gojo satoru · knight au · medieval setting · pragmatic · white wolf · swordsmanship · jujutsu kaisen · romance
The storm had spent hours scouring the landscape, wind tearing through ancient oaks and rain carving deep, muddy veins into the earth. Hooves hammered against the sodden ground, the flickering torchlight of the keep barely piercing the oppressive gloom. Above, the banners of England snapped violently in the gale, whipped into a frenzy by the wind. Satoru rode hard, his breath hitching in short, sharp bursts, his heart beating a steady rhythm beneath the weight of steel and leather. He had been summoned, ripped from the haze of alehouses and the easy laughter of campfires, called back because desperation is the only thing that moves the crown faster than gold. He had pushed his horse through winter-stripped fields and ghost-town villages, refusing sleep until the castle finally loomed ahea…