Goodbye

“Don’t... Don’t look at me, Medrauta.”

Medrauta stood stock still as she faced her former mentor. Hundreds of questions raced through her mind simultaneously, but she could only bring herself to ask one.

“...Why?”

Slowly, Padraig removed his hand from his face, revealing the twisted features of a once handsome man. His eyes glowed bright and red, pulsing with every beat of his heart. His face was no longer full and flush with life as it had been the last time Medrauta saw him. Instead, he was gaunt and pale, as if nothing more than a walking corpse.

Medrauta attempted to search his eyes, but Padraig would not meet them. He averted his gaze shamefully, like a child who knew they had done something wrong yet did not wish to admit it. Yet, the silver-haired knight persisted, staring soundlessly at Padraig until he finally mustered the courage to answer.

“...I did not intend for everything to go this way.” Padraig began. “The Imperial Order had become complacent. House Avimorne’s influence had become too strong, and the duke’s whispers in His Majesty’s ears were too frequent. I could not do anything.”

“Is that why you left?”

Padraig nodded. “You already know the nobility lost their trust in me after that incident. My demotion was no mistake.”

“...Fine. So you left. But why...? Why did you join Amelia of all people? Don’t you know what she wants? Do you even know what she's done!?”

Padraig shook his head, a sullen look on his bony face. “...Not at the time. I wandered as an errant for a few weeks before I was approached. She promised change. A new empire with a new ruler. The crown hasn’t changed hands in decades. I wanted to believe her.”

Medrauta nearly flinched, cringing at her mentor’s apparent stupidity. “You... Did you know she was a witch?”

Padraig didn’t answer, but his wordless response was enough. He hung his head in shame, unwilling to gaze upon even a single part of his former pupil’s form. He knew he did not deserve to look upon her in any capacity. Not anymore.

“Such a thing... I don’t want to believe it, Padraig. There must have been something else, right? There has to be!” Medrauta laughed, finding her own words ridiculous. She should have been angry beyond compare, but here she was, trying to fish out an excuse for her mentor’s irrational decision.

“...There wasn’t. She was the strongest knight in Avalyne Academy at the time. She showed me things I never could have dreamed of even in my youth... And she was also a witch. I thought she would have chosen to take the crown for herself. After all, there was no way she could possibly lose.”

Medrauta stared at Padraig, her expression a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “You chose to help a witch conspire against the crown...?” She shook her head. “You’ve changed.”

Padraig shrugged helplessly. “What was I to do? I could not stand to see the empire I loved slowly begin to rot away. I just... I never knew Duke Avimorne had already been ensnared by her words.”

“What were you to do!?” Medrauta roared, only now beginning to feel the rage she should have felt upon discovering her former mentor’s treachery. “You’re Padraig! One of the empire’s strongest swordsmen! How long ago was this!? One year ago? Two!? You could’ve killed her in an instant! But instead you fucking chose this!”

“...I did not know she was the one pulling the strings behind the duke’s insidious whispers. I was lost at the time, and she appeared to guide me.” Padraig’s head remained low, shying away from Medrauta’s anger. “I should have known... A witch’s greatest weapon is not their magic, but their words.”

At the very least, that was true. With her memories fully restored, Medrauta had no choice but to agree with Padraig’s final statement. After all, Soleil herself had fallen for the Witch Queen’s honeyed words during her weakest moments, leading to her downfall and the Versal Curse being placed upon her by Aluvsha himself.

“...Fine.” Medrauta spat. “Perhaps you truly were deceived at the time, but that doesn’t explain why you were trying so hard to kill Viviane and I. You weren’t testing us or warning us to stay away. If Lady Scarlet and her knight hadn’t appeared atop that shield tower the first time we met, you really would’ve killed us.”

“I... I never wanted you to find out what had become of me.”

“So your solution was to kill me!?” Medrauta asked incredulously. “What the fuck were you even thinking!?”

She had no idea what to think of Padraig anymore. At first, she had only been confused, the emotion quickly followed by sadness. Then there was rage, and now... Nothing. As she realized that the man who she had unequivocally respected for so many years was now gone from this world and replaced by the cowering, shameful fool who stood before her, she found that she felt nothing for Padraig anymore.

No. Not Padraig. Medrauta felt nothing for the Walpurgisknight.

The Walpurgisknight did not answer. There was nothing he could say to beg for Medrauta’s forgiveness. Nothing he could do to wash away his sins. He regretted the choices he had made, but he knew there was no turning back anymore. Not when he had quite literally given Amelia his heart. At last, he raised his head to look his former pupil in the eyes one last time, barely managing to hold Medrauta’s gaze.

His lips parted, hoping to utter words of apology, but they remained stuck in his throat. It was not because he could not muster the courage to speak them, but rather because the look in Medrauta’s eyes had frozen those words in time. They were words meant for a time and place long gone. Words meant to be exchanged between Padraig the knight-captain and Medrauta the squire.

They were people who no longer existed in this world. The only two that remained now were the Walpurgisknight and Medrauta the Paladin. Such words meant nothing between them, and Padraig knew it.

The tip of Medrauta’s blade rose from the earth.

“Put your goddamn helmet back on.” Medrauta said. “You don’t deserve to wear the face of a man I respected. You don’t deserve to sully his image.”

The Walpurgisknight obeyed, trampling over countless blades of grass to retrieve his damaged helm. He slid it on, obscuring his face once more as he assumed the identity of the last witch’s champion, a role he would carry to the grave. He hefted his blade, resting it on his shoulder as he prepared for Medrauta’s advance.

