The Stonehearted Knight
Chapter 121: An old man (2)

Chapter 121: An old man (2)

"...I am the Herald."

Hex looked at the gardener with blank eyes. It took him a second to register.

"You are the Herald?" It was unknown how many reveals a person could take in a short period but Hex was certain he surpassed whatever the number was.

"I am the Herald," the gardener nodded, his eyes devoid of regret, fear, or mockery. The old man’s eyes were clear and...filled with care.

"What. the. FUCK. you mean with you are the HERALD?!" All the emotions Hex suppressed inside him threatened to burst out. He had to grit his teeth and take deep breaths so that he didn’t punch the man to death. He still held hope that there was some sort of misunderstanding between them.

"Exactly what I am saying. I am the Herald of the Dawnbringers, the brains behind all the events so far." The gardener explained calmly and patiently.

Bam!

Hex snapped. His mind blanked. All the emotions burst out.

"Urg."

"Cough."

The old man fell on the floor. Hex’s punch in his stomach nearly killed him. He writhed in pain, crying and coughing blood incessantly.

Hex grabbed his torn clothes and dragged him back to his feet. The violent move made the gardener cry in pain, spraying a mixture of blood and saliva in Hex’s face. The warm liquid jolted Hex back to his senses.

Looking at the old man, dangling in his hands, struggling to breathe, Hex regained control over his emotions. He loosened his grip, dropping the old man back on the floor. His anger was still there, only he could suppress it once more.

"You are so weak but you claim to be the Herald? Are you telling me people like Ronan and the Witch followed a weakling like you? Who would believe such shit?"

Hex huffed angrily as he paced in small circles, trying to regain his calm. The frail man crawled on his stomach and used the wall to lean on. It was hard to believe a man like that could have caused so many deaths and such widescale destruction.

"Why can’t I be the Herald? Have you forgotten our goal? The Dawnbringers wish to bring a new dawn, a new day where Heaven doesn’t rule the fate of men. So, what better way to do that than let a man ignored by it, plan its destruction? Humans Blessed or not, should never bow to anyone else for we are the only species capable of rewriting our fates."

"You call me weak yet don’t hold back when you punch a frail old man like me?" The gardener chuckled. He looked at Hex with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "You truly are a stone-hearted young man."

"You...know?" Hex glanced in shock at the old man. But before the old man replied, understanding dawned upon him.

’Of course, he knows. The Witch created me. Maybe on his orders.’ Despite not wanting to talk he found himself asking about it.

"Why did you guys create me?"

The gardener sighed. "We didn’t create you. She did it on her own. You were supposed to be the ideal vessel for the Divine Lord. Luckily, her sister prevented it." The old man’s eyes glazed as if he was reminiscing something. "She was always the smarter one."

"You seem to have known moth...the baroness and the Witch for a long time?" Hex asked curiously. Despite everything, it was hard to hate a man so weak he seemed with one foot in his grave.

"Of course. I was there when they were born. One was Blessed with wisdom, beauty, and luck, while the other was Cursed, spreading despair everywhere she stood, destroying everything with her touch, and scorn."

Shrugging at Hex, he continued. "She wasn’t born cruel, you know? Her innate abilities caused her to be treated like an outcast. She was even blamed for the death of her mother. And to make things worse, it was her father who accused her, locking her up. Instead of guiding her, that weak man pushed his daughter to insanity. Perhaps he tried to mask his failure to become a Blessed himself by bullying the one, already alone, while basking in the light of the one already shining in the light."

Hex couldn’t help but feel for the girl who had no one. It made him think about his life. Hadn’t he been abandoned too? Wasn’t he forced to live alone in the dark, gloomy chasms of the mountains? It was through sheer willpower and his dream of becoming the baron that he retained his sanity.

’I am not like her,’ Hex thought, trying to convince himself more than anything. ’I will never put my fate in someone else hand. No matter what happens, I won’t fulfill my dreams on the back of others.’

"I am not telling you to pity her," the old man said wisely. "In the end, everything is but an excuse to hide our helplessness to escape the strings of fate wrapped around us by Heaven."

"And you think that Divine Lord of yours can cut you out of it?" Hex didn’t hide his disgust. "You planned so much, destroyed so many things, killed many people. In the end, you still failed to reach your goal, didn’t you? Was it worth it?"

"Are you sure we failed?" The old man asked in reply, smiling enigmatically.

"You are bluffing," Hex snapped, unwilling to believe him. ’Don’t tell me we failed after all the sacrifices made?’

"Why would I lie? I am already dying." He opened his robes, showing his thin chest, riddled with black spots. Hex didn’t know what the spots were but they were increasing in size at a visible rate.

"Just some concoction of our brewer that helped isolate the natural element in the surroundings. Hestia’s vines and healing abilities can be troublesome at times."

"Last night...?" Hex started but stopped when he saw the gardener nod.

"So, can you at least help a dying man? Can you help me bury her body?" He asked Hex, pointing at the baroness.

Hex shook his head, unsure why he stood up and lifted the baroness’ body. The old man struggled to stand but managed it with difficulty, groaning in pain. Hex slowly walked, allowing the man to follow behind him.

Behind the tower, he saw the graves the old man referred to. One was already closed with clay and dirt. It had been done recently.

Hex paused, glancing at it. He then walked beside it and placed the baroness inside. The old man sat before the graves, leaning against a pile of freshly dug clay. He was panting heavily. His breathing was weak.

"Why are burying them? And why have you told me so many things?" Hex asked. Hex would never have known his true identity if the old man had remained quiet.

The old man smiled weakly at him. It seemed hard for him to keep his eyes open but he scrunched his head to do so.

"Burying them is the only thing I could do for my daughters. Telling these things was the only I could do for you, my dear grandson."