They’d always said I had a talent for information. For better, or worse… I’d always known the truth. I knew how they’d killed the King. I knew who was there. I knew he had been betrayed.

A servant wench, that’s what the knights called me. I’d walk through the tavern, drinks balanced precariously on a platter, only to be groped and pawed at. At first I was scared, these men were strong enough to fell another man twice their size. As time went on, I listened and the more I listened, the more I learned.

Rebellion. Sacrifice. Betrayal.

Not all stories were horrific. Sir Harrack Kensington for example, a man whose name I had seen on posters in the square and heard whispered by other knights who respected him and his skills. I watched from the corner of my eye as the sullen knight stared at the stein on the wooden plank before him. His jaw and cheeks were covered in a silver and charcoal stubble, barely hiding the scowl beneath. Despite the way other knights spoke of him, he drank alone.

“Sir Kensington?” I asked cautiously.

His eyes glanced from his drink to me, and despite being the colour of ice, his glance was warm and kind. “Yes, tis I.”

I rubbed the stein in my hand furiously as I spoke. “I’ve heard of you before. Weren’t you the one who felled Gravorius the Grand in the Battle of Summer’s End?”

He tilted his cup forward and glanced deep into the murky liquid below. “Another time…” He took a large swig and swallowed. “Another life.”

I smirked and leaned forward, putting my weight atop the bar. “But you are he then, are you not?”

“Yes… but I cannot see what use that information would be to you.” He polished off the drink and brushed black hair from his face. “Don’t you know… the King’s army has no use for honour any more?”

“That’s not what I’ve heard, actually.” With some slight of hand, I swapped his cup for a full stein and nodded. “I heard they need honour now more than ever.”

“I’ve seen nearly forty years, come and go. Many battles. Fewer kings.” He dipped a finger in the drink and watched the ripples for a moment. “We are but a drop in the pond.” His eye contact caught me off guard, his steely blues nearly sparkling as he spoke. “Times are changing.”

“They are.” I felt sadness wash over me. “But not everything has to. You could always leave this army and head somewhere else.”

“I could, but then I’d be deserting my King and country.” After another huge swig, he shook his head. “I will die for him, even if he asked me to do it himself.”

“Well, let’s hope it never comes to that.” I smiled at him, as he was the kindest most noble knight to ever come through our tavern. “Please, tell me something from your days of glory…” I pointed to a small booth in the corner. “Perhaps over there? Drinks are on me friend.”

The trio of drinks was enough to knock a man off his horse, but the old knight downed them as if drinking to forget. He told animated tales of tourneys and wars, mercies and deaths and brought me to his latest ordeal. I was already aware, but he would never have known that.

“Then… just last week, two men came upon the King. Known assassins.” His cheeks were red with warmth from the drink. “I stepped into their path and they came at me anyway, unaware that I’d fought more than two men at a time and probably twice as big.”

“Ah, but size isn’t everything.” I grinned. “But what happened?”

“Well the first drew a dagger, it was of shoddy craftsmanship and my sword cleaved through it as if it were wet parchment! That man fell fast but the other was quick of step, in my age I felt myself being outclassed by his youth.” He stared at the empty cups before him, a deep regret in his eyes. “The man nearly got past me. I am the King’s Right, and as the man broke past me and toward the King, I felt…”

The cups were as still as the man before me while he contemplated life. “I felt as though there was no place for me anymore.”

“Perhaps that is true for all of us.” I extended a hand and touched his, and he gave me a queer look. “But sometimes, the only place left for us… is nowhere at all.”

“What?” His breath was quickly becoming laboured. “I-What… I’m legless…”

“It’s not the drinks friend. It’s poison.” I glanced around quickly and tidied the table. “Do not fear the reaper Sir Kensington… I am releasing you from your duties and you will pass into an eternal slumber. No pain, I promise.” As my hand drifted across the splintered tabletop, I looked into his eyes one last time. Once full of life, now so empty. “The King’s Left wishes you well.”

Information was important, and Kensington’s opposite would be guarding the King this night. With the last noble knight gone from the ranks, the King would be replaced with someone who already supported our efforts. Never would I be used again once given the rank of spymaster. I would only grant those around me the illusion of my services. Sometimes a noble knight must die so a war must be stopped.

I took one final look into the corner booth where the old knight slept soundly in his eternal slumber. I tried to convince him to leave, tried to make him feel inadequate. He was too skilled and too headstrong, and with too much of the King’s trust. The whispers made their way to me and it had been decided that for the greater good, he had to go. After all, he had managed to kill my assassins.

Sometimes, you just have to do these things yourself.