It was a high summer day, the sun reaching its zenith over the rolling plains of Itraniel. Sweltering heat pressed down upon whatever unfortunates weren't lucky enough to save themselves into the nearest shade, the nearby township of Klagain nonetheless continuing its hustle and bustle. The people of Itraniel were a hardy bunch, former nomads of the Vuibrivalon tribes until just a few years ago, and the rigours of their new lives would not impede their daily efforts, imperative as they were to maintain their fledgling nation.

The road to Klagain, winding its way through the simple verdant fields, was less busied than the town itself, featuring only the occasional peddling wayfarer steadily making their way across the half-cobbled path. Some might have successfully concluded that a commotion was afoot near the city and done well to avoid it.

Off the beaten path an overlookable sight could be bared to the curious viewer. In view of the road, a figure rested in the saving-shade against a tree, plated from head to toe, visored helm dipped downwards, one leg pulled whilst the other lay relaxed, the arms splayed to the sides without care. A few feet from him rested a rusted sword, withered and corroded. From afar, it seemed just like an ordinary tired knight, simply taking a break from what was likely a long travel. And so, none of the travellers saw fit to bother such a humble wayfarer.

However, should one have approached, the curious approacher would have been hit with an alarming sight. The figure's plates were encrusted with wasted life-fluid, what would once have been a sticky, crimson fluid now reduced to dry, flaking brown, pieces and bits of the desiccated stuff clinging all over the metal-frame. Some of it might have once emanated from tears and nicks in the plates, fueling the theory that the knight had been wounded, but most of it, simply for the sheer volume, likely wasn't his own. The earth around the figure beneath the tree was drenched, muddied, leaving the foolhardy onlooker only to guess just how much of the stuff had been wasted here. A trail leading towards the tree indicated that the plated figure had not spilled the matter anywhere close to this tree.

Next to register in the close observer's senses would have been the stench. Metallic. Sickly-sweet. Cloying. Then, the buzzing of flies, fat and eager, insectoid wings braving the sweltering heat to partake in the putrid meal, small throngs of the things filling the air in their relentless buffeting of the seemingly-insensate knight. Had the brave onlooker continued to suffer the sight, they might have concluded that this decrepit thing had been 'resting' beneath this tree for at least a number of days, if not weeks.

@Syrenrei

The queen's presence had been required at Klagain and so she had set out with her carriage and an entourage for both practical necessity and protection. It was not uncommon for citizens to see the royal caravan either at a distance or in their town monthly. The ruler of the fledgling nation knew that she needed to have a strong presence to assure her people that she was involved, to apply her magical abilities to situations not easily solved by the mundane, and to see with her own eyes the troubles that befell her people. In this particular case it was yet another skirmish at the border that summoned her intervention. None of Itraniel's neighbors seemed to respect the boundaries of their kingdoms and would test the viability of an invasion through aggression. Klagain had been victim to the violence of a band of 'renegade' soldiers that were almost certainly endorsed by their king. While they had been slain in the conflict that did not guarantee a second more potent wave would not be forthcoming.

Leanja was not yet of age to attend the meetings. With a handmaiden that also functioned as a nanny for the young witch she had been allowed to explore in the hopes it kept her entertained. The girl had protested, because she wanted to help, but her powers had not manifested sufficiently that the queen was willing to jeopardize her daughter's safety. As a mother she also wanted to preserve some of her childish innocence. There would be enough responsibilities saddled on her shoulders when she was a teenager on the cusp of adulthood. For now she ought to be allowed to play and delight in simple pleasures.

"Sir, are you all right?" she called out to the plated figure from the road.

The handmaiden, a woman of twenty-six years named Tali, skipped up behind Leanja to see what she was looking at. Aghast at the scene, if for no other reason than the derelict knight was still armed with a rusty sword, she tried to hold back the princess. Leanja did not share her fears. Before she could be dissuaded she had bounded forward and swatted away several of the flies without so much as a wrinkle of the nose at the pervasive odor. Eternally curious, braver than she ought to be, and with a strong sense of duty, Tali should have anticipated she wouldn't have stayed away from the stranger.

"Princess Leanja, it's dangerous!" she called out.

The princess in question was a few months past her tenth birthday and had just had a growth spurt that made her grow a few inches. She wore dark trousers, boots, a linen blouse, and a wide leather belt, none of which had the earmarks of royalty except for how exceptionally well they were made. Long dark hair, a brown so deep it nearly appeared black, had been plaited from her temples while the rest hung loosely to her waist. Were it not for Tali announcing her status she might look more like a pretty merchant's daughter than that of the queen though that was partially on purpose: it was easier to keep an energetic child safe if she was not an obvious target.

