Affray

Dreadmoore's second fortress, located in the northeast of the Novamantus borderlands.

The Pendragon Estate.

Although the sky was overclouded and dark, the air was fresh and earthy, with a hint of damp grass.

The guards provided a cloth for the injured to lie down on, and their wounds had already been bandaged. It was expected that they would make a full recovery within the next few days, but unnecessary movements must be avoided.

The Winthrope knights were given their own blankets and cloaks to use as bedding, as the fortress was unable to provide enough beds for all of its guests. They were told they had to sleep on the hard ground for the night.

Mikail sat in the corner, his weapon still near him. He couldn't shake off the feeling of suspicion as they were being treated inside the fortress and being provided with extra care unlike the knights outside. It seemed like there was an ulterior motive or maybe they were just being too accommodating to the allied military family.

"Are ya omkay, sir Hann? 'Ere, 'ave somethim t'eat." Trevan said as he approached Mikail with a mouthful of food. He handed a torn piece of bread that he was already munching on.

"Hm, thanks. (Where do you keep getting these breads?)"

Trevan sat besides Mikail, still munching on his bread. "I do belieff that Sergedant Kaelffa hath been performfing commendable work thintth hith promotion," he said, his brow furrowed with confusion.

"I don't understand you... Empty your mouth before you speak," said Mikail with a hint of annoyance and apathy, his eyes looking straight ahead as he ate the bread.

Trevan gulped the food he had been chewing before he spoke again. "What I mean is that it bewilders me how he has not been advanced to the rank of captain. Does he not possess the necessary valor and skill required for such a position?"

"You know, being promoted to a knight captain isn't that simple. A higher rank means a higher responsibility," Mikail replied.

"Hm, hm," Trevan nodded, looking straight ahead while he ate the bread.

"Being a captain knight means..." Mikail's voice trailed off as memories from the past few days suddenly flooded back to him.

Trevan turned his head, looking at Mikail who was hunched over with his head in his hands, tears falling from his eyes. "A... Are you okay, Sir Hann?"

Mikail wiped away the tears, he then shook his head as a response. As he did so, he gave Trevan a smile before standing up and dusting off his pants.

"Being a true captain means you're ready to lay down your life for your men. You lead them into battle, into danger, and you bear the weight of their lives on your shoulders. And in return, they will do the same for you. They will stand by your side, no matter the cost, because they trust you. They believe in you. And when the time comes, where you will be tested, and you will need to make the ultimate sacrifice. You could say to yourself that you would do it willingly, knowing that your men would do the same for you."

Trevan looked at him in awe. That was the moment where he finally realized what Mikail had for himself. It was the presence of a man who Trevan himself believed Sigfred possessed when he met him.

"Have you seen Yaras anywhere?" Mikail asked, looking around, trying to find Yaras, but he wasn't there.

Trevan shook his head in response. "I think Yaras was with his friends earlier, but I didn't see him leave with them."

"Friends...?"

"Why? Is there something you need from him?"

"...Not really. I'm going for a walk," said Mikail after taking a deep sigh. Trevan nodded and stood up to follow him.

Mikail looked back at him, confused. "What is it?" Trevan only shook his head again. Every time Mikail turned his head to look at him, Trevan would only smile.

Mikail didn't really give it much thought as he continued walking, gazing at the towering walls of the fortress and the knight guards that were patrolling the perimeter. After a while, Mikail and Trevan made their way to the open gate of the fortress, leaving for a quick walk outside, only to be stopped by a knight guard.

"Halt!" said one of the knight guards, a tall and broad-shouldered man with a stern expression, as he walked towards Mikail.

"Good day, sir," said Mikail.

"Good day to you as well, Sir Knight of Winthrope. My apologies for stopping you, but is there something you need?" the guard asked, his hand holding a spear that rested on the ground.

Mikail took a deep breath before responding with a polite tone, "I was hoping to take a walk outside the fortress. Would it be possible for me to leave?"

The knight guard narrowed his eyes, maintaining his composure as he replied, "I am afraid that is not possible, Sir. We were only told to protect the guests. However, I could inquire with the commander for his consent regarding your sudden request."

