Value of a Knight

There was once a time when becoming an adventurer was the dream of every child in the kingdom. Especially those who yearned to see beyond the kingdom walls. Finding ancient ruins, battling and looting magical monsters, earning badges of honor for discovering new resources, and maybe even taking back treasures that would lead them to an easy life. It was a bucket filled with dreams and mysteries. That had long since dried up, however. Before even Frederick was born, when the demons grew in numbers and rampaged over all the lands, becoming an adventurer turned into a high-risk endeavour most wouldn’t find rewarding enough. Fewer and fewer saw it as a dream, and more a reckless path to be chosen by insane people. In the end, what remained was a group of madmen with no fear of death, venturing beyond what was safe and marching to their deaths. All for self interest.

“Oi! What’re ya just starin’ at me for? Enamoured? Sorry to say, I ain’t into that shit!”

Darakota the Brave. Known as the foremost adventurer of the Kingdom of Avalon. Three years ago, Darakota’s name was spread far and wide. Despite casualties still being commonplace, he would bring in great treasure and valuable resources for the kingdom, making him a reliable asset. While Frederick himself had never met him (their paths simply never had the opportunity to cross) he had heard of his name. Not only that, but the sheer recklessness of the man who would sacrifice anyone for his own self gain.

“Aren’t ya listenin’? Aim yer sword!” he shouted, slamming his foot on the carriage.

Frederick was able to avoid it just in time. Breathing heavily with one knee on the pavement.

Of all the people he had to encounter like this today, it just had to be one of the recruits. He had to think of some other way to deescalate the situation. Rather than pointing his blade, the knight sheathed his sword and stood straight.

“Darakota the Brave, I know of your name. My sincerest apologies for not knowing sooner. As I have said, I am Sir Frederick of the Royal Knights’ Order, and a fellow recruit for the Fellowship of the Sun. I have come to bring you back to the castle. Sir Logan is expecting us,” he said as calmly and professionally as he could.

“Eh? Ya came to fetch me, huh. Alright alright, I get’cha. That old fossil’s always makin’ shit harder for me,” Darakota groaned.

While straight faced, Frederick couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief inside. With this, they can return back to base before Darakota causes any more trouble.

“Just gimme a bit, yeah? Thirty minutes, yeah. I ain’t done with that lady over there.”

Darakota pointed towards the lady he pinned earlier and proceeded to approach her.

“No! You are not to lay a hand on her,” Sir Frederick shouted, running up to Darakota and pulling him by the shoulder.

“Tsk–. Yer gettin’ on my nerves!” he replied, swinging back with full force.

A powerful gust of wind was felt by the onlookers. Frederick ducked low to dodge. Reluctant to draw his sword against an unarmed man, he resolved to knock him out instead—

“Go to sleep for a while!” Frederick shouted before using both their momentums to land a powerful strike right on Darakota’s face.

Blood sprayed as the force of the strike echoed through the air. The blow should have been strong enough to take down even the strongest of men. But Darakota wasn’t the only one who took damage from it.

“Ngh!” Frederick groaned.

Twisting at such a rapid pace, his ribs, which hadn’t been fully healed yet from his duel and only further endured shock after being blasted out the pub, started aching uncontrollably. He held his side trying to ease the pain. At least now that Darakota was out, things would deescalate–

“That was a good punch,” the large man said.

“Huh?”

Rather than falling down to the ground unconscious, Darakota, with blood streaming down his nose, turned back to face Frederick. It was as if he hadn’t felt anything at all. No, as if that strike only excited him more.

He had no time to think, Darakota immediately threw his next powerful strike. While Frederick was fast enough to dodge his large and predictable heavy blows. Getting hit twice more would be enough to send him to the ground. And the more pressing concern–

“Oi, oi, oi! What’s the matter!? Why aren’tcha fightin’ back, huh!?”

How much longer could he continue dodging? Every moment that passed forced him to jump, skip and contort his body in all sorts of ways, awakening the pain in his bruises. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long.

“Tch–. Unsheathe yer sword!” Darakota shouted, continuing his barrage of attacks.

Frederick contemplated what he should do. Striking bare handed just wasn’t effective in the slightest. But he didn’t have much time left, if this kept on for much longer, what would happen to the girl in the pub? Getting a glimpse of her, she was watching him worryingly in battle, while the young boy hugged her tightly, not letting her step anywhere close.

If this kept on going for much longer… he had to make a choice…

Before he realized it, his hand was on his hilt. It was so natural and perfectly held, the sword fit perfectly in his hand, the only thing he had to do now was to unsheathe it.

Unsheathe… Unsheathe!

“What the–!” Darakota gasped as glowing chains appeared between him and Frederick.

“This is…”

Frederick watched in amazement. He had seen this many a times before, but the sight had always been something he found beauty in. Chains. Chains appeared out of thin air. They were translucent, clearly something conjured rather than something made of real steel, at the same time so perfectly crafted, it looked like it was made for royals.

“Tsk–” he clicked his tongue. “The hell’s your problem, eh!?”

He turned back to face the man who conjured up the chains.

“Tristan, why are you here?” Frederick asked.

“I asked you for one thing. I waited in the final destination for over thirty minutes!” Tristan groaned. His sharp eyes observed the desecrated surroundings and gave a disappointed sigh.

“King Thorian isn’t going to be happy about this…” he said.

“Oi, if yer gonna just talk to yerself like that, I’m gonna go back to my business. Buzz off, fairy!” Darakota shouted.

“Unfortunately, I cannot do that. Any more fighting would only serve to inconvenience the people more. And I’m ordered to bring you back to the castle as soon as possible.”

Tristan replied matter of factly, without a shred of emotion that Darakota immediately lost interest.

“Every single one of ya… yer here to ruin my fun too, eh!?”

“Careful, Tristan! This man is a maniac. He won’t easily go down either!” Frederick shouted.

“If it’s women you want, then please wait till the end of the day, we’ll provide you with all of the finest women that can be found in the brothels at night. You can waste away there till next morning for all I care. But that lady over there is not part of that. Do not make this any more complicated than it needs to be, Darakota the Brave. The deal for this expedition should be of benefit to you as well. I wouldn’t want it to end over something so miniscule like the body of one maiden.”

While Tristan’s comment about the girl did not sit well with Frederick, all he could do was watch as Darakota calmed down with a disgusting grin.

“The brothels, ya say…” he said with a hearty laugh. “I wanna see what those places are like up in ‘ere. The ones down in the commoners’ district just ain’t enough anymore.”

After wiping off the thick drool that started to trickle down, Darakota marched back into the castle. Leaving the streets and the pub in complete disarray. Frederick could only watch, frustrated. He could never match Tristan’s clear head, but he could also never say something so degrading.

“Let’s go back, Frederick,” he called out.

There wasn’t a hint of malice in Tristan’s eyes. It was all necessary to protect the people. But to allow Darakota to just walk freely like this…

Feeling something bump his side, Frederick looked down to find the young boy latching onto him.

“Thank you… Sir Knight,” he said with tears in his eyes. “Thank you for saving my sister.”

The boy’s sister was there standing, barely holding back her own tears, but maintaining proper etiquette in the face of a knight and bowed sincerely and said–

“Thank you, Sir Frederick.”

While the other nobles around looked in dismay, the two smiled. Frederick put his hand on his chest, not knowing how to process their words.