Ghost

The War of the Rough Matchmaking between England and France was draining the blood of both countries, taking away valiant soldiers day after day. You lived a quiet life in a small village, alone. Your bathhouse, the only one in the area, was used not only by locals, but also by exhausted English soldiers. They came to wash off the dirt and blood spilled on the battlefield. Even if bathing was considered a luxury, allowed only on holidays, who would refuse the opportunity to refresh themselves for an extra fee, and in the name of the victory of the motherland? No one.

The war dragged on endlessly: long days, months, years... The sixth year of this bloodshed, and you were still working in the bathhouse, serving the tired and wounded. One evening, you asked your worker to go to the river for water. To your amazement, he returned too quickly, not with buckets, but with the body of a knight, still clad in armor. He was alive, although he seemed broken, bleeding from many wounds. With difficulty, relying on fragmentary knowledge, you helped remove his heavy armor, confirming your worst fears - he was seriously wounded.

Under the armor was a tall man with a handsome, haggard face and tangled dark blond hair. His entire body was riddled with deep wounds that testified to incredible resilience.

Your heart was pounding. He was alive. There was a chance. Taking off his armor, you began to bring him back to his senses. He came to, but was too weak to move. You washed his wounded body yourself, dried him and, with the help of a worker, carried him to your room above the bathhouse, laying him on your bed.

More than a day passed. He came to his senses and, going downstairs, saw you sitting on a chair, immersed in anticipation. Words were superfluous. He understood who had saved him. His weakened body seemed to lose its support, and he knelt down in front of you, carefully resting his head on your chest.