Offilo tried to remain up right. His determination, almost a tangible aura. The Shade had left him dirty, soaked with rain, and with plenty of bruises and shallow cuts. His muscles trembled. His chest heaving with every ragged breath. Despite all that, for a few heartbeats it looked like he could take another attack, but Rosomil decided against it. Considering the circumstances and his initial judgment, the boy had suitably impressed him.

With a simple word, he dismissed the Shade, which dissipated like thick plum of smoke. Judging by the alarmed expression on Offilo’s face, the boy expected another attack. As it didn’t happen, fatigue took over and forced him on his knees.

Rosomil took his time to approach him, while keeping himself protected from the rain by one of the many spells the Tome offered while nesting in his mind. As Offilo noticed him, he forced himself on his shaking legs and managed an upright position.

“I have to applaud your prowess, boy”, said Rosomil, and took the knife from Offilo’s sweat and rain covered trembling hand — it was a miracle he had been able to hold on to it. “You didn’t look like much at first, but you’ve shown me that the time I just spent babysitting you wasn’t wasted.”

“T-thank you, my Lord”, he replied, his voice strained and hoarse.

“I’m going to call one of my Priests”, Rosomil continued and cleaned the knife with a handkerchief. “He’ll take you to the infirmary and look after your injuries. Once you’re patched up sufficiently, I expect you in my study. Ask the Priest to get you there. And be prepared, for I’m going to test your mental faculties then and there. Understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Rosomil gave him a stern look, then he called one of his Dark Priests with the usual spell. The man appeared like the Shade right beside him, which made the boy flinch away and nearly fall over his feet. Despite his clearly visible exhaustion, he avoided the embarrassment of a fall and took a deep breath. Rosomil ignored him and explained to the Priest what he needed to do. The man nodded and turned to Offilo, while Rosomil left them.

—

Upon arriving at the entrance to the castle, Rosomil felt alone. He stopped and looked back. Offilo stood with a defensive posture in front of the Dark Priest.

Unwelcome memories tugged at Rosomil’s heart. A part of him wanted to indulge them. To feel a resemblance of normal. The other part shouted at him to let it go. That it was in the past. That he had chosen to destroy it. Along this voice, he could also hear the whispers of the Tome in side his head. He needed to separate himself from it sooner rather than later.

Bitting his lips and subconsciously pulling at the rosary in his pocket, Rosomil continued faster on the path towards his study. On his way he saw just a few normal human servants, who hasty retreated into corners or adjacent rooms. Judging by their faces, his expression wasn’t a pleasant one.

Once he entered his study, which was close to the library of Castle Eldebourg, he slammed the door shut and took a deep breath. A heartbeat later, he recited the words necessary to separate the Skin-Bound Tome from his mind. With a pulling sensation, as if parts of his innermost being been violently tugged at, the book manifested in front of him surrounded by a dark cloud and an aura of blueish energy.

The relief was imminent and so intense it forced him down on the wooden floor. But the Tome had also pulled the memories he had tried to push back to the forefront of his mind. He could feel the clash of his and Lodwin’s blades during sparing. He could hear his well-meaning jabs, the laughter. And then there was her. Sunila. Her soft voice was distant. A mere memory of an echo of her voice. How did she sound? How did she speak? How did she laugh?

Suddenly, Rosomil was back in his study. The rain, slightly more intense, drummed against the windows. His rosary rested on the ground next to his right hand. It was partly coiled around his wrist like a snake. Rosomil didn’t know how much time had passed but considering Offilo wasn’t already knocking, it hadn’t been long.

Rattled, he stood up, pocketed the rosary, locked the door and walked to his desk, besides which rested the Tome on a lectern. With trembling hands, he lighted the candles on the top of the desk and placed the cobbler’s ball in front of it to focus the light. He sat down with a deep breath. His hand moved on its own towards the Tome, but he stopped mere inches above it.

“You”, Rosomil growled at the book. “You damnable book! Demon… If… if you… I would’ve never…”

He pulled his hand back as if the book were an easily startled dangerous animal. With a frustrated groan, he stood up and threw the chair over. He walked towards the closest window, opened it and relished the gust of wind and cold rain it thew at his face.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“No”, Rosomil murmured while grabbing the wooden windowsill until the wood slightly cracked. “I chose this. It was my decision. Mine. Mine alone. The demon told me everything. It told me about what I needed to do. I accepted the consequences! And once I have achieved my goal, I’ll make everything right again! I promise. Lodwin… Sunila…”

As if his own mind were keen on playing sick games, Rosomil remembered the way Sunila had looked when he had found her after he had woken up from the insanity of the murders he had committed. Her half open yet empty eyes. The sickly pale skin. The thin trickle of blood where she had bitten herself because of the cramps. His demon had told him that it had been poison.

