The Devouring Knight

"Hey, hey!" he shouted, pointing with his riding crop. "Did you just hire monsters? Really, Lady Liraeth? If you're that desperate, you could've called on me instead. I'd have come running." His voice dripped with mockery, carrying loudly for all to hear.

A few of Liraeth's soldiers lowered their gazes, embarrassed by the man's boldness. Lumberling said nothing, only watched from horseback.

At his side, Gobo2 cracked his knuckles, muttering in their monster tongue, "My Lord, should I smack this guy?"

Gobo1 snorted, scratching the side of his head. "We've been dealing with decent nobles so far… guess we finally met a normal one."

Their guttural language made some soldiers flinch, though Lumberling understood every word.

The nobleman scowled deeper. "What the hell kind of gibberish is that? Don't tell me even their language is crawling around your halls now!"

Lumberling's gaze shifted, calm and steady. "Skitz," he said quietly. "Go deal with him before my men do."

Skitz's grin stretched slow and wicked as he spurred his horse forward. The goblin rode with casual menace, raising his fist.

Before the nobleman could bark another….

Smack.

The punch landed clean across his jaw, sending him tumbling from his horse. He hit the dirt hard, rolling like a rag doll until he sprawled flat in the road. His men rushed to help, their faces pale with shock.

Skitz cracked his knuckles, still grinning, before trotting back to Lumberling's side as though nothing had happened.

Immediately, the nobleman's soldiers scrambled. Steel hissed from scabbards, and the Knight at their front, clearly a Knight One Stage, stepped forward, releasing his aura in a sudden wave of pressure. His blade gleamed as he raised it defensively.

On the other side, Lumberling's subordinates stirred with excitement. One by one, their own auras flared, dense, hungry, and unyielding. The air thickened with killing intent. The goblins snarled, kobolds bared their teeth, and even the disciplined ones among them shifted their stances as if begging for the order to strike.

Skitz's grin only widened. A strange light shimmered around him as his own aura surged, heavier and more suffocating than the Knight's.

The Blessing of the Pale Dream awakened, its strange, dreamlike pressure washing over the road. Lumberling carried the same blessing, both had claimed it after devouring the essence of the fallen High Priest of the Lizardmen, and the resemblance in their presence was unmistakable.

From her saddle, Liraeth's fingers tightened around the reins, knuckles whitening for the briefest moment before she forced her grip to ease.

The nobleman's soldiers faltered. Their knees shook, grips tightening nervously on weapons. Even the Knight's stance wavered, his jaw clenching as he realized something, though they stood at the same stage, the monster before him was not his equal. He was outmatched.

Lumberling's forces were practically vibrating with eagerness, ready to tear through the nobleman's men at a single word.

But then a sharp, commanding voice cut through the rising storm.

"Enough!" Viscount Liraeth's voice rang across the road, firm yet steady. Behind her, the old Knight Gordon stepped forward, his own aura spilling forth to shield her soldiers. Her men moved to support, weapons raised, prepared to intervene if the clash erupted.

Yet Lumberling's subordinates did not move. They only recognized one master's command. Their weapons stayed drawn, eyes locked on the trembling soldiers opposite them.

Then Lumberling's calm voice rolled across the field like iron.

"Stand down. If we kill them here, only their people will suffer the loss."

The effect was instant. His subordinates sheathed their weapons in perfect unison, their auras vanishing as quickly as they had flared. The tension broke like a string cut clean, leaving the nobleman's soldiers pale and shaken.

A few of them let out quiet sighs of relief, though none dared lower their weapons until their Knight gave the signal. The memory of those monsters' eager faces, so willing to fight, so ready to kill, would haunt them long after the road was cleared.

Lumberling turned his head toward the groaning figure sprawled on the dirt. The nobleman clutched his ribs, wheezing, his pride as bruised as his body.

"If you open your mouth like that again," Lumberling said evenly, his voice carrying like cold steel across the silence, "there won't be a next time."

He shifted his gaze to Skitz, who was waiting at his side with a crooked grin. A single look passed between them, brief but sharp.

Skitz's grin widened. He understood without words, if the noble ever moved against them, his death would be silent and quick. Assassins would envy how cleanly Skitz could do it.

Liraeth exhaled softly, relief flickering across her face when the confrontation died down. It wasn't mercy that eased her heart, nor concern for the arrogant noble, only the awareness that a bloody skirmish here would have wasted men she could not afford to lose while Sengolio still loomed beyond their borders.

At her side, the old Knight Gordon pressed his lips together to stifle the smirk tugging at them. In truth, he had long wanted to plant his fist in that pompous fool's face, but loyalty to Liraeth had kept his temper in check. Watching Skitz lay the noble flat, however, had been deeply satisfying.

Still, the brief clash had unsettled even him. The moment Lumberling's subordinates drew their blades, the air had thickened with killing intent so raw it stung the skin. Gordon had seen rivers of blood, battlefields soaked in screams, but the monsters' eyes told him plainly, they had killed more than most Knights ever would, and would do so again without hesitation.

The nobleman's Knight hurried to his master, dragging the dazed man to his feet before retreating. His eyes lingered on Lumberling as they withdrew, not with fear, but with promise

Their formation pulled back in stiff silence, every soldier keeping their gaze low, careful not to draw another spark of attention from the monsters who had nearly cut them down.

Once the road was clear, Liraeth turned in her saddle, her tone clipped.

"Why did you order your man to strike him?"

Lumberling only shrugged. "He asked for it. Besides, even if we added him to our enemies' list, it wouldn't change a thing."

For a moment, her sharp green eyes searched his face. Then she let out a tired sigh. "Let's just go."

With that, their column marched on toward her estate, leaving the humiliated noble behind in the dust.