[ IP ] The Dark Wanderer

Not for the first time, the man thought, he should have accepted the offer a clean death. Instead, he took the chance at exile. What they failed to mention was the clause. He would be have to go the ruler of where he was to explain his crime. After which he would have to ask for hospitality. It was a fortunate day that he received a bowl of stew and hard bread with a roof over his head. More often it was a bowl of gruel and a night in the stables if he was lucky. It was painful having to recount his shameful deed nearly every night and humiliating to watch the lords and their courtiers faces turn to disgust at him. They often regarded him as barely human, a monster in the guise of a nobleman. He was inclined to agree with them. 
 
 
 It was on a dark cold night like this one when he committed his crime. His elder brother, never a warm man, became unbearable in the winter. Eventually, both drank too much, and too much was said. Both drew blades on one another in drunken anger. In a matter of seconds, he was bleeding from a half dozens wounds, and his brother's life leaked out onto the stone floor. He then realized what he had done. He had murdered his closest companion and the heir to the throne. Although he was now in line to take the throne, he was deemed unworthy. It was only because both had been drunk that his life was not immediately forfeit. His parents gave him the choice. Either way he could not return home. 
 
 
 So he went on his exile, never to see the land where he was born again. No noble would marry his daughter to a landless criminal. He had no future, and the past was a terrible one. All he had was the present. Right now that meant walking in the dark towards a town in distant lights. There he would go before the ruler of that castle and ask for food and shelter after labeling himself a criminal. Maybe it would be different. Maybe they would take pity on him and give him a place in the court. Someplace where he could belong. The man doubted that would be the case. Still, the thought allowed him to pick up one foot after the other. Like a moth drawn towards a flame, he worked his way down the mountain to the town.
