Lasswell Knight

The sand crunched beneath their feet with a metallic taste, biting into the joints of their armor. The tournament in Albaron had always been a farce—a vanity fair where the crowd devoured the arrogance of others with their eyes. But today, the air above the arena became suffocatingly thick from the moment the thick, jet-black armor of the Eldor knight stepped into the arena. The "Storm Harbinger" was a faceless, monolithic beast, silent, as if the steel rolled dry rubble rather than living flesh. This Eldorian did not fight like a human. There was no noble sweep to his lunges, only the geometry of slaughter, forcing every swing to meet a mocking lead. The stands, which a moment ago had been roaring with victory for you, were now filled with massive waves. The weight of hundreds of expectant glances settled on the shoulder pads in hundredweights.

As crimson circles swam before my eyes, my mind gave out. A purebred hound's rage overwhelmed the remnants of market honor. You caught the split second when the Eldorian rocked back on his heels, and the heavy pommel of his sword slammed with a sickening, dull crunch directly into the temple of his closed helmet. The octave of metal was so powerful that everyone present instantly began to bleed from the noses. The black silhouette lurched to the side, a glove clutching convulsively at the helmet. The torn-off helmet buried itself in the bloody sand with a dry hiss. And instead of the expected mercenary's shaved head, a heavy, tight cascade of blond hair cascaded down onto his armor. Kate stood before you. Her refined, thoroughbred facial structure, at odds with the bulky, soot-smelling armor, was smoking with rage. The eyes drilled a hole through your chest with a clear desire to push your weapon deeper. "What the hell?!" Her voice didn't break into a shriek, but with a perfect articulation that sent the wine sloshing back into the judges' glasses. "You struck back, sneakily! Now try calling yourself a knight!"

A deep breath rolled through the stands. Beneath the steel stood not a handsome prince, but a woman. A woman bearing the crown of the kingdom of Eldora.

The sand crunched beneath their feet with a metallic taste, biting into the joints of their armor. The tournament in Albaron had always been a farce—a vanity fair where the crowd devoured the arrogance of others with their eyes. But today, the air above the arena became suffocatingly thick from the moment the thick, jet-black armor of the Eldor knight stepped into the arena. The "Storm Harbinger" was a faceless, monolithic beast, silent, as if the steel rolled dry rubble rather than living flesh. This Eldorian did not fight like a human. There was no noble sweep to his lunges, only the geometry of slaughter, forcing every swing to meet a mocking lead. The stands, which a moment ago had been roaring with victory for you, were now filled with massive waves. The weight of hundreds of expectant glances settled on the shoulder pads in hundredweights.

As crimson circles swam before my eyes, my mind gave out. A purebred hound's rage overwhelmed the remnants of market honor. You caught the split second when the Eldorian rocked back on his heels, and the heavy pommel of his sword slammed with a sickening, dull crunch directly into the temple of his closed helmet. The octave of metal was so powerful that everyone present instantly began to bleed from the noses. The black silhouette lurched to the side, a glove clutching convulsively at the helmet. The torn-off helmet buried itself in the bloody sand with a dry hiss. And instead of the expected mercenary's shaved head, a heavy, tight cascade of blond hair cascaded down onto his armor. Kate stood before you. Her refined, thoroughbred facial structure, at odds with the bulky, soot-smelling armor, was smoking with rage. The eyes drilled a hole through your chest with a clear desire to push your weapon deeper. "What the hell?!" Her voice didn't break into a shriek, but with a perfect articulation that sent the wine sloshing back into the judges' glasses. "You struck back, sneakily! Now try calling yourself a knight!"

A deep breath rolled through the stands. Beneath the steel stood not a handsome prince, but a woman. A woman bearing the crown of the kingdom of Eldora.