Quoted By:
One bash after another there was little quarter given to the fighters. Sure Lucian could have been focusing upon the head of his foe in an attempt to strike the scythe blade into his skull. But he did not do so, for that would be unbecoming of the sheer honor that was paid to him.
The Legacy of a Knight was his armor. To lose it was to renounce one’s life as a Knight and become no different from a Peasant. Such was why the Knights of Bretonnia were always buried in their armor for it was to give them a chance to serve Morr and the Lady after death as their Knights. And that, beyond all doubt, that they would forever be respected for their duty to the land of Bretonnia.
After all, steel does not rot like the flesh. Forever it shall be there without any care.
For a Knight to present his armor to a Peasant was already something unheard of, but this was the armor of one who was damned. Sent to the lands of Morr and deserved to be forever recognized as the warrior that he was. It was something so beyond Lucian that he could not really understand why it was granted to him like this.
What mattered now was the fight. As he bashed away the Knight’s weapon he took his blade and slammed the shaft of his weapon against the warrior.
He felt the weight of the warrior upon him but he could take it. It was nothing compared to the several bushels of fruit and grains that the Peasant had to carry within the fields. Strength almost returning to his legs Lucian shoved the Knight down.
The warrior was forced towards his knees with that stroke and quickly Lucian slammed his weapon without care of reason. He could feel the strength of creature wavering and his only gaining. Every strike the tides were turned and now Lucian had made three strikes against his armor without purchase upon it.
The Knight’s sword struck the ground as he balanced himself upon it. Lucian gave him the chance to rise one last time as the magics almost left his body. The Knight gave one more strike forward that Lucian parried with a simple stroke which gave him the opening he needed.
In the left armpit, where there were rusted chains dangling, Lucian struck. His blade pierced through the chest and with a rend brought the tip of the blade to the neck. It was like cutting through butter as Morr smiled happily upon the destruction of the undead.
The undead became dust upon the blade of Lucian, likely at the will of the man who was once undead. Putting down his blade Lucian walked over to the helm, wondering if there was anything upon it to help him know the man underneath.
Whatever letters that could have been used to learn who the Black Knight was had been scratched out. Likely in his moments of shame the Knight had managed to do such damage so that his legacy would not be tarnished by the Necromancers.
>Accept the Armor (Finalize the road to Nobility)
>Deny the Armor (Remain a Peasant)
