The Devouring Knight
Chapter 102 - 101: What They Carry

Chapter 102: Chapter 101: What They Carry

Duskspire Base - War room, early morning

The fire in the war room hearth crackled low, casting warm light across the wooden map table where Skitz stood, flipping through a weathered contract scroll. Lumberling entered in silence, his steps light but deliberate, the faint hum of internal Qi still resonating through his limbs after an early morning cultivation session.

Skitz glanced up and offered a quick nod. "My Lord. We received something interesting yesterday."

Lumberling moved to his side, scanning the table. "From where?"

"A noble. Baron Velric Thorne. Minor title, but he serves under Earl Cedric Ravenshade of the Eastern Frontier." Skitz handed over the scroll.

Lumberling raised a brow as he read. The language was vague, even for noble-commissioned jobs.

"Escort mission?" he asked, tone flat.

Skitz scratched the back of his head, clearly unconvinced. "That’s what it says. We’re to deliver a ’special item’ from Velric’s estate in Marrowbrook City to the Earl’s territory. That’s it. No details on the cargo. No mention of threats."

Lumberling’s eyes narrowed. "Too clean."

"We thought so too. Did a bit of digging with contacts in Greyvale. Couldn’t find much. The Baron’s known to be loyal, quiet, keeps out of court drama. But the secrecy? The distance? The timing?" Skitz shrugged. "Feels off."

Lumberling rolled the scroll closed with a snap. "Could it be related to the mages?"

Skitz folded his arms. "Possibly. The Eastern Frontier has always been careful about outsiders poking around. And the Earl? He’s the paranoid type. If something big’s moving in his land, it’s probably important."

Lumberling tapped a finger on the scroll thoughtfully. "If it’s mage-related, we need to know. Our goal hasn’t changed."

"Agreed," Skitz said. "Though I doubt this’ll be as easy as it looks. Still... on the surface, it’s just a standard escort gig. No nobles breathing down our necks. No open battles."

There was a beat of silence.

"Alright," Lumberling said, nodding. "Let’s accept it."

Skitz blinked. "You coming with us, my Lord?"

Lumberling met his eyes evenly. "Yes."

The surprise on Skitz’s face was unmasked. "First time in ten months... you sure?"

Lumberling gave a faint smile. "I’ve been sharpening my blades. But it’s time I see what they’re cutting into."

He turned, gazing toward the window where pale morning light filtered in through the stone frame.

’We’ve come far,’ he thought. ’But we’re still in the dark about mages, and their systems. I’ve found a path, cultivation, but that path might not be open to everyone in the Legion. Not without the blessing I now carry.’

He folded his arms.

’That means we still need to understand magic. Find sources. Find teachers. And if this mission is connected to the mage networks in the empire... we need to be there, not just near it.’

Skitz seemed to read the mood. "You think your cultivation stuff can’t be passed down?"

Lumberling nodded slowly. "I’m not sure yet. Until I know for certain, we continue as planned. Hunt knowledge. Hunt mages."

Skitz gave a thin smirk. "Well, it’ll be good to have you back out there again. The men will be... inspired. Or terrified. One of the two."

"I’ll take both," Lumberling said, already turning toward the armory door.

....

The Next Morning - Greyvale outskirts

The courtyard of Duskspire Base buzzed with motion. Dozens of armored riders saddled their mounts, weapons strapped, provisions secured. Hooves stamped the dirt. Blades gleamed beneath the rising sun.

Lumberling stood silently at the front, watching as the Legion fell into formation with practiced precision. Skitz adjusted his twin daggers. Aren hoisted a spear over his shoulder. Rogar, Gorrak, and Trask fell into place, veterans every one of them.

After months apart, he was leading them on the road again.

Their destination: Baron Velric Thorne’s estate, far east near the border of Earl Cedric Ravenshade’s territory.

....

Three weeks later - The Estate of Baron Velric

The high gates of the estate creaked open to reveal a lush, expansive courtyard lined with trimmed hedges, banners bearing the Thorne sigil, and a retinue of armored guards standing in rows.

At the top of the stone steps stood Baron Velric himself, a man of refined posture and cunning eyes, dressed in an ornate doublet with silver cuffs. Beside him stood a tall, broad-shouldered knight in full plate armor. His aura was distinct: steady, sharp, Quasi-Knight.