“Damn it”, Rosomil murmured and closed the window. “You damnable fiend… Even though you aren’t here, I can hear you chiding me once more for my sentimentality.”

He hated that it was right. That he was still too soft. That he let old memories take the best of him. Perhaps the Tome had drawn him in with his time in the Order on command of the demon. After all, Rosomil still didn’t know how exactly they were connected. Was the demon the physical manifestation of the Tome or the other way around? While it didn’t seem constrained by the Tome, it had entered this world clearly through the yellowed, stained parchment.

Still miserable, but his mind back in some semblance of focus, Rosomil dried his face, hair, and clothes with a spell and started to clean up the mess he had made. Right about the second he was done, there was a shy knock at the door. Sighing, since he hadn’t been able to prepare for this test, he went to the door and unlocked it.

Offilo looked like a sad dog and flinched away upon focusing his eyes on him. Rosomil ignored this and allowed him to enter with a gesture. The boy let out a nervous chuckle and followed the wordless order. He even stopped in the middle of the narrow room, despite it clearly causing him further discomfort. Rosomil smiled to himself, closed the door and placed the lock back down. As he turned around, he saw the boy gazing frightened and with understandable disgust at the Tome. The book was far from pleasing on the eyes. Something worsened by the moving patterns on the cover and the slight glow barely visible in the foggy daylight and the illumination of the candles.

“Tell me”, Rosomil began, walked around Offilo and sat down on his chair after turning it around to face him. “What did Rugulf teach you? The history of the Order? The classifications of fiends? How to kill all kinds of beasts, monsters and innocent souls?”

“I-innocent?”, asked Offilo, distraught.

“Yes”, Rosomil answered bitter. “Innocent. More often than not, my squad and I were sent out to kill whole settlements of non-humans for the sins of a few. Where else do you think I learned and lost my qualms about butchering people?”

“C-can I be honest, my Lord?”, he asked, wringing his hands in clear discomfort.

“I do want you to be always honest with me, boy”, he replied and leaned back on his chair. “What ails you?”

“Are there… Are there truly innocent n-non-humans?”

Rosomil stared in stern disappointment at him.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend!”

“Then you consider me to be a non-human? Because I’ve made a deal with a demon?”

At this, all the remaining colour left Offilo’s face. He even looked for a moment like he was about to pass out from fear. Rosomil couldn’t help himself and let out an amused huff.

“Certainly, Rugulf would’ve called me a demon due to the nature of my contract”, he mused. “To him, it would’ve been an absolute truth. Even to the entire Order of the Crimson Hand. I not only threw away my humanity but spit God in the face. I betrayed everyone, even my very own being. Perhaps I even deserve to be called a monster for this profane act of debasement but back to your question. Yes. There are innocent non-humans. Just with humans, they can be good and evil. They have a choice in their actions as much as we have. The only difference being a different, often alien set of morals. And for some of them, we humans are just livestock. Or do you consider the wishes and thoughts of a cow you need to slaughter to offer your loved ones the food they need in order to avoid starving?”

“N-no.”

“Then why do you think you can judge them?”

“But they kill people!”

“Humans kill other humans all the same. Should the family of a murderer be executed as well? Should the executioner after he did his work be killed as well? What about the judge? What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You told me, you wanted to kill me. Rugulf wanted to kill me. He had even prepared a coward’s trap. But I? I gave all of your chances to leave unscathed. I didn’t murder your comrades as much as I acted in self-defence. It was their decision to remain hostile. To continue their attempts on my life. Which is why they’re dead now, and you’re still alive.”

Offilo looked down at the tips of his boots. Rosomil hadn’t planed on destroying his worldview, but he rather did so, then let him remain ignorant of the truth behind the Order.

“What did Rugulf teach you?”, he asked once more after a moment.

“He taught me how to wield a sword and how to counter simple magic”, answered the boy in monotone. “I know how to break simple spells, but not during fights. The Captain also taught me about the history of the Order as well as about… you, my Lord.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He called you worse than Judas, as you didn’t just take money to betray everyone. You used your comrades and your sworn brother as sacrifices. Their blood to drink instead of wine. Their flesh to feast upon instead of bread.”

“I didn’t consume anything”, murmured Rosomil before he could stop himself and ran his hand across his face. “I don’t wish to remember… I wish instead to…”

“My Lord?”, asked Offilo, uncertain and an expression between worry and fear.

“Don’t you dare to speak about this with me for the foreseeable future”, Rosomil growled and stood up.

Again he walked to the window but refrained from opening it this time.

“I’m going to ask you riddles and questions about various topics”, he continued while watching the boy in the reflection of the window as the sky grew darker. “I expect fast and honest answers. Understood?”

“Y-yes, my Lord!”, Offilo replied and straightened up.

Without delay, Rosomil started and soon found some enjoyment — much to his surprise. Still, the boy had a long way to go.