It was an intense act of love that resembled a beast falling on its prey.
Alde quieted her breathing as she slowly lifted the heavy drapes of the tent. The shadows of a man and woman cast by the candlelight were captivating.
Alde knew well the body of her mistress, whom she had served for a year.
And yet, it appeared to her that the Knight of Blaze knew her mistress’s body even more. His large, coarse hands caressed her body in earnest. Whenever her mistress let out a surprised gasp of pleasure, his touch would grow aggressive, grasping as if in a rush, petting, licking, pushing her mistress further and further to new heights.
She would whimper. Implore to the Knight of Blaze that she could not take any more, but all it did was pour oil over the flames of the knight’s passion. Her long black hair would entangle around his arms, his body covered hers as if to protect her from something.
This act of love continued, the long candle grew shorter and yet it did not end. Alde finally grew tired or peeping and let down the drapes.
She brushed off the straw from her skirt and stood up on shaky feet, squinting at the darkness around her.
The campsite that had unfolded here in the forest was composed of a number of quiet tents.
There was one man on watch, sitting by the fire, but it seemed that everyone else was asleep.
A crescent moon hung high in the sky. It was a quiet night.
But perhaps, within more than a few of the tents, similar deeds of secrecy as she had just witnessed, were being carried out. Imagining such a thing, the young Alde gulped.
It was a beastly act of courtship, some might even say barbaric.
But to Alde’s eyes, there was something almost mystically beautiful in seeing the bodies of the man and woman together.
Her mistress’ thin, delicate body in the arms of that sunburnt, stalwart knight’s arms. It was an image that would not leave her mind.
The Knight of Blaze had called her mistress’ name over and over again.
As if saying it would somehow prolong her stay. He seemed to believe such a thing.
Perhaps that was what prayer really was.
Everyone had believed that the Knight of Blaze would never love a woman. He, the proud, independent and powerful knight. A high-born soul that no one could ever touch. And so it was, that the only woman who could take his heart happened to be someone not of this world.
The knight had repeated that name.
No one knew where it was from, it was an odd name that suggested a far away land. Now that the world had been saved, it was her mistress’ destiny to return to her own world.
The knight who had saved the world was now writhing in the attempt to save his own soul.
And so he called her name.
“Don’t go anywhere. Stay, don’t leave my side. I’ll cherish you, I’ll love you like no woman in this world has ever been loved.”
And so his prayer continued.
“Chizuru, Chizuru, Chizuru…:”