David sprinted down the path toward the square and bolted into a narrow space between two buildings. He heard the clinking of plate armor closing in. Leapt over a crate, ran out the other end. The clatter followed him. He wove between villagers, rushed past houses then made it to Sophie’s doorstep. Pushed against the door, fell inside, and slammed his face on the floor.

  Sophie was sitting at a table, stringing herbs together, but she dropped the bundle and pulled out a knife.

  “David?” She returned the knife to its sheath on her belt. “What the hell?”

  “Don't mind me—” He closed the door, then doubled over his knees, trying to catch his breath. “I’ll just be a moment.” He scowled, tasting blood on his tongue. “I seem to have pissed off a knight.”

  “And you came here?” Sophie chuckled. “I don't think even I can protect you from a knight, you know?”

  “Shouldn't be necessary, but thanks.” He sat down on the floor. His bruises did not approve of his breakneck pace, and now his cheek hurt too. He might have broken a tooth.

  “If you say so.” She shrugged, sat down at the table again, and resumed twisting stems. “Mind telling me what it's all about?”

  “Calland sent some letter to the fort, and I have a really bad feeling about it.”

  “Maybe it’s to his family?” Sophie brushed her green hair from her face and climbed onto her toes to tie the bundle of herbs to a string under the ceiling.

  “He doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type,” David said. “But I don't know anything concrete yet.”

  “What’s concrete?” Sophie asked.

  David frowned. “…Something solid? Never mind. The knights are trouble, please be careful.”

  Sophie nodded, though she didn't take his warning too seriously. They chatted some more, but David kept getting distracted by footsteps outside.

  Over the next three days, David used every opportunity he could to get out into the village and watch the knights but found nothing of interest. Luckily, Calland didn't seem to recognize him. The young knight had been surprisingly well behaved whenever David saw him, which wasn't often. He had returned to his quarters as soon as the knight's daily hunt for the monster ended.

  David focused on what he could control—Mom's notebook became a permanent fixture at his side. In all his spare time, he practiced channeling and purification whenever he had the strength to and learned theory when he didn't. Though he was far from proficient, his knowledge of the ancient language was steadily creeping closer to the point where he’d be able to translate his mom’s notes.

  On the fourth day after the messenger left, David finally saw Calland leave his quarters during the day to talk to a few knights that seemed to be a part of his clique. When they parted, they seemed somewhat angry. There was a chance that anger was meant for Calland, but only a slim one.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  After Calland left, David followed the other knights across the village. He didn't want another mad dash across the village, so he kept a distance of several houses behind them. By the time he reached the square, there was already a commotion near one of the farmhouses. David stopped and hid behind an empty vegetable cart.

  A crowd had gathered, shouting and arguing. In the middle of the gathering, a female knight, not Elvara, in dirty armor had squared off against a group of villagers. Among them was a wiry, middle-aged man and a woman clutching a child to her chest. Fia, a teenager slightly older than David, was standing behind them.

  “You think you can just say no to us?” the knight barked over the crowd. “We fight to keep you safe, and this is how you repay us?”

  The Fia’s father clenched his fists at his sides. “We’ve given what we can. We barely have enough food to last until the harvest.”

  Another knight, a man with a red beard, stepped forward. “Then we’ll take something else.” He seemed to consider for a moment. “With how long we’ve been forced to station here, we should have been assigned servants long ago. How about her?” He gestured toward Fia. The crowd erupted into shouts of outrage and curses.

  The girl’s mother pulled her back and stood in front of her. “You won’t have her!”

  David gripped the edge of the cart to stop his small hands from shaking. The knights were keeping Grainwick safe, but wasn’t that their job?

  The red-bearded knight stepped towards Fia and extended his hand. David imagined his mom’s face on the harassed girl and shuddered. Not again. They had no right. Fia’s father lunged forward and shoved the knight away.

  That was all it took. The knight slapped Fia’s father across the face with his metal gauntlet, knocking him to the ground. Prem, a young man, rushed forward, but the lady knight punched him in the gut, and he doubled over.

  “Enough!” Brenn shouted over the crowd, putting a stop to the commotion before it could escalate even further. He pushed through to the knights. “What the hell is going on here?”

  The bearded knight who started the fight opened his mouth to speak, but Brenn raised his hand and silenced him. “I’ll hear it from the villagers first.”

  Fia’s father spat out a bloody tooth and Yor helped him stand. Half of his face was red and turning purple. “They’re demanding food we don’t have,” he said, saliva and blood dripping down his cheek. “Then that bastard tried to take my daughter.”

  Brenn scowled but quickly schooled his face and pointed his stump at the lady night who’d punched Prem in the gut. She seemed to be the ringleader of the bunch in Calland's and Elvara's absence. “Explain yourselves.”

  “We're fighting and bleeding for these ungrateful idiots,” she snarled. “Least we deserve is some appreciation. What’s the harm of a young girl getting experience serving nobles? It’s the best she can hope for in life.”

  Brenn spoke evenly. “Perhaps it escaped your notice, but she rejected the noble offer. Now get out of here, and if you want something, go through me or your commander.”

  She stepped toward Brenn, hand on the pommel of her sword. “Who are you to lecture me, old fart? I am the heiress of House Dali. You will address me ‘my lady.’

  “I will address you however it pleases me.” Brenn glared at her and pulled his shimmering shield from his back. “Put your sword where your words are, brat.” He spat at her feet.

  The knights—four of them, fully armored, likely nobles—looked at one another… then stepped back from the man with one arm, a shield and a simple linen shirt on his chest. The villagers stared at them in silence, some with their mouths hanging.

  The knights just… stood there. For a dozen seconds. A clatter of hooves broke the silence. The knights smiled, called out half-assed apologies and walked away. Damn it.

  The emissary with the eye-in-a-triangle flag rode through the crowd, straight up to Brenn. “Sir Brenn,” the man said, with a slight dip of his head. “I have an urgent matter for Knight Commander Viel, lead me to his dwelling posthaste.”

  Brenn sighed heavily and returned the shield to his back. Without a word, he walked toward the home where Viel was staying, Brenn’s own.

  The whole confrontation didn’t last a minute, but it left Fia crying in her mother’s arms, her father rubbing his bloody cheek and Prem still gasping for air. David punched the cart, cradled his bruised fingers, and followed after Brenn.