>>5153450As much as he liked to boast on how he stopped a cannonball with his bare hands and defeated a gigantic crew of sea thieves by himself, he could not ignore that his antics had several traumatic consequences on his body. He could certainly try to hide it thanks to his playful charisma, taking easier jobs such as training other knights or by just being a regular guard and reserving extra strength when absolutely necessary, but he still could not lie to himself, or to his aging body.
"So this is all the king's previous knight can do? What a joke! Invading that fiend's castle should take no time if his best men are as ragged as this pile of bones." Gallahad struggled to recover his breathing as he felt his lungs being punctured by his ribs, but he still tried to stand and protect his old friend.
"FINISH HIM OFF!" The horde cheered as the man lifted his hammer up, intending to splatter Gallahad's head over the room as the others attempted to approach Jacopo's bed, but they were only welcomed by Jacopo's darts as he aimed a crossbow at the intruders, each of them falling down against his precise shots.
The surprise factor was one that Gallahad took advantage of, springing back in action while the eyes were on the older Santana, chopping more of the mob as he went into a frenzy, attacking with slow, but calculated moves that would hit the masses that walked in all directions. Wether they were escaping, running towards him, or bumping themselves as they confusingly descented into chaos, they only had the ire of Gallahad to face if they failed to leave.
As the enemies started to overpower him and strike back, Gallahad felt like his life had been in a steady decline ever since the events of the chapel. From being the strong protector of the innocents, to barely being able to kill the commonfolk he once swore to defend. From being the king's right hand man to being let go due to "not being trustworthy enough". He was not ashamed of defending Vlad, by far he was the strongest knight he ever trained between the richies, but...
"Did I fail Vlad?"
Such was the question that Jacopo likewise pondered as his bolts grew fewer in numbers. He had no strength left to stand up, or even to get out of bed, but after being tortured and lost his toes in Doldrey, he learned to always keep a weapon close to him. He might never had been the strongest knight, but he knew how to put on a show for the sake of his son.
Still, for all the times that Vlad disappointed Jacopo in his youth, he could never fully blame the kid for what he did. Being always stuck in bureaucracies with the Holy See, expeditions and other sorts of affairs, he had very little time to counsel the one that he strived to give stability for. Saying "I love you" or "I wish I could guide you in your life" somehow became a lot harder than working day and night, especially when all the interaction you see your son doing is drinking himself to an early grave.
