The fog hung low over the woods, thick and heavy, like a veil draped over ancient secrets. Shafts of pale sunlight pierced through the mist in slanted beams, glinting off the dew-slicked leaves and the cold steel of armor.
Light tore through the underbrush, his breath ragged and quick, his boots thudding against the earth. His armor clinked and clattered with each bound, the weight of it a familiar, if burdensome, presence. He leapt over gnarled roots and fallen logs, dodging low-hanging branches that clawed at his tunic. The woods seemed to twist around him, paths blurring, each tree an indistinct shadow in the fog.
He came to a sudden stop at a fork in the trail, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. His emerald-green eyes darted between the two paths, trying to remember the way. Was it left? Or–
A sharp thwip cut through the air, and an arrow hissed past his head, nicking a lock of his dark hair.
"Damn it!" Light hissed, ducking low. Voices echoed from behind, rough and coarse, accompanied by the crunch of boots on the forest floor.
"Spread out! Don't let him get away!" a gruff voice barked. Another voice–youthful, eager–chimed in, "Once we catch the lad, what are we gonna do with him, boss?"
A harsh, guttural laugh answered. "Tear him limb from limb. He thought he could mess with our camp? He'll pay for that with blood."
Light clenched his jaw. No time to think. He bolted down the right path, heart pounding in his ears. The trail thinned into tangled underbrush, branches clawing at his face, and soon the path vanished entirely, ending in a sheer wall of brambles and stone.
A dead end.
"Darn," Light muttered under his breath, scanning for an escape, but there was none.
The sound of pursuit grew louder–heavy boots stomping closer, curses flung into the air like weapons.
"Boss! I think we lost him!" a soldier shouted.
The leader–an enormous man with a thick beard, matted hair, and a jagged scar down his face–grunted in frustration. He stalked forward, shoving aside his men, his boots thudding like war drums.
"No, no, he's close. I can smell him."
He paused, glancing down at the ground. His eyes narrowed. There, in the mud–a pile of armor, abandoned.
"What in the gods' name–?!" the boss roared, his voice raw with disbelief.
"The scumbag ditched his armor!"
"Clever," Light thought, hidden high in the boughs above, breath steadying as he watched the men below.
The boss turned, eyes glinting. "Search the woods! Fan out! Don't let him–"
The words caught in his throat as a crack rang out. One of the foot soldiers crumpled to the ground, an arrow embedded in his skull.
"What the–?!"
Another soldier fell. Then another. Panic spread like wildfire. Arrows rained from the mist, swift and deadly, each shot felling a man before they could react.
The boss stumbled back, chest heaving, his back pressed against a tree. His wide eyes darted, scanning the foggy woods, sweat beading on his brow.
Then–a rustle. A whisper of movement above.
"Looking for me?"
Light dropped from the branches like a hawk on the hunt, sword gleaming as it caught the sunlight. He crashed down before the boss, the force of his landing shaking the earth.
The boss barely managed to roll aside as Light's blade sliced through the air where he had just stood.
The man grinned, teeth bared like a wolf's. "A flashy entrance for a dead man!"
Light straightened, rolling his shoulders, his green eyes flashing with amusement. "Surprised you dodged that. I figured someone your size would be slower."
The boss roared, gripping the haft of his battleaxe. "I'll split you in half!"
He charged, swinging his axe in a wide arc. The blade hummed through the air, but Light caught it on his sword, steel clashing in a shower of sparks. He twisted, driving his boot into the man's stomach, sending him staggering backward.
Before the boss could recover, Light surged forward. His blade flashed in a precise, fluid strike, cutting through flesh and muscle. The big man gasped, dropping his axe as blood gushed from the gash in his stomach. He collapsed with a groan, clutching the wound.
Light exhaled, letting the weight of the fight roll off his shoulders. He turned to the remaining foot soldiers, who stared at him in wide-eyed horror.
