Cold winds howled across the wilderness.
The knight who had backed down clutched his reins, his chest still heaving.
He had used every ounce of eloquence he possessed to dress up his cowardice as the noble mission of "considering the greater good and carrying on the captain's legacy."
He thought he had persuaded his companions, and the corners of his mouth were already twitching with barely contained delight at escaping with his life.
Yet all that answered him was a long, heavy silence.
The two young knights he had stopped remained in their saddles, their bodies stiff as iron.
They lowered their heads and looked at their hands, their knuckles white from gripping their sword hilts, their expressions shifting constantly.
Were they noble, righteous knights?
Not even close!
Before meeting Kairils, the two of them had been nothing more than the most ordinary First-Tier Knights in the Winterhold Knight Order.
They had witnessed the sordid dealings hidden deep within Winterhold.
They had also followed Captain Viel's lead in the taverns of rural towns, looking down their noses at people and coldly mocking skeletal refugees.
They were timid, arrogant, and fond of pleasure...
But... that was before!
They could not shake the image of Kairils's back as he shielded them on the battlefield without a moment's hesitation.
And the most devastating part had happened just moments ago!
That captain they had secretly called an "idiot" and a "stubborn fool" had not uttered a single word of blame when faced with over a hundred Cultists encircling them.
Instead, he had bowed his proud head and sincerely apologized for taking it upon himself to lead them into danger!
Even that final, reckless act of detonating his weapon had been nothing more than an attempt to blast open a slim chance of survival for