Chapter 5 The Black Knight Shares His Story

 When she opened her eyes, she saw an unfamiliar place. It was a grassy field. She was riding a horse toward a castle. An indescribable anger welled up in her chest. She felt sorrow, rage, and a desire for revenge. As the castle came into view, she saw a flag. It was a black double cross on a white background. Seeing it only intensified her negative feelings.
What is going on?
She was confused. Where was she?
Then, a thought came to her mind.
Oh, those are his memories.
When she realized what she was seeing, she was abruptly lifted up. Everything went blurry.
When she could finally make out the shapes, the scenery had changed completely. She was in a room inside a brick building. The warm glow from the fireplace made the whole place look lighter. Suddenly, two boys ran into the room, followed by a woman holding a third sleeping child in her arms, and a man. They were dressed in warm coats and had a bit of snow on them.
The tallest kid took out a wooden sword and started swinging it energetically.
"I challenge you to a duel!" he shouted, aiming his sword at the shorter child.
"Brother, we just played outside."
"Piotr is right. You should change into dry clothes before you play again. I don't want you to catch a cold," the woman said as she took off her coat with the man's help.

Is that his family?

"If that's what you want, Mother," he said as he ran to take off his snow-soaked clothes. "Faster, Piotr. I want to try this new move I just thought up.”
“You have a new move?” the man asked, leaning toward the children.
“Yes, Father. Do you want to see it?"
"I might be interested," he said, flashing a smile. "Show me what you can do, Zavisha!"
Zavisha smiled widely and gripped his sword.
"Do you have to start another fight here?" the mother asked.
“Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen. We won't wake up little Jan," the father promised.
"I hope so. He just fell asleep.” She came closer to the cradle where she had put the child.
"Piotr, take up your sword," ordered the father.
The boy reluctantly did so and stood against his older brother.
"Take the stance."
Both boys stood ready to attack or defend themselves.
“Go!”
At the father’s signal, Zavisha swiftly moved toward his brother.
His younger brother, Piotr, braced himself, tightening his grip on the wooden sword.
He saw the speed in Zavisha’s approach and did what instinct told him. Piotr raised his weapon high, ready to block a heavy overhead strike.
But Zavisha had other plans.
The young black knight quickly crouched down, threw his sword up, and tripped Piotr with his right leg. The boy fell down.
As the wooden sword fell, the future Black Knight caught it in the air and aimed it at Piotr’s neck.

"What do you think, Father?" Zavisha asked, his eyes shining.

"It might work now, but it won't be so easy with a real sword. It’s heavier and will fall much faster. Besides, the real knight will never let go of his sword,” he said, crouching down to look his son straight in the eyes. “It’s an extension of your hand. How are you supposed to fight if you lose it?”

"But I caught it."
“You never know what will happen during a duel. Fights, like wars, are even more unpredictable.”

The boy lowered his head.

"But from what I saw, you might be even more unpredictable."

The young boy raised his eyes and met his father's genuine gaze.

“There’s one thing you should remember: I’m glad you’re using your legs to win, but you have to become a real knight who doesn’t use dirty tricks.”

“Is using my legs and throwing the sword up a dirty trick?”

“It might be seen as one during a duel, but it could save your life in a fight for survival, so it depends.”
“I don’t get it.”

“You will one day.”

Everything darkened again, and the scenery changed.
This time, Kureha found herself in a room where two boys were lying in their beds.
The moon shone on them through the window.
Little Zavisha woke up and silently approached his younger brother’s bed.
"Piotr, are you awake?" he asked.
"Ugh, let me sleep...please..." he muttered.
"Oh, come on!"
Zavisha grabbed the blanket and pulled it off the bed. His brother curled up and shivered.
"What happened to your sanity?" Piotr mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.
"I want to duel again!"

Zavisha's eyes glistened with stars. His brother furrowed his brows and sighed deeply.
"I forgot that you're not sane." Piotr grabbed the bedsheet and used it to cover himself.

"You'll take on the role of Mordred, and I'll play Arthur!" proposed happily young black knight.

Piotr covered his ears in response to his brother’s loud pleas.

"Please!"

“Do you know what time it is?” He got up and threw a pillow at Zavisha, who caught it and answered honestly.