"I'll give you one chance to walk away," he said, voice calm but firm. "Drop your weapons and leave–now. Or you'll meet the same fate as your leader."
The men didn't hesitate. Weapons clattered to the forest floor as they fled, crashing through the trees, shouts fading into the distance.
Silence settled over the woods, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves.
Light wiped the blood from his blade onto his tunic, then sheathed it across his back. He stepped over the body of the boss, giving it a light nudge with his boot.
"Most likely deceased," he muttered, before turning on his heel and making his way back toward the path.
The fog began to thin as he walked, sunlight breaking through in golden rays. Soon, the trees parted, revealing the edge of the forest–and beyond it, the village.
A cheer erupted as Light stepped into the clearing.
"Captain!"
A massive figure pushed through the crowd–Daruk, towering over the others like a mountain. His long red hair, woven into thick braids, framed a face split by a wide grin, his beard just as fierce. His emerald eyes sparkled, a mirror of Light's own.
"Captain, you made it back!" Daruk bellowed, clapping Light on the back with enough force to make him stumble.
Light smirked. "Of course I did. It'll take more than a few bandits to bring me down."
Daruk let out a hearty laugh, the sound deep and booming. "That's what I like to hear! The lads and I were starting to wonder if we'd have to come dig you out of the woods."
"And miss all the fun?" Light teased, shaking his head. His expression turned serious. "Did you recover the stolen goods?"
"Aye," Daruk confirmed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "After you lured them out of their camp, we moved in. The goods are safe."
"Good." Light's shoulders eased a little. "I'll speak with the elder."
He left Daruk behind, moving toward the sanctuary at the heart of the village. The small temple sat beneath a great oak, its wooden beams weathered by time. Statues of the goddess dotted the grounds–Caelira's serene face carved into stone, arms outstretched in blessing. Villagers knelt by the fountains, whispering prayers, the scent of incense filling the air.
Light approached the main fountain, where the village elder knelt in silent prayer, robes flowing like water around him. Light paused, set his sword at the door, and stepped forward.
He sank to his knees before the goddess's likeness, bowing his head. For a time, they prayed in silence–the only sounds were the bubbling of water and the soft rustle of leaves.
At last, the elder spoke, voice low and reverent. "Light Blackwood. You have returned."
Light rose to his feet, nodding. "The mission is complete. The goods have been recovered. The bandits… will trouble you no more."
The elder's eyes glimmered with gratitude. "Caelira's blessing upon you, child. You have done this village a great service."
Light gave a respectful nod, but as he turned to leave, the elder called after him.
"Wait, Champion."
Light paused, glancing over his shoulder. The elder reached for a small wooden box and opened it. Inside lay a polished blue crystal and a silver amulet, etched with runes.
"This is for you," the elder said softly, lifting the amulet. The crystal shimmered as it was placed into the center, a soft glow pulsing from within. The elder fastened it around Light's neck, the weight warm and strangely comforting against his skin.
"It will aid you in the days ahead."
Light nodded, voice quiet. "Thank you."
He turned and left the sanctuary, retrieving his sword. As he stepped into the sunlight, Daruk and the knights awaited him, their eyes sharp with anticipation.
"So, what's the word, Captain?" Daruk asked, arms crossed.
Light met their gazes, steady and resolute. "We leave for Solara soon. Those I ordered to remain–stay and protect the village. The rest–prepare yourselves. We march at dawn."
The village bustled with quiet farewells as Light's squadron packed their belongings, stowing crates onto wagons and securing gear onto their horses. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, the fog lifting slowly as dawn crept higher into the sky.
Daruk led the loading effort with a booming voice, barking orders as he hoisted a barrel of supplies onto a cart. He moved like a force of nature, his braided red hair swinging with each step. Beside him, the squad's weapons master, Brynn Stonefist, a weathered man with a thick beard and a missing ear, grunted as he checked the straps on the wagons. Kael Rivers, a lean scout with quick hands and sharper eyes, adjusted his quiver while humming a low tune. Tolan Reed, a quiet, broad-shouldered man, polished his axe in silence, while Mira Vale, the squad's only archer, meticulously checked her bowstrings.
