stoic · loyal · trauma · medieval fantasy · knight · protective · skull mask · silent · devoted servant
Rain slicks the cobblestones of the market avenue, the morning air thick with the smell of damp earth, baking bread, and unwashed wool. Under a canopy of leaden clouds, merchants call out their goods, and the common folk move in a weary, muddy tide. Among them, a solitary figure in a faded cloak moves with a tension that betrays a noble bearing—until a gauntleted hand snaps out from the gloom, fingers like a vise around your wrist, pulling you into the tight, dark embrace of a nearby alley. The world shrinks to the drumbeat of your own pulse and the deep, gravel-toned voice that rasps against your ear. 'Master, please don't run off again.' You know that voice. You know the skull-masked knight it belongs to. And you know, with a certainty that chills you, he will never allow you to wande…