"A very, very early morning."

“You mean night, you idiot.”

Piotr tried to make out the room in the darkness of night.
Unfortunately for him, the moonlight helped him perceive most of it.
He groveled when he could clearly see his brother’s face, begging him to play with his hands held together.

“Okay.” he agreed. “But what do I always have to play the evil ones?”
Zavisha widened his eyes.
"You're right. Let's change it," he said, stopping to think. "Now that I think about it, I shouldn't play the king. Ruling a country is tiring and full of responsibilities. That's definitely not for me.”

"If you can't think of anything, I'm going back to sleep." Piotr dragged his blanket back onto the bed.

"Okay! I've got it! You'll be Gawain, and I'll play Lancelot!"

Piotr reluctantly got out of bed. Seeing his brother prepare to play, Zavisha ran to the wall where, next to the door, two wooden swords lay on the floor. He grabbed one and threw it into his brother’s hands. Piotr caught it at the last moment, just before the handle hit him in the face.

“Let’s go!” Zawisza ran toward his younger brother, not giving him time to prepare a proper stance to protect himself from the attack. As usual, Zavisha's offense was fierce and rapid. Piotr blocked the attack just in time, gritting his teeth.

What was initially a quiet play became accompanied by deep breaths, screams, and the sound of wooden swords clashing together over time.

Piotr blocked Zavisha's sword, which was attacking him from below. He tensed his muscles, preventing the wooden blade from reaching his chin. Then, Zavisha loosened his grip on the sword and stepped aside. Peter staggered. His older brother took advantage of the moment. He quickly jumped onto the bed next to Piotr and attacked him from behind, putting the blade to his throat.
"I won." Zavisha whispered happily into his brother’s ear. Piotr shivered and broke free from his grip.

"You know I'm ticklish in the ear! For what reason are you mumbling so close to it?! Ugh! It feels awful!” Piotr said, covering his ear.

Zavisha only laughed loudly at his reaction.

Suddenly, the door to their room opened, and they saw their father standing there with an angry expression.

"What are you doing up so late?" he asked sternly.

"Piotr said it's a very, very early morning and insisted on playing Camelot." Zavisha pointed at his brother quickly.

Piotr furrowed his brows and uttered a confused "Huh?"
"I'm going back to sleep." Like a swift wind, Zavisha rushed to his bed, covered himself with a blanket, and immediately began to snore loudly. Piotr clenched his fist and smiled ominously at his brother.

"I'm sorry, Father," he said, bowing.

Their father knelt down and patted Piotr on the head.

"You're a wonderful person. How do you manage to put up with that unruly troublemaker?" his father asked in a whisper.

Piotr looked at him, surprised.

"Don't worry. His training tomorrow will be quite harsh," the man added.

A smile graced Piotr's face in response.

Once more, the entire scene became blurry, and it transitioned to a different one.

This time, Kureha could easily recognize the knight she had summoned.
He was sitting at a wooden table in a castle chamber of some kind. Candles set in the middle of the table illuminated his face, which looked a little older than she remembered. He held a bottle of liquor in his hand.
"I'm so done with those bastards!" Another figure entered the room. He had hair and eyes as dark as Zavisha's. Kureha didn’t need to think twice. It was his brother.
"Kruk!" Zavisha's face lit up when he saw his brother. He stood up and embraced him warmly.
“What are you doing here? Weren’t you in Bohemia?” Piotr was surprised to see his older brother appear out of nowhere at their family home.
“I came back for a while. After a short break, I’ll be back in Bohemia to fight the Saracens.”
"I see that you don't have it easy either."
“What do you mean?”
"Ugh, there's too much to say."
"I'll always find time to listen to my brother's complaints." Zavisha returned to his seat and gestured toward the chair opposite him.
Piotr looked at him with darkened eyes and started telling his side of the story.
"It's the Teutonic Knights. They still accuse us of being pagans.”
"No surprise. It won't change for a while. We played them well.” Zavisha laughed to himself,  recalling the recent changes that had taken place in his homeland. "Thanks to Jadwiga's marriage to Ladislaus, we have gained a lot. Not only did we acquire new lands, but we also formed an alliance that strengthened our influence. The Teutonic Knights are not happy about this." He recounted in a calm voice. "Lithuania had been pagan until then. But after King Ladislaus introduced the new faith, the Teutonic Knights' ambitions for brutal and profitable crusades on its territory were curtailed," he explained, lifting his drink.
"They say that our king's faith is only a facade. That he still performs pagan rituals when no one is watching. It makes my blood boil!" Piotr Kruk slammed his fist on the table. "And that we, Poles, also went back to our old beliefs after our Jadwiga married that pagan Lithuanian."

