Chapter 450: Knights To The Castle
The moon hung high over the roof of the stone cottage nestled just past the mountain’s lower ridges. Soft candlelight glowed from the slitted windows, casting long shadows into the quiet night. The air was brisk, sweetened by pine and wet earth, as two armored men moved through the yard just outside.
The sun was just a whisper beneath the horizon, its golden blush casting long shadows over the cragged hills surrounding Sebastian’s secluded retreat. It was quiet here—too quiet for the men who’d been bred for battle and bred again by loyalty.
Knight Jaefel adjusted the straps of his armor with slow, deliberate hands, his breath visible in the chilly morning air. Across from him, Samion swung his sword in wide arcs, his footwork sharp despite the dirt terrain. The soft whoosh of steel slicing through wind echoed between the trees, like a hymn to war and honor.
A few feet away, leaning on a carved stone rail, Heappal sat wrapped in layers of wool and furs. His complexion was no longer ghost-pale but the color of burnt honey, his lips no longer cracked, his breath no longer labored. The days under the physician’s care had not returned him to full strength, but he had begun to smile again, even if only a little.
"You two are making me feel useless," Heappal muttered, brushing strands of hair from his eyes. "Training while I sit here like a wounded duck."
"You’re a hawk, not a duck," Jaefel said, smiling over his shoulder. "Even hawks rest their wings when the storm is long."
"He likes sounding poetic," Samion added between swings. "Don’t encourage him."
They chuckled together, that rare sound that only camaraderie forged in battle could produce.
Jaefel and Samion were locked in sparring again, but there was no real anger in their swings—only rhythm, a need to stay sharp. A need to prepare.
"You’re favoring your right too much," Samion said, twisting mid-parry to shove Jaefel off-balance.
"And you’re still terrible at footwork," Jaefel replied with a grin, spinning back with a sweeping motion that Samion ducked under easily. Their blades hissed as they clashed, steel against steel.