A Feared Clan

Outside the city of Wisdom, Hikma, a fleeing boat struggled to cut across the desert. Atop the boat was a single man covered in a silver cloak, his shoulder bleeding profusely.

"What the hell was that?" asked the boat's driver, a young man in his twenties. "Did the kingdom ever build a dark knight like that?"

"I work at the factory. We created no such thing," said the man in the silver cloak. "And as a strategist of Sourna, I receive first-hand intel about any prototypes."

"Are you suggesting that the dark knight was created by the resistance?" asked the driver, sweat covering his face. "If that's true, then the entire kingdom of Sourna might fall!"

"Don't spread such rubbish, it was only one prototype."

"But sir... that prototype tore through our ranks with ease," said the driver as he gripped the helm tightly. "We need to tell the wisemen."

"Of course we will," barked the strategist while gritting his teeth. "What kind of creature was that?"