"Your world view is refreshing," Kalthas said. "I find the world increasingly dreary by the day. And yes, it's true, knights are treated quite well, as someone of minor noble ranking."
Kalthas sighed before continuing.
"I didn't abandon my station. I forfeited my titles willingly. Though you are a complete stranger, Glakel, I trust in your words and your offer of gold, and so will tell you my name and story. I am Kalthas, once of the county of Whitestead, owned by my father. As the third son in line to be heir for the county itself, I was instead raised as a warrior, and became a proper knight once I was of age. I took part in many battles, and have taken lives here and there--as much as perhaps could be expected of someone in my station."
He ran his fingers over his eyes as he tried to clear his mind to say what came next.
"One night, while out on a patrol, our commander spotted a campfire off the trail. When we investigated, a we found several mages, as we saw from their many magics being cast. No one was being harmed, but these are mages, and so without much thought our commander ordered us into action. Several of us were injured, killed by the magics these mages wrought, but in the end, we were victorious. The last of the mages surrendered, but I was ordered to take her life."
Kalthas paused, and swallowed hard.
"I did so. Then, my comrade took this basket from her, and found a babe inside. The captain ordered it tossed into the river. I know not of its fate."
Kalthas stared blankly at the table for a few moments, losing himself in the memories of that fateful night.