would not have the loyalty of my men in battle and they would not be heartened in seeing me leading them. I would be a social outcast. I would shame the great name of de Ponthieu. No, mother, I must and shall finish this Errand honourably. Even if it means my death.” I replied with a stern voice and looked away. I knew my words would hurt my poor mother’s heart and I couldn’t bear looking at her. But even I wasn’t convinced of this Errand: a task that spells certain death is indeed not a wise Errand. I tried to hide my uncertainty from my revered mother but it was like trying to arm-wrestle a black orc. She knew me better than I knew myself, she noticed that I was uncertain and it hurt her even more. She gently took my arm and made me face her. While she held the sword towards me, she said:“I’ve done a lot of searching in the annals of our family to search for something to help.” I tried to protest but she continued before I managed to utter a single word: “Not many men can face a basilisk, even a young and strong one such as you. These are terrifying creatures and very cunning. If terror takes hold of you, you’ll petrify and perish. It was your ancient forefather Merald de Ponthieu who was known for his indomitable mind and his strong will. He died in a duel with a fierce, treacherous demon and some say his spirit still resides within his sword. This is it, take it! It will guard your mind when you face the horror of the Basilisk. I know honour’s code forbid help in your Errand, yet there is no honour found in dying. Take it and give your mother some peace of mind. Accept it and I will know you will return to us.”Of course my sense of honour made me protest yet I knew that it would ease her heart and maybe the stories were true. I took the sword at its hilt and studied it: I remembered seeing it lie next to the family heirlooms and heard someone say that this sword wasn’t combat-ready anymore. It looked blunted and stained yet in truth it was as sharp as ever. I looked in wonder as I noticed its sharpness. My mother retired to the inside of the keep and I followed her example, as next day I would head out to my glory or untimely death.
The next day I remember that an honorary procession guided me out, yet there were no cheers and joy that day. Most were dressed in black as if I was already dead even though I didn’t realise it. As my trusted destrier Sandorin climbed the last hill that would take me out of sight of Roiglan, I remember seeing my parents standing on the balcony, looking at me. I remember thinking that this might have well been my last view of my beloved city and parents. Fear gripped me because of this last thought and as a reflex resulting from training I grasped the hilt of my sword in need for protection. Instantly I felt calmed and my mind was once more at ease.
It was near midday as I reached the Forest of Arden near the village of Flarodell. I had hunted there before but never on my own and always at the side of my father. Somehow I felt reassured that from this day on I would become strong and independent. The crossing of the border of the forest marked the turning point between my youth and adulthood. Reciting the stories of my numerous encounters and skirmishes with the beasts that lived in that ancient forest would take far too long. But before the second week ended I had killed and seen more beasts such as orcs and the walking dead than I had in my lifetime before that.
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