The Knight Revenant

In the desolate lands between two cities, an elderly woman sat knitting on a stool. A blight haunted the realm—a revenant left over from a war a century ago—laying waste and leaving death wherever it went. It was said that none had crossed its domain and survived. It was said that to travel into the wastes meant certain death. All this and more was told to the elderly woman. All this and more was ignored.

Gam Gam camped in the wastelands near her horse-drawn wagon, the bones of a cat curled up at her feet. Death did not stop the cat from being annoyed when the old woman tugged a small hat onto his head. He hissed at her, though without the required flesh, the hiss was silent. He clacked his teeth instead.

“Aw, Nugget, you’re so adorable in your hat,” Gam Gam said as she pulled the cap more snuggly onto Nugget. Noting the fit, she removed it and began the cast off. Her eyes glanced up only once at the encroaching mist that defied the hot afternoon sun. In a louder voice, Gam Gam said, “If you attack me, you won’t like the results much.”

Nugget looked up at the old woman, a look of surprise not quite showing on his face (given the absence of a face), though, the added way he crooked his head did wonders to portray his confusion. Then Nugget turned to stare at the gray mist of spectral energy that rolled up to their camp. Strands of mist suddenly formed into tendrils, stabbing at the woman with blinding speed.

They slammed against an invisible barrier—unable to reach Gam Gam or anything else within the camp—and startled Nugget. A terrible sparking and a scream of agony filled the empty space. Nugget watched with curiosity as the tendrils withdrew.

Gam Gam was a necromancer—a terribly talented one, at that—and after tales of an ancient horror surfaced during a visit to a nearby city, she set out to investigate. She was not the kind of person who could sit around idly while others could be endangered, not when she had the power to change it.

“Told you.” She finished the cast off, set the completed hat aside, and looked the new arrival straight on. Or as straight on as one could when it comes to a phantasmal cloud. Its misty form spread out and encircled the campsite entirely, two glowing eyes lit with rage floated within the densest fog. Gam Gam’s soul barrier crackled whenever it drifted too close. “Calm down, I’ve dealt with toddlers before. A temper tantrum will not bother me.”

The revenant answered with a deafening roar, and the tendrils of mist speared toward her once again. When the barrier refused to budge against the assault, it growled until the very land rumbled.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Apparently, it did not. The revenant receded into the distance instead, hiding among the dead trees and deep ravines. Its stare prickled at her neck, and the waves of malice and hatred that wafted from it curdled her stomach. A foreboding sense of duty invaded her thoughts, a duty to stop anyone from crossing.

“I’ll be here when you want to talk!”

As night fell, Gam Gam packed away her stool and her new project, this one a pair of socks—well, just the one sock to start anyway. She made great progress with the absence of the revenant, already she was finished with the heel turn and working her way down the foot. She threw dirt on the fire, climbed into the wagon, set out her bedroll, and slipped within.

It was not long before the crackling of the barriers woke her. Gam Gam rose with a yawn, put on a pair of slippers, and stepped back out into the cool night. Nugget raised his head for only a moment before returning to his nap atop the small stove built into the wagon.

The revenant surrounded the camp in a semisphere, maybe even a full sphere if it had found a way underground. That didn’t matter, however, since the soul barrier encompassed the camp in that direction as well. The moon was a shaded glow through the shroud of mist.

For a long moment the revenant pushed inward from every direction at once, and wild energy exploded around her. Then the mist jerked back as if shocked, which Gam Gam supposed it was—though she couldn’t say quite what reaction the barrier produced since it only affected the undead.

“I’m afraid you won’t find much use in brute force. I haven’t been at this long,” —In fact, Gam Gam had been at this (this being necromancy in an official capacity) for twenty-two days, four hours, and thirty-four minutes, after having graduated top of her class from the mage’s academy in Capital City— “but I know what I’m doing. That barrier will hold just fine. I am happy to talk if you’d like to, however.”

It screeched at her, a high-pitched whine that tore at Gam Gam’s ears and drove into her head like a knitting needle into the thumb. Her hands clapped to her ears, though proved useless to stop the scream’s assault. Eventually it died down, and able to hear her own thoughts again, Gam Gam cocked an eyebrow at the mist.

