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knight?” a drunken man shouted. “No one else can be that skilled with a weapon. And do you know...” He staggered forward, launching himself toward their table. “We do need a hero. Karl is right. Varrock needs a hero who can help us. Not men like you, with your coats and your buttons and your... your titles. ”
    The man flicked his arm toward William, who was far enough away to be out of danger, and yet as he did so the young nobleman fell back from his chair, striking the wall behind. He looked terrified.
    “William! You are safe. Calm yourself,” Theodore said, standing quickly to put himself between the two men. The drunk backed away, a look of surprise on his face.
    “I didn’t mean anything by it, sirs,” he mumbled, aware that hecommitted a serious offence. “Please sir. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
    The drunk began to weep as the yellow tabards of the city guard closed in.
    “No,” William said in an even tone, and then again, louder. “No—it’s all right. No harm was done.” He scanned the room, then turned to his friend. “Come Theodore, let us return to the palace. Didn’t like the stout, anyway.”
    He followed William out into the street, leaving behind a room shocked into silence, to where their horses had been secured under the watchful eye of a city guard.
    “What was all that about, William?” Theodore demanded. “You dragged me from the inn, leaving me with unfinished business, acting like a...” He wanted to say coward , but he held his tongue at the last second. But it was already too late.
    “A coward, Theodore? Isn’t that what you wanted to say?”
    Theodore turned his head to avoid William’s gaze.
    “Isn’t it?” William pressed.
    “Yes, William,” Theodore admitted. “I am sorry, but it is.” Even as he spoke, however, he knew that he was wrong. This is not the way a knight of Falador would behave.
    “I have heard it all my life,” William said. “Since I was old enough to understand the word and the insult it carries. My father said it often enough. My mother attempted to hide me from it, to tell me that I was ‘different to others.’ Either way, I came to realise that both were unhappy with me—the one told me so, the other simply tried to hide the fact.”
    William smirked, and Theodore shivered when he saw his friend’s face, for it was a mirthless visage, one filled with contempt and self-loathing.
    “Still, they were both disappointed in me,” he continued. “Theironly child. The heir to a proud family of Misthalin who have counted generals and chancellors amongst their ancestry. Now, I am all that remains of their line.” Theodore saw the tears spring into his eyes as his voice broke.
    “I have no love for your god, Theodore. I think you know that. I attend the services of course, as does everyone in the court of Varrock, but I cannot bring myself to worship him.”
    Theodore frowned.
    “What’s Saradomin got to do with this, William?”
    The young noble pulled a silk handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his tears away.
    “Do you believe people are cursed, Theodore?” he asked suddenly. “Through no fault of their own?” He gave a deep breath and took the reins of his horse in hand as he mounted.
    “You are being silly, William,” Theodore answered. “I know you. You are not cursed—you are a good person. And I was wrong to expect you to be someone you are not.”
    William laughed bitterly.
    “A good man? Theodore, I am not a good man.” He rode a short distance forward before reining his horse in as the squire mounted his own mare.
    “I wished to be a good man, Theodore,” William said, a little louder now to cross the short distance. “I still wish to be one. Every day. If I had my choice I would wish to be born as you were—strong, healthy, able-minded and bodied.” He twisted his mouth in a bizarre grin. “But the gods rarely grant our wishes, Theodore. Always they find ways of corrupting that which we want most of