"It seems that they are eager to preach faith in places where, according to them, it doesn't exist," commented Zavisha.

“They’re already preaching their faith in their own way in Samogitia. They abuse and rob people," he said, adding sarcastically, "That's very much in line with what the church preaches."

"Do you think I do anything else in the battles against the Saracens?"
"The Saracens are a different matter. They have armies; they attack and try to seize our lands. The Teutonic Knights target people who can't defend themselves.”

"Because they are easier to target." Zavisha finished for his brother and took a deep breath. "If nothing changes, it will end in war at some point," he commented.

"If it is God's will, let war take place."
They sat in silence for a while.

"I'll go there and see if I can do something," said Piotr Kruk.
“Where?” Zavisha asked.
“Samagotia.”

"You want to stand against the Teutonic Knights? They’ll accuse you of siding with pagans. Forget about it. Sooner or later, they’ll get what they deserve.” Zavisha gently admonished his brother.

“I can’t believe you’re saying this!” Piotr stood up abruptly and hit the table.

His brother's sudden outburst surprised Zavisha.

"You, the one who was always the first to jump into a fight and take up your sword!" Piotr stated loudly.
"I was. But after witnessing certain things, I’m not so eager to jump into fights that might end badly,” the Black Knight clarified.

"What do you mean?"

“If you come to Samagotia, which is not under Polish rule, it might make our king look bad. As you yourself know, he is not perceived as a devoted Christian by the Teutonic Knights. It might give them a reason to start a war,” he explained, looking at the dwindling contents of the jug.
"And just leave those people alone?" Piotr couldn’t believe his ears.

"Yes. It's unfortunate, but politics are ruthless."

"Yeah, now that I think about it, you did say that being a king would only be a bother. Look at yourself now! You’re an honorable knight who won't act unless his sovereign orders you to. Just what you wanted to be! A knight bound by rules!"
Zavisha clenched his fist and looked at his brother angrily.

"I'm not just following orders. You do realize that war with the Teutonic Knights might not end well for us!”
"I won't leave those people alone!"
This time, Zavisha slammed his fist on the table, shaking it.

"I order you not to go!" he shouted.

"Oh, you can't give me orders." Piotr pointed at his brother. "You left your home, property, and land to us, your younger siblings. I have more power in this house than you do after our father's death!”

"You will regret it."
"I don't think I'll regret helping another human being."
Zavisha bit his lip, then drank the entire contents of the jug in one gulp. Thereafter, he took his leave, slamming the door behind him with great force.
Piotr was left alone again in his family home, breathing deeply with anger.
He was certain he was right.

Kureha clutched her chest as the scene changed once more.
This time, she couldn’t see Zavisha anywhere.
The only person she recognized was his younger brother, Piotr.

Three men dressed in white robes with black crosses on them held Piotr down. He had been severely beaten and his hands were tied tightly. Despite his heavy breathing, he managed to glare ominously at another knight riding toward him on horseback. The knight was also dressed in a white cloak with a black cross. However, his attire was adorned with gold necklaces, medals, and other ornate pieces that screamed wealth.
“Who’s that?” asked the wealthy-dressed rider.
"That's Piotr Kruk of Garbow," answered one of the men holding him hostage.
“Kruk? You mean a raven?”
"Yes, he’s the younger brother of Zavisha the Black."
The rider's eyes lit up like dark gold, and a wicked grin appeared on his face.
“What’s honorable Zavisha’s brother doing in Samagotia?”
“Helping people in your place,” he said, spitting on the ground trodden by the horse ridden by the knight in the white cloak.
Black clouds darkened the rider's face as he looked at Piotr as if he were the worst kind of vermin.
“I believe you mean that you incited the pagans to rise up against us. As a representative of the Teutonic Knights, I am compelled to arrest you."
"The only thing you're compelled to do is death, you dirty swine," Peter said with a voice full of hatred.
"Damned Pole. Your pride won't get you far. I, Karl von Berger, will ensure that you never forget the insult you have committed against the Teutonic Order. Pray that your beloved brother will pay the ransom for you.” His blood-curdling gaze fell directly on Peter, who did not flinch. "Take him!" The order spread across the meadows and forests.
Despite its power, however, it failed to reach Zavisha, who was on the opposite end of his homeland.