“Was that really necessary?”

The revenant sulked away back into the darkness, and Gam Gam returned to her wagon and slept through the rest of the night without issue.

The revenant was waiting across the barrier the next morning. The two burning eyes watched as Gam Gam ran through her routine. After breakfast, she pulled out her knitting and started again. Still, the revenant did nothing but watch and radiate rage. Gam Gam ignored it.

A wave of satisfaction washed over the necromancer, not her own, and she glanced up at the revenant. For a moment, wisps of mist curled upward, almost as if to smile, then the fog shifted to surround the barrier. Gam Gam returned to knitting with a sigh—it would learn soon enough it couldn’t get through.

The light dulled as the revenant rose over the top, and then faded further as energy pulsed through its misty form. The fog thickened as it summoned more strength. A century of hatred fueled the revenant, and Gam Gam felt it pour every little bit it could into its nebulous body, solidifying until—

“Really?” Gam Gam sighed in the newly formed darkness. “Was that necessary? Now I lost count of my stitches.”

She rose and carefully made her way to the wagon, arms held in front of her. She grumbled as she kicked something, and grumbled more as the something clawed her back. “Knock it off, Nugget, I can’t see.” She returned with a lit lantern in one hand and an angry cat skeleton stalking behind her.

“And how long can you keep up this new trick?” Gam Gam asked as she settled back into her chair, picking the unfinished sock up once more. The revenant did not respond. An hour later (still in darkness) Gam Gam added, “That’s actually quite impressive. Must have saved up a lot of negativity for a moment like this.”

The revenant growled.

“Be careful, I think that was almost a word! You can tell me what has upset you whenever you wish, you know.”

“Kill you.” The words rolled through the camp with their own force, the lantern’s flame flickering in the aftermath.

“Well, for one, I’d rather you didn’t,” Gam Gam said. Her eyes strained against the lantern light to continue her knitting. She wasn’t ready to confront the spirit yet, she needed it to be ready to listen, and to talk. She had time, though. The barrier would hold for many more days. “For two, I highly doubt your desire to kill me started this. I’m old, but not that old. I wasn’t even alive when you died.”

It roared, then light filled the camp again and Gam Gam shielded her eyes against the sudden brightness. When she could see again, the revenant was gone. But it had spoken, and soon, she would be able to connect with it. That was progress. For now, she had her knitting.

“Not a very civilized spirit, is it?” Gam Gam asked Nugget. The skeletal cat responded only with a glare.

Gam Gam knitted in peace for many hours, approaching the toe of her first sock: a bright orange and purple garment with cabling at its cuff to give it a pleasant texture. Nugget eventually stopped sulking and returned to his spot atop the stove. Lunch was made and eaten in quiet, as was dinner. Even the prickling sensation on her neck had disappeared. Had the revenant given up? Or did it just want her to think so?

She placed the partial sock within a small cloth bag, then returned it to the wagon. “Nugget, I’m going out for a bit to see if I can find that ghost, you stay here.” Then she chuckled. “Well, it’s not like you have a choice while the barrier is up.”

Nugget raised his head indignantly, then returned to sleep.

Gam Gam walked to the edge of the barrier and, not feeling the sensation of being watched, stepped across. She waited several moments for the ambush, but it never came. She circled the campsite, and checked beneath a bush that was only mostly dead. She looked down into a crag and saw only empty darkness, no foreboding sense of anguish or burning red eyes. She walked by the horses, and stepped within the barrier to give them a pat, then looked out at the barren wastes. She sighed.

With the lack of foliage, she could see far in all directions; only the few remaining trees, absent all leaves, still interrupted her sight. The land was dry and cracked, allowing for the gray dust to fly in the air with ease, which made spotting the other wagon effortless.

“Oh no.” Gam Gam hiked up her skirts and ran toward the newcomer as fast as she could. Which wasn’t very fast.

Kraya was one of two cities to flank the revenant’s haunt. A hundred years prior, it had launched a war against the opposing city of Shelen, and though the war ravaged them both, Kraya was the one that suffered the most when it lost. Built at the top of a rocky cliff, it had little to no access to the waters which were filled with a magnitude of dangers for the inexperienced—and, often enough, experienced—sailor. The main road led through the wastes, and so traffic to and from the city disappeared in the revenant’s wake.

