The Silver Company set out at first light, the soft glow of dawn casting a golden hue over the rolling hills. The dirt road stretched endlessly before them, winding through fields and forests. Talmberg faded behind them, its charred remnants a silent reminder of the price of peace.
Dikun Silver rode at the head of the column, his steel-gray eyes fixed on the horizon. The weight of the noble's summons loomed heavy in his mind. Lord Berrick Falken was no ordinary ruler. He was a man of cunning and influence — the type who measured a warrior's worth not only by his sword but by his loyalty.
"Thinking too much, Captain?" Rudric rumbled from his side, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "The lord's halls aren't so different from a battlefield. Keep your guard up, and you'll do fine."
Dikun smirked faintly. "Advice from a man who solves problems with an axe."
Rudric chuckled. "And it hasn't failed me yet."
Behind them, the company rode with quiet determination. Elira scouted ahead, her keen eyes watching for any sign of trouble. Saria and Bran rode side by side, their banter offering a semblance of normalcy amid the tension.
"You think Lord Berrick will reward us handsomely?" Saria mused, absently twirling a dagger between her fingers. "Or will he see us as expendable swords?"
Bran, ever cautious, frowned. "Nobles rarely offer kindness without a price."
Dikun nodded in agreement. "Which is why we won't go unprepared."
---
A Noble's Domain
By midday, the towering stone walls of Rattay came into view. Banners bearing the golden stag fluttered from the ramparts, and the bustling sounds of the city reached them long before they passed through its gates. Merchants called out their wares, and the clatter of hooves echoed through the cobblestone streets.
The Silver Company drew more than a few stares. Though they bore no sigil, their weathered armor and determined presence spoke of recent battle. Whispers followed them — tales of the bandit massacre had traveled fast.
"Let them talk," Elira muttered. "The more they fear us, the less we'll need to prove."
Dikun led his company through the streets until they reached the imposing gates of Lord Berrick's keep. Guards in polished mail stood watch, their spears crossed in silent authority.
"Captain Dikun Silver of the Silver Company," the rider from before announced. "Summoned by Lord Berrick Falken himself."
The guards exchanged a glance before stepping aside. "Welcome to Rattay, Captain. The lord awaits."
---
The Lord's Hall
The great hall of Rattay was a testament to noble power. Ornate tapestries lined the stone walls, depicting battles of old. A grand chandelier illuminated the chamber, casting a golden glow upon the polished marble floor. At the far end, upon a high throne, sat Lord Berrick Falken.
The noble was a man in his mid-forties, his broad shoulders draped in fine crimson robes. A thin silver circlet rested upon his graying hair, and a cold calculation gleamed in his eyes. To his side stood his advisors, each one bearing the practiced poise of those accustomed to court politics.
"Captain Silver," Lord Berrick's voice rang out, low and commanding. "You bring with you the reputation of a man who does not flinch in the face of bloodshed. Tell me, does the name you've earned weigh heavily upon you?"
Dikun stepped forward, his movements composed and deliberate. "It weighs as any name does, my lord. But it is not the name I fear — only the failure that might tarnish it."
The noble's lips curled into a faint smile. "Well said. There are many who sing of your victory in Talmberg. Bandits crushed, villages saved, justice restored. You have made a mark."
"I did what was necessary," Dikun replied.
Lord Berrick's gaze lingered on him. "And yet, necessity often breeds ambition. Tell me, Captain, do you seek more than gold? Perhaps… a title?"
The air grew tense. Dikun's expression remained unreadable. "A title is but a word. What matters is the strength to uphold it."
The hall stirred with murmurs. Lord Berrick's smile widened. "Good. A man who understands responsibility."
He gestured to one of his attendants, who stepped forward bearing a small chest of coin. "This is your reward for Talmberg. But I offer more than silver. Rattay has need of strong men. Swear yourself to my service, and I will see you rise — not as a mere sellsword, but as a knight of this land."
Dikun's heart pounded, but his voice remained steady. "And what would you ask in return?"
Lord Berrick's eyes gleamed. "Loyalty. The same loyalty you showed to the villagers. Prove to me that your blade serves justice, and in time, you will hold not only a sword — but a domain of your own."
---
A Decision Made
The Silver Company gathered in the courtyard that evening. The weight of Lord Berrick's offer hung heavy in the air.
"Knighted," Rudric scoffed, sharpening his axe. "A fine title. But the leash that comes with it is another matter."
"Titles bring power," Saria countered. "And power brings opportunity."
Elira remained silent, her gaze fixed on Dikun. "It's your choice. But know this — the moment you swear loyalty, you'll have more than enemies on the battlefield. The nobles will watch. Some will want you to fail."
Dikun exhaled slowly. "I know."
He looked to his men — the faces of those who had bled beside him, who had trusted him. They were no longer nameless mercenaries. They were the Silver Company.
"I will accept Lord Berrick's offer," Dikun declared. "But not as a pawn. The path to knighthood will not change who we are. Our strength comes from each other — not from the whims of lords."
A chorus of nods followed.
"Then let them name you knight," Rudric growled. "And may the world tremble at the sound of the Silver Company's march."
Dikun's eyes burned with resolve. The road to knighthood had begun. But beyond it, he saw a greater path — one that led not just to power, but to destiny.
And the world would remember the name Dikun Silver.