The night was a blade pressed against their throats.
Ten men huddled around a dying fire, their silver armor dulled by mud and blood. The forest around them groaned with unseen things—shifting shadows, the skitter of claws on bark. The Aurelian crest on their shoulders—a sword crossed by twin wands, wreathed in olive—seemed to mock them. They were Silver Knights in name only. A true knight of the order wouldn't be wasted in these forsaken wilds.
Then—the earth shook.
A monstrous neigh split the air, and the men lunged for their swords. From the darkness came a beast of legend: a Vlarian steed, its obsidian armor etched with glowing blue runes, eyes like twin hellfires. And upon its back—a true Silver Knight.
Kraneal.
His armor was a masterpiece—silver filigree woven with gold, the empire's crest bold as a war cry across his chest. A scar carved his face from brow to jaw, sealing his left eye shut. His great axe dripped black in the firelight.
He dismounted, his very presence bending the air like heat off a forge. Without a word, he drove his axe into the earth and took a bowl of gruel.
"The beasts are dead."
He tossed five glowing cores onto the ground. The men stared. Each one was worth a fortune.
The youngest knight—barely more than a boy in oversized armor—swallowed hard. "W-we can't take these. You killed them, Sir Knight."
Kraneal smirked. "Call me Kraneal. And keep them. I've no use for weak cores."
The scholar of the group—thin, glasses perched on his nose—cleared his throat. "Captain… what are we hunting?"
Kraneal pulled out a colorless crystal. "The Emperor's orders. We search. When we find it, this reacts. That's all I know."
A heavy silence. Then—
"What's the Emperor like?"
The Emperor's Aura
Kraneal's eye darkened with memory.
"I saw him once. At my induction into the order." He exhaled, as if the mere recollection stole his breath. "A thousand knights stood in that courtyard. I was at the back—just another speck. Then he appeared."
The fire dimmed, as if afraid to interrupt.
"The Emperor walked forward… and the world bent." Kraneal's voice dropped to a whisper. "His presence was like a mountain falling on your chest. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. Even the air obeyed him. And beside him—the princes."
He shook his head. "They were shadows next to the sun, but even they made my knees tremble."
The youngest knight leaned forward. "And the princess?"
Kraneal's stern face softened—just for a moment.
"Ah. Her."
The men leaned in. Even the fire burned brighter.
"I saw her in the capital. She was disguised—badly." He chuckled. "A floppy hat, a commoner's dress… but no amount of cloth could hide her."
His voice grew quieter, almost reverent.
"She had hair like molten silver, spilling over her shoulders in waves. Skin like fresh cream, untouched by sun. And her eyes—" He paused. "Like two drops of the summer sky, bright enough to shame the dawn."
The youngest knight's mouth hung open.
"She was laughing when she bumped into me," Kraneal continued, grinning. "Then she fell flat on her backside. I offered a hand—and when she looked up, I knew."
He mimed dropping to a knee. "I hit the ground so fast I nearly cracked the cobblestones."
The men roared with laughter.
"She hissed at me," Kraneal said, imitating her voice. 'Get up, you lumbering oaf! Do you want the whole market to know me?' So I played along. Spent the day as her 'guard.' She dragged me through every sweetshop in the district, complaining about her tutors between bites of honeycake."
The youngest knight sighed dreamily. "Did she… smile at you?"
Kraneal's scarred face did something rare—it warmed.
"Once. When I bought her a sugar-dusted pastry from a street vendor. She said it was the first thing she'd eaten in years that wasn't 'approved by the royal fussmongers.'"
The men howled. Even the scholar wiped tears from his glasses.
"Enough," Kraneal said, standing. "We move at first light."
As the fire guttered, the youngest knight whispered:
"Do you think… we'll ever see her?"
Kraneal didn't answer.
But for the first time in weeks, the night didn't feel so heavy.