Chapter XXVII: Knights of Evermor

I slowly blink at the sudden challenge, more from sheer incredulity than any kind of surprise, and soon offer a swift deadpan "No."

The powerfully built Breton immediately deflates and pouts, outright pouts! "But why?"

I swear if the whiny voice didn't come from a very well built man I'd have thought I was talking to a literal child.

The old man, a mage of some skill as I learned earlier, lets out a deep, tired sigh "Please excuse his atrocious manners Court Mage, it would seem that the long road has taken its toll on him." He gives the young Knight Commander a pointed stare to which the man merely huffs.

"I find that these 'politeness' and 'propriety' you keep yammering on about are only good for worthless courtiers and corrupt advisors." The young man states firmly "I find that the best way to know someone is by crossing swords, and you Court Mage give me the impression of someone worth knowing."

Many of the other knights had already gathered as the conversation went on, most of them showing either bemused or annoyed expressions at their leader's shenanigans.

"You do realize that I am not a knight like yourself?" I raise an eyebrow.

He chuckles and his jovial tone turns a tad darker, though still remaining one of praise "No simple mage is known to wade through ranks of filthy heathen Reachmen and leave naught but blood and guts behind him."

"You do realize I am technically a heathen as well?" My lips quirk into a challenging smirk.

"Indeed" The Breton nods and asks with equal challenge "But are you filthy as well?"

We both stare at each other and I decide to be the first one to break it as I let out a dark chuckle, soon followed by my host and many of his comrades "I do have business in the city but I guess the Jarl won't mind a small detour." I straighten up, absently realizing that I was indeed taller than even the mighty knights of High Rock now "Very well then, Ser Reynauld, you will have your spar but I expect a full report on your recent operations. I might as well get something out of this."

I can see the inner conflict he has as he weighs paperwork against a fun fight but his interests swiftly win out as he shakes his head sadly "The things I must do for a good bout." The sigh that follows is a bit exaggerated but a moment later he instantly brightens up "Come on then, let us battle!"

(Davos' POV)

I suppress a tired sigh as Boss and the brat march over to the training yard, all of the other knights following behind them and muttering amongst themselves about rumors of Lord Dagoth's prowess in battle.

I was simply tired by the constant drama that seemed to always follow my employer, though a thought did enter my mind as I followed after them 'Did the fuckers not believe our introductions after all? Was this some kind of test?'

The old mage who I presumed was the knights' magic teacher failing to suppress his own groan tells me that the issue is far more simple than that. We share a quick suffering look and as one decide to walk side by side.

"So this is just the usual for the kid? Not some poorly hidden attempt at testing us?" I ask, keeping the annoyance from my carefully neutral tone.

The old man scratches his long beard and chuckles "Oh not at all, Sera Davos."

Would you look at that, the n'wah knows the proper term of address!

The old man continues without pause "My young student is simply too eager to experience life, and a meeting with someone as near-legendary as the young Lord Dagoth is not a situation in which he is likely to control himself."

"As long as he doesn't push too far and get his ass burned to a crisp." I snort lightly "My liege might humor him but he doesn't really have a way of dealing with annoyances other than setting them on fire."

The elder gives me a truly horrified look of surprise before suddenly speeding up, his face looking a tad too pale for the amount of sunlight shining down on us.

Poor old thing, I haven't even pulled out the 'he can call down a sun on your asses' card yet...

(Reyvin's POV)

Twirling the well made practice sword in my hand lazily I turn to the young knight whose eyes had lost all of his earlier aloofness and were now focused on me like those of a hawk "Rules?" I ask simply.

"First blood, first fall or disarm." He lists off easily "Only augmentation magic is permitted."

"Good enough" I shrug, my grey skin soon turning into ebony, though I do not bother with summoning my armor, neither does Reynauld wear anything beyond padding and leather.

His eyes twitch lightly in surprise as he observes the high level spell I just cast near effortlessly and his internal appraisal of me goes up.

