Strength of the Valkyrie

Tiberius clenched his jaw. The laughter from the crowd had stopped. They were watching, waiting. Fine. He was done underestimating her. He adjusted his grip and charged again. And this time, he wasn't holding back.

At the moment of impact, both horses surged forward. In an instant, the two warriors crossed paths, and a sudden flash of silver light erupted between them. Most of the onlookers were momentarily stunned by the sudden brilliance, while the few who had sharp enough eyes to witness what truly happened fell into shocked silence.

Rhianna moved with breathtaking speed. As she passed Tiberius, her blade danced like liquid light, slashing three times in rapid succession. The first was a powerful, momentum-driven cut—pure force, no embellishment. When Tiberius instinctively blocked it, she instantly followed with a precise thrust. As he deflected it, she reversed the stroke mid-motion, launching a third attack in a seamless flow.

For Tiberius, it was like being caught in a whirlwind of steel. His instincts screamed at him that he was already surrounded. Before he could properly react, Rhianna twisted her torso, using the momentum of her mount to deliver a final, decisive strike—aimed directly at his waist.

At the last possible moment, her wrist flicked. Instead of cleaving him in two, the flat of of the blade struck his side, sending him flying from the saddle. The crowd gasped as Tiberius hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact. Murmurs rippled through the caravan—disbelief, awe, hushed whispers of the Valkyrie.

Rhianna calmly reined in her horse, letting it trot a few paces before turning back toward her opponent. She knew he wasn't truly injured; she had controlled the force of her strike precisely. True to expectation, Tiberius rolled to his feet, sword still in hand, his expression somewhere between shock and fury. "You're not skilled in mounted combat," Rhianna stated coolly. She remained seated, looking down at him with calm detachment. "Not surprising. Most mercenaries lack proper training in cavalry warfare. After all, horses are costly, and true warhorses even more so. You built your reputation on foot, not in the saddle."

Tiberius's face burned with humiliation. Even though her words were factual, he could feel the weight of the condescension behind them. Rhianna sighed theatrically. "Fine. I won't take advantage of you." With that, she shifted her weight, swung her leg over the saddle, and landed gracefully on the ground, the blue skirts of her armor flowing behind her. "Show me your skill on foot," she said, raising her weapond. "I hope you prove more impressive here."

Tiberius's blood boiled. The casual way she dismissed him, the calm superiority in her tone—it was unbearable. With a roar, he charged forward, broadsword raised high. The fight resumed.

Rhianna quickly assessed his form. Tiberius wasn't weak—far from it. His strikes were powerful, his steps nimble, and his combat experience evident in how smoothly he adapted. He fought like a man accustomed to real battles, not mere duels. Each strike carried intent, his roars adding weight to his aggression, forcing lesser opponents into a defensive retreat. But he wasn't a true threat. She had fought knights. Champions of the arena. Soldiers honed in war.

Tiberius was skilled—dangerous, even, to most opponents—but he lacked refinement. His movements were predictable, his style built around overpowering rather than outmaneuvering. And that was the problem. Rhianna had been trained by someone who viewed battle not as a contest of strength, but as a science of angles, timing, and pressure. Compared to what she had been taught, Tiberius's fighting style felt like watching a club being swung wildly in the dark. She deflected his strikes with ease, each movement as fluid as the wind. And as she did, she began thinking about how to end this spectacle. Because that's all this was—a spectacle.

Kayvaan had instructed her to spread the legend of the Valkyrie, to make sure the world knew of the Blue Knights. He wanted a legend, a name that would echo through taverns and courts alike. A secret organization, no matter how powerful, was still small if it remained unknown. A true force needed structure, organization, and most importantly—reputation.

Reputation attracted warriors. It gave birth to movements. Rhianna had been carefully executing her role in this. She wasn't merely winning duels—she was shaping an image. A beautiful woman clad in resplendent armor, wielding a silver sword that roared like light itself. A warrior both formidable and untouchable. She had already bested ten champion knights—publicly. Each time, she ensured the battle was witnessed, so the rumors would spread. But the process was slow. This was an era without newspapers, without written records among the common folk. Illiteracy was rampant, and information traveled only as fast as tongues could carry it.

For all her victories, Kayvaan was still unsatisfied with the speed of her rise. Which is why she was here now. This wasn't just a fight. This was theater. Rhianna let out a breath. It was time to end this. Tiberius swung, a full-force downward slash meant to cleave through her guard. She stepped in. Before the strike could reach, she twisted inside his range, letting his momentum betray him. At the last second, she pivoted, bringing her blade upward. The silver blade flashed.

With a single movement, Rhianna struck the flat of her sword against Tiberius's side, precisely where she had hit him before. The impact sent him sprawling. This time, he did not rise as quickly. The battlefield fell into stunned silence. The great Tiberius, the legendary mercenary captain, had been felled. By a woman.

Rhianna flicked her weapon, letting the silver blade catch the light. She turned to the gathered onlookers, her voice ringing out, clear and authoritative. "This is the difference between a warrior and a legend." The murmur of the crowd grew into a roar. The name Valkyrie spread through hushed whispers and awed exclamations. Rhianna let her eyes fall back to the knocked out Tiberius

Tiberius was just another name on the growing list of those who had fallen before the Valkyrie. With this battle, the legend of the Blue Knights would spread further, carried by the tongues of merchants and wandering bards alike. "This," she declared, her voice ringing clear over the murmuring crowd, "is the strength of the Valkyrie."