The Union meeting room was vast, high-ceilinged, and lined with polished stone walls that echoed with the faint clinks of armor as knights shifted uneasily on their feet. Heavy oak tables were scattered across the chamber, maps and reports pinned with iron clasps, and the air carried the mingled scent of waxed wood, smoldering torches, and cold iron. Torches flickered unevenly along the walls, casting elongated, shifting shadows across the stern faces of the twelve knights in attendance. Every glance, every subtle movement seemed amplified in the chamber's solemn quiet.
At the far end, a man stepped forward. His armor gleamed wherever the torchlight struck, silver-trimmed plates fitted with meticulous precision. A crimson cape flowed from his shoulders, heavy yet commanding, and the hilt of his sword—wrapped in dark leather—rested with perfect balance at his side. His neatly kept beard framed a jaw set firm, but fatigue lingered in his sharp eyes, the wear of one who was always calculating, always watching, and always carrying the weight of decisions that cost lives.
He stopped deliberately in front of the assembled knights, the tap of his boots against the stone floor carrying authority. Murmurs died instantly, swallowed by the room's vastness.
"There has been a report of a fiend occurrence in a remote village near the Sill Plain," Rael began, voice deep, unwavering. He let the words settle before continuing. "And this time… it's a goblin horde."
A faint murmur of acknowledgment ran through the room. Rael's gaze swept over the knights, sharp and steady.
"They are intelligent fiends," he continued, hands clasped behind his back. "Capable of wielding weapons. But their physical strength is only half that of a healthy man, making them easier for knights to exterminate. Yet, do not be deceived—they kill civilians with ruthless cunning. Underestimating them costs lives." His eyes sharpened, fixing on one knight in particular.
"Darrion," he said, voice low but cutting through the silence like steel. "Can you handle this threat alone?"
Darrion stepped forward. His armor gleamed with an almost mirror finish, steel gray edged with gold, unmarred by dent or scar. A longsword rested at his hip, its pommel catching the firelight, while a polished shield sat across his back. He straightened with perfect discipline, jaw tight, eyes steady, radiating controlled intensity.
"Yes, Commander Rael," Darrion answered coldly, voice calm yet edged with steel. "I'll cut them all down."
The commander's tone snapped, sharp and unyielding. "Did you forget that the people's lives come first?" His words struck the hall like a drawn bowstring, tension rippling through the chamber.
Darrion inhaled deeply, chest rising, then exhaled with careful precision. "Sorry, sir. I will protect every villager and slay every fiend in sight," he said, firm, though his eyes glinted with restrained fury.
Rael ran a hand through his hair, a gesture heavy with fatigue. "You need to set your priorities straight, Darrion. You are a knight—your duty first is to ensure the safety of civilians. Your duty second is to exterminate the fiends. Do not forget that."
Darrion's jaw tightened. His fist curled at his side, metal gauntlet creaking under strain. Agitation radiated in silent waves, though his voice remained contained. "Understood, sir."
Rael's voice grew sharper, ice threading beneath the warmth. "Listen carefully. If you allow even one villager to be killed, I will not hesitate to remove you from my division and assign you to patrol duty. Do not test me—or my tolerance."
The words landed heavy. Darrion unclenched his fist, spine rigid, his voice steady though bitter. "Yes, Commander. I swear by my pride as a knight… I will return with good news." He bowed deeply, the metal of his armor clinking softly with the gesture.
"Good," Rael said, softening slightly yet maintaining command. "I look forward to that good news. Words are cheap—make sure you back them with action."
"I will, Commander," Darrion replied, straightening, the metallic rasp of his armor punctuating the motion.
He hesitated, gaze drifting toward the maps sprawled across the table. "How do I reach that village from here?" he asked, tension simmering beneath his words. "It's too far to travel on foot, especially in a state of emergency."
"Simple," Rael said, folding his arms. "You'll travel by dragon carriage."
Darrion's eyes narrowed sharply. "You want me to ride on those creatures?" he barked, boots scraping stone. "No. I'll go on foot!"
A knight at the flank stepped forward, sword half-drawn. "Watch your tongue, Darrion! You dare—"
"Enough, Lucas. Back in line," Rael interrupted, calm but icy.
Lucas stepped back with a tense bow, jaw tight, eyes flicking toward Darrion. "Forgive my insolence, Commander," he muttered.
"I will not ride on those creatures," Darrion repeated, voice low but firm.
Rael's patience snapped. He slammed a fist against the table, reverberating through the chamber. "And let the village be wiped out?"
Darrion's jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides.
"Do not speak nonsense," Rael continued, pacing forward. "Your ignorance and stubbornness would be the death of these people. Do you want me to assign this mission to someone else?"
Darrion clenched his fists, forcing calm through his chest. "I sincerely apologize for my rudeness, sir," he said, voice bitter but respectful. "Please… allow me to accept this mission."
Rael's features softened slightly. "Much better. Technically, you won't be riding the dragon—you'll be in a carriage. Someone else will handle the flight and drop you at the village. You may return on foot if you wish. Prepare and depart in ten minutes."