With trade routes eviscerated, the city crumbled. Its farmlands were poor, its wellsprings nearly tapped out, its supplies nonexistent. The governor of Kraya had petitioned the Eternal Empire, its liege, for assistance for decades. But Kraya was destitute, and necromancers were rare and expensive. The longer a necromancer failed to take the job, the less Kraya had in its coffers to pay.

The city’s death spiral was near its end when Gam Gam heard of the troubles in Shelen—the other flanking city, and the far more prosperous one. She talked to the governor, a short fellow from whom the scent of cheese wafted, and he agreed to provide assistance to the opposing city in the event the revenant was removed. But none in Kraya knew of her goals, and there were times where life grew desperate enough to take a risk.

And whoever was in the cart was desperate.

Gam Gam ran until her knees ached and her left hip forced her into a speedy waddle. She had a few choice words for whoever decided to cross the wastes. Mostly along the lines of “nincompoop” and “woolheaded fool.” The nagging aches made it hard for her to remember that the citizens of Kraya did not know what she was doing. There was no way to send them word without crossing the wastes first. They could not be blamed for taking a risk deemed worthy when they were without information.

But then her back started aching, and the rude words returned to the forefront of her mind. She paused and leaned against a rock, gasping as if freshly pulled from the river. Like one of those…slimy animals? Those with the fins and the scales… Oh dear, her overtaxed body leached the energy from her mind, leaving her head empty except for the many complaints that bounced around within. Thinking was too difficult. The good news was the revenant had not shown itself yet, she had—

As if summoned by the very thought, the revenant rose from a ravine like smoke from a burnt cookie. The mist rolled across the lands in a billowing wave, crashing over and around the rocks and desiccated trees. Those in the wagon, several individuals from what she could see, panicked at the supernatural motion and tried to make the frightened donkey pull the cart harder. Instead, it kicked free, breaking the wagon in the process, and bolted away.

Their shouts glided across the land like stitches down a needle. Four distinct voices, two children. A boy and a girl. A father and a mother. Gam Gam’s heart froze. Despite the heat, a chill ran through her that rooted her to the ground. For an instant, she heard her family’s shouts of terror. Saw her family assaulted by the mists of a revenant.

Her sweet, little girl, all grown and married to a lovely, kind gentleman who was ready to help at a moment’s notice. Two rambunctious children who captured her heart with tiny hands and soft giggles. They grew so big, she could hardly remember a time in which she had been able to hold them anymore.

For an instant, she almost broke. But her pains were driven from her mind by purpose. What of those kids’ grandmother? What of their other family? She wouldn’t let someone else suffer that loss.

Aches be damned, Gam Gam pulled at her sweater’s collar—allowing the air to cool her down—she hiked up her skirts, and she ran on. Her knees hurt, a piercing pain that shot up and down her legs. Her hip didn’t want to roll forward, creating a hitch in her step. She didn’t care, as long as it got her to the revenant faster.

Any hopes that the revenant would give chase to the fleeing donkey were quashed immediately. Apparently animals did not fall under its obsession. The mother herded the kids under the cart, while the father swung a piece of wood at the encroaching clouds.

She couldn’t see their faces, and so her mind interposed those of her own family’s. She saw Wyatt through the fog, makeshift weapon raised against an incorporeal entity. No thoughts of fear for himself, only for his family. Kera huddled in front of the children, arms spread protectively against a force that could brush her aside with ease. Asher and Evelyn poked concerned heads out around their mother, tears falling from frightened eyes. She saw their deaths a hundred ways on her race to the cart.

Tendrils formed again, the same that battered against her soul barrier with such incredible force only the day before. Appendages that could tear a person in half. She heard the rumble of the revenant’s growl, the land shaking with its words.

“None shall pass these lands!” The tendrils tore through the air and—

“Sir Gibblet!”

—they stopped short of the man, who fell to the ground quaking as his legs gave out. Gam Gam panted at the edge of the mist, her knees burned and her hip seized up. But she held herself straight and eyed the revenant.