Soon enough his own skin is covered in what I believe to be some kind of steel-flesh spell, a low expert level maybe? Nah, it is cast too slow for the power it gives him. High adept it is.

One of the other knights raises his hand grandly and asks "Are you both ready?"

Reynauld and I share a nod and the... referee? 'Sure, let us go with that.' Brings his hand down and declares "Fight!"

Both of us immediately spring into action, lashing out at each other with a flurry of carefully non-lethal blows.

Reynauld swings his blade with both hands, his strikes forceful yet also done with a surprising amount of finesse, immediately forcing me on the defense as he kept battering and redirecting my own blade as if he was stuck in some kind of elaborate dance.

A rather brutal and lethal dance but the point remains.

I take a low stance and focus on either dodging or deflecting with my one-handed sword, delivering bone-shaking counterattacks whenever I am presented with even the smallest opening, both my strength and speed far surpassing that of my opponent.

Yet imagine my surprise when the boy still managed to push me back, over and over again. His sheer skill and instincts allowing him to, with some effort, genuinely outfight me in an exclusively melee battle.

But the world should have learned by now, I am one petty elf.

(Davos' POV)

'Huh, the kid is actually better.' I blink in surprise as I see him push Boss back with repeated faints and rapid strikes. I'd expect this kind of thing from a Redoran swordmaster and not some Breton brat but the world is vast as they say.

Unfortunately for the kid, it is just then that I see Boss' eyebrow twitch in frustration.

"And there he goes." I mutter.

Loudly enough for my current companion to hear as the old man immediately gives me a panicked look, nearly breaking his neck as he snaps his head toward me "Is the young lord in danger?" He questions urgently.

Deriving no doubt unhealthy amounts of amusement from his panicked state I wave him off lazily "Don't worry, I was joking.... mostly." The last part I make sure to mutter inaudibly.

The old man grumbles something irrelevant to himself and focuses back on the fight, causing me to look back as well. The Boss if anything, knew how to break someone when he wished, and that was always satisfying to watch.

As the kid goes in for another overwhelming swing, Boss suddenly crouches and with a rapid twist kicks the kid right in the chest, sending him skidding back while launching himself backward as well, creating a great amount of space between the two of them.

I feel a tingle in the air, and the panicked looks on the Breton knights tell me that it wasn't just my tired ass being paranoid, and look to see Boss' entire body covered in some kind of amber runescript.

'Fucking magical squiggly lines' I shiver at the memory of having to learn even a small amount.

The runic writing was swiftly replaced with what I vaguely recognized as dragonscale but a moment later and I knew for a fact that the knightly kid was fucked then and there.

The kid barely has the time to raise his sword in defense as Boss smashes into him with the speed and force of a ballista bolt, immediately throwing him onto the ground and breaking both swords into multiple pieces.

Tiny pieces of steel that all stop mid-flight, some even inches away from the vulnerable spots on some of the spectators, creating a scene that would have looked eerie if not for me experiencing things in the past couple of years that were so much worse that this didn't even register.

The silence is broken by the astonished murmuring of the knights and squires as Boss approaches the thankfully still breathing kid.

(Reyvin's POV)

"Satisfied?" I ask the laid out Reynauld, only allowing a slight bit mockery into my voice.

He looks up at me, still breathing heavily "That was..."

The way he trails off causes me to raise an eyebrow, expecting him to call me out for my lack of fair play.

"Exhilarating!" He practically teleports into a standing position looking at me with disturbingly sparkling eyes "How did you possibly learn such a spell? How much Magicka does it take? How strong are the defenses? Ho-"

"Whoa there" I grab him by the shoulders and shake him slightly "Take a deep breath now." He shuts his mouth with a slightly incredulous look and before he can question me again I speak "Now then, do you have someplace to sit down?"