"I'm fine, Tali," Leanja called back dismissively. "Can I get you something, sir?" she asked as she knelt down in the soft earth next to the giant of a man. Insects buzzed around her skin but curiously refused to land on the exposed flesh of her hands, neck, or face, as if there was a natural invisible deterrent. "Do you need some water?"

At first the knight remained motionless, apparently insentient for the little princess's ministrations, the flies swatted away by her hands buzzing incessantly. So up-close, Leanja could have deciphered more of the armored frame's gore-caked form, the metal just barely peeking out from beneath layer upon layer of grime mixed with dried lifefluid. To the untrained eye the metal certainly appeared mundane, yet so set upon the imposing form, massive compared to the child even while seated, it did not allow for something as lacking a description as the word 'simple'. This steel-wrought work, seemingly covering the knight's each and every part with perfectly-interlocked plates, struck an uncanny balance between heftiness and flexibility, strangely-eerie even if it had been viewed without the horrid dressings of blood, dirt and flies.

Several seconds passed, the loathsome insects droning and whirring about, maneuvering around the princess and eachother, the knight giving no hint of having even registered Leanja's arrival. Then, with the dry cracking of withered grime-crust, the helmeted head slowly, sluggishly rose, iron-gaze indolently wandering up to meet the curious eyes of the little princess before him. Had she dared to try and peek into the dark confines of the visored helm, Leanja would have seen a pair of unblinking, bloodshot eyes staring back, pupils ill-defined beneath a feverish sheen.

But she could see, for just a moment, something the child might later liken to a glimmer of hope.

More parched creakings were emitted as the knight's arm rose. Specks and chips of dried matter flaked off the plated limb as the decrepit frame seemingly made to grasp at the princess with a slow, easily-avoidable motion, the knight's iron-coated fingers stretching out leadenly towards her face. Had Leanja kept her childish nerve, the motion of the decrepit frame would have halted just inches from her features, talon-like digits of the right hand hovering before her countenance for several seconds.

"You..." the voice coming from the helmet was hoarse, an ugly croaking befitting the delapidated figure "... are not She."

The claw-like hand wavering before the princess's delicate features lost all strength, the arm falling back to the knight's side with sullen lack of care. The anticipation faded from the inflamed eyes, the helm dipped once again.

"Water... not needed. My Lady... should come, soon..."

The knight's voice trailed off, giving way to the persistent buzzing of flies seeking their fill of filth.

"Young lady..." the putrid errant's tone came hesitantly "... have you seen... my Lady? Is she... near?" a pleading note all too evident.

Leanja didn't so much as flinch as the knight reached towards her. Whether this was courage bourne of her youth or simply a reflection of bravery being a core component of her personality the end result was the same. She waited patiently for him to respond to her questions or, at the very least, explain why he was here and in such a state. What she had failed to anticipate was that he would claim she was not some ambiguous lady and then inquire as to whether she had seen the lady referenced. The princess hesitated. It was possible that the man beneath the armor had gone mad from whatever combat he had last been engaged in. More than once her mother had been forced to dismiss a soldier from her surface when melee had culminated in an illness of the mind.

"I don't know how I would recognize her," she answered truthfully after some thought. "I don't know you or where you came from so I am not certain how I would know your lady." More curious than the expertly made armor was that she saw no emblem, sash, or inscription that identified from where the stranger hailed. Had he been a knight of Itraniel there would have been an emblazoned crest somewhere on the plate mail. There was no reasonable way she might deduce the poor creature's lady without any insight into from which lands he hailed.

It was also strange that the errant knight thought even for a second that she could be the mysterious women for whom he was waiting. There were eyes beneath the helmet albeit bloodshot. Either he was confused, his vision was hindered by visual strain, he was afflicted by a malady mundane or magical in nature, or he had never met his lady. The latter was almost preposterous to consider but was no more absurd than the enigmatic spectacle in front of her at present. Leanja sighed and shook her head.

"Don't you think it would injure your lady's heart to see you like this?" she asked carefully and in a soft tone. Leanja was not trying to chastise him but rather make him consider the perspective she might have were it her and her sworn faithful. "If she's a noble lady she would want to see you standing tall and proud, to see your strength, to see your resolve, and to see you healthy. Would you not be sad if you found your lady and she was sitting beside a tree like you are? Please, let me help you. Think of what your lady would want for you."