Mikail nodded in acknowledgement and stepped back, "I appreciate your consideration. Please do so."

The guard strode away, but before he could get far, a sudden voice made him stop in his tracks.

"That wouldn't be necessary," the voice said. A knight stood imposing on the threshold of the keep, his presence commanding attention.

"Captain," the guard bowed respectfully as he addressed the knight.

"The commander's busy. I will grant you permission in his stead," the captain said, his tone firm but not unkind.

Mikail was quiet as he met the knight's gaze. The captain knight had a smile on his face, but Mikail couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

"..."

"Ah, apologies. I believe it is our first time meeting each other. I am Randal Wycliffe, first captain of the Dreadmoore knights," the captain introduced himself after a moment of silence.

Mikail nodded politely, "Thank you, Captain Wycliffe," before turning to leave.

The captain snickered before he spoke once again, causing Mikail and Trevan to stop in their tracks, "My pleasure. But may I know what your name is?"

Mikail turned back to face the captain, "Mikail, sir. Mikail Hann Cynesige of Winthrope."

Randal chuckled, "Be safe then, Mikail," before nodding at the guard and walking back into the watch tower.

As they took their leave, Randal stood there quietly, looking at Mikail intently.

...

The outskirts of the fortress were dotted with countless tents pitched on the grassy plain, apparently belonging to the Dreadmoore knights. In every direction, there were murmurs of conversations, some accompanied by grunts and clashing blades of the men that were practicing.

Mikail and Trevan looked at their surroundings, taking in the bustling activities of the camp. Suddenly, Mikail took a stop, gazing off into the distance. Trevan couldn't help but feel curious as to what Mikail was looking at.

Without a word, Mikail strode down the grassy hill, departing from the main path and heading towards the Dreadmoore knights' encampment.

Trevan scrambled to catch up with him, calling out, "Wait! S-Sir Hann, what are you doing?" He quickly followed Mikail, who was making his way towards the Dreadmoore knights' camp.

The noises of their laughter and merry conversations were heard, as the Dreadmoore knights caroused around their bonfires, their speech slurred and their boisterous tones were evident of their drunkenness.

As Mikail passed by a group of knights that gathered around a bonfire, one of them noticed his and Trevan's armor, and shouted, "Hey... Is that what I think it is?"

Mikail ignored them and continued walking, not even casting a single glance in their direction.

"Hakhak! I believe that be what it is! Oi, Winthrope!" another man from the group shouted, calling out for their attention. Trevan glanced back and saw the man waving at them, but Mikail's gaze remained fixed on something in the distance, ignoring the rowdy company of drunk knights.

One of the men grew vexed after being ignored. "What? Yer ignoring us!?"

As Mikail and Trevan pressed on, the group of drunken knights grew louder and more insolent, hollering after them.

"Oi, you Winthrope dog! I thought ye all be dead on the battlefield!" one of them sneered.

"Aye, I heard them Winthropes ran like rabbits when the going got tough," another added.

Mikail's jaw clenched at the insults, but he kept his eyes forward, not wanting to engage with the drunken fools.

But as when one of them yelled out again, "If you really had honor, you shoulda been dead like the rest of your lot back there!"

...Something inside him snapped.

"We should just let them be, Sir Hann. They are just bunch of dru-" Trevan spoke, but was suddenly interrupted as he bumped into Mikail's back.

"Sir Hann...?"

Mikail stood silent, clenching his fists in anger. Trevan tried to reason with him, but he seemed not to be listening.

As Mikail stood there, the only thing that was on his mind was how Sigfred had sacrificed his life back there to protect his comrades. To protect him.

They could throw all the insults they want, but mocking his comrades was over the line. In his anger, Mikail turned on his heel, his eyes blazing with fury, and walked back towards the group of drunkards.

One of them chuckled at the others, trying to mock him further. "Oh ho, look at that! I feel you hit something deep in him."

Without a second thought, Mikail kicked one of the drunkards in the face. The loud thud echoed through the camp, catching the attention of many knights.

"Keuk... Oi, you bastard!" one of the drunkards grunted, trying to throw a punch, only to be swiftly taken down by Mikail.

