The Undead Knight's
Memory and Regret
The twilight forced through the old window shutters that were blown away by the wind. The light cursory turned reddish as if to depict the heart of the young man lamenting his incompetence.
"Sorry to disappoint you Prince Rainhart by showing me my mother's amazing sword techniques, but I did it in a miserable way."
Gillian looked down, forced to clench her hands, admitting to the incompetence of her body without any flow of mana.
"I don't mean so Gillian. . . .
I just. . . . . ."
Rainhart silently came to a halt, realizing that what she was about to say would only add to the heartache of the man beside her.
It seemed that the glitter of his protective clothes reflected the color of the prince's egg yolk hair that was bowed.
The distant howl of the forest wolf, added to the murmur of Gillian's mood.
The forest wind that blew into the small living room, pierced the back of the prince's neck, resuscitating him.
"I don't know how deep the gulf of grief is for a child to lose his mother. Some memories may have fallen with his passing. . ."
Rainhart remained down on the nail trying to neatly arrange it word for word without hurting Gillian's feelings.
"5 years ago, it was the first time we met your sister Liliana, with her little finger clasping your mother's hand tightly."
Like a lock that opens a closed room door in the summer, her sister Liliana's name cools Gillian's mood.
"Miline. . . "
His sister's name gently came out of Gillian's lips that were beginning to dry up.
His gaze now emitted a twilight glow, the curvature of his upper eyes slightly darkened covered in the shadow of his fallen brows.
Rainhart now looked at Gillian with a genuine smile. Then like a traveler even without a small guitar accompanying (Bard) continued his memory pieces, his tone is low but not weak.
"At that moment the sky was clear, as bright as the laughter of the girl, a cool breeze as cool as the smile of her mother, they were sitting together side by side on a wooden chair under a shade tree that grew lonely all by itself, she said, they looked at the barren field where men were forged into knights. . .
A weak black wave-haired child, running into the range of his sight as if pulling all the scorching light of the sun made all eyes on him, one fist was out loud on his waist, and he was, and the other pointed towards the yellow-haired child who was the same age as him sweating in the middle of the field without tired of swinging the sword blade at the training puppet. . .
Rainhart could not continue.
"I. . . "
Gillian felt warm in her chest, that warm feeling then heated up in rebellion. Expose emotions and feelings.
Her once radiant eyes now reflected the glittering light, dropping all her feelings she had lost with her mother.
In his regretful cry Gillian continued the final cut of Prince Rainhart's story.
"A. . .aku. . . a. will be the strongest knight . .more than anyone. . and will be. . . protect. . . and a. .dikku."
"I'm sorry mom. . .. I'm sorry."
Since the passing of his mother, only that sentence came to pass, nothing else.
Day after day Gillian went through with the fire of regret that never goes out.
His heart was pitch-black, unobtainable.
Making her fallen self unhelpful.
The day his mother left, because of her inability.
The day Liliana got hurt, because of her helplessness.
The day was cold but warm, like the rest of the embers that were hit by the drizzle of rain in his dry heart.
The memory that Gillian had forgotten from being hit all this time, was now green by the seeds that began to grow from behind the rubble of embers.
"There's actually a lot I want to say to you, Gillian, but I don't think so now."
Rainhart looked at the old man in front of her.
The old grandfather who had been silently pecking like a cocoon, began to move out of the shell to find the sharp gaze of Prince Rainhart who was as sharp as the scorching light of the sun straight at the end of the head.
