On the fourth day of our journey, Victor and I passed through a village nestled in a forgotten mountain valley. It was a place shrouded in quiet misery. The streets were caked in dirt, and the air reeked of neglect. A pack of stray cats gnawed at the carcass of a dog as if we had wandered into the wild. Babies wailed like sirens while their mothers frantically drew up empty buckets from the village well. Drunkards and paupers sprawled across the streets like discarded refuse. From the upper windows, people hurled buckets of waste onto the road without care, one unfortunate man was struck square on the head, and he barely stirred.
The sight stood in stark contrast to the opulence of the Crimsonfield family. It was as though we had crossed into a different world entirely.
"All right, Roberta, my dear," Victor said, peering out the carriage window, "we'll be stopping here for a few hours."
"Right," I replied quietly.
The carriage pulled to a stop outside a lavish restaurant perched near the edge of a cascading waterfall. The sight of it stole my breath, a stunning panorama that, for a fleeting moment, helped me forget the despair we'd passed through to get here.
Victor exited first, then offered his hand to help me down. His touch was gentle, practiced. As we stepped into the restaurant, I noticed every eye in the room was fixed on him. The hum of hushed voices rippled around us, as if his presence alone were enough to command reverence.
"Greetings, sire. May I show you to a table?" asked one of the servers, clearly flustered by our arrival.
"Please do," Victor said smoothly.
We were led to a table on the patio, where the roar of the waterfall filled the silence between us. The view was romantic; eerily perfect. Victor, it seemed, had a knack for knowing exactly how to create the illusion of serenity.
The server handed us menus and bowed. "May I take your orders, milords?"
Victor scanned the menu with casual confidence. "Yes, I'll have the butter-poached lobster tail with saffron-infused truffle risotto, topped with microgreens, edible gold leaf, and a foam of Champagne beurre blanc. And a glass of Château d'Yquem Sauternes 342PEKT."
The server nodded, jotting down the elaborate order. "Very good, and for the lady?"
I hesitated. The names of the dishes might as well have been in a foreign language. This world of elegance wasn't mine.
"I… I'll just have what he's having," I said, trying to sound composed.
"Two of the same, then," the server confirmed. "Coming right up."
After he left, Victor raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You usually go for the seared duck breast with cherry gastrique. What's prompted the sudden change?"
I froze. Roberta must've had predictable tastes. I'd slipped out of character.
Quickly, I searched for an excuse. "I guess… I just wanted to try something new."
Victor's smile deepened. "I like that. Life is vast and unpredictable. When we limit ourselves, we lose the chance to discover who we might become."
As he turned to gaze at the waterfall, the server returned with a bottle of golden wine and two elegant glasses.
"Your Château d'Yquem 342PEKT," he announced, uncorking the bottle and pouring it with practiced precision. He bowed again and departed.
Victor raised his glass toward me. "To new horizons, Roberta."
"To new horizons," I echoed, clinking my glass gently against his. The wine was bitter, its flavour sharp and unfamiliar, clearly crafted for refined palates. I forced a smile and sipped.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the entrance.
"Mayor! Please, don't cause a scene, Mayor!"
Victor sneered, glancing toward the source of the noise. "What now?"
An elderly man, flanked by concerned villagers, struggled to reach us. When he broke free of their grasp, his momentum carried him straight toward our table.
Without rising from his seat, Victor intercepted the man's fall with the heel of his boot, knocking him back to the floor. Calmly, he took another sip of wine.
"Mayor! Are you all right?" the villagers cried as they helped him to his feet.
"Hey! What's your problem?" one of the villagers barked, glaring at Victor.
"The problem," Victor replied coldly, "is you lot stinking up this restaurant. Kindly take your stench elsewhere before you spoil the wine."
The younger man growled and stepped forward, but the old man raised a hand.
"Thomas! Enough!" the mayor snapped. "This man could be our salvation. Don't provoke him."
"But, Grandfather--"
"Stand down."
Thomas muttered under his breath but backed away.
The mayor turned to Victor and bowed. "You must be the Holy Knight, Sir Victor Von Einsbern. Please forgive my grandson. He's… passionate, but lacks restraint."
Victor didn't even flinch. "I couldn't care less. What's this talk about me being your saviour?"
"Our village; Rockvalley; has been suffering terribly. For decades, we've petitioned the Aglonian Council and the knightly orders for help. But they ignore us. Now that a Holy Knight is here in person… we dared to hope."
Victor narrowed his eyes. "Hope for what, exactly?"
"Economics, sir. We're a landlocked village, cut off from fishing and most trade. Our only resource lies within Boogie Mountain, its minerals. But the mountain is impenetrable. The only known access point is a sealed cave at its base."
" And you aren't mining from said cave because…?"
"Sir Victor," the mayor began, voice quivering, "there is a dragon guarding the mouth of the cave. For seventy years, brave souls have tried to defeat it. Every attempt has failed." His voice cracked. Tears gathered in his eyes and began to fall, unbidden.
Victor raised an eyebrow, lounging back in his chair. "So… you want me to slay it?"
The mayor nodded with desperation.
"And what, exactly, do I gain from saving a village of dirt-farmers?" Victor asked, his voice as cold as the silver hilt of his blade.
"Pardon?"
"I said, what do I gain?" Victor repeated, slow and clipped.
"But... I thought the Holy Knights were protectors of the people of Aglonius…"
Victor gave a dry chuckle and leaned forward. "That's the bedtime story they tell you, old man. But the world isn't a fable. If you have nothing to offer, then don't waste my time."