"Sir, Hann! Stop this!" Trevan looked on nervously, unable to stop Mikail's rampage.

The rest of the group fell silent, shocked by Mikail's sudden outburst. But Mikail didn't stop there. He continued to beat the man on the ground, the man's helpless cries echoing across the campsite.

"Kagh! Gaaagh! I kaak... y-yield!" one of the men begged but Mikail paid no heed and continued his relentless assault. In desperation, one of the men grabbed a nearby wooden barrel and smashed it over Mikail's head, drenching him in mead.

Instead of stopping, Mikail's fury only intensified. He grabbed the man by the neck and slammed him into the ground with a force that defied his weight and build. The other Dreadmoore knights that were there couldn't do anything but watch.

Although some of them tried to help, but they couldn't because of Mikail uncontrollably throwing haymakers at them. Some of the knights rushed to call for the guards, while others watched as the situation spiraled out of control.

Trevan stood frozen, unsure of what to do as he watched the chaos unfold before him. He knew he needed to do something to stop Mikail before things escalated any further, but he couldn't bring himself to intervene.

As the minutes passed by, Mikail's rage continued to fuel his violent outburst, leaving three men incapacitated on the ground.

Finally, Mikail paused, panting heavily as he stood up from the ground. But before he could catch his breath, he was kicked by another knight, sending him stumbling backwards.

Undeterred, Mikail regained his footing and launched himself into another fight. Mikail was so blinded by anger that he couldn't discern the look of the knight he was aggressively pushing back.

"Captain!" one of the knights shouted, attempting to help him calm Mikail down, but Randal held out his hands, telling them not to interfere.

As Mikail lunged forward with a flurry of punches, Randal stepped back, keeping his distance and studying Mikail's movements. Randal focused on parrying since Mikail kept attacking with every chance he got. Even though Mikail took every punches Randal threw, he wasn't still backing down.

Randal smiled as he fought Mikail, amused by how impressive his endurance and stamina were.

Mikail's punches were wild but surprisingly effective. Randal was forced to dodge and weave, occasionally parrying a blow with his forearm. Mikail was clearly in a rage, fueled by his anger as he tried to bite Randal's arm to hold him from dodging away.

As the fight continued, Randal began to tire, and Mikail's wild but heavy punches began to land more frequently but most of it were blocked.

Randal knew he needed to change his approach if he was going to win this fight. He then decided to circle Mikail again, searching for an opening to strike.

Finally, Randal saw his chance, Mikail threw a wild punch again. Fortunately, it was slower than before so he had the time to dodge, grabbing Mikail's arm as he passed.

'When your right arm is held, use your elbow and hit the enemy's head.'

Just as Randal thought he won, Mikail used his elbow and hit Randal on his temple.

'The temple is a most vulnerable point in a man's head.'

"Kuuk!" Randal groaned in pain, realizing that he should've brought a helmet.

'A blow to the temple can quickly bring a man to his knees and leave him unable to defend himself.'

Using the momentum, Mikail seized Randal's collar and took him down to the ground, straddling him quickly.

'Since the enemy will let go of your right arm, you could seize the chance and grab them by the collar, throwing their body down to the ground.'

Thud!

'If the enemy is slightly larger, you can use your shoulder and back as support to carry them with one hand!' Mikail mused.

Everyone was taken aback as they saw Randal being thrown to the ground, and even Randal himself couldn't believe it. He was visibly exhausted and could barely defend himself against Mikail's pummel.

"H-Hey, we should really stop him," one of the knights called out.

Growing more tired and annoyed from Randal blocking his punches, Mikail rose to his feet, standing over Randal who was still panting heavily on the ground. Without hesitating, Mikail raised his leg to stomp Randal's face. However, before he could, the Dreadmoore men quickly stepped in, grabbing Mikail by the arms and pulling him away from Randal.

The other knights watched as the scene unfolded, murmuring amongst themselves. Some expressed their shock at Mikail's actions, while others questioned why Randal had allowed the brawl to continue for so long.

But Randal remained laying on the ground, gasping for breath and looking visibly shocked.