The Black Romance

The storm of war cries, fireballs whizzing just overhead, the taste of blood in your mouth—none of it was new to Sir Calon. War had been his trade since youth. He had been brought up with a spear in hand, trained rigorously in the courts of his noble lineage until it became more than just a weapon but an extension of himself. He became a squire at fourteen, was knighted at the fledgling age of nineteen, and was promoted to the grand post of one of the twelve great paladins of the kingdom of Deyrnas at the unprecedented age of twenty-two. Yes, in all rights, he was the definition of a prodigy.

Still, no matter how stalwart a champion or how cunning a commander, there were still things that could strike down any man. Calon had learned that all too well. He faced another of those calamities now. Something that you never got used to no matter how many times you faced it down: a mythical beast.

Calon rose from where he had fallen, spear and shield still in hand. The first thing he noticed were its eyes, two gleaming white voids that seemed to perceive anything and everything before them. Even crouched as it was, it loomed over him, easily twice the size of even the war elephants he’d seen reared by the eastern kingdom. Then it had the familiar body of a lioness and grafted eerily above that, the head of a woman. From what Calon had heard, they were deeply intelligent creatures that held vast esoteric knowledge. Even then, those were just myths. Calon had never expected that he’d actually ever come eye-to-eye with a sphinx.

“Grant me your ear if you truly fathom my speech, oh beast.” Calon was testing the waters, gauging the sphinx’s next move. It simply remained silent, its mouth rippling into a condescending smirk. Calon went on. “There is no need for bloodshed. Allow us safe passage through this valley and we will leave you in peace. Refuse, and…” He brandished his spear. “I shall deliver thee to Eternity.”

“Is that so, great paladin?” Its voice was great and shrill, echoing mystically upon itself. “I do wonder… what will become of your squire?”

“Help, sir?” It was then that Calon saw him. His squire was pinned carefully beneath the sphinx’s foot, a giant black claw just a hair’s length above his chest.

“Bach!” Calon cried out. “Fiend! Is taking captives not beneath you?”

“Do not fret, my dear paladin.” The sphinx purred, bobbing its claw the slightest bit up and down over the squire’s torso. “I merely wish to provide you a peaceful trial. Answer my questions aptly, and both you and your squire may pass.”

“Oh.” Calon sat with his legs crossed, laying down his arms. “You should have led with that.”

“Sir!” His squire shrieked. “Don’t be so quick to grant it your trust!”

“Silence, Bach!” Calon barked back. “A squire turned captive should hold his tongue! It’s obvious your training hasn’t been intensive enough, eh?”

“Huh?!” Bach’s face became shook with fright. The sphinx above him simply cackled. It brought a claw to its throat, where an enormous white gemstone was inlaid. “If this gemstone becomes like the color of blood, then verily, you have told me a lie. If it turns to emerald, then you are of the sincere.”

“I see," Calon observed. “Go on then. I am prepared.”

“Then, Sir Calon,” The sphinx’s eyes seemed to become all the more brilliant as it uttered its first query. “Confess to me the darkest secret from within the confines of your blessed soul.”

Calon pondered for a long moment, registering the request. Then he finally spoke. “I confess, my honorable rank is only due to my noble house.”

Not even a moment passed before the sphinx’s gem turned a deep crimson. “You lie!” The sphinx shrieked. “There is a darker secret within the depths of your heart! Confess it to me, lest I rob this boy of his future!”

“Sir! Please! Please!”

“I’m working on it, Bach!” Calon took a deep breath and returned to thinking. This time he took a few minutes before breaking his silence, his tone ribbed with grim determination. “I confess it then, I stained my cot until the age of fifteen.”

“What? Ew…” The sphinx drew back a bit. It noticed that the gem had become red. “Er—I mean, you lie! I shan’t ask again! Confess it to me this third time, or the boy’s blood shall stain our hands both!”

“What?!” Calon started. “But… But truly! That is the most guarded secret of my heart!”

“Sir…” Bach was on the verge of tears now. “You know what you have to say.”

“No, surely not…!” Calon argued. “It wasn’t so public, but many people knew! Surely—”

“JUST ADMIT IT!”

“Bach—”

“SIR! PLEASE!”

Calon sighed, a deep, trembling sigh. He finally stared the sphinx right in the eye and spoke. “I confess. I had an affair—well, an engagement. I was to be married to a witch.”

The air was thick with tension, silent with the exception of Bach sobbing prayers, and then it happened: the gem shone the slightest green.

“YES!” Bach roared, still crying profusely, though joyously now. “THANK YOU, SIR! I WILL NEVER TALK BACK BEHIND YOUR BACK AGAIN!”

“Again…?”

“Hold.” The sphinx suddenly ordered. “Does the palest green satisfy thee? That is hardly the shade of emerald. Which means the gemstone requires you to provide us with some, ah, how should I say… juicy details?”

