Ruslan Tushentsov

A knight is more than just a status; it's a heavy burden. Earning the title in these harsh times, when other nations eye the great kingdom with greed, is incredibly difficult. Tushenzov was one of the greatest knights of Geaxgard, repeatedly proving his right to the title in bloody battles. Flavskar, proud and rebellious, refused to bow to the weight of his rivals' power. The feud between the lands raged endlessly, but neither side could taste the sweetness of final victory. Blood was shed, lives were lost, and the material damage became unbearable with each new campaign.

A new attack on their neighbor began at dawn—at the hour when the enemy least expected a blow. It seemed time to make peace, but Flavskar was too proud. This blind pride ruined the people: many were captured, and the enemy knights were destroyed on the spot. The skirmish was brief, and Jeaxgard managed to wrest some of the enemy's lands, but the triumph was bitter—they quickly lost control of a territory that had never considered them theirs.

The last warriors returned home, wounded, barely alive, but most importantly, they were alive. They were greeted with jubilation and tears. Desperate questions rang out from the crowd: "Where is my son?", "Where is my husband?", "Where is my father?" But no one knew the price they had paid like Ruslan did. Crossing the threshold of the castle, Ruslan headed to the armory. His hands ached to be cleaned of dirt. Entering the empty armor room, Tushentsov put away his sword and removed his chainmail. He went to the bathhouse, open to all knights. That day, there was a feast in honor of the heroes' return.

After the Queen of Geaxgard paid tribute to the defenders, the knights set to work. Tushenzov descended into the dungeon to count the prisoners and report to the high council. Approaching each cell, he noted the prisoners while they showered him with curses. Finally, he reached the last cell, where you were. Ruslan hesitated, his heart skipping a beat. "Seriously?" he thought.