“The kingdom of Polus is led by three warriors who serve at the forefront of the nation: Annalay, the Throne of Nature; Sarathiel, the Throne of Steel; and Lorelai, the Throne of Heaven. Each Throne is responsible for commanding the other Seraph, and holds enough power to threaten our empire just by making an appearance. Although Lorelai is the most active, the other two should not be underestimated. Especially Annalay. Our sieges against their cities have been unsuccessful due to her vast manipulation of nature, causing tremors to unravel the land and flora to block our gaze. To face her is to fight against the forest itself, vast and unyielding.”

Grand General Xeros, Ruler of Nox Caelum

———

The Knight

“At ease, Officer Dariel,” Annalay says with a small tone of playfulness in her voice. “Heh, officer now huh? To think that fiery little brat is now wreaking havoc outside of the capital. I can’t believe they let someone as hot-headed as you command others. Just what were those old fossils at the academy thinking?”

Dariel crosses his arms and a mischievous smirk threatens to leak out of his stern exterior. He gives a disappointed shake of the head at the towering Seraph.

“This ‘fiery little brat’ is the sole reason that you’re not locked up in the gaol for spending our citizens’ money on taverns and brothels. Who was the one that had to convince Ascalon to not behead you? Hm? That’s right, this little brat.”

Annalay roars with laughter, her buoyant voice echoing across the camp as the vibrations shake the tents and rumbles the earth.

“Haha, that forked tongue of yours is just like your father. I’m glad that passion in your heart is the same as always. Sadly, as much as I’m inclined to continue our little exchange, I have to fulfill my little escort mission or else those old bureaucrats will nag at me again. Where’s that survivor of ours? Ascalon’s been anxious ever since we received your report.”

“Right here, ma’am,” Dariel replies with a theatrical flourish. “Their condition has vastly improved, but certain memories and events still remain foggy due to prolonged exposure to The Miasma.”

Annalay walks over to The Knight and pats it on the shoulder. She towers over the other soldiers, sporting a muscled, burly frame, and appears to be the same height as the Nox general The Knight saw cleaved in twain. Her voice conveys a deep, motherly tone, but also stays firm and resolute, evidence of her years serving as a commander.

“It must have been a nightmare in there,” her voice booms. “But don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed right as rain once you return to the capital.”

She beckons at Dariel with a wag of her forefinger, a sibling-like gesture of prodding irritation and affectionate familiarity.

“You’ll have to come too since you wrote the report. We need a firsthand account of the events that transpired when you first made contact. Your father, stars take him, is also worried about you. He wouldn’t stop bothering me unless I promised to bring you back, even if I have to grab you by the scruff of your neck to do so.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

They laugh and the two continue their friendly banter. It is rare to see such amicability among the different ministries, but it is a defining trait of the Polus kingdom that has survived since antiquity.

“Ah, I still haven’t caught your name,” Annalay says to The Knight, attempting to steer back towards her task. “We’ll send you back to your family once The King hears your report.”

The Knight shakes its head sorrowfully.

“Unfortunately, my name still eludes me. The only thing I can remember is the battlefield and wandering the forest.”

“I… see. How unfortunate. Do you remember the knight order you were in? What about your senior officer?

The Knight shakes its head again.

“Hm. How terribly tragic.”

Annalay unsheathes her glaive and points it at The Knight’s throat, startling Dariel and the other nearby serviceman.

“If your mind doesn’t remember, then perhaps your body does. You don’t mind a simple spar now, do you?”

The Knight steps back, pretending to be alarmed.

“Annalay, what are you doing?” Dariel protests, panic in his voice. “They have just recently recovered from The Miasma! They’re in no shape to be fighting at the moment.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Sorry, Dariel, but this needs to be done. They may don our armor, but our kingdom’s technique is forged through years of grueling training. If they’re one of ours, I’ll be able to recognize it instantly.”

Annalay raises her glaive high in the air, verdant green energy beginning to accumulate amongst the blade’s edge.

”Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.”

And swings directly at The Knight.

The Knight quickly takes its mace out and blocks the strike, but the blow sends them flying, crashing directly into the medical tent with a deafening thud. Pieces of the furniture inside fly out, scattered and broken, as a thick cloud of dust blankets the area.

“Get up. Our knights are made of sterner material than that.”

The Knight slowly gets up, a small smile hidden beneath its helm.

Everything is going as planned.

———

Annalay

Annalay continues her rampage, cleaving the land around her and demolishing everything in the glaive’s path. The suspicious knight barely manages to repel her blows, grounding themselves to the earth and making slight deflections to avoid taking the brunt of her swings. They redirect the swings onto the ground around them, the impacts causing small patches and holes of dirt to engulf the field.

