The Knight Captain
The fight stopped before either of them chose to end it.
It was the sound that did it — hoofbeats, steady and unhurried, carrying the kind of weight that made the air feel different. Ken and the captain both turned.
Riding toward them on a horse that seemed carved from the same proud, immovable stone as its rider was a figure in full armor. Golden trim ran along the edges of the plate like veins of light, and the emblem of the kingdom sat bold on his chest. He wore no helmet. Golden hair caught the wind behind him as he rode, and his eyes — calm, measuring, ancient in the way that true strength often made a person seem — moved from the captain to Ken and settled there.
Behind him, armored riders flanked his path in formation. Silent. Still.
Ken felt the shift immediately. This was not a royal guard.