"Yes, sir." Darrion saluted sharply, then pivoted. His boots echoed through the hall, each step taut with determination. I'll slay every last one of those fiends, he thought, jaw locked. I'll set this world free.
Rael watched him go, lips pressed thin. The other knights filed out in orderly silence, leaving only him in the vast chamber. The torches crackled softly, shadows shifting with the silence.
"Damn that boy," he muttered. "He gets on my nerves… but he's capable. Far more capable than those who joined long before him. If only he weren't so stubborn… just like the others I've buried." He leaned on the table, shoulders heavy with memory. "If he doesn't learn, he'll follow them. And I cannot afford to lose another." A sigh escaped. "Then again… he's just a kid. His hatred for fiends burns deeper than anyone I've ever known." He shook his head, pressing a hand to the table's edge.
The sun hung low over jagged cliffs, shadows stretching across the Union's training grounds. The dragon carriage waited, a hulking mass of muscle and scale. Bronze and crimson shimmered across its body, wings folded but taut with restrained power. Claws scraped stone, wings flexing, a low rumble vibrating through the ground. The rider stood firm, whip coiled, scanning the horizon.
Darrion stood at the cliff's edge, armor catching the dying light, hands resting on his sword hilt, eyes fixed forward, unreadable.
A female knight hurried toward him, boots clattering, fingers twisting the hem of her cloak nervously. "Darrion!" she called, voice breaking slightly against the wind.
He glanced over his shoulder, expression cold. "Oh… it's you, Elysia," he said, clipped, distant.
Elysia's chest tightened. Don't let him see how worried I am. She bit her lip, hesitating. "I… I know how harsh the commander has been. And the other knights…" Her voice faltered. "…they didn't treat you fairly."
Darrion's gaze drifted to the horizon, narrowing subtly. "It doesn't matter. That's what I expect," he said flatly.
Elysia's hands twisted together, fingers fidgeting as if they could anchor her to the moment. And then—the flood. Memories crashed in, sharp and unrelenting. That night. His first mission. Her first mission.
She froze mid-step, breath hitching. She could still feel it—the chaos, the heat, the terror that had clawed at her chest. Orcs and goblins swarmed like living tides, snarls vibrating in her bones. The acrid tang of blood and smoke clung to the air. Her shield had splintered under a savage blow, sending a jolt up her arm. Pain had screamed—but survival had screamed louder.
I can't die here. Not like this. Not now.
Claws and blades sliced too close, sparks leaping from stone and steel. Panic pressed against her ribs.
"Hold your ground!" someone shouted.
No—it wasn't just someone. It was him. Darrion. Cold, precise, and terrifyingly unflinching.
"Back! Stand behind me!"
Her wide eyes found him, moving with the inevitability of a storm. Each swing of his sword sent goblins flying, their shrieks sharp, metallic, and gone in an instant. She felt the tremors of his strikes through the ground, through her chest. Her own heartbeat thumped like a drum, threatening to betray her.
Why is he risking himself for me?
She gripped the jagged hilt of her broken shield as though it were the only tether keeping her tethered to life. A goblin lunged at her side, teeth bared. She rolled, scraping her elbow raw against the stone. Pain flared, but adrenaline burned hotter.
"Stay close!" Darrion barked, his voice slicing through her panic. "If you falter, they'll kill you."
Her legs ached. Her arms trembled. But he never wavered. Sparks danced from steel on steel, echoing down narrow alleys, every clang, grunt, and snap of sinew seared into her memory.
Then—a hulking orc swung its crude axe toward her chest. Time slowed. The world narrowed. This is it. I'm done.
A roar shattered the moment. Darrion's blade struck first, and the orc sprawled. He yanked her back, his eyes flickering with something more than duty—concern, sharp and undeniable.
She survived because of him. Only because of him.
Even now, two years later, her chest tightened at the memory. Her hands trembled, heart constricted, as she forced herself back to the present.
And there he was again—at the edge of the cliff, poised to ride headlong into danger.
"I… I don't share their views," she whispered. "Just… be careful. Come back… alive. In one piece."
He turned fully, armor rasping with movement. A faint curve touched his mouth. "Thanks. Not that I'll need it."
A low growl rumbled from the dragon, wings flexing as the rider cracked the whip. Muscles coiled like a spring, and the beast surged forward into the air. Darrion mounted with practiced ease, letting the wind whip his hair as the dragon rose. Below, Elysia shrank against the cliffs, fingers fidgeting, heart heavy.
Why does he always push me away? she thought, frustration knotting in her chest. I know he's strong… but can't he open up just a little? Does his hatred towards fiends run that deep?
What could have possibly happened to him? She pressed a hand to her chest, heart tightening as if she could feel his pain from afar.
The carriage climbed higher, wind tearing at Darrion's face, land rushing beneath. Somewhere out there, fiends waited—and until his blade cut them all down, he would never rest.