The Devouring Knight

The streets were alive with color and sound. Merchants called out from stalls draped in silks, the smell of roasted meats and sweet pastries curling through the air.

Children darted past, chasing each other with wooden swords, their laughter rising over the din. Stone bridges arched gracefully over canals, where gondolas drifted lazily beneath.

Liraeth guided him with easy confidence, pointing out old statues, historic plazas, and bustling markets. She explained bits of history and gossip, her tone half guide, half teasing companion. Lumberling listened quietly, the corners of his mouth lifting now and then at her playful remarks.

To others, they might have looked like a young lord and his lady out for a stroll. Lumberling never said it aloud, but the thought crossed his mind more than once.

And though neither of them spoke it, the walk felt less like duty and more like… a moment carved out just for themselves.

....

"I'll show you a place I always come to eat," Liraeth said with a small, almost secretive smile.

Curiosity tugged at him. "A hidden spot?"

"Not hidden," she replied, leading him down a quieter street lined with lanterns and flowering vines. "But it has good food, and more importantly, good peace."

The little tavern she brought him to was tucked between two tall shops, its sign painted with a faded crest of wheat and a steaming pot. Inside, the smell of spiced broth and fresh bread wrapped around them like a warm embrace. They found a table by the window, and soon steaming bowls were set before them.

Lumberling took a careful spoonful. His eyes widened. "This is… good."

Liraeth smirked. "You thought nobles only eat feasts and wine?"

"I was expecting something more extravagant," he admitted. "But this…" He took another bite. "This feels alive."

Her laugh was soft, genuine. "Exactly. Food like this keeps you grounded. Reminds you the empire isn't just palaces and titles."

They ate slowly, talking between bites. She shared bits of her travels through the capital, the places she liked to walk when she was younger, and he, though not much of a storyteller, found himself sharing small pieces of his own past, the quiet mountains, the days he hunted just to eat.

For a brief time, the world outside felt far away.

When they finished, Liraeth excused herself, rising with an elegant nod. "I'll be right back."

Lumberling leaned back in his seat, content, watching the people move past the tavern window. But the air shifted the moment another man entered the street.

Torvald Kessen, the man who had been relentlessly asking for Liraeth's hand, pestering her at every turn.

The Baron's lips curled into a smirk as he spotted Liraeth. He straightened his coat, smoothed back his hair, and began to call out "Lady Lir…"

But then his words caught in his throat.

She wasn't alone.

Through the glass, he saw her smile, not the polite one she wore at court, but something warmer as she returned to her table. And sitting across from her was him.

The monster leader.

The mercenary who had humiliated him, who had dared to let his subordinate strike him.

Torvald froze, his jaw tightening. That day still burned in his memory, the sting, the shame, the pain he felt from that day.

And now, to see them like this, smiling at one another as if they shared some secret closeness…

She had never smiled at him that way. Not even once. That smile, was his by right, and yet she gave it to a brute.

Anger flared hot, but caution followed close behind. He remembered too well how easily they had put him down. To lash out here would only make him look a fool again.

His nails bit into his palms as thoughts began to spin. 'No… I'll bide my time. This isn't over.'

With one last look, his eyes glinting with hatred, Torvald turned sharply on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Inside, Lumberling's gaze flicked to the window. For a brief moment, he caught sight of a familiar figure retreating down the street. His brows furrowed, but he let it go. Whoever it was, they were already gone, and he had no desire to sour the evening.

When Liraeth sat down again, he gave her a faint smile. "Where to next?"

She arched a brow, lips curving. "So you're enjoying yourself?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I am."

And just like that, their conversation picked up again, the shadow of Torvald already slipping away into the night.

...

A few days passed, and the time to depart finally came. Lumberling and Liraeth stood on the high road, gazing back at Pentagra one last time.

With their soldiers gathered, they passed through Pentagra's heavy gates and began the long road ahead.

From a shaded corner near the gatehouse, a lone figure watched them disappear down the road. His eyes narrowed, then he darted off, feet slapping against the cobblestones as he rushed through winding alleys.

He didn't stop until he reached a quiet manor on the edge of the city. Inside, Torvald Kessen sat at a polished table, idly turning a jeweled ring on his finger. His gaze lifted when the man burst in.

"They're on the move, my lord," the watcher reported, catching his breath. "The targets you ordered me to follow, they've left the city this morning."

Torvald's ring stilled. "And? Did you see anyone else with them? An old Knight… or that gray-skinned brute?" His tone sharpened at the last words.

The man shook his head. "No, my lord. Only the lady, the man, and a few dozen common soldiers. No other Knights."

For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Torvald's lips twisted into a cruel smile. He leaned back in his chair, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"Perfect," he whispered. "No watchful eyes, no meddling masters… just them."

His fingers tightened on the jeweled ring, knuckles whitening. "They humiliated me. That… brute who dared to strike me in front of everyone, and Liraeth" His voice cracked with a mix of longing and rage.

He rose abruptly, slamming his palm on the table. "I'll capture her. She'll learn she was always meant to be mine." He snarled, dark fantasies flashing in his mind.

"And as for him… I'll make him beg for mercy before I end him." A cruel sneer twisted his lips.