Baron Velric stepped forward, arms wide in greeting. "If it isn’t the infamous Duskpire Legion," he said with a gracious smile. "The mercenary band known for never failing a contract. Welcome to my humble estate."

Lumberling dismounted in one smooth motion. Behind him, his elite stood masked and armored, silent, disciplined, and imposing. Their formation alone commanded respect.

The Baron’s eyes briefly flicked over them, lingering on the silent figures at Lumberling’s back. ’What a dangerous-looking group. Pity they refuse private service offers. I’d have bought the whole lot if I could.’

"We appreciate the welcome," Lumberling said curtly. "Where’s the item we’re delivering?"

Velric chuckled, unfazed by the abruptness. "Straight to business, I see. Admirable. But surely your men would enjoy a brief rest? We’ve prepared quarters, food..."

"We’re good," Lumberling replied flatly. "We prefer to keep the mission moving."

The Baron’s polite smile twitched slightly but held. "Very well. As per the agreement, you are to escort my personal Knight and a transport detail to the Earl’s keep. The item in question will be with the convoy."

He turned and gestured toward his estate. "Please wait while they prepare."

Lumberling gave a single nod, then stepped aside with his team as the Baron and the knight disappeared through the estate gates.

.....

Inside the Estate - Private corridor

Velric walked ahead with his hands clasped behind his back. "What do you think of them, Captain Gerald?" he asked, his voice lower now.

The knight frowned slightly beneath his helm. "So the rumors were true. The Duskpire Legion is made up of monsters... Technically legal, since that one, Lux, claims ownership of them, but..."

"But strange, isn’t it?" the Baron said, tone curious.

"Odd, yes. But dangerous," Gerald replied. "I can feel the power in that group. Two Quasi-Knights. Skilled. Trained. Disciplined. They don’t behave like beasts. They behave like soldiers."

Velric raised a brow. "And yet they remain mercenaries. Imagine the waste."

"I’d be cautious with that thinking," Gerald said flatly. "They may be monsters... but if rumors are to be believed, they’ve slain Knights before. If they turn, even I might not be enough."

The Baron dismissed it with a wave. "Still, I trust your judgment. Take a hundred soldiers. Keep things professional. The Earl is expecting that item on time."

Gerald bowed his head. "I won’t disappoint you, my Lord."

"See that you don’t. I have no desire to explain failure to the Ravenshade family."

.....

An hour later.

Caravans rolled from the courtyard. Wagons of sturdy oak, wrapped in leather seals, flanked by lines of disciplined soldiers. Knight Gerald rode near the front, expression unreadable beneath his visor. The "special item" was locked in the central carriage, guarded by four soldiers.

Lumberling observed it all from his horse, eyes scanning the formation, assessing strengths, weaknesses, and escape routes, even now, even in supposed peace.

Skitz pulled up beside him. "So. A hundred soldiers. One Quasi-Knight. And us."

Lumberling nodded. "Let’s see what they’re really hiding."

They passed the gates of the estate, the Duskpire Legion surrounding the convoy like a silent vanguard. As they vanished into the forest-lined roads, the Baron watched from a balcony high above.

He exhaled once.

"I just hope they don’t open the damn box."

....

Days Later - Along the Eastern Trade Route

The convoy snaked through dirt paths and forest trails, wheels creaking, horses snorting, armor clinking. The Duskspire Legion rode in silence, masks on, eyes sharp beneath their helms.

Baron Velric’s soldiers, nearly a hundred strong, marched beside the wagons, but many kept their distance from the masked warriors who rode with unsettling stillness. Their discipline was unnatural. Their presence... heavy.

Even their mounts seemed quieter.

It was on the fifth day that Knight Gerald, armored and proud, finally rode up alongside the figure at the center, Lumberling.

He cleared his throat. "Commander Lux, was it?"

Lumberling glanced sideways but said nothing.

Gerald tried again. "I’ve heard the tales. Your group’s quite the reputation, strange company, but effective. Did you serve in a proper army before this?"

Lumberling didn’t meet his gaze. "No."

A beat passed.

Gerald pushed. "You train them yourself?"

"Yes."

Lumberling’s tone was flat, calm, unreadable.

Gerald chuckled awkwardly. "You’re a hard man to talk to."

Lumberling gave a brief nod. "Good."

That was the end of that.

Gerald fell back without another word.