Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)The last tendrils of winter were withering away and already signs of the imminent spring were blossoming. Not that Garett minded one way or another, as he made his way through the temperate night. Spring, Winter, Summer, Autumn, he had traveled the roads in all seasons and now it seemed to him a marginal thing, something to note and then forget. Sir Garett of Kawlstone, as he called himself now, was a knight of an Order that seemed very, very far away now. Then again, he was very, very far from those lands of his birth. Though still a hale and hardy man, Garett was creeping into his fifties and the years of wandering wore on his mind if not so much his body.
He was a tall and fit man, over six and a half feet with broad shoulders and a still trim waist. His once dark chestnut hair was now gray and there were many lines on his rugged, weather worn face, though few of them from laughter or smiles. Beneath a dark green forest robe, Garett wore not the plate or even mailed armor of his knighthood, but a mere leather jerkin over a wool shirt and some brown leather breeches. The only visible weapon on him was the broadsword he had kept since the beginning of his journey, the one his Order entrusted to him as a symbol of his honor and piety.
Garett almost barked out a bitter laugh at that. Honor was not for the likes of him, not anymore. He had compromised, had forsaken his ideals time and again until all meaning was lost. Some days he wondered why he even continued, but the answer was all too clear. He was addicted to his own base desires.
Dark eyes surveyed the woods but nowhere did he see an end to it. Like as not, Garett would likely be sleeping outdoors again, but he pushed on a while longer. Though he could not see the sky, his bones told him rain was a possibility tonight. So it was very late into the night indeed when he stumbled into a break in the forest, the sound of a nearby brook burbling. The knight saw before him a garden of sorts, well tended to and designed in such a way that it would please, but not overwhelm the senses. Every rock and plant seemed to have its place in a way that bespoke of utter harmony. There was a very simple red gate in the middle of the garden and past it, a long, broad set of cobbled stone stairs led upward to what appeared to be a shrine and perhaps a chapel. The gurgling of the brook became steadier as Garett approached and he spotted some placid ponds with small fish swimming peacefully in them. Large, ball-like lanterns provided light along the way to the stairs.
Garett looked around cautiously but found nothing amiss. There was a small bell by the red gate, which he rang hesitantly.
He was a tall and fit man, over six and a half feet with broad shoulders and a still trim waist. His once dark chestnut hair was now gray and there were many lines on his rugged, weather worn face, though few of them from laughter or smiles. Beneath a dark green forest robe, Garett wore not the plate or even mailed armor of his knighthood, but a mere leather jerkin over a wool shirt and some brown leather breeches. The only visible weapon on him was the broadsword he had kept since the beginning of his journey, the one his Order entrusted to him as a symbol of his honor and piety.
Garett almost barked out a bitter laugh at that. Honor was not for the likes of him, not anymore. He had compromised, had forsaken his ideals time and again until all meaning was lost. Some days he wondered why he even continued, but the answer was all too clear. He was addicted to his own base desires.
Dark eyes surveyed the woods but nowhere did he see an end to it. Like as not, Garett would likely be sleeping outdoors again, but he pushed on a while longer. Though he could not see the sky, his bones told him rain was a possibility tonight. So it was very late into the night indeed when he stumbled into a break in the forest, the sound of a nearby brook burbling. The knight saw before him a garden of sorts, well tended to and designed in such a way that it would please, but not overwhelm the senses. Every rock and plant seemed to have its place in a way that bespoke of utter harmony. There was a very simple red gate in the middle of the garden and past it, a long, broad set of cobbled stone stairs led upward to what appeared to be a shrine and perhaps a chapel. The gurgling of the brook became steadier as Garett approached and he spotted some placid ponds with small fish swimming peacefully in them. Large, ball-like lanterns provided light along the way to the stairs.
Garett looked around cautiously but found nothing amiss. There was a small bell by the red gate, which he rang hesitantly.