“You cheat!” Calon raised his spear. “You dare shift the goalpost?!”

“NO SIR, PUT IT DOWN!”

“Your squire advises you well… Although it is his skin at stake.”

“Gah! Fine…” Calon grumbled as he laid his polearm down. “What is it that you would like to know about my… my engagement, sphinx?”

“Speak on it however you will.” The sphinx blithely instructed, resting its chin upon its paw. “The gem shall darken to a proper shade when it has been satisfied.”

Calon’s gaze became downcast. He was still for what seemed like an eternity, and then slowly, he screwed his helmet from his head and placed it upon his lap. He cleared his throat. “Allow me to begin then, from our first meeting.”

It was perhaps two or three years ago—the campaign at Anial. I hadn’t been a paladin then, just a lieutenant. Anial was a heretical state. We were told at every junction to anticipate amongst our foes a great deal of those practitioners of dark magic. Theirs was an art of sacrifice and subjugation, all in the name of power. They were a loathsome kind. And of the countless I’ve slain, never was there a dark artisan who had not inspired in me hardship.

Yet at that time, dark artisans were not of my register. I had only the accounts provided by the kingdom, the stories of their malice and the dark magic by which it was exacted.

And so, it was all the more strange when I met Kita.

She was introduced to me as a witch who would be joining our company. A witch. A practitioner of the very same dark sorcery as our foes. And our company was expected to now share a barracks with her? Needless to say, I was befuddled.

However, it was soon elucidated to me that Kita was a Cwn, a special class: warlocks and witches whose dark practice was exempted from persecution. Their studies were a source of understanding the enemy’s sorcery, and they were even conscripted so that their experience may have aided us in upending other artisans of darkness.

There is a certain image of a witch that the stories conjure up in your head. An ugly hag laden with warts, perhaps, or a pale, bewitching beauty who meant to seduce the unsuspecting lad. Yet from the first moment I laid eyes on Kita… I couldn’t help but think that she looked so very plain. Though bearing a slight proclivity for darker garments, she was an average lass, about marrying age, with a tinge of a northern accent on her tongue, and what seemed to be a sweet smile.

Though she only wore that smile as a farce. Towards who? I couldn’t say. It was clear to the rest of us from her demeanor that she was utterly miserable in her forced conscription. Still, there was one moment in which you could see genuine joy exuding from her: whenever she performed magic.

Kita was an indispensable pawn for that reason. Her insight upon magic surpassed mere aptitude; she had a ravenous passion for the mystic arts, an appreciation bordering on worship. Whenever she would conduct a new experiment or cast a new spell, there would be this sparkle in her eyes.

I remember the first time I bore witness to it. She had concocted a new spell that allowed our men to wade upon the surface of water. The men cheered and marveled at the miraculous spell, yet it was Kita’s eyes that had me enraptured. They were unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The eyes that were usually full with thinly veiled contempt were then shimmering glassy petals, dancing in the soft spring wind. I recall not whether it was clear to me then, but I yearned to pluck those petals for myself. Nothing could have been greater than to have that shimmer be meant for me. Perhaps… Perhaps it was then that I had first fallen for her.

“Hold, Calon,” The sphinx interjected. It seemed hesitant to continue speaking but eventually blurted out the rest. “Had you not suspected that she may have hexed you?”

“I don’t believe so.” Calon quickly retorted. “Not Kita. For what it was worth… our love was pure.”

“Oh.” The sphinx thoughtfully said, its chin dipping to rest upon its paw again. A thin, contented smile had appeared on its face. “That’s good.”

Although I had been enamored with her long before, I believe it was during the latter half of the war with Anial that the relationship between Kita and I began to “blossom.” And it came to bloom beneath a downpour of blood. The hell that was Anial. My legion was nearly obliterated within our first encounter with the heretics’ army. My commander fell in the battle. And so, stranded five hundred leagues into enemy territory, with little to no rations and the dimmest tinge of morale, I was forced to take up the mantle of commander.

My memories of the war are a blurred past. We regrouped with other companies, yet it seemed that with every battle we were laid low again and again with dark sorcery. The faces I could recognize amongst my men became fewer and fewer with every day that passed. The only constant was her—Kita. Somewhere within that hell, we became involved with one another in a more intimate manner. Again, within the blur of that war, I could not tell you when.

After sixteen long months, the war finally concluded, and I returned home, hailed as a hero. My miraculous survival had garnered me quite a name on the warfront. And for a time we had peace.

My new rank of paladin, along with my noble house, afforded me the comfort of a lord. Kita and I would go on about mundane diurnal work, hers in research and mine in the military. Then whenever we would be relieved of any duties, we would take outings. It was about this time that I took Bach under my wing, and Kita had become quite doting on the little squire, affectionately referring to him as… well… ‘our interim son,’ at times.

