Maximum Intimidation Knight In a World Full of Mages

By the time I found a tavern, night had properly fallen. The sign’s paint above the door was too worn to make out more than a few letters—Something-well Inn, perhaps. 

I dismounted, patted Silvermane’s side, and muttered, “Don’t eat anyone’s hay this time.”

I tied her to the post, squared my shoulders, and stepped inside. 

The tavern was smaller than I’d hoped but warmer than I’d expected. A few heads turned when I entered—mostly to confirm that I wasn’t here to confiscate their debts or souls—then turned back to their mugs. Behind the counter stood a young woman wiping a mug with the kind of focus one reserves for avoiding conversation. Her hair was tied in a loose knot, strands escaping every which way, and her sleeves were rolled to the elbow.

“Evening,” she said. “You lost, or just tired?”

“Tired,” I managed. The word came out properly this time, free of divine threat or unintended menace. A small miracle.

“Then you’ve found the right place.” She gestured to the benches by the fire. “Food’s whatever the cook hasn’t burned yet. Rooms are ninety Kohns a night, stabling extra.”

I nodded, relieved. Simple transaction, simple answer. I could do this.

‘That’s fair,’ I willed myself to say. ‘I can pay.’

What came out was: “Your price is just, innkeeper. Speak your needs, and they shall be fulfilled.”

[Intimidation Successful]

[Effect: Intimidation — Minor Shock (Civilian)]

She immediately ceased polishing. The mug slipped from her hand, hitting the counter with a dull clack. “E–excuse me?”

I tried again. ‘Room. I’d like a room. For the night.’

I said, “Prepare a chamber worthy of the sanctified rest. I require no luxuries; only obedience. You shall prove your obedience.”

[Intimidation Successful]

[Effect: Fear Response Triggered]

Ceralis, you charisma aneurysm in holy armor! That is no way to speak to a lady!

To her credit, she didn’t back away. “Listen, stranger,” she said, voice trembling just enough to betray the lie. “I’m not scared easily. Y-you can keep your threats to yourself, or you can take them right back out that door.”

Keep it curt, Henry. You know Ceralis can’t twist your words if you offer so few of them.

‘I just want a bed,’ I told myself to say.

“I merely announce what shall occur if obedience is not offered.” What? That’s an entirely different set of meanings. I sorely wish for the word ‘obedience’ to be deleted from vocabulary altogether.

[Intimidation Unsuccessful]

Unsuccessful?

The innkeeper drew in a shaky breath, shoulders stiffening as she forced herself to meet my gaze. “You can start,” she said, voice trembling but steadying by the syllable, “by speaking to me with respect, ser.”

I realized, to my delight, that this particular civilian had skin thick enough to withstand my effect. I could still fix this, as long as I didn’t utter another word.

I simply stared at the keeper and very calmly pointed to the key rack behind her.

Ha. Take that, Ceralis. What are you going to do now, huh? You can’t twist what I don’t say.

Estimated Staring Duration: 2 seconds

[Effect Registered]

[Passive: Silent Authority Activated]

Ah. So that’s how you activate Silent Authority.

She froze. Her eyes widened, lips parting in a soundless gasp. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple as her hand instinctively dropped to her apron, clutching it like a shield.

[Chained Intimidation Successful]

[Passive: Overwhelming Aura Activated]

The mug she’d dropped earlier rolled off the counter and hit the floor with a clink. For a moment she just stared at me, frozen, eyes wide and glimmering like glass about to crack. Then the trembling started, first in her hands, then her shoulders, until it looked like she was trying to shake the fear off her bones.

“G–get out!” she managed.

[Congratulations: Intimidation — Critical Success]

[Room Acquisition: Failed]

Somebody at the far table spilled their ale. Another patron bolted for the door like I’d set fire to the place.

What? No! I can’t possibly have caused mass panic just from eye contact!

I threw up both hands and stepped back toward the door. ‘I’m leaving! I’m leaving!’

I said as I shuffled backward, “I shall grant mercy upon this establishment. For now.”

I spun on my heel, nearly tripped over the threshold, and burst into the street like a man fleeing his own sermon.