The family’s stares tracked to her and now that she was closer she couldn’t imagine having mistaken them for her family. The differences were far greater than the similarities. Ages were wrong, skin tones were off, hair color was completely different. That didn’t even take into account that it couldn’t be her family out here. Not when… Gam Gam pushed the thought away. None of that mattered right now. She couldn’t let anyone else lose their lives to the spirit of the wastes. To the phantom soldier consumed by anger. To the Knight Revenant.

The mist pulled away from the family and smothered her like a woolen blanket. The air around her blistered with heat, drenching her even further in sweat until she felt as though her clothing soaked through. The air thickened with rage and hatred. She wiped at her forehead, where her hair stuck down in a sodden mess.

“That is quite enough, don’t you think?” she scolded the spirit as she reached into her pocket and picked out a small, circular medallion. Her secret weapon, as long as she could get the revenant to listen long enough. She had no choice but to make it listen now.

Beyond the mist, the father clawed his way to his family, where they huddled together, fear painting their eyes wide.

“How do you know who I am?” The revenant demanded. It spoke, that was good.

“Do you think I’m a fool who wanders into wastelands for fun? I know who you were, Knight Revenant. You were once a kindly man, and a gallant warrior. You have fallen far.”

“Quiet, witch!” The revenant bellowed and the mist pressed in, suffocating her. “Do not speak to me of my life. I am the one who lived it. Then I was forced to live beyond it, endlessly tormented by my failures. You know nothing.”

“I know that you kill innocents. Is that what you want to be remembered for? Sir Gibblet, the mighty knight who slaughtered children.”

“Innocents? Never. There are only those who wish to cross the lands and continue the war—a war I have ended. To slaughter families like livestock. To kill children like bugs. My failure has been painted across the dirt with the blood of my family. Never shall I let these lands be crossed again.”

Gam Gam gripped the medallion tighter. Not yet, he wouldn’t believe her yet. “You seem to have some misconceptions about your failure.”

“You will not deceive me with lies. You’re here to banish me.”

“If my goal was to banish you, I would have done that by now.” The assaulting heat pricked her skin like a thousand needles. Her sweater hung heavy, and her lungs worked harder with each breath of oppressive fog. “But then your torment would never end. Your spirit would remain broken forever. You died in the war, in a last stand with your men. It takes a year for a revenant to form. What do you know of what followed your death?”

“We were overwhelmed. I was the last to die, you cannot trick me with lies. I witnessed our loss. Reinforcements failed to arrive. Their army marched on, and they killed our people. They killed my son. They killed my GRANDCHILDREN!”

“Yes, Sir Gibblet. Your forces were defeated by the soldiers of Kraya. They marched on. But you’re wrong about the reinforcements. They failed to save you, but they arrived before the city was attacked. Your family was not—”

“DO NOT LIE TO ME, WITCH! I HAVE LIVED—”

“Enough of that,” Gam Gam scolded, her voice never rising. The revenant fell silent. “I was talking.”

“I will kill you where you stand, old woman.”

“Then do it, but you will not learn of your family and their fate.” She held out the metal disc, inscribed with the image of a swan in flight over a heart. She felt the gaze of the revenant lock onto the coat of arms and a wave of surprise swarmed around her. The heat cooled in an instant, and her breath returned, as if freed from a wet cloth. A breeze chilled the sweat drenching Gam Gam and sent shivers throughout her body.

Her voice softened with the returned chill. “The reinforcements arrived in time because of your men’s sacrifice, Sir Gibblet. The soldiers of Kraya have been paying for their failure for as long as you’ve been paying for yours. It is time to let go, and to cross the veil. It is time for peace, Sir Gibblet.”

“That symbol…my son, he lives?” The voice of the mist cracked with emotion. “My grandchildren?”

“No, they have passed,” —the heat returned to the mist, though it lacked its earlier conviction— “after having lived long, happy lives. It has been a hundred years, Sir Gibblet. Their lives continued as yours stagnated. But your grandchildren have had children of their own. And those children have grown to have families. The Gibblets are a well-respected family, for what their ancestors have done. Including you.”

