Trial of Steel

The morning sun had risen, casting a golden hue over the dense forest. Jacob rode at the front, his horse trotting steadily along the Blackstone-bricked road leading to the Duchy's manor. The road, slick from the morning dew, gleamed faintly under the light. Towering spruce trees loomed on either side, their thick branches forming a natural tunnel that muffled the distant sounds of birds and rustling leaves.

Jacob glanced back at his companions and then at Bob, one of the mercenaries riding beside him.

"Are you sure this is the way, Bob?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

Bob nodded. "That old man at the inn said this road leads straight to the Duchy."

Jacob exhaled sharply.

"why did Captain say we should visit the Duke tomorrow if we were already heading here yesterday?" , said one of the mercenaries.

One of the mercenaries shrugged. "Who knows? But at least we got to spend the night in an inn instead of camping in the damned forest."

"And the bed was actually cozy," another muttered, drawing a few chuckles.

The road continued, winding through the thick forest before opening into a clearing. There, before them, stood an imposing black stone wall, stretching high into the sky. A massive iron gate, reinforced with intricate engravings, blocked their path. Jacob dismounted, his boots crunching against the damp ground as he approached the gate. He rapped his fist against the metal, the dull thud echoing in the still air.

Silence.

Then, with a soft click, a small iron panel slid open, revealing a pair of cold, scrutinizing eyes.

"State your business," came the gruff voice of a knight.

Jacob straightened his back. "We are mercenaries seeking to become knights. We came yesterday, hearing that this place had none."

The knight's stare remained unreadable. "The Duchy has knights now. You can turn back."

Jacob's fists clenched. "Hey! We didn't travel all this way just to be sent back. I want to meet your lord!"

The knight remained silent for a long moment before the panel slid shut.

"Hey!" Jacob called again, slamming his fist against the gate. No response. His frustration simmered beneath the surface until, suddenly, the massive gate groaned open. Two knights stepped forward, their expressions unreadable.

"Get off your horses and follow us," one of them commanded.

Jacob hesitated but complied, as did his companions. They followed the knights through a narrow, tunnel-like passage that led beyond the walls. As they emerged, sunlight bathed them in a warm glow, revealing a breathtaking sight.

Inside the walls, it was as if they had entered another world. The thick fog and dense forest outside contrasted starkly with the orderly beauty within. The grand manor, tall and elegant, stood with its ash-gray and white walls gleaming under the morning sun. A stone path, lined with a vibrant green garden, stretched toward a circular fountain where water glistened as it flowed. The air smelled fresher, untouched by the dampness of the wilderness.

The knights led them toward the left path, where the sounds of clashing steel and shouting echoed. They entered a vast training ground, where dozens of knights honed their craft. Some were sparring, their swords flashing in the sunlight, while others practiced archery or drilled with different weapons.

At the center of it all stood a man giving instructions—Ezra, the knights' captain. Dressed in simple training clothes, with boots and a sword at his hip, he observed his men with a sharp, disciplined gaze. His dark green hair streaked with gray was neatly tied back.

"Captain," the knight escorting them said, "I brought them."

Ezra turned, his gaze settling on the newcomers. "So, you're the mercenaries looking to become knights, huh?"

Jacob swallowed hard. "Y-yeah, that's us."

Before Ezra could respond, a voice rang from the manor's entrance.

"Are these the ones, Ezra?"

Jacob turned toward the voice and felt his breath catch. Kaisel.

Dressed in the same unassuming yet refined attire as the previous day, the Duke carried an air of effortless authority. His long black hair flowed past his shoulders, and his ruby-red eyes gleamed with quiet calculation.

Ezra and the other knights immediately straightened their posture. "My lord," they said in unison.

Kaisel's sharp gaze flickered over the group. "You were standing among my vassals yesterday," he said.

Jacob shifted uncomfortably. "Y-yes, my lord."

Kaisel studied them for a moment before asking, "How did you hear about the Duchy accepting knights?"

Jacob hesitated, then answered truthfully. "There was a rumor."

Kaisel's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "So, someone has been spreading news about the Duchy."

He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. "Are you their leader?" he asked, eyes locking onto Jacob's.

Jacob straightened his back. "Yes, I am."

Kaisel nodded. "Names?"

Jacob motioned to himself. "Jacob."

One by one, his companions spoke up.

"Bob."

"Ferd."

"Mark."

"Finn."

They all had similar features—brown hair, brown eyes, and an average build. Kaisel regarded them thoughtfully.

"Well," he mused, a slow smirk forming on his lips. "I suppose I can make you knights… but there's a condition."

Jacob frowned. "A condition?"

Kaisel's smirk widened. "You must win against one of my knights."

"What?!" Jacob's eyes widened. "Fight one of your knights?"

"You have three chances," Kaisel continued. "If you win, you'll earn a place among us."

Jacob clenched his jaw. "Fine. I'll fight."

His companions exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.

Kaisel turned to Ezra. "Ezra."

Ezra gave a nod.

"Jack!" Ezra called.

A young knight with blonde hair stepped forward, a sword hanging at his waist. He moved with an easy confidence, his gaze sharp and assessing.

"He's not the best among us," Ezra said, "but he's skilled and fast."

Jacob stared at his opponent, his stomach twisting with unease.

"If you survive against him," Kaisel added, his smile deepening, "you can join us."

Jacob swallowed hard. This was going to be harder than he thought.