Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

For a while, no one spoke.

The battlefield had gone quiet, but it was not the comforting silence of peace. Instead, it was the silence that followed violence; the uneasy stillness that settled whenever steel stopped ringing and blood stopped spilling.

Snow drifted lazily through the air, as though unconcerned about the battle that occured just moments ago.

The road that had once been pristine was now scarred by blood and cracks...

Broken weapons lay half-buried in the frost; dark stains spread across the snow like spilled ink. A shattered Shield rested against a frostwood root, its surface split cleanly in two. Nearby, a severed cloak fluttered weakly in the wind before settling motionless.

The signs of the ambush was everywhere... And so were its costs.

Maverick stood amidst it all, his golden Armour still manifested around him. The runes etched across its surface had dimmed considerably now, no longer blazing with the oppressive majesty they possessed during the battle.

Yet even in its dormant state, the Armour radiated a quiet authority.

His golden eyes swept across the convoy as he observed the consequences of the ambush.

Knights moved through the aftermath; some gathered bodies, others tended to the wounded, while a few searched the battlefield for anything useful the assassins might have left behind, though everyone knew that Shadow Shard operatives moved like ghosts so there is likely nothing of value left behind.

Maverick counted the remaining knights and his expression darkened...

At the start of the journey, there had been twelve knights in total; but now, only six remained standing. In others words, half of the escort force had disappeared within the span of a single ambush.

The realization lingered heavily in the cold air...

Unlike many young nobles, Maverick had never viewed knights as faceless subordinates and this was because the Frozen North was not kind enough to permit such arrogance.

Every knight trained under House Valehart had endured years of hardship, countless battles against the Tide, and enough suffering to fill several lifetimes.

They were valuable soldiers. Veterans. Men who had survived where others failed. Yet, six of them would never see another sunrise...

A faint crunch echoed across the snow behind Maverick...

He turned just to see Commander Dren approaching slowly.

The older knight looked considerably worse than he had before the battle. His Armour was covered in fresh scratches while several deep dents marred the breastplate.

One shoulder guard hung slightly lower than the other while snow mixed with dried blood stained parts of his cloak.

Though his Armour looked battered, remarkably enough, the man himself was unharmed; at least physically.

Maverick suspected the same could not be said about the exhaustion weighing upon the veteran knight.

The battle inside that shadow domain could not have been easy. The man had handle three Rank Two Etheryeans alone despite being a Rank Three Etheryean. Even for someone of Dren’s caliber, that was no small feat.

The Commander stopped a few steps before Maverick and asked.

”Young Lord, are you alright?” Concern lurked beneath the facade of professionalism as he voiced the question.

Maverick observed him briefly, then he nodded. ”I’m fine.”

And truly, compared to Dren, his own condition was practically pristine. Just a few scratches and minor damage, nothing too serious.

”What about the men?” He asked.

Dren’s expression grew solemn as his eyes shifted briefly toward the surviving knights. His voice was deep and steady as he replied.

”The battle was difficult... But they’ll endure.”

Maverick nodded slowly. ”You should rest...”

Dren looked as though he wanted to object but before he could, Maverick placed a hand on the older knight’s shoulder.

”Don’t bother arguing. You’ve earned it.”

For a moment, Dren simply stared at him. Then, he bowed his head.

”As you command, Young Lord.”

With that, the Commander turned and departed, immediately returning to his duties despite the order.

Maverick watched him with a faint trace of amusement flickering in his eyes.

Some men simply did not know how to stop working and relax...

Eventually, he also turned away. His boots crouched softly against the snow as he walked toward the carriage...

The banners of House Valehart swayed overhead while the auroras continued dancing across the northern sky. They remained beautiful and indifferent, as though the heavens cared little for what happened beneath them.

Maverick opened the carriage door and stepped inside...

Warmth greeted him immediately and the contrast was almost jarring.

Outside, cold winds carried the scent of blood and steel; but inside, amber crystals illuminated polished wood and embroidered furnishings.

The atmosphere felt untouched and untainted; almost disconnected from the battle that had just occured.

Goldric Valehart eat exactly where Maverick had left him; leather-bound book in his hands, posture unchanged and the same identical facial expression.

Had someoke entered moments earlier, they wouldn’t have believed that this was the man that turned an ignorant assassin into a bloody pulp just recently.

Goldric lifted his gaze from the page he was reading as his eyes traveled over Maverick briefly. He assessed his son for a moment before he uttered.

”...It was an ambush.”

The sentence didn’t come out as a question, instead it was more like a concluded statement.

Maverick sat opposite him and nodded. ”Yes.”

Afterward, the carriage became quiet.

Outside, distant voices drifted faintly through the walls; inside, only the gentle crackle of heating crystals could be heard.

