Dark Vengeance - Best Forgotten

Elden paused outside his lord’s den and composed himself. This would not be the first time he had brought bad news to a lord of this castle. But he did like to attend to such business in as calm and collected a manner as possible. He adjusted his waistjacket, took a deep breath and entered.
Sir Tal Amasor sat in his armchair near the fire reading a book. Elden did not recognize the cover, but it was sure to be a text on military tactics or strategy, which is all his lord read these days. Sir Tal closed the book and set it on the table next to him at Elden’s approach.
“Oh, I know that look,” he said.
“You do indeed, sir,” Elden replied.
“I take it, it has gotten bad outside.”
“It is bad enough, sir, but it will get worse. These freebands are convinced the trail of this “black knight” leads to our lands or the lands nearby. Some even think this man is someone you have hired to get revenge and are just waiting to catch him meeting you here. They scour the countryside and squabble among themselves. They have scared away all trade except for the best armed and escorted caravans and are hunting the lands clear of game.”
“Someone should do something about them,” Tal said, almost wistfully, turning to gaze into the fireplace.
“Indeed sir.” Elden paused for a long moment. “I was hoping it might be you.”
At first, Elden thought the other man may not have heard him. Then Tal turned slowly toward him, and met his eyes for several beats.
“You want me to personally demand that they leave.”
“I know that would be difficult, sir, especially given that several have warrants from your fellow nobles. I am not sure exactly what would work best, but it seems to me that nothing will happen unless you are involved directly.
Tal considered this for a moment. Then he nodded. “You are right of course. The time has come. Attend me,” he said, standing.
Elden followed the knight to his private chambers. Once inside, Tal walked to the wall near his bed and grasped a wall sconce. He then stretched his right foot out to a stone in the floor further along the wall. He momentarily looked ridiculous, grasping the candle holder in his left hand and stretching his body to the fullest to reach that particular stone. Then he pressed down with his right foot and pulled down with his left hand. The sconce slid downward an inch or so and the stone sank into the floor about as much. Then he stepped back.
Stones in the wall recessed, making the shape of a normal door. After moving several inches inwards, the “door” slid out of sight, revealing a staircase.
Elden realized he had been staring the whole time, quite likely with his mouth open. Tal stood by the door, smiling.
“Yes, I know, you have been in this room many, many times.”
“Has this been here since the castle was built?” Distantly, Elden noted he had forgotten the ‘sir’.
“Yes. History will likely judge us poorly for keeping thirty generations of Castellans in the dark about their own castle. Let me show you why, though.” Tal took a candle from its sconce, turned and started down the stairs. Elden followed.
They entered a large room at the bottom and Tal used the candle to light lamps around it. Elden could only stare. All around the walls were stands containing strange and exotic treasures. A horn of some large animal ornamented in gold, a large lamp backed by a mirrored dish that reflected everything in the room perfectly, a sculpture of a beautiful woman in some stone of translucent blue, a tiara ablaze with diamonds and a number of other items including not a few swords, helms and shields. Elden looked away from all the riches to see Tal waiting expectantly at the end of the room near a large cabinet of cherry wood.
“As you know,” Tal said as Elden joined him, “my lineage contains seven high questors and four knights commander. Myself and my sires have fought and adventured in every corner of both continents. Along the way we have acquired some…items…that we judged to be best forgotten.” With those last words, Tal opened the cabinet.
Elden stood stock-still and stared for the second time today. Inside the cabinet, displayed on racks and holders designed for just that purpose, was the suit of armor he had heard described so often over the last weeks. That suit of armor that could only have been the one worn by the Black Knight. It was then he realized that one of the swords in the collection could also only be the one responsible for all the killing.
“You did this for Kayleen,” Elden said in a whisper. Thoughts raced in his head, and what was going on in there amounted to much more than five words, but those were all he could manage.
“Yes.”
“Many people have died who were not her killers,” Elden said, still looking at the armor and not at Tal.
“Yes.”
“I am not sure how to feel about this, sir,” he said, being as frank as he ever had with either Tal or his father.
“I am taking that off your shoulders,” the knight said, “or rather, I already have. I named you my heir some time ago, predating any crime I may have committed.”
“May have,” Elden said, still not looking at the other man.
Tal smiled thinly and nodded. “Whether you forgive me or not is for the future. In any case, I am too far gone and my line will end with me anyway. I have one last battle in me, one last reckoning. The Krolum boy is out there.”
That last snapped Elden from his trance. “What?” he asked, turning to Tal.
“His father finally gave in to all the pain I have been causing him. He forced his son to form a new freeband, and paid for the finest batch of mercenaries his gold could find. Garek Krolum is among those gathered around our lands. And I am going to go kill him now. I will not be returning.”
“Do you think there are enough of them to stop you?” Elden asked. He realized that despite his crimes, he felt some residual loyalty to this man, who had always been so kind and generous a leader and master, as his father had been when Elden had squired for him. While well-liked by his fellow Haradelans and living comfortably as one of its nobility, he had in fact lost everything. His father in battle, his mother and wife to illness, and his daughter and only heir to a spoiled and villainous brigand.
“Elden, my old friend, I will not dishonor the king with a trial and will not fall to a headsman’s axe.”
“I see.” Eden translated in his head: I will kill the man who killed my daughter and then fall in battle, as all Amasors should.
“What do you need of me, sir?”
“Help me with this armor will you? I am tired of putting it on myself.”