Konrad shook his head and sighed heavily, he drew the hood of his surplice over his helm, the cold metal feeling like an old friend to him, he spurred his horse onward in the frozen wastes of the Northern parts of Anthos. He brought with him a meagre few things, a Longsword and his Zweihander, some food, and a thick woolen cloth. In his belt was a near unused flint and tinder, but he wouldn't be making much use of that.
His horse shook its head against the cold, but like Konrad, the beast was used to the cold, it embraced it, this is where it was born. This was home for them both now.
He looked back on his life, from his humble beginings, to his age now, to his family, and those he sired, all lost now.
A simple man, wandering the cold of Urguan, finding Lachlan Elendil, and swearing his house under him, the rebirth of the Heinzreich family.
A Knighthood, simple, and helping from there to rebuild Adunia.
Raising Adler and Derick, his nephews, as his sons, and seeing them grow into fine and strapping young men, Adler who became a Witcher, and Derick who led the Heinzreich after him.
Protecting the Grosse Kaiser Wilhelm III of Oren, and serving him to his very last days above all others.
Assisting his new kin in the Rovyk, a merge of Heinzreich and Rovin, the power of Adunia.
A Sariant in the Teutonic Order before it collapsed on itsself.
Guardian again of William Horen III. His trusted friend and loyal advisor.
Finally, the Order of Saint Lucien. His epitaph, he was once again with his family.
With his final thought, he smiled, his lips cracked, they bled slightly, even under his helm it was cold and his skin was dry. He wept a tear but it froze and fell out from his helm to the permafrost on the ground.
His family was the Order of Saint Lucien, some by blood, others by fire and sword. Konrad would live in their minds, and hearts.
He left in the night when the guard in Vekaro was asleep, and hopped the wall, taking his things and departing with no note. He left the Kaedrini Cross he wore on his nightstand, a beautiful piece of fine wrought silver with a single amethyst in the center, a brilliant purple gem that spoke of his loyalty to House Horen above all others.
He was old now, in the terms of Men, but he was an Adunian. That shameful old race led by traitors and vagabonds, with hopes of redemption in those like Rymeul and Voron, Jack, Rydel, and other good men of Adunian descent. Those who dared to challenge the wicked and uphold the justice that we so loved.
He looked up at the mountains, and sighed, figures lined the peaks, and from the little caves in the mountains more came, he knew what happened next, and dismounted, letting his horse run back to safety, he drew his Longsword and heater shield, he closed his eyes, bowed his head and gave his prayer, the figures descended, and Konrad looked up, his face was hard, a thing of stone, and he did what all Adunians ever did: Fight a losing battle with all they had.
Disclaimer:
-Posted for Italian_Assassin.