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It had been a long ride to Varrock, and daylight teased the horizon over the city.
A mere week had passed since the parting celebration at the Rising Sun, where Theodore had first spoken of this assignment to those he trusted most. The White Knights had suffered grievous losses at the hands of the evil Lord Sulla, the order was more vulnerable now than it had ever been, and every hostile force in the world knew it. Something needed to be done.
He was not thrilled by the task set before him. “Taking advantage of my fame?” he had asked Sir Amik. It was the plot concerning Kara and the traitor all over again, he feared.
“Understand that it pleases me no more than it does you, Theodore,” Sir Amik responded with gloom, “but we have no choice.
“Allow this thought into your mind for a moment,” he continued, “you wake tomorrow to the sounds of walls crumbling and citizens screaming. An enemy force has breached the walls of Falador and intends to slaughter its inhabitants. Could we defend the city as we are now? Could we protect the people from slaughter?”
Theodore averted his gaze silently, knowing the answer. Yet Sir Amik completed the thought, intent to drive the point home. “The answer is no. In our current state, our city would lay in ruins within hours. Do you see now why this is necessary?”
The Squire had understood this since he was told the assignment, but to hear it said aloud shook his very soul. He only nodded in agreement as Sir Amik dismissed him. Even now, this truth was no remedy for the foul taste in his mouth.
In time I will see that Sir Amik is right, Theodore assured himself.
He stood in front of a door with a sign hanging above the frame, a sign with naught but a picture of a moon on it - a moon outlined in blue. Ebenezer had spoken highly of this place, calling it the best place for a cheap meal in Misthalin. Theodore had reached Varrock earlier in the day than expected, and to trouble those at the Castle before the sun had even risen felt near-criminal.
Wanting for food and a place to rest both his mare and himself, Theodore now stood just within view of Varrock’s southern gate, far away from the Palace. He tethered his mare to the hitching rail loosely enough for her to lay and rest, promising to return with food for her as well. He opened the door with a gentle push, and stepped inside.
The young girl let out an audible yawn. Getting up this early to clean was a mistake, she lamented silently. I should’ve just stayed up last night and done it when everybody left. I would’ve been done by now .
Before she could continue to chastise herself, the creak of the front door drew her attention away from the table she’d been wiping down. Sliding in through the doorway was a man in glistening white armour, a man she had never seen before.
“Welcome, sir,” she said with some small amount of courtesy, “you’re up pretty early for an Essianday.” She stepped away from the table, which just so happened to be closest to the doorway.
“I apologize.” He spoke with much more courtesy than she did. “If you’re not open, I can always come back later.” His hand moved behind him, reaching for the door.
Her words caught him before he could open it. “Well the cook is here, and I technically work here too. Besides, nobody else will be around for a few hours. You can have a seat.” She gestured to the chair nearest her, at the table she had just cleaned.
Theodore took the seat offered to him as the girl disappeared around the corner of a doorway at the back of the room. It hadn’t been half a minute before she reappeared under the lintel with pad and quill in-hand. “What’ll ya have?” Her voice carried across the empty room with ease.
“I’d like an omelet with cheese, onions and beef,” he called across the room, “also a cup of tea if it’s not too much trouble. If you have anything for a mare, some of that as well if you don’t mind.” As he spoke, he couldn’t help but notice she had not written anything down.
With a sly grin the girl turned her head back into the room she came from. “Did you catch all that, Zack?” she asked.
An orotund and amused voice confirmed as such. The young lady gave Theodore a knowing wink as she put down the pad and quill, resuming her cleaning duties.
With nothing to do but wait, Theodore’s attention was drawn to the young woman. She had fooled both he and the cook into doing the work of communicating his order for her - a devious yet clever move.
She looked to be around the age of a peon, eleven or twelve. She was tall for her age, much taller than he had been, at any rate. Her skin was notably pale; this was made only more apparent by her black clothing. Her straight, long hair was a deep blood red, and her eyes were a brilliant shade of Guthixian green.
It was around this point in his assessment of her that she displayed a talent that caught his attention. Wiping the table in the absent-minded and loose manner that she was, the girl had sent a pair of glass salt and pepper shakers hurtling off the table's edge directly across from her. Theodore braced for the sound of shattering glass - a sound which never came.
Nearly synchronous to the shakers fall, in one fluid motion - and with the greatest of ease - she ducked under the table, darted directly across, and stretched out her free hand. The shakers had flown nearly three feet away from the table, yet somehow, with the metal tops having scarcely brushed the ground, they were caught between her fingers.