Kureha took a deep breath. She knew what would happen next.

The Teutonic Knights had taken Piotr to a prison in the basement of their fortified castle. The basement was full of mud, rot, and moss. The stench inside was unbearable. He was denied food and water. When he did receive them, it was a muddy water and a rotten or stale bread.
He spent several days, then weeks, there.

Piotr slowly started to look more and more like a living corpse.
But the fire in his eyes still lit fueled by the thought that his brother would soon arrive to rescue him.

Even if they parted that way.

As she looked at the scene, the words the black knight had spoken during one of their brief conversations echoed in Kureha's mind.

But I'm more amazed by the fact that you can so quickly and easily learn what's happening somewhere far away.

Her eyes welled up with tears.

She returned to the same scene she had seen at the beginning.

Zavisha rode toward the fortified castle where his brother was held. When he arrived at the gates, he announced himself to the guards, who let him in. Inside, he saw a well-dressed Teutonic Knight who came to welcome him to the fortress.
"Greetings, noble Zavisha the Black of Garbow, of the Sulima coat of arms. What brings a knight as renowned as yourself to our humble abode?"
"I have been told that you are holding my brother here. His name is Piotr Kruk. I have come to pay the ransom.” He threw a bag of money at the feet of the Teutonic Knight. "If this is not enough for his freedom, name your price. I will pay any amount.”
The Teutonic Knight looked at the bag with a smirk, picked it up, and said, "Of course. I'll send for him right away." He ordered one of his subordinates to prepare Kruk for the meeting with his brother. Then he turned to the black knight standing rigidly. "Allow me, Karl von Berger, to show you around our humble abode before your brother honors us with his presence."
Zavisha went after him.

Even though she was lying on her bed in the real world, Kureha could still feel sweat forming on her body, and her chest was tightening even more.

They walked through the corridors, occasionally peeking into some of the chambers the Teutonic Knight proudly presented. After some time had passed, one of his subordinates came to inform him that Piotr Kruk was ready. A joyful grin appeared on the Teutonic Knight's face and turned into a gentle smile when he turned to Zavisha.
"I am pleased to announce that your brother is waiting for you, noble knight."
Zavisha looked at the Teutonic knight gloomily.
Karl von Berger led him to a square far from anything that could be called a green meadow. Surrounding it was barren land decorated by ominous gallows.
Zavisha clenched his fists, feeling something begin to boil inside him.
"This way, please." The Teutonic knight pointed to one of the gallows.
The sight made the Black Knight's blood run cold.
His eyes darted about, taking in the ominous black clouds, and his face blanched to the same ghastly hue as the lifeless figure before him.
The emaciated body hung rigidly in the wind. It was clad in the familiar armor and had the Sulima coat of arms shield placed at its feet.
The smell coming from the body revealed how long it had been there.
Zavisha felt as if he had stopped breathing when he saw the wriggling worms in one of the deceased's eye sockets.
The black knight could not move, and his body remained still as he stood there, unable to take any action.
The horrible sight took his breath away, and he felt a sense of horror wash over him as he struggled to comprehend the scene before him.
He looked down and took a deep breath.
After biting his lip, he finally managed to move toward the body hanging from the gallows. He picked up the sword that was lying at the feet of the deceased and used it to cut the ropes. As the body began to fall, he caught it and gently placed it on the shield on the ground below.
"My brother was a truly honorable knight. His primary concern was the well-being of the oppressed.” He gently touched the deceased's cheek and closed their obsidian eyes, which had lost their life's light. "Like any honorable knight, he deserved an honorable death. But even that privilege was denied him."