Light watched them from the saddle of his white stallion, Aurelian, the horse's silver mane catching the morning light. His posture was straight, hands steady on the reins, his expression as unreadable as ever.
When the last crate was loaded, the squad mounted up, the wagons creaking as they set off down the forest road. The men and women of the squad began to sing–an old, weather-worn ballad from the age of Solara's founding. Their voices rose together, rough but warm, filling the woods with echoes of legend.
"O'er mountain high and river deep,
We ride for crown and kin to keep,
With blade in hand and banner bright,
We march beneath Solara's light!"
Light rode at the head of the column, silent amidst the song. His emerald eyes scanned the horizon, alert as ever, though his thoughts drifted–to the castle, to the princess, and to the weight of the responsibilities on his shoulders.
As the song faded, the squad's chatter picked up, their voices easy and familiar. It wasn't long before the questions started.
"So, Captain," Kael called out, a sly grin on his face as he rode beside Mira, "how's it feel to be the youngest Royal Knight in history? What were you–seventeen?"
A few of the older knights chuckled under their breath, some with a trace of bitterness in their tones. Brynn muttered, "Seventeen… barely a man and they gave him the title." Tolan grunted, neither approving nor disapproving.
Daruk, ever the buffer between them, barked a laugh. "Aye, but don't let his age fool you. The lad's got the bite of a drake when he needs it."
Kael leaned forward in the saddle, eyebrows raised. "Still, Captain. What was it like? Training with the old masters, getting the royal seal… chaperoning the princess herself?" His voice held a teasing edge, but the curiosity was real.
Light's gaze remained on the road ahead, his voice level. "Training was grueling. Every hour of every day, a test. No time for sleep. No time for mistakes." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the metal cool against his fingertips. "As for the princess..."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. The men leaned in, hungry for gossip.
"She is... headstrong," he said at last, voice dry as dust. "And not particularly good at staying where she's told."
Mira snorted, grinning. "Sounds like someone's got his hands full."
Brynn scoffed. "A lad like you keeping up with the princess? Hells, what does she see in a boy still wet behind the ears?"
A few of the older knights laughed, not unkindly, but with a sharpness that stung. Light said nothing, though Daruk shot them a warning glare.
"Watch your tongues," Daruk rumbled. "Or you'll be answering to the Captain–and I mean answering."
Before the tension could stretch further, a sudden gust of wind swept through the trees, carrying with it a faint shimmer of magic. Feathers glittered in the sunlight–a bird, white as snow, streaked toward them through the sky.
Kael's grin widened. "Well, well. What's this? A love letter from the princess herself?"
The others chuckled as the bird, delicate yet radiant, swooped down and hovered in front of Light. Its wings pulsed with faint runes of light–ancient magic woven into its feathers. The bird's eyes, glowing pale blue, locked onto Light's.
With a soft chime, the messenger spoke–not in the voice of a bird, but in a young woman's clear, melodic tone.
"Light Blackwood, by the authority of the Crown: you are urgently summoned to Solara. The princess requests your immediate presence. Delay is not an option."
The laughter died instantly.
Light's eyes sharpened, a flicker of tension in his jaw. He reached out, and the bird dissolved into motes of magic, vanishing into the air.
For a moment, the squad sat in stunned silence.
Daruk broke it with a low whistle. "Well, that's new."
Kael tried to joke, but his voice faltered. "Guess the lad is in the princess's good graces…"
Light ignored the muttering, his tone calm but cutting as he addressed them.
"Enough chatter. Ready the horses. We ride for Solara–now."
Without waiting for a response, Light spurred Aurelian into a gallop, his cloak snapping in the wind. The others scrambled to follow, their earlier banter swallowed by the thunder of hooves.