"But of course, good sir!" He exclaims cheerfully, his tone calming those in the crowd who were worried about his wellbeing "Come with me and regale us of your deeds!"

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The sun had long since set as Davos and I spent our time mostly listening to Reynauld speak about his training and past deeds. And oh boy did he have a lot to talk about, for someone younger than myself biologically he had participated in nearly as many dangerous things as I, just around his home city of Evermor.

Reachmen raids, Orsimer assaults, Redguard pirates, the young man had fought every one of these things and even led a couple of excursions into the Reach of High Rock, including one after Torygg's own expedition where he had earned his apparent moniker 'The Crusader' as he had apparently shown a particularly harsh amount of brutality against Namirans.

Just for that I gave him a couple of alteration tips for free.

The other knights also introduced themselves, some with more and others with less pomp but all of them with the confidence of a warrior mage greeting another of their number. Each and every one of them wore highly personalized and enchanted armor, the same going for their horses and squires (in that order) and each was a walking work of art as their house crests and banners were represented in different armor embossing and tabard art.

Though I did notice one of their number who was far less ostentatious in his presentation.

Their weapons were not left behind either as each longsword looked completely unique to the others and their lances felt like they could pierce ebony chain or lamellar with a good angle though not quite on the level of challenging strong plate.

I had asked them a couple of questions about their operations, myself unwilling to read through the actual report even if I did ask for it, and they (especially Reynauld) wasted no time in retelling how they had already participated in over a dozen raids on their distant Reachmen cousins and each knight boasted about defeating more than the others.

These supposedly foppy nobles were surprisingly brutal when they wished to be.

As midnight was closing in a Markarth guardsman, armored in Dwemer bronze forged coat of plates and masked with the expressionless helmet of the long dead deep elves, was led into the camp.

The veteran guard, for he gave me a feeling of actual competence, immediately saluted me and informed me that my people were already situated within the Jarl's palace complex and that the city was about to enter curfew for the night.

I could ignore it and just enter whenever I wished but that would be impolite and there was no need to humiliate my hosts.

"It would seem that our talks will have to wait for another day." I diplomatically inform Reynauld, much to his obvious disappointment. Apparently all it took for the man to start liking you was kicking his shit in.

He and Durrak would become fast friends, no doubt about it.

"It was our honor to host you, Court Mage" Reynauld bows lightly "If you have need of our services while you are in the city do not hesitate to ask, the Knights of Evermor will rush to your aid without fail!"

The rest of the knights also let out a smattering of approving noises, with some of the more enthusiastic squires rhythmically banging their spears upon their shields.

"You have my thanks and..." I offer the necessary pleasantries but then my voice turns slightly dangerous "I assure you, you will have every opportunity to fulfil that promise."

I left the large tent after seeing the eager glint in Reynauld's eyes, Davos stepping in to my side but a moment later as we followed the guardsman who led us to a small detachment of his fellows and then into the old city.

The first thing I observed upon entering through the massive brass gates was the beautiful terraced architecture making it seem almost as if the buildings were stacked upon each other yet remaining artful and open to the clear night skies.

The second were the magical auras of the place.

A deep feeling of decayed hunger came from beside the palace, its origin immediately bringing a disgusted twitch of my mouth and the inner promise of violence. 'And so the cannibal dares show itself again.'

The second was a well hidden but utterly dominating presence somewhere to the city's east, something I would no doubt face if I continued down my planned path 'Rarely is a thing more satisfying than cracking a rapist's skull.'

And the last but most assuredly not least was the lingering presence of two eyes of a stern and bloodthirsty warrior, firmly planted on my shoulders.

"Well now." I mutter cheerfully "I wonder what she might want."

The guards failed to hear my ominous words but they were not intended for them.

Davos gave me a despairing look, his eyes wordlessly bombarding me with all of the insults welling up in his soul, before he simply sighs in defeat and mentally prepares himself for what was to come.

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A rock for Davos' poor soul

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