Although Annalay is holding back with her assault, the knight’s fortitude impresses her quite a bit. The knights in the capital revere her too much and are unwilling to engage in jovial combat because of their positions. The other Thrones are busy with their respective tasks far away from her station, so she became rusty and bored in-between her assignments. It’s nice to finally be able to unsheathe her beloved glaive. Perhaps it can’t hurt to go just a bit further?

“Well well, looks like you still have some spirit in you!” Annalay yells ecstatically. “Let’s see how you handle this!”

Annalay raises her leg up high and smashes the ground with her heel, sending a shockwave through the earth that uproots the knight and sends them straight into the air.

The knight does a quick pirouette to reposition themself and strikes the ground below them, softening the impact and allowing them to recover on their feet. However, they don’t have a moment to rest as Annalay rushes in with an upwards slash of her glaive right when they land back down upon the earth. The knight manages to twist their body just in time before the slash connects, narrowly avoiding being split directly in half.

Their positions reverse and Annalay switches to the defensive as the knight assaults her with strangely powerful bashes. Although the attacks aren’t particularly fast, it has an odd sense of depth to it, and her weapon reverberates with dizzying vibration each time she repels the blows.

It feels like she’s being assaulted by an immovable force as the knight is devoid of any openings. Each little area is meticulously guarded by their stance while their subtle footwork allows them to push back and forth in a beautiful flowing dance of aggression. Annalay finds herself being led along by their rhythmic waltz, her every step carefully guided by the enchanting maestro.

Her childlike wonder blinds her consciousness for a split second and the knight uses the opportunity to land a powerful bash straight into her abdomen, upheaving the air in her lungs. It’s a solid blow, and Annalay lets out a crazed laugh as she retreats from her pursuer. This isn’t an adversary she can hold back against. It’s time she let loose just a little bit.

“Haha, passing marks all around!” she cries out in ecstasy. “You’re good, real good. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, so I’ll show you a little something special for your efforts!”

Annalay stabs her glaive straight into the ground and begins to chant.

“Oh great Cosmos, creator of the earth and sky, let my blade surge with-”

But before she can finish, the knight throws their mace at her, disrupting the chant and forcing her to abandon the glaive. Annalay stands in shock for a moment as pure amazement covers her face.

“Oh, honey,” she gasps. “I might just be in love.”

The knight rushes in, throwing multiple punches and feints that keep Annalay on the defensive. She’s still sluggish from the sudden switch in style, and the knight uses this opportunity to kick at the bend in her knee, causing her to topple over and leave part of her face unguarded. The knight winds up a fist behind them and throws a swift right hook straight at her chin.

“Gotcha.”

Annalay twists her face, causing the hook to graze her cheek, and delivers a powerful uppercut straight into the knight’s rib cage. They gasp from the impact and collapse on the floor, writhing and jittering before falling silent amidst the dirt. A large dent is imprinted where the armor met her first, ruining the outside and leaving a permanent mark.

Annalay stands back up and laughs gleefully as the knight remains unconscious on the ground. The close combat is unexpected, but exciting! How long has it been since she’s gone up close and personal with an opponent? Lorelai is the only person that met her clashes with this intensity. It brings back memories of their training days sparring out on the training field, their ambitions flaring with blazing youth.

“Whew, it’s been a long time since I’ve fought fist to fist. You sure did a good job at keeping me on my toes.”

The knight stays motionless on the ground, silent as the dead.

“Aw, crap. I might have gone a bit too hard there.”

Dariel runs toward the knight, frantically ordering for them to be carried away to be treated, and shoots a glare at the victor.

Annalay coughs nervously as guilt shadows her face.

Oops.

“Well, they’re definitely one of ours. Their form is perfect and, while the moves are a bit old-fashioned, display true mastery over the Polus techniques. They must belong to The Order of the Principalities. Lorelai came from them, so I’m sure they’re from her elite guard.”

Dariel continues to glare.

“I’ll, uh, head back. Just load them up onto the carriage and we’ll be on our way. Don’t worry about replacing the armor, leave it on and I’ll get a freshly made one ordered at the capital.”

Annalay awkwardly turns around and leaves. She can’t help herself from getting a little serious after seeing such a beautiful display of martial might, and she simply wanted to enjoy a nice spar, but her old habit has left her in a precarious situation once again.

She sighs, looking up at the beautiful blue sky above.

“Looks like I’m the one getting kicked this time.”