What is a knight?
When this question is asked, what could be an answer that one would give?
Would it depend on the person answering? Their experiences?
Or is it some sort of universal definition?
Lucavion sat in silence for a while, gazing at the edge of his blade—not for its sharpness, but for the reflection. It wasn't the steel he was trying to see. It was something beneath it. Something that should've meant more.
'What is a knight?'
The question hovered in his mind, deceptively simple.
'A title? A rank? A damn costume to parade around in?'
He chuckled under his breath, the sound dry and bitter.
'Depends who you ask, doesn't it?'
To a noble, a knight is a convenience. A decorated sword that follows orders. A glorified soldier with a name stitched into silk, ready to be thrown at the enemy, or perhaps paraded through the capital to make the House look noble and just. A dog, leashed in etiquette and expectation, barking when commanded.
