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The Knight Of Euphemia

"She is the progeny of the devil." The final blow was laid down. A sword through his heart. Followers of hell had slayed the Knight. "A prophet, I am not. But I shall curse this land, which dared to deprive us of our bond. He shall honor my promise, and he shall bring the rot to your land. Not for my selfish will, but for the eradication of true evil." With the corpse of her beloved in her embrace, Euphemia was sealed forever. As the dust settled, a new dawn emerged. 'The Immortal Land Of Euphemia. A place that refuses to wither down even after several millenniums of prosperity. Kingdoms have come and gone, but none of them carried the strength and Valor of the holy land, protected by the will of the warrior goddess Astarte.'

Honestdegenerate · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
73 Chs

The Audience

Day 101, Year 3000.

The Overseer's office was hosting five people of extraordinary backgrounds. A bottle of expensive scotch was the unexpected guest who brought some life to this otherwise formal gathering.

"Unlike you cretins, I have to babysit these kids."

The dean took a large sip from his glass. He looked miserable.

"Don't curse us for your waning age."

All of them were wearing black uniforms.

"One day, you will face the same problem."

All the state-employed Black Knights were going to retire eventually. After that, they might live their lives as free citizens, or continue to work as administrators under the orders of the council.

"What is the use of crying over the past? And what might we accomplish by fearing the future?"

The one that was only three younger than the dean said. The dean went red with embarrassment. That was a part of his farewell speech.

"Was all of that hot air coming out of your mouth instead of your-"

"I miss being at the frontlines, alright?"

He took another sip, emptying the rest of his glass. For some reason, the bitter taste, along with the burning sensation in his throat, made him feel better.

"You do something for thirty years, and then you are asked to walk away from it."

He had devoted his entire life to being a Black Knight. Aiming for the top, and working hard to reach that path. Unlike many of his fellow rivals, he didn't care for political connections or favors that could launch him to greater heights. He worked hard on the battlefield and earned his respect for his dedication to the job.

"I can still pick up a sword. I can still be a commander. I can do more for my kingdom as a Black Knight. Staring at the stack of papers coming from arrogant noble families that want to admit their children based on their birth makes me feel..."

He took a pause. Feeling a teardrop on his pants, he lowered his voice and said.

"Useless."

Siegfried regretted being stuck in this position.

The other black knights pitied their old friend.

"I can't say that I get you, Siegfried. But I know what it is like to feel useless."

Respect on par with the higher nobles, and yet the feeling of powerlessness due to constant loss. Sometimes, they felt like the soldiers that fought for them were nothing but cattle that were up for sacrifice to fend off the monsters from the gates. Their pride mocked their inability.

"Being a knight might not have any meaning now, but that is the only thing that I can be."

Each of them had a story before they became knights. But as years have gone by, those stories have become irrelevant to the grand narrative of their lives.

"We were all nobles before this. We didn't ask for status; it was already there from the moment we were born."

Being a knight meant following and carving out your paths.

"And now, we are black knights."

One of them interjected. He was the youngest of them all.

"People respect and fear us. While in our own eyes, we continue to sink deeper and deeper with no signs of an end."

Their future is dependent on the whims of the council.

This was the alcohol talking, but Siegfried's initial outburst led to his friends opening up and sharing their thoughts on the life of a black knight.

"We took an oath. We have to live by it."

All of them were depressed.

"And in 12 days, kids that carry similar ambitions will fight each other to prove their worth. If only I could tell them what awaited their cursed futures."

Kill enough people, and all you can hear in your dreams are their final cries of mercy. Bandits weren't the only thing that they had to cull for the council.

"We all will be there, and we can all only sympathize with them."

As midnight came to pass, they found themselves out of Alcohol. With nothing to drown their sorrows with, they soon blacked out from the intoxication.

Black knights. An honor reserved for extremely few people.

In reality, though, it was a profession with extremely low gains and extremely high losses.