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[sirharriscarlyle]

Crossing Day

The bachelors and bachelorettes of Greyrose now lined the bridge from which Ravenbridge took its name, a procession of hopefuls dreaming of love sprung from a pair of eyes upon them. A lone figure watched from afar, cloak aflutter behind him- but not one among those here stirred his heart.

Harris stood arms folded, the wind blowing through that crop of coffee strands upon his crown. Brows furrowed, dark circles around his eyes, visage cold and reflective. In the folly of the day’s mood, perhaps some might’ve found him dashing, yet a blackness spilled through his heart. An ichor in his chest.

Images from the past played before his eyes. Chestnut brown hair bound into a crown braid, a young noblewoman with forest green eyes. A ghoul now, patches of hair and flesh mixed. An elven priestess, spun gold bound by a braid. Her face turned, the skull exposed on its right side. Auburn flowing from a warrior, northern true. It vanished.

Among it all, the knight stood a lonely sentinel overseeing the holiday. Not part of the guard, no, nor a wraith- or a statue. Yet all the same, determined to be there if needed. His grey gaze locked on something then, a pair of eyes that had found him.

Her hair was stark white, her dress black as midnight, and her eyes a glacial blue. A beautiful woman by any measure, to be certain. She looked at him, and he looked at her, and she smiled until she didn’t. Her head tilted. His never changed. Eventually a softer smile punctuated, a wave followed, and she continued walking. The wave was not returned, but he stared after her until she was gone.

There was a tightness in his chest. an extra tension in his jaw. The blood inside his veins ran a little colder. There was a part of him that wanted to pursue. Perhaps, he thought, he should. Yet that pervasive heaviness inside, that bleak memory- the numbness.

He did not follow.

He would not allow such a farce.

[sirharriscarlyle]

A Quiet Despair

Within the Cathedral of Holy Light, a single knight stood in the shadows. The knight darkened the doorway for a time, just off to the side. More than once a visitor would greet him on the way in or out. More than one priest as well. Harris indulged the conversation, but never seemed to engage it further than necessary. So eventually, they left him alone.

It was a while before he could find a quiet moment. A quiet place. A prayer room eventually left him alone to contemplate. A deep furrow to his brow showed his exasperation at the matter. Many long years had it been since he had sat through a service. He didn’t remember any of the prayers he had learned as a child. Cynical even as a young man, he had never felt the spark of divinity.

It was an awkward thing, that first attempt at kneeling. His weight was off and he almost toppled over. He even nearly cursed, which seemed counterproductive given the place. The time. The purpose. He steadied himself then, taking in a breath.

“Hello. It is I. You may have noticed my absence. We have never seen eye to eye, not truly. I suppose this is where most would present their prose, their sacred words. I have not the talent for it. I hope this will suffice. I find myself beset with guilt. Regret. Self-loathing.

I have made a great many new friends here in the city, though I am between two worlds. A grim duty to a fallen past- a fallen home. An obligation to those that survived- but in a foreign land. I’ve spent the better part of a decade fighting...and have nothing to show for it. Every time we come close it is taken away.”

His fingers tightened on one hand, voice thin with contempt.

“I can not escape the feeling that if I help those in the south, I am laying down my duty. Yet does not Sir Mordecai speak true? That Lordaeron is a people, not a place. Many yet survive in Stormwind. From Theramore. From Lordaeron. From all the kingdoms lost to humanity or swayed from the path. Are they not in need of assistance? Perhaps, bitter as it may be, the truth is that I wasted my time...that I should have rebuilt here instead like Alia. Was it all for nothing?”

The knight’s eyes remained closed, resting on his knee, supported by both hands, head dipped.

“I seek the path forward, the path I must take, but in all directions there is fog. There is darkness. The past will not let go. The dead, the prince, my fa-”

He growled and looked up then at the stained glass on the ceiling of this room, the last embering hues of sunset spilling down through their filter.

“Why is this so easy for others!? They tell you everything and they hold divinity in their palm and you- you! Are you even listening? Are you even....a person? I’ve watched you- watched them. For every miracle, a tragedy. For every tragedy, a miracle. But in their heart, they seem to hold faith that you will guide them through.”

He lifted a hand then, as if tenuously asking for one to reach back.

“I do not need strength. I can stand on my own two feet. I do not need miracles. I just...I need something. A sign. I need...whatever it is that gives them peace. Despite my best efforts for my friends, I...have none. Sometimes I think I’m still moving out of spite. I fear that I will fail Remona. That I will find myself slowly in time a ghost to the others- Roland, Veronika, Shalas...will this time be different?”