Gam Gam stepped toward the smoldering eyes, the densest part of the mist. “They lived on thanks to your sacrifice. Your city lived on. You gave them time to muster forces, you gave them a chance to survive, and they did. Your own son took to the battlefield that day, hoping to save you.”

“My son…”

“He became the governor after that battle. Shelen prospered greatly under his leadership.”

“Oh gods.” The revenant pulled into itself, pooling on the ground in front of Gam Gam. “What have I done?” The mist shivered under the weight of the new emotions. Gam Gam reached out. The revenant was cool to the touch.

“You did nothing, it was the revenant. But your spirit is fighting to free itself. I can repair it fully. Return you to what you should have been before the darkness warped you.”

“I do not deserve your kindness.”

“Everyone deserves kindness, especially those most in pain.” Gam Gam brushed the spectral cloud with one hand, as if to provide comfort. “A revenant is formed from powerful emotion at the time of death. Your fear and anger broke your spirit, turned it against who you were. It found a singular focus, an obsession, and you were ruled by it. Until now, when your other emotions have become strong enough to combat those that claimed you. You are in there, Sir Gibblet. The loving, caring knight that you were. Remember the love of your family, and know that they lived. The coat of arms is proof of that. Let your love break you free from your curse, and let me help you the rest of the way.”

Gam Gam closed her eyes and the blackness filled her. The strange, nauseating feeling of her necromantic power, like a sludge creeping along her veins. She tugged at the pieces of Sir Gibblet, forming him back into the ghost he should have been. It was not so different from knitting, except instead of yarn it was spectral energy. She pulled on the threads of Sir Gibblet’s spirit, looping him together one stitch at a time. The mist followed her motions, and wrapped itself together, condensing into a new form.

The process was slow, and Gam Gam was vulnerable. If the Knight Revenant decided to stay as it was, it could strike her down in a heartbeat. But the only emotion she felt wafting from the ghostly cloud was love and grief.

The spectral energy swirled into the shape of an elderly knight, who dropped to his knees as the spell finished. Newly formed hands rose to his face, covering his eyes. He was balding but for two tufts of hair sprouting above each ear. A long beard hung down over the emblazoned flying swan atop a heart that was the Gibblet coat of arms. Translucent tears fell down his face as he wept, the uncontrollable anger dissipating as his soul reformed.

With some difficulty, Gam Gam lowered herself onto a pair of distressed knees in front of the ghostly knight. She held one hand up to his cheek and hovered there. His fingers parted to reveal cool, gray eyes, anguish replacing the rage that had once burned within. Her heart twisted as he spoke with such pain. “I have killed so many. I almost killed that family. You should have banished me to my torment.”

“You cannot change what you cannot control. You have suffered enough, Sir Gibblet. You are not the first revenant, nor did you choose to become one.” His eyes dropped away from hers, but she continued. “I offer you a choice. Perhaps it will bring some peace to your heart. You can follow the Call, and cross the Veil of Death. Move to the afterlife you were meant to go to, and see your family once more. Your son, your daughter-in-law, your grandchildren. They wait for you.”

“What is the second option?”

“I can soulbind you to me. You will be able to walk this land for as long as I hold the binding, and I will show you everything your sacrifice saved. I will show you the city and how it prospered, the great things your son accomplished. You can see the good you brought to this world. Maybe even find a way to forgive yourself.”

The ghost and the necromancer stared at each other for long moments as Sir Gibblet pondered. “If you bind me here, I can still move on to the afterlife? I can still see my family?”

“Any time you wish.”

“Then I would like to stay here a little longer. It would be nice to see goodness in this world.”

Gam Gam smiled, and again, power filled her. She weaved a thread of necromantic energy between the ghost’s soul and her own. Their emotions burned across the binding. Agony and joy warred against each other, and Gam Gam poured her own soothing love into the spirit. “Then I shall show you all I’ve learned of your family.”

Gam Gam struggled to rise, and though Sir Gibblet offered to help, he quickly realized the uselessness of the offer, and stepped back, embarrassed. Instead, the mother raced to Gam Gam’s side, and helped her to her feet.