Theodore was astounded. Never before had he seen such a display of speed and agility out of any human; not even among the most highly trained of the Knights.
The girl glanced over to him, hoping that he had not noticed the occurrence. Upon seeing the look on his face, her own quickly began to match the color of her hair. As swiftly as she had leapt under that table, she turned away from him, and this continued until she was called to deliver the food.
Inevitably, that call did come. With no small hesitation, she crept her way slowly to the other room, trying to put off the humiliation as long as possible. I don’t understand, why is she embarrassed of having such skill? The girl seemed to have tired of dragging this out, for she returned rather quickly and was now walking normally with his food and drink.
A hint of rose etched across her face, she placed what she carried in front of him. He thanked her with a sincere voice, hoping to clear away some of her embarrassment.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, her voice quavering.
“That was an impressive display of speed, miss,” he said softly as she turned to walk away, trying still to ease her embarrassment. “I have known many capable warriors, and none move as swiftly or as deftly as you.”
There was a pause before she said anything, during which Theodore cursed his decision. “Thank you, sir,” she finally responded.
She nearly took a step away, but the gleam of his armour caught her eye as she turned. A realization came over her. “Sir,” her voice had switched from nervousness to curiosity, “are you a White Knight?”
Theodore grinned. “I am a Squire of the White Knights, Squire Theodore.”
Her face lit up at the name, her eyes shining with excitement. “The Squire Theodore??” she nearly squealed the words, causing Theodore to nearly drop his fork in shock. “As in the Squire Theodore who led the Imperial Guard in the battle for Falador against the Black Knights??”
“W-well yes.” The Squire had become the nervous one now. Has news of that truly reached Varrock so quickly? “Though I was not alone in that battle, both my comrades and Saradomin were with me, and that is why we won.”
The now-enamored redhead jumped into the chair opposite his. “Is it true you routed the Black Knight assault on the Monastery with only six people? What about how one of your friends cut off the Kinshra Lord’s hands?” The next question came with more urgency than anything he had heard since the assault on Falador, “did you really kill a werewolf??”
Theodore was overwhelmed. How does she know about Jerrod? How does anybody know about him?? He stammered in his attempts to answer her questions. “The first is p-partially true, but only due to the superior minds of the others I fought with. The second is, uh, well, yes. That did happen.” The subject of Jerrod was not one he wished to discuss.
“What about the werewolf??” she reiterated, the shine in her eyes replaced with a burning desire to know. She wanted… no, she needed to know the answer to this question.
“N-no,” he admitted, “we did not kill the werewolf! He escaped.”
The Squire inhaled deeply. He was not accustomed to being questioned so harshly, not even by his superiors. Still looking at his young interrogator, he observed that the look in her eyes once again shifted - her eyes carried a look of dismay.
“I see…” the rest of her sentence trailed off, leaving her in a quiet unease. She snapped out of it after several seconds, “did you find out how the werewolf crossed the Salve?” she inquired, “or at least why it was here?”
He simply shook his head. “I cannot say how he crossed the Salve, though I can say that he came here looking for someone.” For some reason, this answer caused her face to display sheer panic, so he quickly moved on. “He found the person he was looking for, but we saved them, with the grace of Saradomin.”
In unison, both Theodore and the unnamed girl let out sighs of relief.
She perked up as an idea struck her. “Can I have your autograph?” she pleaded, a genuinely winsome smile now dominating her face.
“M-my what,” Theodore nearly fell out of his seat, unable to comprehend the request made of him, “autograph?!” Saradomin, is this what being 'famous' entails? I beg thee to erase my existence from their minds.
“Yeah!” The girl’s face had lit up once more, brighter than even the first time. Theodore simply nodded, his eyes directly ahead, unsure what else to do. The girl turned and bolted up the stairs.
Why did I tell her any of that? Theodore wondered silently, I could be expelled from the order for telling my peons such things, never mind a total stranger. Have I lost my mind?! In his heart, he knew why he had so readily divulged these facts to a girl he had just met. She feels like Kara; she feels touched by the gods.
The meal and drink were of top quality for the price, just as Ebenezer had promised. He had even taken the time to feed his mare before once more entering the Blue Moon to pay. As he re-entered, he heard the sound of feet thumping excitedly against the stairs. His first - and last, Saradomin willing - fan had brought him something to sign for her.
She handed him a piece of parchment - at least, that’s what he thought at first glance. He felt the coarseness in the scrap he held, the thickness of the sheet, the odd off-white color. Whatever this was, he had never seen any parchment like it. He took the quill in hand, but while moving the parchment to the table, he saw something.
