The great hall of Rattay was alive with the murmur of courtiers and the flickering light of countless torches. Velvet banners adorned the stone walls, each bearing the golden stag of House Falken. The polished marble floor gleamed under the glow of a grand chandelier, and the scent of burning incense lingered in the air.
Dikun Silver stood at the center of it all. The weight of the moment bore down on him, but his steel-gray eyes betrayed no uncertainty. Clad in a newly polished breastplate, his simple mercenary garb had been traded for a more dignified appearance. A crimson sash crossed his chest — the colors of the Silver Company, a symbol of the path he had carved for himself.
Atop the throne, Lord Berrick Falken regarded him with quiet satisfaction. Beside him stood a line of nobles, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain. To them, Dikun was an upstart — a commoner who had spilled enough blood to demand their attention.
Yet it was Lord Berrick's approval that mattered most.
---
The Oath of the Blade
A robed attendant stepped forward, carrying a ceremonial longsword on a velvet cushion. Its polished steel gleamed, reflecting the orange glow of the torches.
"Dikun Silver," the Bailiff's voice rang out, commanding the hall's attention. "You stand before this court to swear your oath — not as a sellsword, but as a knight of the realm. Will you pledge your sword and loyalty to Lord Berrick Falken, to serve with honor and protect the people of these lands?"
The air was thick with expectation. Dikun drew in a steady breath.
"I will." His voice was calm, resolute.
Lord Berrick nodded, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Then kneel."
Dikun did so, resting one knee upon the cold marble. The attendant presented the sword to Lord Berrick, who grasped it with practiced ease. Its weight seemed more symbolic than practical — a relic of tradition.
The noble stepped forward, the sword raised.
"By my word as Lord of Rattay," Berrick intoned, "I name you Sir Dikun Silver. May your blade serve justice and your heart remain unyielding."
The flat of the sword brushed against each of Dikun's shoulders. The gesture was simple, yet its significance echoed through the hall. When the final tap landed, the nobles erupted into polite applause. Some clapped out of genuine approval; others, merely to follow the custom.
Rising to his feet, Dikun met Lord Berrick's gaze. The title was his now — not as a gift, but as a consequence of the road he had walked.
---
A Knight's Reward
"Sir Dikun Silver," Berrick addressed, his voice echoing once more. "As a knight of the realm, you shall not stand without a domain of your own."
The murmurs among the nobles grew louder. Few had expected the common-born mercenary to be granted land so quickly.
"The village of Brynstead shall be yours," Lord Berrick continued. "A modest settlement, but fertile and loyal. You will govern its people, protect its borders, and ensure its prosperity."
Dikun inclined his head. "I accept this honor, my lord. And I swear to uphold my duty."
"See that you do," Berrick said, though there was no malice in his words. "You will remain in Rattay for a time to receive counsel on your responsibilities. My steward will ensure you are well-versed in matters of governance."
Dikun nodded. Though the battlefield had been his proving ground, ruling a village would present challenges of its own. But that, too, he would overcome.
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A Gathering of Allies
Later that evening, the Silver Company gathered in the stone courtyard. The sounds of celebration still echoed from within the keep, but the mercenaries had little interest in noble revelry.
"Sir Dikun Silver," Rudric said, his gravelly voice thick with amusement. "Has a ring to it, doesn't it?"
"I'm still Dikun," he replied with a faint smile. "The title doesn't change who we are."
"Perhaps not," Elira said, stepping forward. "But it does change how others see us. The Silver Company's name will carry weight now. We are no longer just sellswords."
Saria smirked. "And a knight with a village of his own? That means no more sleeping in the mud."
"Don't get too comfortable," Dikun warned. "Brynstead will need guards, farmers, and builders. We'll be putting our hands to work soon enough."
"And what of the villagers?" Bran asked. "They won't all welcome a knight who once rode as a mercenary."
"They will, in time," Dikun said firmly. "We'll protect them. We'll earn their trust — just as we have with every town before."
The resolve in his voice left no room for doubt. The Silver Company had faced worse odds. A village to rebuild and defend would not break them.
"Tomorrow, we begin preparations," Dikun declared. "But tonight, we drink. To the Silver Company — and the path we carve."
The mercenaries cheered, the bonds of camaraderie stronger than ever. And as the night wore on, Dikun Silver knew that the road ahead would be long.
But with his people beside him, there was no storm he would not weather.
---
Next Chapter: A Knight's Burden
Dikun arrives at Brynstead and meets the villagers.
Challenges of governance and management emerge.
Tensions rise as neighboring bandits threaten the village.
The Silver Company begins fortifying their new home.