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"A day, Lucien, not much more. They're on foot. I'll
surely catch up tomorrow. Then I will avenge you!" The
young knight kicked the body with the heel of his boot,
kicked it again and again until he wearied of the sport.
Then, face twisted in bitterness and rage, the knight turned
away.
Vengeance? Not - if Rennard recalled correctly - an act
approved of by the knighthood.
Virtuous on the outside, foul within. Rennard had been a
traitor and murderer - that was true - but others in the
knighthood carried their share of dark secrets as well.
Eyeing the mortal with growing distaste, he muttered, "And
what are YOUR secrets, great Knight of the Thorny Rose?"
His living counterpart stiffened, then looked in the
ghost's direction, a trace of puzzlement on the young
knight's features. His exhaustion was evident. Rennard saw
rings under the eyes; the eyes themselves had the sunken
look of a man who had driven himself for days. After a few
moments - moments in which Rennard would have held his
breath (provided he still breathed) - the young fighter
rubbed his eyes, turned away, and resumed his inspection of
the corpse and the trail.
The young knight took a few steps, following the
direction of the dead man's footprints. Each step was less
certain than the last. He was almost too tired to go on.
Perhaps realizing this himself, the young knight returned to
his mount and used the tired beast as support.
"Tomorrow, Lucien. I'll find them tomorrow." He
clenched his fist. "cThey'll pay, the murderous carrion!
They'll pay a hundredfold for your life
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