Hidden within, only visible at certain angles when light reflected from it, was a symbol. Two sets of horns, one facing up the other facing down; the downward horns curved inwards, though quickly turned away again. Meanwhile, the one right-side-up had horns simply angled slightly towards each other, thinner horns at that. The two were connected by a broader line through their centers, and held within the up-facing horns was another line, thinning out the further it went.
Theodore opened his mouth, intent on asking about this symbol, but something inside him pulled the question back. There was a chill up his spine, a bad omen, in his opinion. He made the decision to leave it alone.
Theodore signed the paper. ‘From Sir Theodore Kassel, to’… It struck him only then - he did not even know this girl’s name. “Forgive me, miss, but I seem to have forgotten to ask your name.”
“S-…” Her gaze turned to the floor, hesitating to answer. “S-… Sepulchre!” She purposely blurted out the word. Theodore gave her a look of uncertainty. Not because of the name, but because she yelled it out. “Do you… not think that’s a weird name?” She asked.
“Perhaps I would have, before joining the White Knights. Having been among them for nearly a decade, there’s no ‘Sir Prysin’ me anymore.” Both began to laugh, for perhaps too long.
“I’ve also realized something I never asked you, Sir Theodore.” Her expression turned quizzical. “Why have you come to Varrock?”
“I am here as a recruitment sergeant," he explained. "In the coming months, I will be testing the younger generation of this city, to see if they are worthy of joining Saradomin’s favoured Knights.” There was a false confidence behind his voice, but his face told the real story.
“Can I join the tests??” Sepulchre asked, with some small glimmer of hope in her eyes. Theodore nearly chuckled - nearly. I am not making that mistake again.
“Unfortunately not, miss Sepulchre. There is a rule against women joining the order. Though I’ll admit to questioning that rule more and more often as the days go by…” First Kara, and now her. Two women with skills likely to far surpass my own. This rule is the real cause of our dilemma!
Sepulchre sighed, disappointment all over her face. At least, for a moment. “Well, maybe one day.” She looked up at the Knight beside her. “So you’ll be staying in Varrock for a while? Are you staying here…?” There was no ‘hopeful’ in her eyes this time. She knew better than to expect so much.
“I’ll be staying at the Palace,” Theodore said with some measure of apology in his tone, “but I’ll be sure to stop by every now and then.”
The young woman gave only a hint of a smile. “Alright.” Suddenly, the smile turned slightly more sinister. “You know, Sir Theodore, I’ve been trained how to use a sw—”
Sepulchre felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Valenthia,” a gruff yet calm voice spoke, “have you found what we came to look for already?”
The figure stood behind her, its retracted wings casting a shadow around her, just as its greater height cast one down upon her.
She let out a small gasp, she had been lost in thought. “No, Lord Mischa.” She looked to the dusty shelves surrounding them, “and I suspect it will take us some time to find it.”
He took in his surroundings for a moment as well, saying, “This library has collected more dust than the entirety of my manor ever could. What’s the point of preserving texts if you allow them to fall into such a state?” He posed the question to his human companion.
“Don’t ask me, I’m not the person in charge of this place.” She continued to stare into the book she was holding. “Feel free to go converse with the priest upstairs again if you wish to know the answer.”
The vampyre lord shook his head, for he’d rather not.
He loomed closer behind her, looking over her shoulder. “What is this you are reading?” He skimmed quickly across the pages, a look of slight confusion across his vampyric features. “This is… a log, kept by the caretaker of the Temple.” Her interest in this particular entry vexed him, “of what significance is this? A girl, a knight, a wizard, a fool…”
Lord Myrmel paused; this was familiar to him. “The Wyrd. I recall this, it was the work of that fool Tenebra. Yes, I remember seeing them brought to Castle Drakan. I also remember them leaving, though, they were one member short that time. Why does this matter now?”
A somber voice responded. “It doesn’t. It was simply… a memory.” She shook her head, clearing some fog away, some realization she may have just had. “I knew them, master, that’s all; one in particular.”
She closed Drezel’s logbook. She remembered the six months that Sir Theodore spent in Varrock, how it was Theodore who taught her to properly use a shield, and of the autograph, written over the symbol of House Myrmel. Finally, she remembered the last she spoke of Sir Theodore, how she had asked Sir Amik about him. She remembered the response.
‘He is no longer with us.’
She returned Drezel’s log to its place on the shelf, a single teardrop marking the cover.