Stain of Honor (Part Two)

Continued from Stain of Honor (Part One)

Dawn broke over the city of Silvermoon, a crisp, clear day in the northern reaches of Azeroth. Although commerce and activity would soon bustle below, all was quiet now but for the steady pounding of a solitary hammer on steel.

In the smithy of Farstrider Square, Thalenir was doing the only thing he could to distract himself from the previous day’s events. He pounded the glowing-hot blade with rhythmatic precision, molding it into the form of his choosing. If he kept at this pace, he would have it completed before patrol later that morning, a fine new armament with which to carry out his duties.

The art of smithing was a birthright to Thalenir. His father had always been proud to tell the story of the family name. Long ago, Thalenir’s ancestor had been a celebrated smith who honed the art of quenching newly-wrought weapons in the blood of his enemies. His father had said that such weapons were instilled with unusual strength, and still much sought after. The practice, of course, earned his family the name of Bloodbrand.

The story had always been a point of pride for Thalenir, even if it was a bit gruesome. In his youth, he had endeavored to help his father in the forge at every opportunity. It didn’t matter that the process was no longer a family secret; to see the blood flow up the blade in defiance of gravity, seeping in and empowering the metal, was a magical moment.

That had been years ago, of course, and Thalenir had no chance of seeing it again. His father had fallen in the battle to retake Silvermoon some months ago. Try as he might, Thalenir could not cast the painful memory aside. The best he could do was tell himself how proud he should be of a father who died doing his duty and how he should be so dedicated. He wished his father would think well of the man he had become so many times that it had become a personal mantra.

“Sir Bloodbrand?” came a voice behind him, stirring Thalenir from his revery. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Thalenir recognized Knight-Lord Bloodvalor’s personal messenger.

“Yes?” he said without turning.

“I have a missive from the Knight-Lord. Your are being reassigned.”

Thalenir’s hammer slipped with a resounding clang against the anvil. “What?!” he exclaimed. He turned to the messenger, who immediately offered him a scroll bearing the Blood Knight seal.

Without a moment’s pause to consider the half-finished sword behind him, Thalenir snatched the scroll, tore it open, and began to read:

“To Sir Thalenir Bloodbrand:

You are hereby commissioned as the personal attendant and bodyguard of the Lady Kirima Morninglow. Your duty will be to assist her in any capacity she deems necessary and to ensure her safety at all times. The Lady will await you at the city gates at midday.

Glory to the Sin’Dorei,
Knight-Lord Bloodvalor

P.S. It is expected that this commission will involve travelling abroad, so I suggest you come prepare accordingly.”

Thalenir read the letter twice to be sure of its meaning. His eyes lingered over the words, “travelling abroad.” Why was Bloodvalor sending him from his post? What purpose would he serve babysitting some pampered noblewoman? Had the Knight-Lord lost confidence in his abilities? With a twinge of panic, he wondered if the soldier had spoken of Thalenir’s misconduct.

Thalenir went about the rest of the morning with growing apprehension. What he had done could be considered disloyal, even treasonous. To think he had defended an enemy of the realm, even for a moment, filled him with self-loathing. He could only hope that this new development was not the result of his lapse in judgment.

As the sun climbed high into the sky later that day, Thalenir made his way to the city gates. It simply wouldn’t be proper to meet a noble unkempt, so he had spent the morning carefully polishing his armor and shield. The new sword hung at his side, honed to perfection and gleaming with deadly beauty in the sunlight. In his pack, he carried all of the essential supplies he would need for a week’s journey, although he secretly hoped not to be away from his post for so long.

The gates neared, and Thalenir saw no sign of a noblewoman. Several commoners and traders chatted nearby, the usual guardsmen stood at attention, and a solitary hunter lingered just beyond the threshold. With no apparent sign of the Lady, Thalenir frowned.

“Are you Thalenir?” came a female voice. For a moment, Thalenir was taken aback. The voice came from the hunter, who walked up to greet him. She had short red hair and wore travel-worn clothes topped with leather armor. Strapped to her back were a sword and a bow.

“Yes…,” he said, somewhat confused. After a moment’s consideration, he dismissed the thought that this could be Lady Morninglow. Although she was quite beautiful, if a bit rugged, there was nothing noble about this woman.

“Good. Thank you for being so prompt,” she said smiling, shattering Thalenir’s denial. Suddenly, he regretted his initial bias against her as nothing more than a “pampered noble.”

“Not at all, milady,” he said with a slight bow. Whatever her outward appearance, proper etiquette demanded he be cordial in respect of her standing.

“Oh, no need for formalities,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I don’t spend any time in court. I hardly want to be treated like a courtier.”

“My apologies,” Thalenir said as he rose from his bow. A small smile spread across his face, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. Perhaps it was due to his new companion’s unexpectedly casual composure; perhaps it was something else.

“Well, I can see you’re ready to head out,” she said, smiling back. “No need to wait, then. Let’s get going. I’ll brief you on the way.” At this, she turned and strode out of the gate.

Thalenir stood for a brief moment, musing over the unexpected turn of events. As he followed behind her, he felt unusually happy to be away from his post.