The Devouring Knight

Lumberling and Eldric rode in silence along the winding road, headed for the Church of the Sanctum of the Sunlit Path. It was time to tend to Eldric's injuries. Only the two of them had departed, fewer eyes, fewer questions, and a quicker pace.

By midday, the spires of Valdorin rose into view. The city's walls were tall and well-built, yet what caught Lumberling's attention lay outside them.

A sea of ragged figures clustered at the gates and along the dirt road leading up to them. Refugees, men, women, and children, huddled beneath makeshift shelters of cloth and scrap wood. Their clothes were torn, faces streaked with grime, eyes hollow from exhaustion and hunger.

Near the gates, a group of young people flung small sacks of grain and baskets of hard bread onto the ground. The crowd surged forward like a wave, voices breaking into desperate shouts. Hands clawed and pulled, and more than one person was knocked to the dirt as the stronger took from the weaker.

Lumberling slowed his horse, watching the chaos. The food they fought over was pitiful, barely enough for a single meal, let alone to feed a hundred mouths.

Beside him, Eldric's jaw tightened. His gloved hands gripped the reins until the leather creaked. "Another city must have fallen," he said grimly. "Another flood of refugees."

Lumberling's gaze lingered on a child curled around a loaf of bread as an older boy tried to wrench it from her grasp. "What's going to happen to them?" he asked quietly.

Eldric's eyes stayed fixed ahead, his voice low but edged with bitterness. "Either the City Lord will drive them away… or…"

He didn't need to finish.

Up ahead, a line of armored guards broke away from the city gates and marched toward the crowd of ragged refugees. At first, the people merely shifted uneasily, clutching their meager bundles of belongings.

But beyond the sea of ragged tents and smoke-stained faces, a group of armored city guards were shoving refugees away from the gates. Then, shouts erupted. Panic spread like fire in dry grass.

The crowd scattered in all directions, mothers pulling children, men shielding their families. A few stumbled in the dirt, trampled by the chaos around them.

"F*ckers!" someone screamed.

"Help! Please!" cried another, their voice swallowed by the commotion.

Lumberling's frown deepened as he reined his horse to a slower pace, eyes locked on the scene. "What are they doing?"

The answer came without hesitation. Eldric's jaw clenched as if the words themselves were bitter.

"They're taking the young men to be pressed into service, soldiers if they're strong enough, laborers if they're not. As for the women…" His teeth ground together. "Their fate's… far worse."

Lumberling's hands tightened around the reins. "And the empire allows this?"

"They're not citizens," Eldric said, his voice trembling. "No coin for taxes, no land, no use to the nobles inside the walls. To them, these people are nothing but mouths to feed."

"This happens everywhere?"

"Most of the time. I've seen it time and again. A few lords do take refugees in… but they're the exception, not the rule."

A sudden commotion broke their exchange. From the side of the road, a small group burst through the mass of people, a gaunt man clutching a small child, his wife at his side, followed by several terrified women and thin, pale-faced men. Behind them, a squad of guards surged forward like hunters driving prey.

"Back down boys, that short-haired runt is taken!" one of the guards jeered, his voice thick with ugly satisfaction.

"No one touch that one!" another barked, pointing to a trembling woman. "She's coming with me."

Laughter rang out from the guards as they gained on their quarry. One by one, they lunged, dragging people down into the dust. The victims' cries were drowned beneath the clatter of boots and the jeers of their pursuers.

"No! Stop! Help me!"

"Eva!" the gaunt man cried as two guards seized his wife by the arms. He lunged at them, fist swinging wildly. "Let her go!"

He struck one in the jaw, but without armor or a weapon, his blow barely staggered the man. In the next breath, the guards were on him, their armored fists hammering into his ribs and face.

"How dare you raise a hand to us!" one snarled before slamming the butt of his spear into the man's stomach. He crumpled to the ground, coughing blood, his child screaming in the dirt beside him.

The soldier raised his spear again, ready to strike the man a second time…

"Enough."

The voice cut through the chaos like a blade, cold and commanding, carrying far beyond the crowd. Heads turned toward the source.

Two riders approached through the sea of dust and noise, one was slumped in the saddle, his arm bound in a makeshift sling, but the other… the other sat straight-backed, eyes hard as iron. His black armor caught the sunlight like a shadow given form.

"Huh? Who's this fool?" one of the guards sneered, swaggering toward them. His comrades barely glanced up, too busy jeering at the desperate crowd. "This is city business…"

Lumberling's gaze swept the scene. His jaw tightened.

"I said…" His voice dropped lower, colder. "…enough."

The words didn't just carry, they hung in the air, heavy as iron.

Something unseen stirred, coiling outward from him. The change was immediate. The air grew thick, oppressive, as if the world itself had drawn a breath and was holding it.

Then his aura crashed down like a wave.

The Blessing of the Pale Dream unfurled in silence, tendrils of dread winding into every mind it touched. To the guards, it was as if the sun dimmed, the looming city gates behind them stretching taller, darker, swallowing what little light remained. In the haze of their panic, the walls seemed to lean inward, pressing them toward him.

Whispers only they could hear clawed at the edges of their thoughts, fragments of failure, helplessness, and the cold certainty that they were prey before a predator they could not hope to fight.

The guard's bravado broke instantly. His pupils shrank, sweat trickled down his temple. Around him, the others froze mid-motion, spears dipping, mouths dry.

Lumberling's eyes locked on them, unblinking. "Go."

The single word hit like a verdict.

An unseen weight pressed down on their chests, tightening their throats. Breaths caught and stuttered, some soldiers swallowing hard as if struggling to draw air.

A harsh laugh cracked from one guard's lips. His hands trembled slightly on his spear, the grip faltering. Another's eyes darted nervously, voice breaking as he muttered, "Maybe… maybe we should back off."

One by one, they backed away. They scrambled back, muttering excuses as they melted into the safety of the wall's shadow.