Nights of Treacherous Romance

Sir Moris began this day like any other. He awoke from a deep slumber that only a few of his peers could achieve in the barracks of Ironhold to the sound of the cock's first crow. As King Briant had finished a decades-long campaign to establish his authority upon the realm shortly before Moris's actual knighting, Moris found his daily life to be monotonous, but busy nonetheless. While a handful of others began to stir at the noise, a vast majority of them stayed in the land of dreams. Night covered the land outside, and the sun would only outstretch its rosy fingers in an hour's time. As the first to rise, Sir Moris lit a tallow-soaked wick in the center of the room to cast a faint glow of illumination across the room. With that done, he went to work dressing for the day. While most mornings would involve donning armor for martial training, today was different. Summertide feast was to be held this evening, and tradition maintained the holiday as a day of rest. He would be able to act of his own accord for most of the day, with his only obligation being in the attendance of the feast. So, Sir Moris began dressing in his finest clothes, hand-made by King Briant's own tailor. The other knights that had been stirring before only began to get dressed by the time Moris was all ready for the day and departing the barracks to chase the scent of frumenty coming from the kitchen.

As Moris made his way to the dining hall, he spotted a figure ahead of him that gave Sir Moris pause. She was tall, covered from head to toe in a black form-fitting robe that betrayed an hourglass figure beneath. Perhaps it was the dim light playing tricks on him, but there seemed to be a black void where her face should be. It was as if she was a wraith, or some other malicious spirit that haunted these vaunted halls. As Moris stood there in shock, the buxom figure walked towards him. Her heels clacked against the stone floor and seemed to echo through the hallway like a heartbeat. Before she had even reached speaking distance of Moris, he heard a soft voice cooing to him from inside his head. "It seems I have found the early bird. Will you get the worm, or will you come to resent the dawn?" At this point, Moris noticed that a black veil, rather than a void covered her face, and black gloves hid both sets of delicate fingers. The mysterious woman was about a head's height taller than Moris, and her presence was powerful. She stopped walking as she got into Moris's personal space, and slightly tilted her head to the side curiously at him.

"What did you just say?" Moris said, confused.

The same voice he'd heard a moment ago answered him, though its source was now clearly behind her veil. It carried a slight echo, much like her footsteps prior. "Me? I don't believe I said a single word." She performed the lightest of curtsies, and continued. "My name is Nyx. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Moris. Hopefully we can acquaint ourselves further soon, but unfortunately I have some important matters to attend to." She moved to pass Moris, and as she disappeared from his field of view, so too did her footsteps. By the time Moris even had a chance to reorient himself, he noticed that any trace of Nyx had already vanished into thin air.

What in the Hell was that about?

Not sure of what else he should do, Moris continued on towards breaking his fast.