"Remorse"

The combatants flocked to the shade. In a swirl of colored skirts, I fetched them drinks from a large ice chest.
“Role-play court is being called. Those with pre-assigned roles need to get to their areas so that we can begin,” Rick heralded. His chest puffed with self-importance.
The dozen or so youngster, all dressed in costume, left the shade and made their way toward other benches and trees nearby. Alone in my make-believe tavern, I saw my friend David sitting under a bench not far away. He wore black shredded garb and sat tethered by his wrists, looking dejected.
I collected a water bottle from the ice, and hid my foam fighting dagger under my cloak. I strode toward the bench. Will stood in my way holding a foam sword and shield. He glared at me.
“What do you want,” he growled, lips hardly moving. I pulled a water bottle from beneath my cloak.
“Wine for the prisoner,” I stated, flicking a glance at David.
Irritated, he huffed, “Whatever.”
“Everything ok,” I asked David in a hushed voice as I knelt at his side.
“Fine. In character,” he replied curtly, though a smile played on his face. Then he dipped his chin, settled himself more fully into his persona, and looked up. Pain and discomfort marred his normally handsome face.
“Catry,” he questioned; he tightened his throat to make his words dry and labored.
“Davin,” I replied. My hands twisted the cap open without supervision.
“What happened? Who’s done this? What’s going on? Why are you in jail? You can’t have done anything wrong! You’re a squire,” I demanded, worried. All the while, I fed him water.
“It’ll be okay. With people like you in the realm, the land will survive until the One True King returns,” he replied. I wanted to ask more, but three others were approaching.
“What are you doing,” Caen sneered with malice. The guards he brought with him joined Will, and the four boys approached.
“A prisoner has the right to a drink,” I snipped, chin lifting indignantly at the intruders.
“I have a right to a drink,” Caen leered. His beady green eyes fixed on my low neckline. Repulsed, I pushed my way past, muttering about dead bodies.
I made my way to a cement table under an oak tree. Thersis sat on his throne, look beautifully macabre with black arcane swirls painted around his green-blue eyes. He smiled darkly as I approached. I curtseyed and dropped my gaze to the ground. I lifted the bottle of water; my offering to the throne.
“Wine, your Highness,” I asked?
He took the gift then patted the bench at his feet. I curtseyed again then sat on the crushed velvet cloth that turned the cement table into a kingly throne. He drank. I waited.
Three guards hauled Davin in. Two held one arm each. The third prodded him in the back with a foam-tipped spear. Caen led the procession, chin held high. They stopped before the throne.
“He still refuses to speak, Highness,” Caen announced.
Thersis pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes, and then nodded. The four struck Davin with their foam weapons. Davin remained silent.
“Tell me where the artifact is and the pain will end,” Thersis promised over the dull thuds. I covered by mouth with a hand.
“It is not yours,” Davin rasped between blows. “It is an artifact of the One True King and upon his retu-“
“Silence,” the word tore from Thersis’s throat. The throne suddenly seemed too big for his slender frame.
“Caen, cut the truth from him. Let the gathered know that this is the price for treason in my kingdom,” Thersis hissed. The gathered crowd gasped in shocked that summer afternoon at Bill Schupp Park.
Center stage, Caen McNeel and the three guardsmen hastened to pin Davin to the ground.
“Hold him,” Caen shrieked.
From behind me, a young man stepped forward. He had arms bigger around than Thersis’s middle. He moved quietly into the fray, unconcerned that Caen had been sent sprawling by the prisoner. Dalan, the mercenary, reached out his hands, and set them upon Davin’s shoulders.
Davin’s knees buckled. The two dropped to the hard-packed dirt. Davin on his back, arms pinned beneath him. Dalan knelt at his side, hands on Davin’s chest. Caen crawled toward the two, grinning fiendishly. He spat down at Davin. Davin thrashed beneath Dalan’s grip. Thersis laughed. I watched remorse flicker across the mercenary’s face.