NABC Chapter 223: Chapter XXVII: Knights of Evermor
Chapter 223: Chapter XXVII: Knights of Evermor
Chapter 223: Chapter XXVII: Knights of Evermor
I slowly blink at the sudden challenge, more from sheer incredulity than any kind of surprise, and soon offer a swift deadpan "No."
The powerfully built Breton immediately deflates and pouts, outright pouts! "But why?"
I swear if the whiny voice didn't come from a very well built man I'd have thought I was talking to a literal child.
The old man, a mage of some skill as I learned earlier, lets out a deep, tired sigh "Please excuse his atrocious manners Court Mage, it would seem that the long road has taken its toll on him." He gives the young Knight Commander a pointed stare to which the man merely huffs.
"I find that these 'politeness' and 'propriety' you keep yammering on about are only good for worthless courtiers and corrupt advisors." The young man states firmly "I find that the best way to know someone is by crossing swords, and you Court Mage give me the impression of someone worth knowing."
Many of the other knights had already gathered as the conversation went on, most of them showing either bemused or annoyed expressions at their leader's shenanigans.
"You do realize that I am not a knight like yourself?" I raise an eyebrow.
He chuckles and his jovial tone turns a tad darker, though still remaining one of praise "No simple mage is known to wade through ranks of filthy heathen Reachmen and leave naught but blood and guts behind him."
"You do realize I am technically a heathen as well?" My lips quirk into a challenging smirk. "Indeed" The Breton nods and asks with equal challenge "But are you filthy as well?"
We both stare at each other and I decide to be the first one to break it as I let out a dark chuckle, soon followed by my host and many of his comrades "I do have business in the city but I guess the Jarl won't mind a small detour." I straighten up, absently realizing that I was indeed taller than even the mighty knights of High Rock now "Very well then, Ser Reynauld, you will have your spar but I expect a full report on your recent operations. I might as well get something out of this."
I can see the inner conflict he has as he weighs paperwork against a fun fight but his interests swiftly win out as he shakes his head sadly "The things I must do for a good bout." The sigh that follows is a bit exaggerated but a moment later he instantly brightens up "Come on then, let us battle!"
(Davos' POV)
I suppress a tired sigh as Boss and the brat march over to the training yard, all of the other knights following behind them and muttering amongst themselves about rumors of Lord Dagoth's prowess in battle.
I was simply tired by the constant drama that seemed to always follow my employer, though a thought did enter my mind as I followed after them 'Did the fuckers not believe our introductions after all? Was this some kind of test?'
The old mage who I presumed was the knights' magic teacher failing to suppress his own groan tells me that the issue is far more simple than that. We share a quick suffering look and as one decide to walk side by side.
"So this is just the usual for the kid? Not some poorly hidden attempt at testing us?" I ask, keeping the annoyance from my carefully neutral tone.
The old man scratches his long beard and chuckles "Oh not at all, Sera Davos."
Would you look at that, the n'wah knows the proper term of address!
The old man continues without pause "My young student is simply too eager to experience life, and a meeting with someone as near-legendary as the young Lord Dagoth is not a situation in which he is likely to control himself."
"As long as he doesn't push too far and get his ass burned to a crisp." I snort lightly "My liege might humor him but he doesn't really have a way of dealing with annoyances other than setting them on fire."
The elder gives me a truly horrified look of surprise before suddenly speeding up, his face looking a tad too pale for the amount of sunlight shining down on us.
Poor old thing, I haven't even pulled out the 'he can call down a sun on your asses' card yet... (Reyvin's POV)
Twirling the well made practice sword in my hand lazily I turn to the young knight whose eyes had lost all of his earlier aloofness and were now focused on me like those of a hawk "Rules?" I ask simply.
"First blood, first fall or disarm." He lists off easily "Only augmentation magic is permitted."
"Good enough" I shrug, my grey skin soon turning into ebony, though I do not bother with summoning my armor, neither does Reynauld wear anything beyond padding and leather. His eyes twitch lightly in surprise as he observes the high level spell I just cast near effortlessly and his internal appraisal of me goes up.
Soon enough his own skin is covered in what I believe to be some kind of steel-flesh spell, a low expert level maybe? Nah, it is cast too slow for the power it gives him. High adept it is.
One of the other knights raises his hand grandly and asks "Are you both ready?"
Reynauld and I share a nod and the... referee? 'Sure, let us go with that.' Brings his hand down and declares "Fight!"
Both of us immediately spring into action, lashing out at each other with a flurry of carefully non-lethal blows.
Reynauld swings his blade with both hands, his strikes forceful yet also done with a surprising amount of finesse, immediately forcing me on the defense as he kept battering and redirecting my own blade as if he was stuck in some kind of elaborate dance.
A rather brutal and lethal dance but the point remains.
I had asked them a couple of questions about their operations, myself unwilling to read through the actual report even if I did ask for it, and they (especially Reynauld) wasted no time in retelling how they had already participated in over a dozen raids on their distant Reachmen cousins and each knight boasted about defeating more than the others.
These supposedly foppy nobles were surprisingly brutal when they wished to be.
As midnight was closing in a Markarth guardsman, armored in Dwemer bronze forged coat of plates and masked with the expressionless helmet of the long dead deep elves, was led into the camp.
The veteran guard, for he gave me a feeling of actual competence, immediately saluted me and informed me that my people were already situated within the Jarl's palace complex and that the city was about to enter curfew for the night.
I could ignore it and just enter whenever I wished but that would be impolite and there was no
need to humiliate my hosts.
"It would seem that our talks will have to wait for another day." I diplomatically inform
Reynauld, much to his obvious disappointment. Apparently all it took for the man to start liking you was kicking his shit in.
He and Durrak would become fast friends, no doubt about it.
"It was our honor to host you, Court Mage" Reynauld bows lightly "If you have need of our
services while you are in the city do not hesitate to ask, the Knights of Evermor will rush to your aid without fail!"
The rest of the knights also let out a smattering of approving noises, with some of the more enthusiastic squires rhythmically banging their spears upon their shields.
"You have my thanks and..." I offer the necessary pleasantries but then my voice turns slightly dangerous "I assure you, you will have every opportunity to fulfil that promise."
I left the large tent after seeing the eager glint in Reynauld's eyes, Davos stepping in to my
side but a moment later as we followed the guardsman who led us to a small detachment of his fellows and then into the old city.
The first thing I observed upon entering through the massive brass gates was the beautiful terraced architecture making it seem almost as if the buildings were stacked upon each other
yet remaining artful and open to the clear night skies.
The second were the magical auras of the place.
A deep feeling of decayed hunger came from beside the palace, its origin immediately bringing a disgusted twitch of my mouth and the inner promise of violence. 'And so the
cannibal dares show itself again.'
The second was a well hidden but utterly dominating presence somewhere to the city's east,
something I would no doubt face if I continued down my planned path 'Rarely is a thing more satisfying than cracking a rapist's skull.'
And the last but most assuredly not least was the lingering presence of two eyes of a stern and bloodthirsty warrior, firmly planted on my shoulders.
"Well now." I mutter cheerfully "I wonder what she might want."
The guards failed to hear my ominous words but they were not intended for them. Davos gave me a despairing look, his eyes wordlessly bombarding me with all of the insults
welling up in his soul, before he simply sighs in defeat and mentally prepares himself for
what was to come.
A rock for Davos' poor soul
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