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Khuja’to stared at the gem, darkly gleaming in his palm. And then he looked again at the mysterious man - wounded, not dead - whom he had hoped to find. Something seemed wrong with this, but - but… Something seemed wrong with everything, these days. He barely even felt like himself… if everything had seemed normal, well. That would have been a sign that things were really wrong. This Fray…
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I stared at the gem, shining and sparking insistently in my palm. And then I looked again at Solkzagyl. It took effort, but I managed to dredge up some words - it didn’t feel like any words could encompass the feelings I could barely understand right now, but maybe I could start. “The path of a Paladin…” No, that couldn’t be right. “Solkzagyl, I’m glad you’re alive? But?” No, it’s getting worse! I took a deep breath. “Solkzagyl, a sword… can’t be worth this?”
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At least Fray didn’t promise that things would be normal. He only promised that they could be set right.
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How could I make him understand? It - Oathkeeper was a legendary weapon, and a piece of history, but how could I explain that a mere weapon wasn’t enough to justify striking down Constaint until… until only one of us stood dominant, and the other forswore their principles?
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Khuja’to nodded, and Fray understood. He would accept learning to be a Dark Knight, and he would accept teaching the ways of being a Dark Knight. No words were needed - Khuja’to understood, and Fray understood, that there was more to this than they yet grasped. That there would be regrets, before the end of this path. That the path of the Dark Knight was not something so easily understood before experiencing it.
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I parried blow after blow from Constaint. I admit - I was better than him. Probably better than Solkzagyl, even. I… I could make them submit, if it were a matter only of power. Because oh, I had power - more than an apprentice of a few weeks, and more than an old man whose body no longer matched his skill. It wasn’t my body that was lacking, or my skills, it was my heart. (And who would believe that of the Warrior of Light? I was a little bitter about that, but it was true.) “Constaint! This isn’t a spar!” I tried to explain, but - good words still came slowly, too slowly, perfect for my preferred magic and useless for so much else. Constaint didn’t understand, and just shouted, “You’re right! Now don’t pity me, FIGHT ME!”
That’s not what I meant! I’m not pitying you, this is just… wrong!
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Fray guided Khuja’to to the knights - as bad as any of the Brass Blades or the darker pirates, but with twice the authority and five times as much choking self-righteousness. It was bloody, it was violent - it wasn’t the way Khuja’to would have preferred to solve it, if someone had asked him even as recently as yesterday. But they didn’t want to listen, barely wanted to talk, and Fray’s way… it worked. For the innocent, things were set right. (And for the guilty… enough suffering to make them stop, and a little more.)
It didn’t feel good. But it felt right.
“If you never harm the innocent again… if you never speak of this again… then you can leave it behind. Become a good person. Or else… I’ll kill you.”
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I leapt back, giving ground faster than Constaint could take it, and shoved my sword clumsily into the ground. That probably damaged the edge, but I didn’t care. Constaint hesitated, expecting something. I couldn’t understand what… I thought I’d understood Solkzagyl. And… I really thought I’d understood Constaint.
I was wrong. And it didn’t feel good.
“I… refuse. I refuse. I… I’m sorry, but I can’t lose the way you want, and I won’t win the way you want either. And if that means that the soul gem is destroyed…” It cracked, and the sound was loud, but somehow distant and steadying. I knew what I was doing, and I could no longer turn back. If might-makes-right was the legacy of the Paladins, then... Constaint looked lost, and Solkzagyl... he was a little more readable than normal, and he just looked disappointed. I didn't want to look at them, so I looked at the gem, tracing the crack running through it with my eyes. I put that there. I'm about to do worse.
“Then maybe I’m not sorry after all. Let it be destroyed. I sheathe my sword.” I picked up my sword, dulled by the mishandling, and put it away.
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The gem shone, not with light, but with warmth. It felt like anger. (And, just a little, like love - not romantic, but larger, compassionate.)
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The gem shone, and cracked again, and burst into dust. It felt like regret. (And, just a little, like relief - something lost, but a weight removed.)
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I looked out over the Brume, watching an innocent girl return to her family. I felt relief. I felt like… myself, again. Not happy, yet, but…
Fray looked out over the Brume as well, watching… and I’m not sure what he feels.
I knew, setting out on this path, that there were things I didn’t really understand about being a Dark Knight… about Fray… about myself. And maybe it wasn't the best or most right solution - but it was the one I'd been able to accept.
And maybe, at least, I could be happy again - if not now, then tomorrow, and if not then, perhaps the day after. I'll feel regret when it's time, too, but right now - this moment - I don't. My regrets as a Paladin are easier to carry, now - and I don't regret what I did today as a Dark Knight. It wasn't perfect, but it was better.