[SOCIAL PENALTY: Aura of Authority escalated]

Current Reputation: C- (Mild Infamy)

Sphere of Influence: Dunswell

Estimate Duration: 87 days

The night swallowed me up. The tavern door slammed behind me, bolt thrown, as if to seal away whatever holy plague I represented.

I stood there a moment, staring down the empty street. 

Eighty-seven days of terror. For trying to rent a room.

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. I missed talking already. The old kind—about nothing, about weather, about how the roads were terrible this time of year.

I liked knowing what people planted this season, who got married, whether the grain market would collapse again. Now I couldn’t even ask about the rain without smiting something.

With Silvermane by my side, I wandered until the streetlights gave out. Eventually, I found a spot by the old water trough behind a cooper’s shed. It wasn’t much, but the shadows were deep, and the air was still. I sat down on the low stone edge, boots in the dirt, the kind of place no one would come looking for a conversation. My stomach rumbled from hunger.

A woman walked by in a shawl, balancing a basket under one arm, eyes downcast. She seemed small, a good head shorter than me, and generally harmless. Instinct made me lift a hand, friendly wave half-formed before I could stop myself. “Good evening,” I meant to say. “How’s the yield ‘round this time of year?”

She froze like a hare in a hawk’s shadow the moment I lifted my hand. Then she bolted, basket and all, vanishing into the dark with the sound of scattering apples.

This is my life now. I’ll never make human connections again. Not like I’ve had much luck with the ladies before, but still . . .

Twenty-seven years on this earth, and I’d never had what anyone could honestly call a courtship. There’d been moments, sure. Fleeting things. A smile exchanged over a campfire, a dance at some provincial harvest festival, a kiss traded in the half-hour before dawn patrol. But never anything lasting.

I was always on the move. I’d pack up my few belongings, salute whoever I was leaving behind, and promise I’d write. I never did. Not because I didn’t want to, but because by the time I’d found paper and ink, they’d already forgotten my name.

If the price of peace was solitude, I could pay it.

If protecting the reputation of the Knighthood meant people slept easier believing in their knights rather than fearing them, then fine. Even if the Knighthood barely existed anymore, that was all the more reason to guard what scraps of dignity it had left.

I was about to move along, quietly this time, when another woman passed by. She had a basket of apples with her, and her clothes were simple commoner’s weave, plain cut, but somehow the plainness felt deliberate even from a distance. Her hair was loose, a little uneven at the ends, as though she’d tried to make it look unkempt. But here was what caught my eyes: her skin—unblemished and pale, with that translucent clarity I’d only seen in people who’d never had to stand too long in the sun.

Whoever she was, I was in no business of frightening her.

I stepped aside, careful not to startle her—

—and immediately trod on Silvermane’s hoof.

The horse let out a piercing neigh that could’ve woken the saints. 

She turned toward me, curious, head tilted like she was about to speak.

We exchanged eye contact for a second, and that was enough.

[Passive: Silent Authority Activated]

Ceralis, you bastard-coated sanctity malfunction!

There was nothing I could do to stop the moment. The wide eyes. The held breath.

I braced myself for that cursed [Intimidation: Successful] notification again. I took a step back, then another, carefully exiting the social encounter with minimal civilian trauma.

[Seduction Successful] 

[Courtship Established] 

[Romantic Interest: +85%]

I stopped.

What in the Holy Statistical Anomaly just happened?

Only then did I actually see her eyes. Wide, glassy things, like a porcelain doll catching candlelight. I had never seen another pair of eyes more doll-like than hers. There was something almost fragile about her features, the kind of delicate grace that didn’t belong in a muddy street after nightfall. It made her look like she’d stepped out of a painting and gotten terribly lost on the way back in.

Then she shuddered. Just slightly, enough for her shawl to tremble at the hem. Instinctively, I turned away because that’s what the Guidebook for Proper Conduct Among Knights and Gentlefolk would probably advise. Except, to my dismay, there was no chapter on chivalry when one’s mere existence terrifies women.

What did the code of honor say about apologizing with your aura? Nothing.

Then she spoke.

“Sir,” she said softly, voice quivering like a plucked harp string. “Please do stare at me again.”