The Northrider (event)
The thread unravels, and I appear outside an inn surrounded by a deep wood. Inside the shouts are merry and raucous, but outside the wind has a bitter chill and shadows move silently between the trees. A beggar sits alone, nursing a missing arm, as a man riding a tired grey palfrey passes by. The rider is old, fat, and weary, with blonde stubble patching his cheeks. The beggar sits up and beckons at him.
"Please, sir, a story for some coin? I have many a tale to tell, y'see, I once saved the duke o' Montmoyedgne from a horde o- "
"Enough.” The rider has a pained look on his face and speaks bluntly, almost shouting. "You lost a limb for Chevalie and what has it given you? A spot of dirt to sleep in and naught but bones to eat.” He turns his head mournfully behind him. "Look at Chevalie now, soon to be yet another petty, bloody squabble between children. That is all she has ever been.” He rummages through his coat and throws out a few glimmering coins at the awed beggar's feet. "And that is all she will ever be.” He straightens his back, his posture betraying a life of muscle and battle.
"I will make it right,” he mutters under his breath as he turns away, while a group of knights suddenly ride up to meet him, "I must make it right.”
The vision fades as the man on the horse rides off under the twinkling sky, towards the north.
A curious tale.