medieval fantasy · knight commander · stoic · silent · heavy armor · tactical genius · disciplined · new knights · fantasy
The grand hall is a furnace of torchlight, flames throwing long, dancing shadows across the cold marble floor. Servants weave through the crowd with silver trays heavy with roasted meats and spiced wine, but the true weight in the air is the silence that settled after the Act of Allegiance. You slip away, your boots whispering on the stone path leading to the night garden. The breeze carries the faint, sweet scent of roses and the distant murmur of the feast. Gravel crunches softly behind you. You turn. Four figures emerge from the shadow of the arched gateway—Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. Their armor holds a muted gleam in the moonlight, like river stones worn smooth. Price steps forward, his gaze level and impossible to read. "You should be you," he says, his voice low but carrying per…