The knight had long forgotten the sound of his own voice.
He had once sworn an oath before men who no longer walked this earth, in a hall that now stood in ruin. His order had been one of honor, a bastion of justice forged in steel and bound by unshakable duty. But the world had moved on. The names of his brothers had faded into dust, their deeds unremembered, their graves unmarked. Only he remained—a solitary remnant of a forgotten age, carrying the weight of a justice no one asked for, yet one he could not abandon.
Through nameless roads and hollow lands, he traveled alone. There were no banners bearing his crest, no songs sung in his name. His victories were witnessed by none, his presence acknowledged only by the wind that howled through desolate fields. He neither sought nor received gratitude. He was the blade that struck in silence, the shadow cast by duty itself.
And now, his path led him to another village. Another place that did not know his name, another place that never would.