He simply gazed up at the stained glass, the beauty of it. Yet there was no answer. No pillar of divine light to offer guidance.Only Harris and his prayer. After a few moments, he lowered his head in shame and spoke quietly.

“Perhaps one day I will be worthy of a response.”

The knight rose, a dour look on his face, and departed the cathedral. 

[sirharriscarlyle]

A Ruby Bargain II

Even in the heart of blazing summer, Alterac would still seem to have an odd crisp quality to it in the early morning or deep evening. Dawn crept along the land in all its splendor, spring in full bloom. Their horses ambled along in the glow of red, orange, yellow, a lazy disc’s edge just barely poking up beyond the horizon now.

It had been sometime since they left Northgarde, traveling by horse southward. Some of the villages that had been preserved were brimming with life, all quite content with the victory of life over death in the northern realm. Harris had remained largely silent, eyes occasionally piercing through the back of the herald’s skull. She was not a known variable yet, and the knight disliked that.

For her part, she barely looked at him. Uninterested in whatever might be known of him. This amused him. He decided he would bide his time, but eventually she must slip and reveal the truth of things.

The herald’s horse stopped.

The two were in the shadow of a large cliff face within Alterac, ice gripping into the cracks of its upper reaches, the land beneath darkened by the meeting of two different cliffs. Azeroth was full of natural splendors, but it was the ones here in the fallen human kingdoms that he appreciated the most.

“Your equipment is lacking. You must rectify this, knight. It was here the folly of your kind began. Not all has been picked away by scavengers and time. Enter and return with arms befitting your oath, or do not return at all.”

She dismounted then and began to prepare a fire without looking at him, roving the area for sticks, logs, and so on. He watched her silently for a time, brows furrowed, the absurdity of her sudden outburst and indifferent disposition almost surreal. A breath shot out of his nostrils then, surveying the cliff face.

There was no sign of what she was talking about. No visible door. No light to guide the way.

Harris took the torch from his saddlebag, struck it to life with a spark, and slowly marched forward into the shadow of Alterac’s mighty cliffs. Guided by naught but torchlight.

[sirharriscarlyle]

A Ruby Bargain

The howling blizzard nearly consumed the knight and those who stood with him. The unnatural chill piercing to the bone. Countless allies had joined them. Men of Gilneas, Stromgarde, Stormwind. Dwarves of Ironforge and Aerie Peak. Wizards of Dalaran, Crusaders of Light’s Hope. All these and more. There, the Harbinger was broken, the ancient necromancer laid low. His taint would no longer disturb the fallen kingdom of Lordaeron.

The frost wyrm he had brought would likely have caused untold destruction if it were allowed to reign free, but another elusive ally had stopped that. A champion from among the brood of the Lifebinder had grappled with the foe, bringing it low in a triumph of life over death. Many lives were owed to the dragons that day.

They were predicated on promises made by the then Captain.

A month later, a herald arrived with hood drawn over their face, their ruby cloak clasped at the right shoulder and covering much of their torso. A white shirt beneath, trousers much the same, and then riding boots. There was nothing outward to suggest their significance, but Harris knew the sight all the same.

Promises made were now to be collected upon.

So it was that the Captain received the herald in his office. So it was that he parted with the station he’d held for so long. A promise made to a mysterious group to ensure the future of those he swore to protect. So it was.

The spring that he emerged to was bittersweet. The flowers blossoming from where once was ice, the rivers running without risk of chill, the warm sun above in lieu of its cold wintry persona. He wore not a double-headed eagle upon his chest, but simple armor. For now, he rode without heraldry and without commission. A knight-errant accompanied by a ruby herald.

As Northgarde faded from view, he could not help reflection. Once warm, fading auburn. Inscrutable glacial blue. Bells announcing the day and the evening. The march of comrades. The gentle rolling of ships in harbor. The flap of banners in the wind. A blue eagle on a field of white.

There was much to think on, but soon enough his companion paused, looking back at him. There was naught but a neutral line upon her lips, visage covered partially by her hood. He realized he had stopped. For a brief moment, he considered looking back. The knight thought better of it. There was no time for reconsideration. There was no time for regret.

A debt owed, a duty promised. The only way was forward. Ever forward. So he bid his horse forward. So, too, did the ruby herald. She spoke to him without looking back.

“Pray, knight, follow me.”