The feast was loud. It was a roar of iron and wine. The hall smelled of roasting pork and wet wool. Torches burned low in the sconces. Shadows danced on the stone walls. They moved like ghosts. They moved like men.

Sir Aldric stood by the hearth. He held a cup of mead. He did not drink. He watched the flames. The fire was orange. The fire was hungry. It ate the wood. It ate the silence.

Aldric was a knight. He was the captain of the Guard. He had served King Thorne for twenty years. He had bled for the crown. He had broken bones for the law. His armor was dented. His soul was dented too.

He looked at his hand. The skin was pale. The veins were blue. They pulsed under the surface. He looked at the reflection in the polished shield beside him. It was a mirror of steel. It showed his face. It was a hard face. It was a tired face.

"You look pale, my lord," a voice said.

Aldric did not turn. He knew the voice. It was old. It was dry. It was like leaves on the ground.

"Master Elroy," Aldric said.

Elroy was the court mage. He was ancient. He wore robes of gray. They hung loose on his frame. He leaned on a staff. The staff was made of yew. The wood was dark. It was smooth from touch.

"The wine does not agree with you," Elroy said.

"The wine is fine," Aldric said.

"It is not the wine."

Aldric took a sip. The liquid was sweet. It burned his throat. He swallowed.

"It is the room," Aldric said.

"It is you," Elroy said.

They stood in silence. The feast continued around them. Laughter echoed. Songs played. Instruments clanged. It was a sea of noise. It washed over Aldric. He felt the weight of it. It pressed on his chest.

"I am tired," Aldric said.

"Rest is for the dead," Elroy said.

"I am not dead yet."

"Close enough."

Aldric looked at the shield again. The reflection stared back. It did not blink. It did not breathe. It was just an image. It was a copy. It was not him. Or was it?

He had seen the mirror before. Not steel. Glass. In the tower. In the room where the secrets lived.

He had been summoned by the King. The King was sick. The King was weak. The King had called Aldric to the high tower.

"Who is the traitor?" the King had asked.

Aldric had knelt. "I do not know, my liege."

"Look in the glass."

The King had pointed. There was a mirror on the wall. It was round. It was silver. It reflected the room. It reflected the King. It reflected Aldric.

"What do you see?" the King asked.

"I see you, my liege."

"I see a liar," the King said.

The King had coughed. Blood had stained his lip. It was bright red. It was ugly.

"Trust no one," the King had whispered. "Trust only the reflection."

Aldric had left the tower. He had walked back to the hall. He had gone to the feast. He had not spoken. He had not eaten. He had watched.

Now, Elroy stood beside him. The old mage was watching the fire.

"Do you remember the tower?" Elroy asked.

Aldric’s grip tightened on the cup. "I remember."

"Do you remember the words?"

"Yes."

"Did you understand them?"

"No."

Elroy smiled. It was a sad smile. It was a pitying smile.

"The King was dying," Elroy said. "He was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of you."

Aldric felt a chill. It started in his spine. It spread to his limbs. It was cold. It was sharp.

"Why?"

"Because you are the mirror," Elroy said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you see yourself in everyone. You judge them by your own standard. You condemn them because you are guilty."

Aldric looked at the shield. The reflection was still there. It was watching him. It was judging him.

"I have done nothing wrong," Aldric said.

"Have you?"

Aldric thought of the night. The dark alley. The boy. The boy with the stolen coin.

Aldric had caught the boy. He had broken the boy’s fingers. He had thrown the boy in the pit. He had told the King it was justice.

He had told himself it was justice.

But had it been?

The boy had looked at him. The boy had not cried. The boy had only stared. That stare had followed Aldric. It had been in the mirror. It had been in the eyes of the court.

"I acted for the law," Aldric said.

"The law is a mask," Elroy said. "You wear it. You hide behind it."

Elroy leaned in. His breath was hot. It smelled of herbs.

"Look at them, Aldric. Look at the feast."

Aldric looked. The lords were drinking. The ladies were laughing. The musicians were playing. It was a scene of joy. It was a scene of life.

But Aldric saw something else. He saw the shadows. He saw the fear. He saw the guilt.

Every face was a mirror. They reflected his own darkness.

"The King knew," Elroy said. "He knew you were the only one who could see the truth. But the truth is too heavy. It crushes you."

"How do I put it down?" Aldric asked.

"You do not put it down. You accept it."

"Accept what?"

"Your own reflection."

Aldric looked at the shield. The steel was cold. It was hard. It was unyielding.

He lifted the shield. He held it before him. He looked into the metal. He saw his face. He saw the lines. He saw the pain.

He saw the boy.

The boy was there. In the reflection. He was not a boy anymore. He was a shadow. He was a ghost. He was part of Aldric.

Aldric closed his eyes. He felt the weight. It was heavy. It was infinite.

He opened his eyes. The reflection was still there. But it was different. It was softer. It was less angry.

He lowered the shield. He placed it on the ground. The metal clanged against the stone. The sound was sharp. It cut through the noise.

People looked. The music stopped. The laughter died.

Silence fell.

Elroy stepped back. He looked at Aldric. He nodded.

Aldric picked up his cup. He drank. The mead was sweet. It was warm. It burned.

He turned to the crowd. He walked into the light. The torches flared. The shadows retreated.

He walked to the center of the hall. He stopped. He looked at the King. The King was in his chair. He was pale. He was still.

Aldric walked to the King. He knelt. He placed his hands on the floor.

"My liege," Aldric said.

The King looked down. His eyes were tired. They were deep.

"I see him," Aldric said.

The King blinked. "Who?"

"The traitor."

The King’s face changed. A flicker of hope. A flicker of fear.

"Who is it?"

Aldric looked at the mirror on the wall. He looked at the King. He looked at his own hands.

"It is me," Aldric said.

The hall went silent. The silence was thick. It was heavy. It was real.

The King leaned forward. "You?"

"I am the one who breaks the law," Aldric said. "I am the one who hides behind it. I am the shadow in the mirror. I am the fear in your eyes."

The King stared. His mouth opened. No sound came out.

Aldric stood up. He straightened his back. He felt tall. He felt free.

"I will not judge you," Aldric said. "I will not judge them. I will only be."

He turned to the crowd. They were watching. They were waiting.

He looked at Elroy. The old mage was gone. There was no trace of him. There was only the yew staff. It stood alone in the corner.

Aldric walked to the door. The double doors were heavy. They were oak. They were iron-banded.

He pushed them open.

Cold air rushed in. It was the night air. It was fresh. It was clean.

Stars were above. They were bright. They were distant. They were eternal.

Aldric stepped outside. He closed the doors. The roar of the feast was cut off. It was muffled. It was far away.

He stood in the courtyard. The stones were wet. The moon was full. It was white. It was cold.

He looked at his hands. They were steady. They were clean.

He looked at the sky. The stars did not move. They did not judge. They did not hide.

They just were.

Aldric breathed in. The air filled his lungs. It was cold. It was sweet.

He walked away. He did not look back. The hall was behind him. The feast was behind him. The King was behind him.

He was alone. He was free.

The mirror was gone. The reflection was gone.

He was just a man.

He walked into the dark. The dark was vast. The dark was deep.

It did not care.

It did not judge.

It just was.

And that was enough.