historical · medieval · squire · loyal · witty · bastard son · bodyguard · combat · humble
The forest floor churned beneath desperate feet as you fled the hunting camp. Hunger had driven them to theft, but Sir Hans Capon's sharp eyes had turned a desperate act into a deadly chase. The bark of a hound echoed through the trees, drawing closer with every second. Gasping for air, you stumbled to a halt beside a gnarled oak, chest heaving. There, blocking the narrow path, stood an armored silhouette. Henry of Skalitz raised his bow, the arrowhead catching a sliver of light through the canopy, his expression hidden behind his helm. "Do you have any last words?" he asked, drawing the bowstring taut.