I was urged now by my household to take up a wife, although the choice was no labor. Kita and I were engaged then, and we were set to marry in the late autumn. Yes, truly, they were halcyon days we enjoyed past the war with Anial. Though as the omen goes, "Nothing gold can stay.”

“Then what?” The sphinx eagerly demanded. “What was it that happened to ruin your engagement?”

“Easy, there. I’m getting to it.”

“Get to it faster, sir!” Bach cried from below the Sphinx’s paw.

Before I continue, there is something I must explain. My seat as one of the twelve great paladins of Deyrnas grants me certain privileges. Of those, there is the right to exile any citizen I deem a danger to our state. What the rank of paladin does not allow me to do is change the law or provide exceptions to it. Everyone is equal beneath God, and so the law we live by must be applied equally to all—that is the core principle of Deyrnas.

During the midst of the summer prior to our wedding date, I attended a meeting with the other paladins. During said meeting, we were informed of a new war effort targeting Mynydd—another large heretical state, covered in treacherous mountains and of a greater scale than Anial by at least twofold.

I have been a warrior since birth. It has become just my occupation. But Kita… I didn’t want her to have to see any more bloodshed. So then it was sickening to hear that in order to defeat Mynydd, we planned on conscripting the Cwn again—every last one of them. And even my status could not protect Kita. No one was above the law.

Still, if I went, then she would want to go by my side, heedless of her own safety. That’s the sort of headstrong woman that Kita is. So I was forced to deceive her. I hid from her the news of the incoming war with Mynydd. Instead, I began to feign belligerence. I paid her less mind, skipped our outings together, and worst of all, I insulted her beloved research. Needless to say, we broke into a verbal argument, and then the next day I did it—I ordered Kita’s exile.

“But why?” The sphinx leaned forward, drawn into the tale. “Why exile your love?!”

“How can Deyrnas send her to war if she has already been banished?” Calon answered.

“But to deceive her… To make her believe you have betrayed and abandoned her, that the wellspring that is your love had dried up!” The sphinx’s voice crackled with emotion. “Is that not simply too cruel?”

“She will be alive, able to pursue her studies freely.” Calon said back, his eyes wistfully glassy now. “Even if I am to never see her again, I am sure that she will one day regain happiness. Even in my absence.”

“Allow her to fight beside you again!” The sphinx was now shrieking. The guise of a ‘mythical beast’ had fallen from it now. This wasn’t the rage of a wise creature but the exasperation of one scorned. “Kita merely wishes to keep you safe!”

“Enough. I am not here to justify my actions.” Calon coldly laid to rest the sphinx’s arguments.

“Then… you truly will part from her until this war comes to an end?”

“Evermore, if I must.”

“You are willing to be apart then…? Harken then.”

“Yes?” Calon said.

“Do you still love Kita?”

Calon’s eyes flew over the high sides of the valley. He stared for a long time and thought. Love was one of those things that could topple even the mightiest of man. It struck viscerally and unbiasedly whoever it brought hurt to. And while it had struck him in that manner as he had removed Kita from his life, Calon understood that the love they had once had was the greatest connection between him and Kita.

And any connection between them would have to be severed. So he spoke a lie.

"No. I no longer love Kita.”

“I… see…” The sphinx cast its head down. The gem darkened in an instant to the hue of emerald. It raised its paw from Bach’s chest, allowing him to skitter to Calon’s side.

“SIR! I’M ALIVE! I’M ALIVE!” Bach fell to his knees sobbing.

“Yes, yes…” Calon sighed. He met the glowing gaze of the sphinx. “If our trial is consummate, then I bid you farewell, beast.”

Calon and Bach finally set off towards the other end of the valley. He knew it not but he had encountered another of those things that ruin men—lies.

Alone within the valley, then, the outline of the sphinx blurred, and its form disintegrated, gemstone and all, cast to the wind as an illusion. The sphinx and its gem were just a myth, after all. What was actually left was a single, plain woman, wrapped in black garb, tears streaming down her face.

She knew now why she had become bereft of love. He would rather she live gone from him than be given a second term in that hell. For that end, he had sundered his love. And yet… she had to hear it from his own mouth. Why had he cast her aside? Now it was clear, and she could wallow. She had lost the only true and mutual love that she had ever held—what had been her greatest treasure.

And the man, he continued on, resolved. The gem had become emerald. It had validated his intentions as truth. There were no compromises here. After all, in the three years he had known her, he had never been able to claim those shimmering petals for his own. It was always magic that had spurred that. And so it seemed time to concede. He had been no match for her passion.

The woman told herself that he had lost his love towards her, and it drove her to the most utter despair. The man told himself that he had done right by her in his scheme and that he could bear the cross of lost love until his last breath if need be. They lie to themselves and to one another. But was it their lies that struck them down, or love?