Grimoires & Gunsmoke

Grimoires & Gunsmoke: Operation Tolkien Ch. 57

If there was a word to describe Shaw, it was anxious. Even since he was a lad, he'd been plagued by a paranoia that bordered on illness. He saw shadows where others saw light and whispers where others heard silence. This constant state of vigilance made him a difficult man to know and an even harder man to befriend. His mind was always racing, always strategizing, always expecting the worst. It was both his curse and his salvation.

Shaw's upbringing did little to quell these instincts. Born into bondage, he learned early on that trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Every friendly gesture was scrutinized, every helping hand inspected for hidden daggers. While isolated, this mindset honed his instincts to a razor's edge and imbued him with a rare resilience among his peers.

Even now, he could feel the whispers and jeering of his men. Even though every face was engrossed in their work to get this convoy moving, Shaw could see the mocking gazes. However, whenever he focused in on an individual, they'd always pretend they'd done nothing but work.

"LIAR!" Shaw barked at one young knight who had walked passed him with the reins of a war horse in one hand and those of a worg in another. "Ye think me a fool not to see Yer mutterings! Ye mock me just like that Wyvern whore!" He nearly screeched, approaching the young man with an aggressive and accusing finger pointed.

The young knight flinched away violently from the sudden verbal attack as spittle flew in his face. The horse, startled by the sudden commotion, neighed and dangerously spun around, its hooves threatening to kick. In a frantic effort to get the beast under control, the young knight scrambled, trying to calm the agitated animal while also defending himself against the barrage of accusations.

"I didn't say a word, Capt'n!" he protested with a voice laced with panic. "I'm just fetching the mount like I was told." Complete confusion clouded the young knight's face as he looked around, trying to gauge if others had witnessed the outburst and could offer some explanation for Shaw's sudden fury.

But there was no solace to be found in the faces of his comrades. The men and women of Shaw's command were well accustomed to his paranoia and accusations. They had learned to keep their heads down and continue their work, even when the knight captain laid into them.

A lesson this poor soul had yet to learn.

The incident with the young knight was a spark in a tinderbox. Shaw's anxieties, fueled by the humiliating encounter with Eira and the lingering sting of failure, now burned out of control. Every shadow seemed to contain a conspiracy, every glance held hidden contempt. His frantic walk towards Lord Harmswid's tent was marked by further incidents. Warriors, mages, and laborers alike scattered before him, startled by the wild look in his eyes and the incoherent accusations he flung about frivolously.

Lost in a mental storm, Shaw was oblivious to the fact he was delaying the departure of the convoy with each one of his episodes, and he couldn't help but curse the incompetents Harmswid stuck him with. With the count now on his mind, the Knight Captain couldn't help but tighten his grip in frustration. Harmswid was the one who had elevated him to a position of power.

The count had given him a chance when others had scorned his low birth as a son of a slave. He owed the nobleman everything. But in Shaw's twisted perception, Harmswid was not a savior but an architect of his misfortune.

"Harmswid!" The knight captain snarled, his gaze darting around the tent as if seeking out hidden enemies. "Ye deserved everything ye got!! Ye knew about those monsters, and ye sent me to my death!" he continued to have an internal meltdown as he came to a stop in front of the count's personal tent.

"She knew..." Shaw muttered, his voice a strangled whisper. "She knew this would happen... she knew they'd be there... that damned beast... That damned whore probably lead them here...!" Shaw clenched his jaw tightly as he started pacing back and forth in front of the count's tent. "That... That BACKSTABBER knew it from the beginning and took advantage of the fact I have nothing but these PATHETIC and INCOMPETENT lemmings..." His hand clenched into a fist, fingernails biting into his thumb so hard that blood started to flow.