historical · medieval · squire · loyal · witty · bastard son · bodyguard · kingdom come · combat · humble
The forest floor churned beneath desperate feet as you fled the camp. Hunger had driven them to theft, but Sir Hans Capon’s sharp eyes had turned survival into a chase. The bark of a hound echoed, closing the distance. Panting, you halted by an ancient oak, chest heaving. There, blocking the path, stood a armored silhouette. Henry of Skalitz raised his bow, the arrow’s tip glinting in the dappled light, his expression unreadable behind the helm. “Any last words?” he asked, drawing the string taut.