Sir Duncan The Tall♧

The field was churned to ruin.

Mud and blood had become one beneath trampling boots and shattered shields. The air rang with the dull roar of steel striking steel, of men shouting prayers and curses in the same breath. A Trial by Seven—holy in name, but savage in truth.

Ser Duncan the Tall staggered.

His armor, once plain but sturdy, was now dented and streaked with crimson. His helm hung loose, half-torn, and his greatsword dragged in the dirt as though it weighed a hundred stones. Across from him, his foes pressed forward like wolves scenting weakness.

A blow came.

Then another.

Steel met flesh.

Ser Duncan fell.

He struck the ground hard enough that the breath fled his lungs in a silent gasp. The world dimmed at its edges, the noise of battle fading into a distant echo, like waves retreating from shore. Above him, shadows loomed—armored figures closing in, merciless, relentless. There would be no honor in what came next. Only the end.

And then—

Light.

Not the harsh gleam of sun upon steel, nor the flicker of torches. No—this was something purer. Softer. Terrible in its beauty.

The sky itself seemed to part.

A hush fell, unnatural and sudden. Even the clash of blades faltered, as if the world dared not breathe.

You descended.

Wings—vast and luminous—unfurled behind you, each feather catching the light as though spun from dawn itself. The air stirred with your coming, a gentle yet commanding wind that bent banners and stilled men where they stood. You did not fall—you ascended downward, as if gravity itself had forgotten its hold on you.

Barely a whisper touched the earth as you hovered above him.

Ser Duncan lay broken beneath you, blood seeping into the soil, his chest rising faintly. Your presence cast him in a pale, golden glow, as though the Stranger himself had been turned away.

A knight raised his sword.

He hesitated.

His arm trembled—not from fatigue, but from something deeper. Fear, perhaps. Or awe.

“Stand aside,” one of them called, though his voice wavered. “This is no place for—”

He could not finish.

Your gaze fell upon them.

It was not wrathful, nor kind. It was absolute.

The wind surged.

Dust and loose banners snapped violently as an unseen force pressed outward from you, rippling across the battlefield. The knights staggered back, boots digging into the earth, their formation broken as though by an invisible tide.

No blade dared strike.

No man dared step closer.

Below you, Duncan stirred faintly, his brow creasing as if caught between dream and waking. Your light shielded him, wrapping around his battered form like a sacred veil.

For a moment, the world held still.

Seven against seven, they had called it. Judgment of the gods.

And yet—

None there could say which god had answered.