Maverick leaned back slightly as he spoke between furrowed brows. ”The attack was premeditated. But the strange thing was that nobody knew we were leaving...”

Goldric’s fingers tapped lightly against the cover of his book as he spoke in his deep voice.

”Nobody in the Frozen North knewz but House Valehart did.”

Maverick frowned slightly...

The older man’s shifted briefly toward the carriage window before continuing. ”This morning, before our departure, I sent a letter to your uncle about our journey back to the capital.”

Maverick was silent as he studied his father carefully. He understood the implications behind those words but he still asked anyways.

”Are you suggesting your brother did all of this?”

Goldric did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked out toward the auroras dancing beyond the glass. Thrust shifting colors reflected faintly in his golden eyes for several moments before he spoke again.

”...What about the knights?”

Maverick noticed the deliberate change in subject but he also recognized that pressing further would accomplish little because his father rarely discussed matters before reaching his own conclusions.

After a while, Maverick replied solemnly. ”We lost six knights.”

This time, Goldric reacted immediately. His brows shot upward as a rare edge entered his voice.

”Six? That’s impossible...”

Maverick understood the reasoning behind his father’s disbelief. The escort force was not composed of ordinary soldiers as every knight carried years of experience.

Many had fought Tide creatures stronger than themselves which made them disciplined and capable. And though the number may sound excessive, the answer was true and Maverick elaborated...

”The assassins came prepared as most of them possessed Earl Tier Soul Essences.”

A flicker of understanding appeared in Goldric’s eyes as Maverick continued...

”The difference between the knights and the assassins in terms of weaponry was significant.”

Normally, cultivation bases decided battles between Etheryeans. Higher realms meant greater reserves of Aether; greater strength, greater speed, greater senses, and greater versatility.

Yet Soul Essences complicated that equation.

The surviving knights mostly possessed Marquess Tier Essences which made them respected and powerful enough to qualify for service under House Valehart.

But the assassins possessed Earl Tier Essences which was a full tier higher than the knights. Their weapons were sharper and their abilities were more potent which made their combat efficiency significantly greater than the armoured group.

Maverick folded his arms as he continued. ”Though most of our men are Rank Three Etheryeans, against those higher tier assassins, superior cultivation could only carry someone so far.”

Goldric nodded slowly as he understood that higher tier Soul Essences often compensated for differences in cultivation. Especially when wielded by trained killers.

Mavericks voice remained collected as he continued.

”The journey was an impromptu one so we couldn’t spare the stronger knights...”

That was another unfortunate reality. The Tide season is fast approaching and the Frozen North requires defenders. So removing too many elite fighters from the northern territories would have been irresponsible.

Thus, the escort force had been assembled from available personnel. Though they were competent and reliable, the men weren’t the strongest available.

Goldric exhaled quietly; a rare sign of frustration and for a moment, he didn’t speak.

Outside, preparations for departure slowly resumed as the knights gathered themselves.

Then, Maverick spoke again. ”There’s more. Among the Shadow Shard operatives, there was a King Tier assassin...”

For the first time since the conversation began, genuine surprise appeared in Goldric’s face.

”Are you certain?”

Maverick nodded and replied. ”Yes. I fought him personally.”

Goldric leaned back in his seat, the book in his hand remained forgotten as his gaze drifted toward the auroras once more.

This time, he appeared far more thoughtful than before.

A King Tier Soul Essence?

Such individuals were not common; in fact, they were treasures and future pillars of noble houses.

Even among the great families of Valoria, King Tiers were cherished and protected more than gold and diamonds or precious gems.

So sending one such individual on an assassination mission carrier implications; expensive implications.

It meant that someone had invested heavily into ensuring failure was not an option; someone influential, someone determined, and someone willing to spend extraordinary resources.

Once again, the carriage fell silent and neither father nor son rushed to fill it.

Outside, the wind howled softly through the frostwoods and above, the auroras continued with their eternal dance.

Then, Goldric spoke once more.

”The storm is coming. The journey is still long and the men are exhausted. We will need to stop at an inn.”

Goldric glanced at the road ahead before speaking again. ”Inform Dren of the change in plans.”

”As you wish, father.” Maverick affirmed and opened the carriage door.

Cold air rushed inside and the warmth vanished instantly.

Without another word, he stopped back into the northern night, toward the surviving knights.

Commander Dren stood near the front of the convoy, issuing instructions while ensuring the wounded were properly attended to.

Maverick began walking toward him...

Behind the young noble, the carriage door closed.

Ahead of him, preparations for departure resumed and above them all, beneath the endless auroras of the Frozen North, the convoy slowly gathered itself to continue a journey that had suddenly become far more dangerous than anyone had anticipated.