Steel Knight

The market buzzed like a hive, where every merchant was a bee, and every cry a hammer strike on the ringing air. It smelled of spices, sweat, roasting meat, and heated metal. People scurried back and forth, shouting out prices, arguing, laughing. And I stood at a single stall that stood out from the rest—it sold armor. The very same armor worn by the kingdom's finest warriors. Every week, a master blacksmith would come here, his craftsmen renowned from the coast to the mountains. His blades were considered almost living—as if they absorbed the spirits of their owners. I always arrived early, so as not to miss the chance to purchase another marvel of his handiwork. I stood there, waiting for my turn, and already felt the anticipation—the smell of fresh steel, the gleam of polished plates, the ring of metal... But suddenly he appeared in the crowd. Tall, strong, as if cast from bronze. His footsteps echoed, his armor shimmering in the midday sun, scarred with a thousand battle scars. This man was a walking legend—and a bane to anyone who tried to stand in his way. Without a moment's hesitation, he stood right in front of me, as if I didn't exist. "What happened? Why are you looking at me like that, peasant?" His voice was low, with a hint of disdain, and even the clank of his cuirass as he turned to face me sounded like mockery.

I met his gaze. Gray eyes—cold as a blade after tempering. The people around him fell silent for a moment, as if they sensed the tension in the air.