The feast was loud. Too loud. The hall smelled of roasted boar and stale beer, a thick cloying scent that hung in the air like a damp wool blanket. Sir Aldric sat at the high table. He wore a cloak of black velvet. It was old. The velvet was worn thin at the elbows. The lining was a faded gold. He looked down at his hands. They were rough. They were the hands of a man who had killed many things. He did not look up. He drank. The ale was cold. It burned his throat. It was good.

"Sir Aldric," a voice said. "You are quiet."

It was Master Julian. The scholar. He sat to Aldric’s right. Julian was small. He was thin. His face was pale and sharp. He wore robes of simple grey wool. He had ink on his fingers. The ink was black. It stained his skin. He did not seem to notice. He was always covered in it.

"I am listening," Aldric said. His voice was low. It was like a stone dropped in a well.

"Listening to what?" Julian asked. He leaned forward. His eyes were bright. They were too bright. "To the silence? To the noise? Or to the memory?"

"I listen to the noise," Aldric said.

"The noise is a lie," Julian said. "It covers the truth. The truth is quiet. The truth is inside. You must go there. You must go to the Place of Mirrors."

Aldric laughed. It was a dry sound. Like leaves scraping on stone. "I have no time for places. I have time for war. I have time for duty. I have time for my wife."

"Your wife," Julian repeated. The words were soft. They were heavy. "Eleanor. She waits. She does not wait. She is gone. She is here. She is the mirror."

Aldric’s hand tightened on his cup. The clay cracked. The ale spilled. It ran down his sleeve. He did not wipe it. He stared at the stain. It was dark. It looked like blood.

"You speak nonsense," Aldric said. "Eleanor is dead. I buried her. I watched the earth cover her face. I know what is true."

"Do you?" Julian asked. "Or do you know what you wish to be true? There is a difference. A great difference. The difference between the man and the mask. You wear the mask, Aldric. You wear it so long it becomes your skin. And when you take it off, there is nothing left. Only the hole."

Aldric stood up. He was tall. He towered over Julian. The hall went quiet. The laughter stopped. The singing stopped. Every eye turned to him. He felt the weight of them. It was a physical thing. It pressed on his chest.

"I will not go to your place," Aldric said. "I will not play your games. I am a knight. I serve the King. I serve the land. I do not serve the whims of a scholar."

"You serve your guilt," Julian said. He did not flinch. He did not look away. "That is the only master you have left. And he is a cruel master. He demands a tribute. He demands a look. Just one look. Into the glass."

Aldric turned away. He walked out of the hall. The door slammed behind him. The sound echoed. It rang in his ears. It was a sharp, bright sound. It cut the air.

He walked through the castle. The corridors were dark. The torches flickered. The shadows moved. They looked like hands. They looked like faces. He walked faster. His boots clacked on the stone. The sound was hard. It was final. He reached the courtyard. The moon was high. It was full. It was white. It was cold. The air bit his skin. He shivered. He did not stop. He walked to the edge of the grounds. The trees stood there. They were black. They were tall. They leaned in. They whispered.

He stopped. He looked at the trees. The leaves rustled. It sounded like breath. It sounded like a sigh. He felt a pull. It was subtle. It was strong. It was like a hook in his chest. He looked back. The castle was there. It was solid. It was real. He looked at the trees. They were not real. They were a dream. He turned back to the castle.

Then he saw it.

A door.

It was in the wall. It was there before. It was not there now. It was made of wood. It was dark. It was open. There was a light inside. It was gold. It was soft. It was warm. It looked like honey. It looked like the lining of his cloak.

He stopped. His heart beat. It was fast. It was hard. He could feel it in his teeth. He could feel it in his hands. He looked at the door. He looked at the castle. He looked at the door again.

He walked to the door. His steps were slow. They were heavy. Each step was a choice. He crossed the threshold. The air changed. It was warm. It was still. The smell of the boar was gone. The smell of the beer was gone. There was no smell. There was only the light.

He was in a room.

The room was round. The walls were made of mirrors. They went up to the ceiling. They went down to the floor. They went around and around. The light came from everywhere. It came from the mirrors. It was golden. It was bright. It was blinding.

He stood in the center. He looked up. He saw himself.

He was many.

There was a young Aldric. He was clean. He was happy. He held a sword. He smiled. He looked strong. He looked good.

There was a middle Aldric. He was tired. He was angry. He held a shield. He looked away. He looked cold. He looked hard.

