#stormofsilver

Kortin marched through the halls of the castle, heavy footfalls were always intermingled with the clattering of his armor. Servants and royal guard tended to steer clear of him when able, but he payed them no mind. The imposing figure of the Knight loomed at the door to the queen’s bed chamber like the guard dog he was.

The horror inspiring helm that rested atop his head afforded him limited sight, but he could hear quite well even with the piece of armor on. His ears twitched at every noise, every scuttle that was made throughout the floor.

Despite being first knight, some days were slower than others. He preferred to be out in the field, extinguishing threats to the region and empire, but his place was here. Especially when no threats were rearing their ugly heads.

Tired eyes restlessly scoured the hall from left to right. His hand rested on the hilt to his trusty long sword. It had served the tormented knight well in the war, many speculated that it wasn’t originally crimson. The rumors were usually wrong however. Enchantments made it red, but that didn’t stop people from whispering to one another.

His mind eventually wandered, the briefest of breaks in his constant vigil. Burning blue eyes flitted to the door. Kortin was the perfect soldier, always obeying orders, offering advice only when asked. He very much enjoyed the queen, but he took great care not to overstep in any way shape or form... yet still. 

He raised a hand, complex metal plates curled into a fist. Blue eyes flitted to the balled up appendage. Pointed ears twitched a few times as he contemplated further action. Slowly did the hand tip forward, knuckles made contact with the barrier that separated Knight and Queen.

Kortin cleared his throat, his baritone rumbled forth from his helm soon after.

“Queen Sunhee, the perimeter is secure. May I be permitted entry?”

It truly was such a shame that she couldn’t grow dirt inside of herself. It would have made her life so much easier. Instead, she had to take detours upon reaching any country to scour their land for soil and place it in a jar to take back home. Inconvenient as it was though, it was also nice to take the occasional break from whatever task she was trying to accomplish to simply appreciate the outdoors. 

Typically, her search for soil brought her to forests, as she figured she might as well enjoy the scenery if she was going to be there for a few minutes. What she hadn’t expected upon arriving in this particular forest, however, was the lone person sitting in it. It wasn’t as though she had never encountered someone on her explorations, but what really stood out to her was the helmet atop his head. As much as she didn’t want to startle him, curiosity swiftly got the better of her, and she just couldn’t resist striking up a conversation.

    “Sir Eren... How can I choose what’s right, if I’m so very wrong?” His question drifted from his helm with a somber lilt to it. The knight glanced down at his hands, revealing doubt he rarely showed to anyone. Slowly; however, a smirk crept across his features.

Wind howled through the darkened wood, a chill crept through the woodland community. Shadows danced, taking on a life of their own. Among them was a figure, twisted and wreathed in dark. 

Kortin stepped out from the shade of a tree, having appeared out of thin air. The rustling of forest folk filled the surrounding trees. Small creatures scurried away from the unnatural presence of the knight.

His eyes leveled on his usual spot, a sizable rock embedded next to a local river. Just down the way, it opened up into the ocean. The light was starting to fade from the sky, soon to replaced by the darkness of night.

The deceased elf clad in blood red plate-mail sat atop the stone. He discarded his battered obsidian tower shield, along with the sword attached to his belt. He propped them up nearby. His day off had begun. All pretenses that the knight typically operated under were taken off slowly. His demeanor changed, relaxing marginally. He wrung his hands together, wincing heavily.

Kortin peered over the water’s edge, his grim looking helm stared back at him. Six helmet holes along with the bolts and horns made him out to be some sort of monster at first glance. He reached up to take his helmet off, freezing once his hands were placed on the sides of the marred metal.

“Lovely evening... isn’t it?” 

He hadn’t immediately spotted the onlooker, but his eyes began scouring left and right. The imposing and bulky knight remained perfectly still however. It wasn’t every day when he had the opportunity to talk to someone.

“My apologies if I’m the intruder here-- I.. like to come here to think.”