The Horseless Horse and the Knight Without a Horse (5)
"So, he just up and left?"
The old commander, back from the muster, let out a hollow laugh as he double-checked the Chief of Finance's report. It wasn't a reflexive question born of confusion. He was just so incredulous he had to ask.
"Yes. He said everything from now on fell under the scope of his orders and marched right out of headquarters."
"What an entertaining fellow."
"Entertaining my ass—what are you going to do about it, Commander?"
"Watch that mouth. That's borderline insubordination."
The Chief of Finance snorted. After decades serving alongside the commander on the Western Front, this level of banter was par for the course between them.
"I was going to formally offer him a banner since it was a shame to let a free knight like him slip away, but he took off before I could."
"What can you do? We can't treat him like a deserter."
They couldn't slap him with desertion charges because of Kriel's unique situation. Officially, Kriel wasn't even a knight in the Western Army's ranks. He was just a mercenary hired on short-term.
Kriel had gone unnoticed despite his talents until the duel trial in the barracks drew every eye in the Western Army to him. He'd stepped up as proxy for someone branded a "witch" and felled five knights in a row.
The trial had been rigged from the start to condemn her as a witch, so even victory in the duels wouldn't clear her name. Instead, they spread nonsense like, "The witch used abyss sorcery to hinder our honorable knights!" to forcibly overturn the results.
It was the commander himself who'd promised Kriel—the witch's "minion"—silence from the rabble, authority within the camp, and the trial's endorsement in exchange for serving as his direct knight.
That left the commander as Kriel's sole superior on the books. He couldn't call it desertion if Kriel had left to carry out his one boss's orders.
"Eh, let him go. He'll have to come back to me for a proper discharge anyway. Next time we meet, I'll offer him a position as the army's standard-bearer or head knight of the house."
"He seems dead set on getting that discharge, though."
"Such a waste of talent."
Even the Chief of Finance, who usually wanted to chide his lord for every cheeky remark, couldn't deny that truth. Instead of agreeing and inflating his master's ego, he smoothly changed the subject.
"Things are getting fishy with the Holy Kingdom."
[So. Heading to some backwoods village to hunt down a saint or saintess? You know any?]
Kriel shook his head. He had a passing acquaintance with the witch, but not one he cared to deepen. Wasn't it all because of her that his name was still on the rolls?
"I'm going to the Holy Kingdom. Saints and saintesses wander all over the place like you said—easy to miss each other on the road."
Of course, using the trip to the Holy Kingdom as an excuse to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Western Army was part of the plan. The commander's attentions, like some pushy staff sergeant hawking promotions, would fade with time.
[Sounds good to me. Been a while—let's go!]
"A while?"
Come to think of it, the guy had mentioned holding office back in the old United Kingdom days. Catching Kriel's curious glance, Orishin launched into his tale.
[Before the races split. Before the abyss ran rampant. Back when priests and kings blurred together!]
Kriel blinked, recalling the lore from Tirnanog RPG. He realized the "old United Kingdom" Orishin meant wasn't the early days of the current alliance holding the Western Front—but some primordial pan-racial kingdom from antiquity.
"You sure have lived a long time."
[Tell me about it. You see all kinds of weird shit when you live long enough.]
Orishin's story started off sounding profound, only to devolve into boasts like "I saw that famous so-and-so." He'd met all three heroines who founded the United Kingdom, even sassed the legendary fire dragon Kaladrifa right to her face.
"How'd a famous spirit like you end up corrupted by the abyss?"
[Damn. Way to shut me up.]
"Not picking a fight. I just never heard of a way to corrupt an ancient spirit like you without mass human sacrifices or rituals."
[Well... Beats me too.]
Orishin waggled his disembodied head uselessly. He'd come to and suddenly had two horns, that was it.
"'No idea' covers it all, huh."
[If I knew the curse's origin, I'd have broken it myself. You're too much.]
The griping horse head didn't sound all that sincere. Just his usual bluster.
[Anyway, I've yapped enough about me. What's your story? They asked you the same back in Rolang, and you blew them off, right?]
"My story?"
Kriel paused. Tirnanog RPG. Himself as a character in that game. His struggles to escape the Dark Knight penalties. Failing to mesh the class skills with his sanity, sealing the unique ones, and sticking to basic knight techniques.
A torrent of thoughts rose and fell, but he had only one thing to say now.
"Ran into the wrong people and nearly got stuck in the army for life. Used you as an excuse to bail."
[Hah. No one's around, so your tongue loosens up?]
Kriel shrugged. As Orishin said, the stern knight act was enough in public. It wasn't his real personality anyway, and playing the classic knight—defending the oppressed—had nearly trapped him in the ranks.
Now, far from the army, he could relax a bit. As long as he didn't spew curses willy-nilly, spilling his guts to one or two folks wouldn't dent his Honor.
...Right?
Recalling Tirnanog RPG's Honor gain/loss conditions, Kriel heard Orishin's voice in his ear.
[How long to the Holy Kingdom?]
"Even at my pace, I'd say ten days."
[Pretty quick!]
"A bit" quick was an understatement. From the Western Army camp to the Holy Kingdom's capital, even on horseback took over a fortnight for most.
Kriel didn't have to slow for rough terrain like a horse would, could skip most sleep, and minimize rests. Still impressive. This blistering speed came from the fighting spirit knights trained—the same ability any knight cultivated for enhancement.
Mastering plain fighting spirit body reinforcement was his workaround to survive without blood qi or resentment, the Dark Knight's signature powers.
Dark Knights had their own fighting spirit skills, of course, but those fused into dark fighting spirit with blood qi or resentment. No reason for Kriel, who craved sound mind and body, to touch them.
He'd scrounged basic knight fighting spirit methods years ago and stuck with them.
A week into barreling over mountains and fording rivers, Orishin asked:
[By the way, you're a knight—where's your horse?]
"Think it's just the horse? No money either."
Kriel's deadpan reply stunned Orishin into silence—then exploded into laughter.
[Kuhahaha! What a riot! That stern knight act for real?]
"That was for other people. On the battlefield, knights are like paperweights."
[Paperweights? The thing to keep papers from fluttering?]
Kriel nodded. It was a notion born from his experiences wandering in knightly guise.
"You can't let others shake, even if you do. Give faith to them even if you doubt yourself. Who'd follow an unreliable leader?"
[Oh ho. But you're always solo—more a loner than a leader. I haven't known you forever, but I can tell you like your own company.]
Kriel chuckled dryly behind his helm.
"That's why no horse. If I had the charisma, headquarters would've loaned me one."
[Convincing!]
Kriel glossed over the parts that didn't flatter him. In a world where mana and fighting spirit were the same power, warhorses had abilities too. The best came from the Holy Kingdom—blessed with superior self-healing and night vision, the Western Front's pride.
They'd spat at Kriel and turned away on sight.
A Dark Knight was naturally off-putting to normal creatures following the natural order. To the blessed, he wasn't just creepy—he was something to exterminate.
Regular horses? They plain feared his existence. No riding that.
'No wonder Dark Knights bother contracting Bicorns...'
Kriel eyed Orishin. A floating ghost horse head made a lousy mount.
The Holy Kingdom's capital. The grand holy city of Temris, seat of the Priest-King chosen from the priesthood.
"Drop your weapons and raise your hands!"
"I've told you repeatedly—I'm no thrall of the abyss."
Kriel found himself suddenly subjected to a zealot inspection.