The Black Knight stood up, and his gaze fell upon the Teutonic Knight. Just a moment ago, Karl von Berger had a wicked grin on his face, but it started to disappear.
At the sight of the black knight's icy stare, the Teutonic Knight's hands began to shake.

Taking a step back, he shouted, expecting the worst:
"Seize him!"
A swarm of white coats rushed toward Zavisha. The knight made an attempt to fend off the attack, but he was unable to overcome the immense number of enemies who encircled him.

He got caught in a trap.

Kureha hugged herself tightly and curled up. She knew that every hero's story was beautiful yet extremely painful. Zavisha was no exception.

She couldn't bear to see him being treated in the dungeons like his brother had been.

Then, she moved on to the next scene.

She found herself in a beautifully decorated dining room. Karl von Berger and other distinguished Teutonic Knights were seated at a magnificently decorated table laden with a variety of dishes.

Suddenly, the doors to the dining room swung open.
"What is it?" Karl von Berger asked one of his subordinates who approached him with a terrified expression.
"Letters, sir."
Karl snatched the papers from his subordinate's hands and tore open the familiar seals.
Letters had already arrived from knights in France, England, and Germany asking that the Black Knight's honor be respected.
But these next letters completely ruined Karl's fun.
Their contents came as no surprise. The King of Poland, Ladislaus Jogaila, and the King of Hungary, Sigismund of Luxembourg, were demanding that he release their knight. The ransom was ready as well.

"We'll have to let him go.” admitted the Teutonic Knight. “Sigismund is fighting the Saracens, and Zavisha is one of the strongest forces in those crusades. If we take him away, he will definitely go to the Pope, and it won't look good for us,” he said, biting his finger. He inhaled deeply, took a seat on his intricately decorated chair, and rested his head on his hands. "It was to be expected. We have captured such a notable figure that not only are other noble knights asking for him, but two kings are offering a ransom for him. Who would have thought that one man's life could be worth so much?"

Much to von Berger's displeasure, Zavisha was released.
Before leaving, he left behind some ominous words.
"Karl von Berger," the Black Knight, though emaciated after his time in the dungeon, gave the Teutonic Knight a piercing glare. "We will meet in God's court. Mark my words. Sooner or later, you will feel my wrath.”

Everything blurred again, and a new scene appeared before Kureha.

This time, Zavisha was on his knees, showing profound respect, before an unknown man.
They were in the throne room, where the faces of both figures were illuminated by light from the narrow windows.
“My king.”
“We cannot avoid war with the Order,” King Jogaila told the knight. “Since I refused to remain neutral towards the uprising in Samogitia and supported them in their fight against the Teutonic Knights.”
“That's understandable. Your Majesty supported Lithuania and your family's army. I think most people will support this fight.”
The king pondered these words and looked at his subordinate.

"The Pope will not like this. I would like you to go on a diplomatic mission to him and ensure that he remains neutral.”
“If that is your wish.”

This time, Kureha saw a scene that she had already heard about from Zavisha himself.

The Pope sat down at his table to eat. He knew that a Polish delegation had arrived in the capital regarding the troubling idea of fighting the Teutonic Order. He had heard that Jogaila still adhered to pagan beliefs despite converting to Christianity.
Rumors aren't enough, but they don't come from nowhere.
He was confident that he would be able to eat his meal in peace before returning to his duties.
Unfortunately, as soon as the golden spoon reached his lips, a commotion erupted behind the dining room doorway.
Suddenly, the door burst off its hinges.
Standing behind them was a familiar figure with hair as black as a raven's feathers and eyes like obsidian. The knight, dressed in black armor, approached the pope with a document in his hand.
The Pope still held the spoon in his trembling hand.
His eyes were fixed on the knight, who declared without the slightest fear in his voice:
"I demand your neutrality in the war between the Polish nation and the allied forces supporting them against the Teutonic Order."
The Pope put down his spoon and asked in a loud, yet shaky, voice:
“Aren't you scared of God?”
In response, he met only Zavisha's cold gaze, which was searching for something, or rather someone, to direct his rage toward.
The knight's words echoed in Pope's ears.
“Of God, yes. Of a human like you, not at all.”