There was an old Aldric. He was broken. He was empty. He held nothing. He looked down. He looked small. He looked lost.

Aldric looked at them. They looked at him. They did not speak. They did not move. They just watched.

Then the young Aldric spoke.

"You are a coward," he said. His voice was clear. It was pure. "You left her. You left her alone in the dark. You could have saved her. You chose not to. You chose the war. You chose the glory. You chose the mask."

Aldric felt a sting. It was in his chest. It was old. It was fresh. "I tried," he said. "I did not know how. I was afraid."

"You were not afraid," the young Aldric said. "You were lazy. You were selfish. You loved your image more than you loved her. You loved the idea of the knight more than the reality of the man. And now you are alone. You are alone because you chose to be."

The middle Aldric spoke. His voice was rough. It was like gravel. "You are a liar," he said. "You lie to yourself. You lie to the world. You say you serve the King. You say you serve the duty. But you serve nothing. You serve the memory. You serve the pain. You carry it with you. It is too heavy. It breaks you. It breaks you slowly. It breaks you until there is nothing left."

Aldric looked at his hands. They were shaking. He clenched them. He unclenched them. "I miss her," he said. The words were small. They were weak. "I miss her so much it hurts."

"Then let it hurt," the old Aldric said. His voice was soft. It was like wind. "Let it hurt. Do not hide it. Do not cover it. Do not wear the mask. Take it off. Look at what is underneath. Look at the truth."

Aldric looked at the mirrors. He saw the gold light. He saw the reflection. He saw the man in the black velvet cloak. He saw the faded gold lining. It was peeling. It was falling away.

He reached up. His hand trembled. He touched the cloak. The velvet was rough. It was dry. He pulled.

The cloak tore.

It came away in ribbons. The gold lining fell to the floor. It glittered. It was bright. It was beautiful. It was worthless.

He was naked.

He stood in the light. He felt the cold. It was sharp. It was real. He felt the air on his skin. He felt the weight of his body. He felt the weight of his soul.

The mirrors changed.

The young Aldric was gone.

The middle Aldric was gone.

The old Aldric was gone.

There was only one.

It was him.

He was not a knight. He was not a hero. He was not a monster. He was a man. He was a man who had lost. He was a man who had loved. He was a man who was broken.

He looked at himself. He did not look away. He did not blink. He saw the lines on his face. He saw the grey in his hair. He saw the sadness in his eyes. He saw the truth.

It was not a curse.

It was not a punishment.

It was a fact.

He closed his eyes.

He breathed in.

The air was cold. It was clean. It tasted of rain. It tasted of stone.

He breathed out.

The light dimmed.

The mirrors went dark.

The room was empty.

The door was open.

He walked out.

The air was cold. The moon was full. The trees were black. The castle was there. The hall was loud. The feast was still going on.

He walked into the hall. The noise hit him. It was a wall of sound. He felt it. He felt the laughter. He felt the music. He felt the life.

He went to the high table. He sat down. He did not put on the cloak. He did not have the cloak. He was in his tunic. It was white. It was simple.

Julian was there. Julian looked at him. Julian did not smile. Julian did not frown. He just looked.

"Did you find it?" Julian asked.

"I found me," Aldric said.

Julian nodded. He picked up his cup. He drank. The ale was cold. It burned his throat.

"Is it what you thought?" Julian asked.

"No," Aldric said. "It was worse. It was better. It was just."

"What will you do now?" Julian asked.

"I will live," Aldric said. "I will try. I will fail. I will live."

Julian looked at him. His eyes were bright. They were wet. He reached out. He touched Aldric’s arm. It was a light touch. It was a warm touch.

"You are free," Julian said.

Aldric looked at his hands. They were rough. They were clean. He looked at the table. The boar was gone. The plates were empty. The candles were low. The shadows were long.

He thought of Eleanor. He thought of her face. He thought of her voice. He thought of the last time he saw her. He remembered the light. It was golden. It was in her eyes. It was in her hair. It was in the air.

He did not try to hold it. He let it go. He let it drift. He let it fade.

He was not the man who had entered the room. He was not the man who had left the room. He was the man who was sitting there. He was the man who was breathing. He was the man who was alive.

The feast continued. The music played. The voices rose. The night went on. The moon set. The dawn came. The light broke over the hills. It was white. It was new. It was clear.

Aldric stood up. He walked out of the hall. He walked into the dawn. He did not look back. He did not look down. He looked forward.

He walked.

The road was long.

The road was hard.

The road was his.