At first Liraeth had discounted the sudden change in how the Knight had held himself as he lowered himself to the ground as simply being him steadying himself. But then the stiffness that he had sat there with, back straight and unyeilding, despite the fact that Liraeth had feared he was about to fall over mere moments ago, struck him once again as being off somehow. As soon as he was fully seated, the change seemed to wear off, the Knight's shoulders slumped once more in exhaustion.

When they locked eyes again, the Knight seemed confused somehow, like he had just been somewhere else, or had only just awoken from a strange or disturbing dream. A head wound could account for such a reaction, but the Knight's pupils were normal, lacking the wide dilation that foretold of a concussion.

An unsettling flash of magical intuition registered in Liraeth's mind. As he handed the waster skin over to the Knight, he kept his eyes trained on him, looking this time for any sudden or strange change in behaviour.

As soon as he had passed the skin over the Knight changed again. 

His shoulders set themselves once more, the hand closed about the flask like a vice, gripping it strongly and raising it to is lips in a single mechanical action. He drank from it in deep gulps, his throat moving up and down like a piston. It went on for an uncomfortable amount of time, the Knight not pausing to take a breath, until the skin was half empty. 

But the most disturbing thing about this display was the change in the Knight's eyes. This close and watching intently, Liraeth saw it properly for the first time. As he handed the flask over, it was like some kind of film or cloud descended over the deep brown of the Knight's eyes. It was like he wasn't looking at anything at all, like the rest of the world had faded away. All the light went out of those eyes, replaced with a unsettling blankness that only belonged in the eyes of dolls and the dead.

When he placed the waterskin down, the Knight reverted back to his exhausted state once more, collapsing in on himself like the ruined towers and keeps that surrounded where they sat.  His head dropped into his hands and he murmured something to himself. When he raised it once more, his eyes had lost their glassy blankness, the light and colour slowly returning to them.

Liraeth could only stare in horror and in pity.

Of all types of magic, fair and foul, that existed in this wide world, the power to rob someone of their own will and make them into a slave or tool, was perhaps the most disgusting of all.

He could not be fully sure yet, but he believed that someone had cast over this Knight some kind of Geas. A curse that compelled one to act against their own will and instead placed them under the control of another. It was a terrible piece of magic, one that mingled deep in the mind of the recipient, and could cause immense damage to them if tampered with or inexpertly removed. 

To be so carelessly and freely placed upon him too. Most Geasa were designed to be activated with a specific word or phrase, or keyed to the possessor of a particular artefact or object. To place a Geas where one was forced to follow any verbal command they were given... the callousness of it sicked Liraeth. 

He set his jaw, a sudden fierce determination rose him. He was going to help this Knight no matter what, and make sure whoever was responsible for using such terrible and powerful magic with such little regard for him was held accountable.

"Sir Tenth..." He was choosing his words very carefully now. "I am Liraeth, Journeyman Arcanist of the Conclave of Magi. I need to go and have a look at the rest of the castle, and I think it would be best for you to rest here while I do, though you are under no compulsion to do so. I shall leave the waterskin here with you, you may drink from it as much or as little as you would like. I will be back soon."

He placed one hand one of the brawny Knight's armoured shoulders and patted it gently. Then he stood up, multicoloured cloak twirling about him as he took up his staff once more, the light from it growing brighter again. Liraeth took one final glance down at the at the Knight, giving him a small smile that almost masked the anger that was bubbling inside of him.

"I promise."

And with that he climbed steps towards the ruins of the keep.