Re: An Age of Ashes

The road was long and arduous, a winding path carved through the dense forests of his lands. The towering oaks and thick pines pressed in from either side, their branches arching overhead like skeletal fingers blotting out the sun. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves clung to the air, mixing with the sweat of marching men and the faint musk of horses.

It had been days since they departed Rabenfeld Keep, and the journey had begun to weigh on the men. Their boots sank into the thickening mud, their breaths forming misty clouds in the chill autumn air. Though trained, the soldiers' movements had lost the sharp discipline of the first day.

Adrian rode near the front, his hands gripping the reins tightly, forcing himself to maintain a noble's bearing. His body still ached from the ride—his muscles unused to long hours in the saddle. The journey was far from glamorous.

"How did knights ever enjoy this?" he mused, shifting in discomfort.

Despite the hardships, the morale remained steady. The men shared quiet jokes, muttered complaints, and songs hummed low beneath their breaths. Though Adrian wasn't yet close to them, he was beginning to understand them.

And they were beginning to watch him.

He had noticed the stolen glances—the way the men eyed him when they thought he wasn't looking. Some with curiosity, others with skepticism. He was, after all, an unproven lord. A noble untested by war.

That would soon change.

POV: Klaus, the Soldier

Klaus marched alongside his comrades, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, fingers tapping absently. He was young, no more than twenty summers, and though he had seen battle before, this was different.

This wasn't some local skirmish.

They were escorting their lord.

And that made every moment feel heavier.

He risked a glance toward Adrian von Rabenfeld. The young lord rode stiffly, clearly uncomfortable in the saddle. Not like a seasoned warrior. Klaus had expected more from a noble—but then again, perhaps this one was different.

A sharp snap echoed from the trees. A branch breaking underfoot.

Klaus stiffened, his grip tightening around his sword. His instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong.

Then—

The whistle of arrows.

One of the riders beside him jerked violently, blood spraying from his throat as he toppled from his horse.

A heartbeat later, the forest erupted with shadows.

The Ambush

"AMBUSH!" someone roared.

The enemy came from both sides, their cloaks blending into the darkened woods. Blades flashed in the dim light, the gleam of steel accompanied by the dull thuds of arrows striking flesh. Horses reared, men shouted in confusion.

Klaus dove forward, his instincts taking over.

Adrian—where was Adrian?!

He turned just in time to see one of the assassins lunging for the lord.

Adrian barely had time to raise his sword. His parry was slow, clumsy. The assassin knocked his blade aside with ease, closing in for the kill.

He's going to die.

Klaus moved without thinking.

Throwing himself forward, he slammed into Adrian, knocking him aside. Pain exploded in his shoulder as the assassin's dagger sank deep, piercing through his mail.

"Ghh—!"

Klaus gritted his teeth and drove his sword into the attacker's gut. Blood splattered against his armor as the man fell, gasping his last.

But the fight wasn't over.

More assassins surged forward.

Adrian was still struggling to get to his feet. He was alive, but vulnerable.

Then—

Steel flashed.

A massive figure barreled through the chaos, cutting down an assassin in one brutal stroke.

"STAY BEHIND ME, MY LORD!"

It was Otto, the captain of Adrian's personal guard.

The man was a tower of muscle, his sword an extension of his will as he cut through the attackers with terrifying precision. His blows weren't elegant, but they were effective—honed through years of bloodshed.

Adrian had never been so glad to see someone.

The fighting raged on, but the assassins had lost their momentum. They had hoped to kill a noble, not fight trained warriors.

Within minutes, it was over.

The forest was silent once more, save for the ragged breathing of the survivors and the groans of the wounded.

The Aftermath – A Lord and His Men

Adrian sat near the fire that night, his mind racing. The battle had been brief, but it had shaken him.

"I almost died."

He looked down at his hands. They were still trembling.

He had always imagined himself handling battle with confidence—but reality had shattered that illusion.

A shadow loomed over him.

"You are lucky to be alive, my lord."

Adrian glanced up. Otto stood before him, arms crossed.

After a moment of hesitation, Adrian asked, "Who are you?"

Otto arched a brow. "Otto Grunwald. A soldier, like any other. Though for now, I am yours."

Adrian studied the man. He had the look of a veteran—scarred, cold-eyed, experienced.

"And him?" Adrian turned to Klaus, who sat nearby, his shoulder wrapped in fresh bandages.

Klaus straightened. "Klaus Richter, my lord. Just a soldier, but—" He hesitated, then added, "It was an honor to fight for you."

Adrian felt something tighten in his chest.

He had nearly gotten this man killed.

And yet, Klaus was looking at him not with resentment, but with something else. Respect? Expectation?

Adrian clenched his fists. He wasn't worthy of that yet.

Then, Otto spoke again, his voice gruff.

"You survived today because of your men. But that will not always be the case."

Adrian understood the meaning behind those words. He was weak.

That had to change.

A Final Revelation

Before Otto left, Adrian asked, "Why were you there? Why did you save me?"

Otto hesitated. Then, he sighed.

"Elena."

Adrian's breath caught. His maid?

"She had us watching you in secret. She suspected something like this would happen." Otto met his gaze. "You have more allies than you realize."

Adrian sat back, the firelight casting shadows across his face.

He had much to think about.

For the first time, he truly felt the weight of his title.

And he vowed—this would not happen again.