FADE
IN.
EXT. KINGDOM PERIMETER FIELD—DAY
SIR
ROLLINS, a young and capable-looking knight, treks through the tall grass. The line of the forest looms in the near
background. He comes across a lump.
ROLLINS
Hey.
He
kicks the lump. It unfolds into a disheveled
HERMIT, grumbling groggily to life.
ROLLINS
Hey. You see a tall Jacari man in dark blues pass
by? He has a sigil with a comet on his
arm.
HERMIT
Not since I fell asleep.
ROLLINS
When was that?
The
hermit gestures about himself.
HERMIT
You’ll forgive me, m’lord,
but I seem to’ve left my clock tower in my other pants.
Roland
smiles brightly at him, emanating danger.
A beat as the hermit reconsiders his approach.
HERMIT (Cont’d)
No. You’re the first person I’ve seen.
ROLLINS
What are you doing out here?
HERMIT
Well, I USED to have a
quaint little place back in there, but apparently your King and that triad of
Cave Witches felt the woods’d be better used for a war ground. Nice quiet life in an unimportant woodland,
and all of a sudden it becomes “the
ROLLINS
Considering the number of
brigands that’ve escaped in there since the war? Yep.
He
moves to enter, but is stopped as the hermit yells.
HERMIT
Y’think it’s coincidence
none of ‘em returned to your kingdom?
ROLLINS
I’d hoped it was dumb luck.
HERMIT
And y’ignored all those folk
tales about the
ROLLINS
The man I seek’s a bandit
and a rapist. It’s my job to bring him
to my King’s Justice, and if Fate harbors him, then Fate’s made a new enemy
today.
Roland
walks through the trees. The hermit
calls socially after him as he disappears from sight.
HERMIT
If y’find my cottage, see if
y’can’t return with my galoshes! There’s
a proud six-pea in it for ya!
EXT.
Rollins
enters the forest, looking about warily.
He continues on. After a bit, he
turns back. The perimeter fields are
still there, as is the hermit, bending to sit down. He moves on.
A
strange calling noise chimes through the trees.
Rollins turns about in anticipation, slowly drawing his sword. After a beat, the call hits again, and this
time Rollin pinpoints its origin: back
at the entrance. The hermit realizes
he’s caught and breaks into a shit-eating grin as he lowers his hands from his
mouth.
HERMIT
Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
Rollins
controls his impatience towards the hermit.
The hermit’s expression changes suddenly, as if he’s spotted something
menacing by Rollins. Confused by the
transition, Rollins moves to look back over his shoulder and manages to spin
out of the way just as a sword whisks by where his head was.
He
turns to face his assailant, Sir FELLSMERE—a big knight with unkempt hair and beard
wearing an identical, albeit scruffier, uniform. He’s got a strange look, as if he’s been
crazed and broken.
ROLLINS
The Hell? Fellsmere?
Fellsmere
looks empathetically at Rollins for a moment, weighing his options. He then swings the sword. Rollins dodges again, Fellsmere steps where
he was standing—but the field and hermit can no longer be seen; just more
woods. Fellsmere swings again, but
Rollins parries. The fight continues,
Fellsmere only attacking and Rollins only blocking. Eventually Rollins is able to pin him up
against a tree.
ROLLINS
I don’t know where you’ve
been or what’s happened, but y’need to stop.
We’re—
Fellsmere
headbutts him hard in the nose and grabs his sword in a split second. Rollins rolls the fuck out of his reach and
looks around for a branch. He decides
against it as Fellsmere, a sword in each hand, advances grimly.
ROLLINS
Listen to me. I’m not attacking you. I’m not going to, either. Whatever it is you’ve got against me,
personally…we still both answer to the Code.
A higher ideal than blood feuds.
If you need to kill me to remember it, fine. But afterwards, do the right thing.
Fellsmere
wants to get into it, but can’t. He
continues his advance.
FELLSMERE
Rollins, trust me. I’m doing you a favor.
CLAY
Rollins, you wank!
A
sword is tossed from behind Fellsmere.
Both men glance over to see CLAY, but Fellsmere acts on impulse and
charges forward. Rollins ducks him
completely, grabs the sword, and blocks another swing just in time.
Clay,
a weathered guard in a less impressive uniform than that of the knights, rushes
Fellsmere, handling a tree limb like a sword.
A handicap battle ensues, but Rollins continues blocking rather than
attacking. It gets to a point where
Fellsmere recognizes this and concentrates his efforts on the more aggressive
Clay, leaving a side unguarded.
CLAY
Stab him!
Rollins
considers for a microsecond, and then butts Fellsmere in the neck with the
sword hilt. Fellsmere falls. Rollins drops to his knees and begins a
meditative prayer.
Clay
picks up Fellsmere’s old sword and stabs him through the heart with it.
Rollins
opens his eyes wide, meditation thoroughly disrupted.
Clay
wipes the blade off on Fellsmere’s tunic and observes it, satisfied.
CLAY
Always wanted one’ve these.
He
notices Rollins.
ROLLINS
What’d you just do?
CLAY
Cleaned off my sword?
ROLLINS
Before that.
CLAY
Saved your life?
ROLLINS
Clay. You might not be a knight yet, but you’ve
still got the Code to live by.
CLAY
Show me a king, castle or
land that commands it, and I’ll do it.
Rollins
turns back the way he came, toward the perimeter fields, which, as stated,
aren’t there.
ROLLINS
There really is a curse?
CLAY
Yep.
ROLLINS
Woods are mystically
inescapable?
CLAY
Yep.
ROLLINS
Any point in me disbelieving
you and running emotionally away to test it?
CLAY
Nope.
ROLLINS
…lame.
CLAY
Well, that’s not entirely
true. There’s a rumor that the Cave
Witches have a spell that’ll get any person out’ve the
ROLLINS
Two hundred! How many people are in here?
CLAY
Everyone who’s entered since
the final battle of the war. But the
Witches won’t cast the spell for nothing.
They want eight hundred additional souls as a fee.
Rollins
is blank.
ROLLINS
One thousand souls. To get one person out.
CLAY
Souls are the fuel for their
magic. To get out, y’gotta make ‘em
stronger.
Rollins
snaps back into himself.
ROLLINS
Like Hell, I do.
CLAY
You don’t wanna get out?
ROLLINS
I don’t wanna make Cave
Witches into demigods, so no, I guess I don’t.
CLAY
They’re pretty much already
demigods.
ROLLINS
You’d make a lousy salesman,
Clay.