“Thank you very much, dear.” Gam Gam brushed the dirt from her skirts and looked to the rest of the family. Parents and children both were red-eyed with tears. She smiled to provide comfort, to tell them that it was done and they were safe. “I can offer you a ride to Shelen if you need it. I do apologize about the donkey, though.”

“We would be very grateful for a ride.” The woman’s eyes sang of hope and relief, and she smiled in return. “Thank you so much for helping us.”

“You’re very welcome.” Gam Gam watched the two children climb out from under the cart—two boys. Not like her family at all. Her mind had played strange tricks on her in the stress of the moment.

“You have my sincerest apologies, as little as they mean to you.” Sir Gibblet bowed to the family, tortured grief still fresh across his face. “If it is any consolation, there is very little I can do to harm you in this form.”

“We heard everything, Sir,” the mother said, “That wasn’t you, and you have nothing you need to apologize for. Besides, it was only a frightful scare. No other harm done, right boys?”

The two boys nodded timidly, and the husband confirmed. Though dirty, the family was unharmed. Gam Gam was grateful she was able to make it in time.

“Let’s get you to my wagon and we can head into the city,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now you can knock that off right now. Call me Gam Gam.”

“What kind of name is Gam Gam?” the smaller boy asked. His father grabbed the boy’s arm and scolded him, but Gam Gam waved him off.

“It’s what my grandchildren called me. They’re not much bigger than you two. I suppose it’s just nice to hear it and remember them.”

The family pulled what little they had from the cart and Gam Gam led the way back to her modest, mobile home. It wasn’t even three steps before her knees gave out and she fell to the ground in a surprised “Oof.”

The mother was by her side in a moment, helping her to her feet. “Thank you dear, but I can walk fine.”

“Nonsense, ma—um, Gam Gam. It’s the least I can do to help.”

Gam Gam grunted, but her knees were thankful for the extra support.

“I’m Therese, by the way,” the mother said. “Dale’s my husband. The boys, oldest to youngest, are Nolan and Asher.”

Gam Gam’s heart skipped a beat, and she would have tripped again if not for Therese’s help. “Asher?” The name came out in an exhale.

“Yes, named for my father’s father.”

“That’s my grandson’s name too.”

“Then your grandson has a lovely name.”

Gam Gam’s thoughts wandered elsewhere, and conversation hushed as the five humans walked (and the one ghost floated) back to the wagon.

Gam Gam drove the wagon through the night as the family slept within. Her knees and hip still ached, but she padded her bench and sat as comfortably as possible while the horses did the hard work. Sir Gibblet, not requiring sleep himself, kept her company for the trek. The two talked about the many things that had happened since the ghost’s death, particularly focused on Sir Gibblet’s family and home.

By sunrise, the cart reached the city of Shelen. The family said their farewells, giving many thanks and hugs before leaving. Gam Gam’s eyes lingered on the youngest boy as they became lost in the crowd.

“We can wait if you need to rest,” Sir Gibblet said, but Gam Gam locked up the wagon and hung a little sign on the back that read “MAGE AT WORK. DON’T TOUCH HORSES! THEY EAT FINGERS!” and hoped for the best.

Gam Gam circled around the wagon and pulled a couple of vials of green liquid from her pocket. “Nonsense, Sir Gibblet. I’ll hardly be tired at all after one of these. I just bought them from that vendor over there. It’s supposed to give you energy. And besides, I’m nearly back to full health.” She downed the vial, then her knee betrayed her as she stumbled. Though still sore, the joints were working better than before the night had passed. She waved off his worried look, and added, “I’m fine.” Then she blinked as wakefulness surged within her. “And that potion certainly works.” She pocketed the other vials and headed into town, Sir Gibblet beside her.

The ghostly knight hid himself within the city by growing so transparent only a shimmer remained where he floated. Passing eyes slid around him as though no more than a trick of the light. Though difficult to see, their bond let Gam Gam find the spectral knight at any moment. Emotions and simple thoughts flowed freely between each other. As he grew interested in passing sights, she knew the focus of that wonder.

“It’s so different from what I knew,” he said.

“A lot changes in a hundred years.”

