The Devouring Knight

The soldiers behind her nodded faintly, as if clinging to her words for reassurance, though their eyes lingered uneasily on the monstrous troops.

Lumberling didn't answer right away. Instead, he watched her carefully, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he had been waiting for this very challenge.

"If it's proof you want," he said, his voice steady, "then let your Knight test me."

The words hung in the air. A ripple of surprise passed through Liraeth's soldiers. Gordon, the old Knight at her back, straightened, his hand already resting on the hilt of his blade. His weathered face showed no arrogance, only calm readiness.

"You wish to spar with me, Lord Lumberling?" Gordon asked, his voice deep and steady, carrying the weight of decades on the battlefield.

"I do." Lumberling nodded. "Show your lady what it means to stand against me."

For a moment, Liraeth studied Lumberling's expression. He wasn't boasting, if anything, he looked almost eager. She gave the slightest nod.

"Very well. Gordon, test him. But no killing."

The training yard quickly cleared. The monsters and soldiers alike formed a wide circle, their eyes fixed on the two figures stepping into the center. The air grew heavy with anticipation.

Gordon drew his longsword with a metallic ring, the polished steel gleaming under the sun. His aura surged forth, a steady, crushing pressure, the unmistakable presence of a True Knight. Several goblins and kobolds flinched back under its weight.

His hand rested on his hilt, not out of eagerness, but duty. To him, this was no mere spar, it was proof. Proof that he could still shield the lady he had watched grow into her station, proof that her trust in monsters and outsiders would not be misplaced.

Lumberling gripped his spear, planting its butt into the dirt before twirling it lightly. His blue eyes locked onto Gordon, his own aura slowly unfurling like a storm gathering at sea.

On the side, Liraeth lips parted slightly, a flicker of disbelief breaking through her mask as the young lord's presence surged to meet Gordon's.

Then Gordon moved first. With surprising speed for his age, he closed the distance, his blade sweeping in a clean, precise arc aimed at Lumberling's neck.

Clang!

Lumberling's spear shaft caught the strike, the wood reverberating under the force. Gordon pressed harder, the edge biting down, his strength undeniable. But with a twist and a shove, Lumberling redirected the blow and spun away, the spear whistling toward Gordon's ribs.

The old Knight stepped back, deflecting the thrust with a sharp parry. His movements were economical, honed by years of combat, no wasted motion, no hesitation.

For several exchanges they traded blows, spear against sword, steel ringing, dust kicking beneath their boots. Gordon's experience showed in his steady rhythm, his blade always finding the narrowest paths to defend and counter. Lumberling, however, fought like a predator, sudden, explosive bursts of power, feints that forced openings where none should exist.

A cheer rose as sparks flew from another clash.

Then Gordon changed tactics. With a grunt, his aura flared brighter, his sword slicing down with crushing weight. The strike drove Lumberling back a step, then another.

But instead of yielding, Lumberling's smile widened. His own aura surged, violent, pressing back against the Knight's presence like a beast baring its fangs. He shifted, ducked under the next swing, and with a sharp twist of his spear, hooked Gordon's blade aside.

Before the old Knight could recover, the spear's shaft slammed against his chest, knocking the wind from him. Lumberling followed immediately, sweeping Gordon's legs with the butt end of his weapon.

Thud!

The Knight hit the ground hard, his sword tumbling from his grasp. Lumberling's spear-tip stopped just shy of his throat.

Silence fell over the yard. Every soldier, every monster, every eye was fixed on the sight of the old Knight, beaten and disarmed. Liraeth half-rose from her chair before stilling herself, her green eyes wide with something dangerously close to awe.

Gordon's chest rose and fell as he stared up at Lumberling. For a long moment, disbelief clouded his scarred face. Then, slowly, the hardness eased into something else, reluctant smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

"…So that's your answer." Slowly, he pushed himself up. "I've crossed blades with many in my years… few have pressed me this far. You've earned my bow, Lord Lumberling. I yield."

Lumberling lowered his spear and stepped back.

Liraeth had not moved during the fight, but now her grip tightened slightly on the armrest of her chair. Her green eyes were wide for only a heartbeat before narrowing again, sharp with focus. She rose to her feet with practiced grace, but her voice carried a note of awe she could not fully mask.

"…A True Knight. You fought on even footing with a True Knight." Her gaze swept over Lumberling, lingering as if trying to peel away the layers of mystery around him. "And not only endured, but won."

For once, her noble composure cracked. The corners of her lips parted as if to say more, but she caught herself, straightening her posture. Her tone steadied, cool and measured again, though her eyes betrayed the storm of thoughts behind them.

"Very well, Lord Lumberling," she said at last. "You've proven your strength. More than I expected… We'll do it your way."

For a fleeting moment, Lumberling thought he saw the woman behind the title, her awe still raw, her guard lowered. But in the next breath, her mask returned, polished and unshakable, as though the duel had never rattled her at all.

It was that shift, that swift reclaiming of poise, that drew a quiet murmur from Baron Roland at his side.

....

Before Lumberling and his group departed, Baron Roland drew him aside, lowering his voice.

"She's young for a viscount," Lumberling remarked, his tone curious rather than dismissive.

Baron Roland gave a slow nod, his eyes carrying a hint of respect. "She is. Too young, many would say. Her parents were merchants who earned their barony through trade and service. But when they passed, she was left alone to defend her lands. Other nobles circled like wolves, thinking her territory ripe for the taking."

Lumberling crossed his arms, listening intently. "And yet here she stands."