“This should be enough to make up for everything you lost during the battle,” Count Armond said to Beltane.

Beltane looked inside the pouch briefly before saying, “Including the staff, the ring, and the potion… yes, this will be more than enough.”

Beltane sounded pleased that he was being compensated for his losses, but he didn’t smile. A moment after he looked up from the interior of the pouch, he looked to the three children standing at his side with no small amount of guilt on his face. Beltane seemed uncomfortable at the thought of being rewarded when others near him were suffering.

At that time, Sir Josiah and Lord Riomed entered the garden from behind Count Armond. Riomed’s face was a mixture of anger and concern, while Josiah’s face was the cold mask of a soldier following orders. Josiah had been temporarily lent to Armond’s retinue in order to cover the weak spot left by Sir Walter’s incapacitation.

Briefly looking around at the garden, I saw that it was a shadow of what it once was. The orcs had destroyed every vegetable, every vine, and every piece of shrubbery that had once dotted the garden. The large oak tree that I had spent many chilly afternoons sitting beneath had been torn in half. It had fallen away from the manor and destroyed the white picket fence separating the garden from the road next to the manor. Merrick’s wooden practice sword was still leaning against the lower half of the tree.

“The carriage is fully packed, Count Armond,” Sir Josiah said with a slight bow.

“Good, good,” Armond breathed. “I’ll be there in a second, there’s just one last thing that I need to do here.”

“Yes, sir,” Josiah said, bowing more deeply and quickly exiting the garden.

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence followed as Josiah left. Throughout this period of silence, Armond stared directly at Walter. A quiet resolve seemed to color Armond’s features as he looked at the husk of his knight.

“Armond, please stay,” Lord Riomed said with a pleading voice. “Your children… they just lost their mother. Please do not rob them of a father as well.”

“Riomed,” the Count began. “What you describe as ‘a father’ is nothing more than a funeral pyre in the shape of a man. I have been pretending otherwise for the past twenty years. Every day I’ve lived here, I have had to resist the urge to leave home and burn the enemies of Etronia to ash. That was a mistake; I see that now.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“You cannot mean that!” Lord Riomed Koravin said loudly. “You’re just in shock after the death of your wife. Stay here and give yourself some time to grieve. I’m sure you’ll feel better in a few days.”

Count Armond did not say anything. He merely continued to stare coldly at the standing form of Sir Walter.

“Please, Father,” Solana said. “We need you.”

With tears falling down their faces, Merrick and Miriam grabbed Armond by the waist as if they intended to hold him in place with their weight alone. After a moment, Armond leaned down and placed a hand on the backs of the two children.

For a moment, it looked like he was hugging the two children. After a second, however, he grabbed them by their shirts and lifted them off to the side. They were standing between him and Walter, and he had to move them out of the way.

“Melissa,” Armond said, his voice polite despite the cold tone it carried, “could you please step away from Sir Walter for a moment. I would like to say goodbye.”

Their efforts dashed, Merrick and Miriam collapsed into a sobbing heap as Count Armond took a few steps toward Walter.

“Of course, my Lord,” Melissa said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the sadness out of her voice. She curtsied and stepped away from the Husk.

Count Armond looked into the dull, blue eyes of the man who had once been his greatest knight. Walter’s eyes bored into Armond’s cheek without any hint of recognition.

“Sir Walter, you have served me loyally and masterfully for more than twenty years. I would dare to say that we’ve become friends over these seven years of war and twenty years of domesticity. We’ve been through a lot together. That’s how I know you would welcome this.” As Count Armond pronounced that last sentence, his voice deepened with cold resolve as his hand shot forward.

Solana and I were the first to recognize what was about to happen. The shared Talent etched within our bones sensed Armond’s intent a mere second before he acted. Neither of us were fast enough to prevent it, however. My body was far too slow, and the collapsed forms of our two younger siblings blocked Solana from grabbing Armond in time.

“No!” Solana shouted as she reached out toward Count Armond.

Count Armond’s hand shot forward and grabbed Sir Walter by the side of the head. No surprise or confusion registered on Walter’s face, even as his body was engulfed in the flames of Hell. There was a brief flash of heat as the air around Walter’s body reached the temperature of a blacksmith’s forge.

Melissa gasped in shock as she took several steps away from the heat. Unlike Solana and I, the fire could hurt her.

The fire only lasted for a few seconds before it abruptly stopped. All that remained was a blackened scorch mark in the grass and a bleached skull held in Armond’s hand. Count Armond Feldrast had burned Walter’s flesh away, leaving nothing but his skull resting in his hand.

“I might have been able to fix him,” I said quietly. “There might have been some way to return souls to their bodies.”

“Maybe,” Count Armond said, regarding the skull of Sir Walter with cold eyes. “But a man like Walter would not want to live in a state like this, no matter what ‘mights’ and ‘maybes’ were available to him.”

With that, Count Armond turned on his heels and left the garden. There were no more words to be shared. My Father was gone, and only the King’s Executioner remained.

That was the last time I saw Count Armond for several years.