“That inn used to only be one story. Now they’re adding a fourth. Are there really so many people in this city?”

“From what I could find, the population has more than tripled since your time. Shelen has prospered because of you.”

Gam Gam led him to the town square, the center of which was dominated by a large bronze statue of a similar balding man. Sir Gibblet flew over and studied the statue. Gam Gam took her time weaving through the crowd.

When she arrived, Gibblet looked down at her, and she felt his smile, “It’s not a very good likeness, now is it? Looks more like me than how I remember my boy.”

“Well, he was significantly older when this was done. It seems he favored his father in looks.”

Sir Gibblet laughed, and studied the statue again.

“Come,” Gam Gam said. “There’s more.”

Across the town square, they entered the public lobby of a large government building. Paintings of figures lined the walls. Gam Gam stopped in front of one in particular. “He might be more recognizable here. I believe this was painted closer to the battle, when he was first chosen as governor.”

Sir Gibblet stared at the portrait of his son for a long moment. His strong emotions threatened to overwhelm Gam Gam’s own, a turmoil of grief and joy. Relief and pain. She let him have the moment to himself.

“Hello again, ma’am. Have you returned for more information?”

A well-dressed young lady walked over to Gam Gam, with her usual practiced smile.

“Oh hello, dear.” Gam Gam rubbed at her head. “I know it hasn’t been long, but I’m blanking on your name. Could you remind me?” She smiled at her little lie.

“I’m Dalia,” she said. If she noticed the faint disturbance beside Gam Gam, she did not show it. “I’m assistant to the governor. I was the one who helped you find some books for your research last time.”

“Your full name, dear.”

Dalia blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Oh, it’s Dalia Gibblet.”

Gam Gam smiled at the new emotion. “Like the governor, right?” She pointed to the portrait behind her.

“That’s my great-granddad.” The practiced smile was replaced with a more radiant, genuine one as Dalia’s true passion shined through. “I hope to follow in his footsteps one day, but I doubt I can live up to what he did. To end a war, and bring the city out of its economic spiral. I can’t imagine how difficult it was to hold the city together then.”

“He sounds like a great man.”

“Oh, he was. His father too, both were heroes to this city.” Sir Gibblet stiffened at Dalia’s words. As much as a ghost can stiffen. “My brother is training to be a knight like him. Perhaps he and I will be the next generation of great Gibblets.” She laughed at her joke, then turned red. She waved a hand in front of her desperately. “Oh, I mean, well I hope I can live up to the name. I don’t mean to sound arrogant about it.”

“It’s fine, dear. It’s a worthy goal to strive towards.”

“Stories of the brave knight and honorable governor fill our house often. It is truly an honor to have such great ancestors.”

“Thank you for sharing with me again, Dalia. You’ll be a wonderful governor, I’m sure. I think that’s all I need for now.” She glanced to the side, and saw Sir Gibblet nod in response. “I’m just looking at the paintings. I’ll let you be.”

“It was my pleasure, ma’am. Have a wonderful day.”

“They still think of me as a hero,” Sir Gibblet muttered as he watched his descendant leave.

“You were a hero, Sir Gibblet. The revenant wasn’t you.”

“I think I understand that now, but I still don’t feel like the hero they see me as.”

“We cannot control others’ perceptions, only our own actions.”

“Yes, but I would like to live up to that. Or rather, unlive up to it. You can keep me here for as long as you want, yes?”

“I can, if you wish to stay. But what of your family beyond?”

“They will be there when I’m ready to return, and I think I would like to still bring some good into the world. By your side, I think I can do just that. I still have my honor as a knight, not even death can take that from me.”

Gam Gam smiled. “I would love to have the company, Sir Gibblet. You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you see fit.”

“Then you will have an honorable knight at your side. I am indebted to you.” He bowed to her and Gam Gam smacked him on the head. Though her hand went through, Sir Gibblet still jerked away from the maneuver.

“Enough of that,” she scolded. “No owing or debts. Let us just be friends.”

Sir Gibblet smiled. “Friends we are, then, Gam Gam. Where will we be heading to?”

Gam Gam’s smile held firm, but her melancholic emotions betrayed the truth. “To see my family.”