Tigerwood Mercenary

The Tigerwood Mercenary Company was once a legend, a group that started with five desperate men and, through blood and steel, became one of the most feared mercenary forces in the region. But the bigger they grew, the less they fought. Now, their reputation alone was enough to complete most jobs without drawing a blade.

Take this escort mission, for instance. At the front of the caravan rode a dedicated cavalry team—not for battle, but to display flags. The first was the banner of the Tigerwood Mercenaries, followed by those of several other large mercenary groups, and then the crests of the great merchant houses funding this expedition. The message was clear: Don't even think about it.

A mission like this was easy coin. Tiberius sighed. "A reputation is a fine thing, but it makes for a dull life."

Just then, one of his men came galloping toward him, face pale. "Commander! Bad news—someone's blocking the road!"

Tiberius straightened immediately, his boredom vanishing in an instant. Excitement flared in his chest, but it was quickly tempered by caution. "…How many?"

The scout hesitated. Tiberius's mood darkened. "To stop a convoy this size, they'd need at least three hundred men, possibly twice that. And you're telling me you don't know how many?"

"There are only two of them."

"What?" Tiberius nearly fell off his horse. He barely managed to steady himself before turning to the scout with disbelief. "Two people? That's it?"

"Yes, sir. Just two. A woman, leading the challenge, asked for you by name."

"A duel? And who exactly is this lunatic?"

"She's clad in cyan armor and wields a longsword," the scout said hesitantly. "By all accounts… she's the Valkyrie from the recent rumors."

Tiberius blinked. Then he burst into laughter. "That nonsense is real?" The so-called "Valkyrie" had been a joke at every tavern in the region for the past few months. According to wild rumors, a beautiful woman dressed in shining cyan armor was traveling the land, issuing duels to worthy warriors—and winning all of them. Supposedly, even two champion knights had fallen to her blade. Tiberius actually knew those knights. They weren't pushovers.

At the time, he and his men had laughed about it over drinks, joking that a woman's place was at home with a needle and thread, not on a battlefield with a sword. Tiberius had loudly proclaimed that if this Valkyrie ever crossed his path, he'd put her over his knee and remind her of a woman's proper duties.

Now, she was standing in his way. The mercenary captain rode ahead, pushing through the gathering crowd at the caravan's front. Already, the entire convoy had ground to a halt, and many curious onlookers had moved forward to see the spectacle.

Then he saw her. The woman sat astride a fine warhorse on a small hill overlooking the road. She was young, perhaps still in her teens, but the armor she wore—an immaculate cyan plate set, masterfully engraved—radiated an aura of authority. The way she carried herself, completely at ease, exuded confidence. Behind her, another figure sat motionless, mounted atop a stallion that was every bit as regal as hers. This man was absurdly handsome, the kind of beauty Tiberius usually associated with elven courtiers or the statues of saints in church halls. But his expression was unreadable, and that made him unsettling.

'Who the hell are these people?' Tiberius reined in his horse a few paces away, adjusting his grip on the reins before speaking. "Are you the Valkyrie from the rumors?" His tone was polite, but there was an edge of skepticism.

"I allow you to call me that," the woman replied coolly. "And you are?"

"Tiberius," he said simply.

Rhianna's lips curled into a smile. "Captain Tiberius of the Tigerwood Mercenary Company?"

Tiberius narrowed his eyes. "That's me."

"Then draw your weapon," Rhianna said, unsheathing her blade. The silvered steel gleamed in the fading light. "I challenge you."

There was a beat of silence. "...Excuse me?" Tiberius blinked.

"Draw your weapon," she repeated. "I want to fight you."

"Wait, wait—hold on. Why exactly are we fighting?"

Rhianna frowned. "Too many questions. Are you refusing?"

That prompted laughter from the gathered mercenaries. 

"Come on, Tiberius, you can't back out now!"

"I thought you said you'd spank this little girl!"

"Maybe he's scared! Should we start calling him Kitten instead of Tiberius?"

More laughter. Even the traders were chuckling.

Tiberius groaned. He hated this. Even if he won, he'd be ridiculed for fighting a girl. But if he refused, the jeering would never end. With a sigh, he raised his hands. "Look, lady, I don't mind a good fight, but I'd at least like to know why."

Rhianna's eyes locked onto his. "I need to see if you're truly as strong as the rumors claim. This is a test. If you pass, you may be worthy of joining the Blue Knights."

Tiberius stared at her. 'What.' He wasn't sure which part offended him more—that she was talking like some self-proclaimed judge of warriors, or that she spoke as if he wanted to join whatever made-up order this was. "Test? Join? Lady, I don't even know who you—" His words cut off as Rhianna simply lifted her sword, its tip gleaming in the light drizzle.

Tiberius felt his temper flare. 'Alright.' He didn't know who she was. He didn't know what game she was playing. But he did know that he'd been challenged, in front of his men, and he wasn't about to let some armored noble's daughter make a fool of him. 

"You want a fight? Fine." Tiberius unsheathed his broadsword. It was a heavy blade, well-worn from years of use, not some decorative noble's toy. "I'll make sure you regret it." With a flick of the reins, he charged.

The moment he moved, time seemed to slow. His instincts, honed from countless battles, assessed everything in a heartbeat. The terrain. The way she sat on her horse. The way she held her blade. 'She's young. Fast, maybe, but she won't have the strength to parry full-force blows. If I break through her guard once, it's over.' So he swung.

It was a simple, powerful downward cut, aimed to knock her sword aside and throw her off balance. A clean, forceful opening attack. But the moment his sword neared her, Rhianna moved. Not backward. Not to the side. She leaned forward, into the attack. Her sword flicked up at an angle—too delicate, too light, too weak to stop his blade. Except it didn't stop it. It redirected it.

The force of his own swing was turned away in an instant, his broadsword deflected cleanly past her shoulder as if it had never had any weight at all. 'What the—' Before he could react, Rhianna countered. Her horse surged forward, bringing her into his blind spot. The flat of her blade slammed against his side—lightly, but enough to prove a point.

Tiberius barely managed to rein his horse around, eyes wide. She could have gutted him. That wasn't luck. That was skill. Rhianna circled back, casually resting the weapon across her lap. "Was that the best you could do, Captain?"