The Devouring Knight

Derrek frowned. "Monsters?" He turned toward the battlefield, and his breath caught in his throat.

Armored creatures on horseback and massive boars charged in perfect formations. Blades, axes, spears, they wielded weapons as fine, if not finer, than the city's own.

They moved with the precision of trained soldiers. Their formation held steady, no one breaking rank, their movements flowing together like parts of the same machine.

And among them… dozens of evolved monsters, each radiating a strength that made Derrek's stomach twist. He himself was only a Quasi-Knight. 'If such beings turned their fury on the city instead of Sengolio… Drosvain wouldn't last an hour.'

"I need to report to Baron Roland. Now," he muttered, turning from the wall. Without another word, he sprinted toward the keep, the sounds of battle still ringing in his ears, mixed now with the chilling thought that their saviors could just as easily become their doom.

As Captain Derrek rushed into the keep, breath ragged from the run, Baron Roland was already there, standing near a map table with a calmness that felt almost unnatural for a man whose city was under siege.

Before Derrek could speak, the doors creaked open, and a figure stepped inside.

"Who are…" Derrek began, hand on the hilt of his sword. But the moment his eyes adjusted to the light and saw the man's face, his grip slackened. "Eldric?"

The newcomer smiled faintly, a tired but genuine warmth behind it. "Captain Derrek… cautious as ever." His voice carried the familiarity of an old comrade, and for a brief moment, it was as if the chaos outside didn't exist.

Eldric's gaze shifted to the man beside Derrek. "Baron Roland Brightwind." Near his fifties, with brown hair and a weathered but friendly face, he carried himself with the calm dignity of someone used to command and the humility to listen.

He gave a respectful bow, one hand across his chest, a gesture that seemed less a formality and more a genuine greeting.

Roland's eyes widened. "Eldric… You're alive. And your wounds…" His tone wavered with something between relief and guilt. "They've healed."

The Baron remembered all too well how Eldric had served him during this war for years, and how he had failed to provide the gold for a healer. With so many refugees flooding into the city, even his coffers had run dry. Believing he would soon succumb to his wounds, he urged him to return home before regret could take root.

"I got lucky," Eldric said simply. "Someone I knew helped me." He stepped closer, his expression turning serious. "We can talk about that later. For now, order your soldiers to stand down. Make sure no one attacks the monsters outside."

Captain Derrek blinked. "Not attack the monsters? Eldric, they're dangerous! If we work together, we might still hold them off long enough to finish the evacuation." His words carried urgency but not anger, only disbelief at what his old friend was suggesting.

"They're… people I know," Eldric replied calmly.

Derrek stared at him. "People you, Eldric, those are monsters. We can't…"

Baron Roland raised his hand, silencing him. His calm brown eyes locked on Eldric. "Then tell me… who are they?"

"They're reinforcements I brought," Eldric said, his tone steady. "A mercenary group, the Duskpire Legion."

Derrek blinked. "Mercenaries? Monsters as mercenaries?"

"Yes," Eldric admitted without hesitation. "I know it sounds absurd, but these aren't the kind of monsters you're thinking of. They're trained like soldiers, disciplined, organized, and they follow a human leader."

Derrek stared at him in disbelief.

But then his eyes caught Eldric's, steady and unblinking, carrying the weight of command. The protest died in his throat, smothered by loyalty and the unspoken oath between them. He gave a curt nod, the kind that tasted like surrender.

Baron Roland's voice was calm. "Can we trust them?"

"You can," Eldric replied firmly. "I know their leader personally. I stayed with them for weeks. And they're the ones who healed me."

Roland studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. There was a flicker of hope in his eyes, faint, but there. Still, his expression shifted, hesitation creeping in.

"You said they're mercenaries," Roland began, his voice lowering. "I… can't pay for their service. Even my people are starving. There's nothing I can offer." His words carried the weight of shame, each one feeling like it cost him to speak.

"I know," Eldric said, a small understanding smile touching his lips. "And you don't need to worry. I've already spoken to their leader, he isn't asking for gold."

Roland's brow furrowed. "Then what does he want?" His voice held a mix of wariness and resolve, as though ready to bargain away even his soul if that was the price.

Eldric's smile was faint but genuine. 'Baron Roland… you truly are one of the rare good nobles left.'

"Influence," he said plainly. "And your name. If the empire ever moves against them, he wants to be able to claim they serve under you, that they are your men. On paper only, of course. A shield, nothing more."

Roland froze, the weight of the words settling on him like a stone. The implications were immediate and heavy. Agreeing meant tying the honor of House Brightwind to these… mercenaries. If the empire decided they were a threat or a nuisance, his family's name would burn alongside theirs.

His fingers curled slightly at his side. "That's… no small thing, Eldric."

"I know," Eldric replied, his voice calm but firm. "But hear this, he also promised that if you agree, the Duskpire Legion will answer your call three times without charge. After that, you can still hire them… but they'll only take half their usual fee."

Captain Derrek shifted, his mouth opening as if to protest, but one look at Baron Roland's face silenced him. This was not his decision to make.

Roland's gaze drifted toward the window, where distant shouts and the clash of steel bled into the room. The empire had ignored his pleas for aid, sending no reinforcements despite his letters, his messengers, his desperation. Now, the city was on the brink of ruin.

His gaze flicked to the polished family crest etched into his breastplate, the weight of his lineage pressing heavier than steel.

When he spoke again, his voice carried no doubt.

"…Alright. I agree."

Resolve hardened in his eyes. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps he was signing his family's doom. But if this choice bought his people even a little more time, if it spared the lives of those still in the streets, it was worth it.

He looked back at Eldric, who stood there smiling as though he already knew what the answer would be.

'Maybe,' Roland thought, just maybe… he had chosen right.