Kureha clenched her fists tighter against her chest when she saw the knight receive what he came for from the Pope.

Another haze revealed a new scene.

This one was straight out of hell.
Two armies clashed amid the chaos of war.
There was no glory here. No noble last stands, no brave speeches. Just mud and blood.
Blades pierced enemies without mercy as soldiers charged at their opponents with maniacal grins. People were drunk with the desire to fight.
To kill one another. 

It was hard for Kureha to look at it.

The cloud of white coats, which might have been terrifying in its sheer number some time ago, was gradually becoming covered in dust and the blood of fallen comrades and enemies.
Amidst this frenzied whirlwind, Zavisha searched for a familiar face.
As he searched, a ray of sunlight struck him in the eye and reflected off the golden adornments of the person he was looking for.
He ran toward the golden glow.
There he found Karl von Berger, who was trying to retreat secretly.
"As you can see, the day has come when God will judge us," Zavisha announced.
"Where do you see God?!" Karl cried, trying to escape from the battle and the black knight, who now looked like an incarnation of Death itself.
"You're right. You won't find God in revenge," Zavisha admitted. The Black Knight tensed his muscles and set off after his retreating opponent. "Draw your sword and fight honorably! There's nothing glorious about finishing off a fleeing hare!" he shouted, chasing the Teutonic Knight.
Karl stumbled over one of the fallen knights, crying out in horror at the sight of his kinsman's bloodied body.

"Interesting. I thought you weren't afraid of corpses, judging by how proudly you looked at those hanged men."
Realizing that he could not escape the chaos of the surrounding battle, Karl grabbed his sword and raised it toward Zavisha.
"You've finally mustered up some courage. Well done,” the Black Knight praised him.
Zavisha raised his weapon and charged at his opponent, intending to deliver a fatal blow.
Karl tried to hide behind his sword's blade.
He was shaking.
But at the last moment he decided to try to parry the strike that ultimately decapitated him.

Kureha felt new tears welling up in her eyes as she watched Zavisha stare with empty eyes at the fallen body of his enemy.

She looked down at her hands and clenched them into fists once more.
When she looked up, she witnessed another scene.

Zavisha was back home. He was in the same room where he had argued with his brother several years earlier.
He sat at the same table, staring into an empty jug.
A new figure entered the room carrying a bottle of fresh beverage.
Kureha noticed a striking resemblance between the newcomer and Zavisha and Piotr Kruk.
It must have been Jan, the Black Knight's other brother.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Terrible." Zavisha lowered his face to the table. Seeing his empty jug, Jan poured him a new drink.
"You managed to avenge Piotr."
"That's true," Zavisha admitted, his voice devoid of emotion. Then, he quickly changed the subject. “You also showed great courage in battle.”
"That's obvious. After all, I am Jan Farurej of Garbow; I had to prove my strength. I won't let you outshine me." With that, he flicked his brother on the forehead.

Zavisha rubbed his head and looked at Jan with eyes reflecting the candlelight.

"Thank you," the black knight said quietly.

"For what?"

"For keeping me company in this house."

Hearing this, Jan's face contorted.

"You're getting so sentimental after drinking."

Zavisha could only laugh at his brother's words.

The whole scene blurred, yet nothing new appeared before Kureha's eyes.
Instead, words began flowing into her head in a voice that had become more dear to her than ever before.

Who am I? Why was I summoned here?

Why must I serve an unknown girl in a world I don't recognize?

Is this girl an idiot?
One minute she's happy; the next, she's depressed again.
Her mood changes so quickly that I can't keep up.

Did she lose her sense of shame somewhere along the way?

I'll give her credit for cleverly hiding that flag so she wouldn't lose it. But let's not overdo it.

This boy looks angry.
It would be wise to defuse the situation before he says or does something he'll regret.
It's better to make peace quickly.

Does she not understand how serious the situation is?
Okay, maybe this boy was close to her, but ugh!

I've had enough!

Show her whatever you want about my life, but make sure she understands that I'm not just a piece of metal! I have feelings, too!

Finally, the morning sunlight streaming through Kureha's window forced her to open her eyes.