Leanja wasn't certain that her appeal would be effective; the lady she alluded to was even more foreign to her than the knight she was conversing with. What she wanted, however, was to be of some assistance. It was not in her nature to just walk away from someone to which she could render aid. Tali was still pacing at the edge of her vision. The handmaiden was perplexed on what she should do- she was terrified of the warrior, but also scared for her charge, disallowed from growing closer, but also given the responsibility of keeping the girl safe. Were there to be an even hint of hostility she suspected that Tali would come charging in and destroy any rapport that might be established in this fledgling discussion.

As the young girl spoke, unfettered by the sight before her, the knight's helmeted head gave subtle twitches, the starry gaze beneath shifting in sudden, rapid motions as he parsed the child's figure. Few dared to approach him when he was a more acceptable display, yet this one was the first in weeks when he was at his least commendable. The girl likely couldn't tell, but the knight's senses all remained sharp and focused, his foul sight belying a fully-capable actor.

"I am... healthy." the knight spoke, the creaking in his voice lessening ever so steadily, his tone gaining vigor "I am ready to fight... ready to serve. Always, ever."

Perhaps he would have found her laudable, this child that went to reassure a putrid stranger, trying to wrest from him his despondence. But while the knight's senses retained their acuteness, his mind was caught in a pressing myopia, a shortsightedness imposed by his despair that left little room for anything but the gloomy present; he had failed, he was unworthy. He was tainted, the very essence of his existence compromised.

"Truthfully, my Lady's heart must already weep, for I am not waiting for Her grace, but for Her judgement. Her knight has failed, and sinfully so. I wait not to be saved, for I can only be found wanting." His helmet dipped again, hollow gaze directed at the ground "All that's left is to wait in silent shame, for I am knight, and I shine no longer bright."

The faintest smile tugged at her lips for Leanja found victory in hearing the strength growing in his voice as he asserted he was healthy, ready to fight, and ready to serve. Perhaps he was still ensnared by the past but this was a precious first step out of the internal quagmire he had willingly submerged himself into. Tali was still pacing at a distance, keeping the princess in her line of vision, and was less convinced that stopping for the errant knight would have any victories. The handmaiden didn't lack compassion but she had a more healthy amount of caution about whom they consorted with and how leisurely. While the heir to the throne might be swelling in pride over her minute gain that did not mean this was worthy of their attention, safe, or not about to turn on its head and devolve rapidly.

"I don't proclaim to be a lady, but my mother is one, albeit certainly not your lady. She once told me we should never presume to know any lady's heart except our own should we happen to be one," she cautioned gently but sternly. It would have been comical if their only audience wasn't an increasingly worried servant of the royal lineage. The youth was so confident, so composed, and so casual she was almost chastising the brutish figure that had scared away so many other travelers on the road.

"Sir knight, no one but your lady can judge you for whatever you have done if what you say is true, but you should not let whatever sins you bear keep you from your duty. If you have marred her name and your own, what good will it do to sit here and possibly tarnish it more? If I had a knight I would want him to prove his diligence, his loyalty, his faith by trying to redeem himself. Only then would my heart rest easy," she stated resolutely. "If our soldiers their battle and then refused to fight again in the war many innocent lives would be lost."

After a moment's pause she reached forward and put her hand on the massive gauntlet. Out of the corner of his eye her eyes she could see Tali nearly have an aneurysm at the gesture. "There are many people who still need knights. If you are able I am certain your lady would want you to defend the weak. No leader of any country can be a force of good for everyone at all times. Until your lady releases you from your service, I truly believe you are needed."

It was hard to say if the knight was truly listening to the Princess's words, however astute they were for her age or status, so starry was his gaze, so unmoving and impersonal seemed his armored frame. To Tali it certainly might have seemed as if Lady Leanjah was having little effect and was likely just wasting valuable time conversing with one too locked in self-pity to listen to the advice of others.

But Leanjah, close and attentive as she dared to be, could notice the smallest motions of the knight's cranium, minute and delicate movements, as if he was adjusting his hearing ever so slightly in order to parse her words. It was not easy to tell, but the knight was listening.