The mayor stood there, motionless, as if some invisible force had drained the strength from his bones. The tavern was silent; oppressively so; until a waiter arrived and gently set down our meals.
"Lobster tails and wild mushroom risotto. Please enjoy."
Victor offered him a gracious nod. "Thank you, good sir."
And just like that, he dug in, utterly unaffected.
I stared at him in disbelief. This holy knight was supposed to be a symbol of hope. A defender of the helpless. Instead, he was a tyrant in polished armour.
"Aren't you going to eat, Roberta?" Victor asked, noticing my unease. "It'll get cold."
I hesitated. "Victor… I think we should help them. Even if they have nothing now, perhaps we could help them build something. Shouldn't we--"
"No." He didn't even look up. "The strong don't hand out favours to the weak. Everything in this world has a price. A society built on handouts instead of merit will crumble like sandcastles in a storm."
"But Victor--"
"No buts." He took a sip of wine. The villagers watched in stunned silence, whispering among themselves.
Then the mayor stepped forward again, voice trembling. "If… if you slay the dragon, I will grant you dominion over Rocksvalley as your feudal land. And I'll offer you forty percent of our mineral trade revenues."
Gasps rang through the room. Even the server stopped in his tracks.
Victor raised his glass, swirling the wine inside. "Why would I risk my life for a meager forty percent?"
"Fifty."
"Sixty, or I walk." Victor's voice turned to ice. "And I won't entertain another number, peasant."
"You arrogant bastard--!" a young man lunged forward. But the other villagers restrained him.
The mayor stared at the ground, lips trembling. He inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. "Very well. Sixty. Please, Sir Victor Von Einsbern… slay the dragon. I beg you." He dropped to his knees.
Silence swept across the tavern like a wave of ash.
Then, slowly, other villagers followed, each falling to their knees, grovelling.
Victor didn't blink. Instead, he poured his wine over his polished leather boot. "Fine. If you want my trust… lick it. Show me you're not trying to trick me."
The room gasped. Horror swept over their faces.
But the mayor, with tears now streaming freely, crawled forward and pressed his tongue to Victor's boot.
It was obscene. One by one, the villagers did the same. I turned away, nauseated. My appetite evaporated, and I pushed my plate aside.
After the last tongue had left his boot, Victor stood. "Well then… the deal is sealed. Let's go kill a dragon."
We arrived at the outskirts of Boogie Mountain, where the forest thickened and shadows clung to the earth like hungry spirits.
"Sir Victor," the mayor said, pointing toward the trail, "follow this path to the cave. Our warriors are prepared to assist you --"
"There's no need," Victor interrupted. "I work alone."
I stepped forward, heart pounding. "Victor… please be careful."
He smiled, the first soft expression I'd seen from him all day. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Worry not, my love. I'll return with the beast's head in my grasp."
He mounted his white stallion and vanished into the forest.
At the mouth of the cave, the dragon slumbered. Its scales were pitch black, rippling with a quiet menace. Each breath it exhaled vibrated the earth beneath Victor's feet.
Victor dismounted and walked directly toward it, completely unshaken.
"Rise, beast," he called. "You bar the road to my fortune."
The dragon's eyes opened, glimmering with ancient intelligence. Smoke curled from its nostrils.
"You foolish human," it said, voice like an avalanche. "You do not understand what lies beyond this cave. Leave. Abandon your greed."
Victor sneered. "I don't take orders from lizards. Step aside."
"I will not. Nor will I tolerate your insolence!"
The dragon roared, spinning to strike with its tail.
Victor leapt into the air, but that left him exposed. The dragon's maw glowed and then, a fireball erupted.
We saw the explosion from miles away.
Victor, midair, sliced through the fireball with a single strike. It split, roaring past him like twin suns. He landed in a crouch.
"You blind fool!" the dragon bellowed. "I protect this village from the true horrors beyond! Do not sabotage my purpose!"
The dragon unleashed another torrent of flame.
"Barrier!" Victor shouted. A shimmering shield enveloped him. He walked through the inferno unscathed.
When the flames faded, Victor moved in a blur of motion and in one brutal stroke, the dragon's head hit the dirt.
He wiped his blade clean. "No creature commands me."
Inside the cave, crystals lined the walls like frozen starlight. The cavern shimmered in hues of violet and silver.
"So, these were the horrors it spoke of?" Victor sneered. "Greedy beast."
He pried a crystal from the ceiling and tucked it into his cloak. Then, dragging the dragon's headless body behind him, he returned to the village.
The people of Rocksvalley erupted in celebration. Victor's name echoed in every chant.
He approached me and held out the crystal. "This reminded me of you, Roberta. Take it as a token of our love."
My cheeks flushed, despite myself.
"Sir Victor," the mayor said, kneeling, "we are eternally in your debt."
By nightfall, the documents were signed. Rocksvalley now belonged to him.
The next morning, we rode into a dilapidated town. A sun-scorched old man herded cattle through the muddy streets. Women hid their children. Windows slammed shut as our carriage passed. The atmosphere was tense and hostile. The carriage stopped in front of a dilapidated bar.
"Stay here, Roberta," Victor said. "I won't be long."
He stepped out. A man with an olive complexion and a worn turban stood outside the bar, eyes wide with fear as he saw Victor approaching.
From inside, angry voices roared. It was not the sort of place a knight should visit.
I waited. Minutes stretched endlessly. Dread churned in my stomach.
Finally, Victor returned, calm and composed. He carried a bulging satchel filled with coins and uncut diamonds.
I didn't ask. I simply looked away and remained silent.
And so, we moved on.