These lands are cold. I’ve sailed to the wrong place. Each step I take here, a shivering wind kindly says ‘Hello’.
But not all hope is lost, for these lands, at the least. I bring what every knight brings to the darkness. Though it may not be easy to keep it alive in such a devastated place, I try my best to protect this hope.
I am a knight. A knight brings fire.
Do they not know that that is my duty? Everywhere I go, it’s as if I am not welcome. At least that’s what I try to tell myself. A knight is no fool. And a knight knows where he should shine his light. And of course, a knight knows where he is not welcome.
Countless years, I’ve roamed and wandered. And yet every court I’ve stumbled upon, there is only but silence and shadows. It makes me wonder why I am still here, in these cold cold lands.
Every place I go, I hold up my fire, hoping that it would spark hope within those that drift about. But again and again, I’m met with the same audience. A quick glance. A disinterest. A silence. And the echoes of my movement.
Slight colours arise for a moment. They think I don’t notice. This knight is a veteran and no stranger to tiny sparks of passion. But the slightest show of colour is quickly hushed by shadow. These poor souls. It’s as if they won’t allow themselves to ignite any fire. The way they let the shadows dim their light makes that clear.
And so I ask myself, “Why am I still here?”
A knight and his flame cannot and will not remain where there is no room to light the fire. And no court has offered me any space. And so my march goes on.
On, I wander, upon these cold lands.
On, I roam, with what’s left of my flame.
On, I lumber, now callous to no reception.
On, I journey, alone in the dark.
Diaries of the Moonlight Hours 