As the Princess's plaintive hand touched the knight's gauntlet, the helmeted head instantly twitched to set the visored gaze upon their contact. Rapidly jolting in subtle, miniscule motions, the knight scrutinized the dainty fingers, parsing them from different angles at a rapid pace. An instinctual response. A defensive measure. A touch that was led without aggression was foreign to Helbrecht, and for but a moment the girl could feel the massive, sitting frame shrink back ever so slightly from her presence, uncertain how to react to such a gentle gesture.

Looking into the knight's visor, the princess could have noted how the knight's veiled eyes stared back with renewed edge, clarity beginning to seep through the feverish sheen ever so slowly. Nonetheless, she could also see the occasional fly crawl over those unblinking, ceaselessly-staring eyes, the knight apparently beyond caring for the chitinous, hooked legs traipsing over his irises.

Was he even looking at her? With his gaze appearing so glassy, so detached, could it be that he was looking through her, having acquired a thousand-yard stare fit for the deluded?

Peering closer, the princess might have noticed another oddity to the knight's gaze. Tiny, silvery lines, akin to gossamer danced nigh-invisible at the very edges of the errant's eyes. The princess, endowed with generations worth of magical acumen, could have sensed the slightest, barest hint of something akin to magic. Too little, too strange for even moderate witches to register, but to Leanjah it was enough to give way for interpretation: These were eyes meant to see twisted and secret things. As such... could it be that the knight was staring into her, trying to peer for a clue to a riddle only he knew?

"I am knight, to dream the impossible dream.
I am knight, to right the unrightable wrong."
I am knight, to fight the unbeatable foe.
I am knight, to run where the brave dare not go."

A recital, almost a prayer, the knight's voice harsh and tired, but carrying a hint of fervor. With each sentence, his gaze rose a little more.

Still his helmeted view wavered, barely capable of looking into the young princess's eyes directly as he lamented "But what is a knight to do, if the victims become victimizers? What is a knight to do if his charges, if the innocent willingly choose to be villains?" With one hand gesturing across his bloodstained breastplate, the knight's voice took on a clear, unmistakable tone "You can see what I chose to do. I am a knight that struck down his own charges. Men and women who only wanted a better life, I killed them by the dozen. I tried to do good and only ended up committing a heineous crime."

Leanja sighed once it became clear what ailed his psyche. His chant was odd, one she was not familiar with and did not fully understand, but his explanation of his troubles were sadly much less foreign. This errant knight truly did wish to be a beacon of virtue but had fallen into a quagmire of ethics and morality. No one but perhaps the insane was truly free of self-doubt as to whether they were right or wrong, good or evil, respectable or corrupt. More than once her mother had warned her that things were almost always in shade of grey. Some day in the future she would have to navigate those waters as the leader of a kingdom; it was one of the things she looked forward to the least as an err in judgment could be catastrophic.

"When a baby is born they are innocent. No one would ever suggest you ought to kill a baby, would they? That baby could one day grow up and be a wonderful person, someone who does great things for the world, or they could become a heinous villain. We don't know when they are a baby, do we? All we know is that when they are an infant, at that time, they are innocent. You did all anyone can do, sir knight," she proclaimed with empathy as her hand remained gently laying on his armor. She had noticed the translucent shimmer at the edge of his eyes and sensed something almost arcane in his person but it did not make her determination waver. Leanja recognized herself as the last person who ought to judge another for inexplicable magical abilities.

"Everyone has a choice. That baby will chose its path when it gets older. We can all try to help, but no one can predict, or force, someone onto the path we want for them. I know I wasn't there but... you gave those people a gift. You shielded them and, while they should be thankful and follow your example, it's not for you to control what they do with their lives. Where they have failed you perhaps others will not. Has every soul you saved turned to darkness?"

Withdrawing her hand she reached into a pocket and pulled out a small rag that was covered in soot. The princess used this strip of cloth to clean her hands and face on the occasion she got dirty exploring the wilds and could not afford to cast a spell for cleanliness. Gingerly she leaned forward and tried to scrub away some of the dried blood that clung to the plate. Leanja could not erase the past but she could try to reinvigorate faith into a downtrodden man. Surely being covered in the spilled bodily fluid of the slain was not beneficial to his mental well-being.

"Maybe this is a test. It's easy to thwart evils that are unknown to us, isn't it? It's much harder when you have to strike down someone you know would hurt others. For what it is worth, sir knight, I don't think what you've done is a heinous crime at all. When you were needed you were there, and when people turned to villainy you had the courage to confront them. Not everyone could do that. I would think many knights would falter in their devotion and be able to strike that blow no matter how righteous."