Now that Medrauta was aware of his true identity, the Walpurgisknight wondered if he could strike the silver-haired knight with as much resolve as he did before, but a single look at Medrauta’s eyes told him that the she no longer thought of him as the person he was. He shifted his stance as Medrauta walked toward him slowly, silently wishing that the knight would end his life once and for all.

But he knew it would not be that simple. Even now, he could feel the witch’s power course through every inch of his body down to the bone. The strange glowing dagger that Eris had wielded posed a very real threat, but Medrauta’s current sword would not be able to sever his bond with Amelia no matter how sharp it was. But still, a man could hope.

The sound of clashing steel filled the air once more, replacing the brief and bitter reunion of the two who were once master and apprentice. Medrauta’s blade flickered through the air from all angles, its vorpal edge biting deep into the Walpurgisknight’s armor and drawing blood with each cut.

CLANG!

Medrauta’s latest strike slammed against the flat of the Walpurgisknight’s blade, the incredible force of her attack causing her sword to shiver violently as it tore the enormous greatsword from her opponent’s grip.

The massive black blade catapulted through the air, spinning twice before burying itself in the ground. There its broken blade remained, a symbol of the Walpurgisknight’s shattered resolve.

Medrauta thrust the point of her blade forward in an instant, aiming at her opponent’s throat, its razor sharp tip piercing straight through the Walpurgisknight’s metal gorget and driving itself into his skin. Her cerulean eyes blazed brightly like the daytime sky as they reflected the Walpurgisknight’s obsidian armor, refusing to allow his bottomless darkness to swallow her light.

Medrauta’s hand trembled as she stared at her unarmed opponent who simply waited for her to deal what he hoped would be the final blow. Though her eyes burned with righteous indignation, her vision blurred as she felt the first of many tears spill forth.

She thought she had gotten over it. That she had accepted the Padraig she once knew was truly dead and gone. Yet here she was, hesitating before delivering the decisive blow.

Medrauta hated herself for it, but no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t push herself to drive her blade through her opponent’s throat. Not when she knew who laid behind that accursed helmet, and not when he had been so quick to accept his defeat. Not when he hadn’t even attempted to strike back at her during their entire exchange.

“...Why?” Medrauta’s shoulders shook with rage and sorrow. Her tears flowed freely, crashing down upon the earth beneath her. “Why won’t you fight back, you piece of shit!?”

The Walpurgisknight stared at the silver-haired knight. His glowing red eyes wavered for a moment before finding their focus once more. For the first time that night, he truly met Medrauta’s eyes. During all of their encounters, he had resolved to fight Medrauta as an equal. To aim for her heart just as she aimed for his.

She had grown so much since he last saw her, and her dazzling display of bladework had stunned him at first. Even now, he continued to be awestruck by her rapid development and the strange abilities she had mastered. Her strength was second to none, and he was sure that Medrauta would make a fine Knight-Commander when she grew up.

Yet all this time, he had forgotten that the Medrauta he was facing right now was no Knight-Commander. She was not even a senior knight, nor was she even a veteran at Avalyne Academy. She was nothing more than a young girl who had only been recently knighted. A girl who never even had the chance to finish her first year of academy life before she was unfairly thrust into a war that was never supposed to be hers.

...And I wasn’t there. Padraig thought bitterly. I was never there.

Slowly and hesitantly, Padraig reached a single gauntleted hand toward Medrauta’s face, pausing as the silver-haired knight flinched at his touch. As gently and quickly as he could, he wiped away the tears staining her cheek before retreating his hand.

“...You’ve grown so much, Medrauta.”

“...Yeah.”

There were a multitude of things Padraig wanted to say, but he knew there was no time for such words, nor would Medrauta have permitted it. Even now, he could see the resolve in Medrauta’s eyes slowly taking over her wavering emotions. Soon, she would be prepared to finish this.

“I’m sorry. I should have stayed, even if only for you.”

There was a long silence before Medrauta finally spoke.

“...I would’ve appreciated it. But there’s no use dwelling on the past anymore, is there?”

“...You’re right. I suppose this old man just wanted to dream, even if only briefly.”

Medrauta and Padraig faced one another, knowing very well that this would be their last opportunity to speak like this. For a single fleeting moment, it felt as though the two of them were no longer enemies, but mentor and pupil once again. It was only in this moment that Padraig lived, and when it passed, so too would he from the world.

There was no going back, and he knew that best. But so long as he still existed, he would offer Medrauta the words he never could.

“Keep holding your head high, Medrauta. You’ve become strong.”

“...Thank you.”

Padraig nodded once, tears brimming in his glowing eyes as a crimson circle appeared underneath his armored boots. He knew he did not deserve to shed tears for the apprentice he had abandoned so long ago, but they fell on their own accord anyway.

Medrauta smiled, her sword dropping from Padraig’s throat. Just this once, she allowed a faint smile to grace her lips as she took her final glimpse of the man who she had thought of as her father.

“Goodbye, Padraig. The next time we meet, it will be as enemies.”

The Walpurgisknight did not respond. Those words were enough to encapsulate the pain and regret in his heart, but he knew there was no going back. The only thing he could do now was play his part even if only to make Medrauta’s job easier. Descending through the portal beneath him, Padraig disappeared from Medrauta’s life forever.

When the portal finally closed, Medrauta removed one of her gauntlets, tossing it to the ground. With her bare hand, she wiped away the tears that still remained on her cheeks before turning around at last.

It was time to hide away her pain, for the sound of hoofbeats echoed in the distance, and victory was best celebrated with a smile.