The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Even Merlin, who’d been watching with his usual detached amusement, froze. “Oh, no,” Merlin muttered under his breath, his face growing serious for the first time.

“What does that mean?” Karlos asked, looking between the two of them.

Matthew’s grin widened into something almost predatory. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

Before Godfrey could react, his tunic shimmered briefly and then dropped in temperature, the fabric suddenly as cold as ice. He stiffened, his breath puffing visibly in the air as he yanked at the freezing material.

“Feeling a little chilly, are we?” Matthew called, leaning against a barrel with a casual air. “Don’t worry—it’ll pass.”

The tunic didn’t just cool—it began to constrict, tightening around Godfrey’s broad chest and arms like a snake. The seams groaned, and Godfrey gritted his teeth as he tried to tear it off.

“Matthew,” Godfrey growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Oh, but I’m not done yet!” Matthew declared, clapping his hands with mock enthusiasm. The tunic stopped tightening, but now it began to ring, a loud, high-pitched chime that echoed through the area like an obnoxious alarm.

Karlos winced, covering his ears. “What is that?”

“Just a little enhancement,” Matthew said, smirking. “I thought Sir Godfrey needed something to announce his presence properly.”

“Take it off,” Godfrey barked, his voice tight with fury.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Matthew replied, his grin practically splitting his face.

With a frustrated roar, Godfrey ripped the tunic from his body, throwing the offending garment to the ground. He stood there shirtless, his chiseled frame on full display, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

But Matthew wasn’t finished. “Oh, you didn’t think I’d stop at the tunic, did you?”

As if on cue, Godfrey’s trousers began to vibrate. The deep hum sent shivers through the air as Godfrey staggered back, his face a mixture of shock and outrage.

“Matthew,” he growled again, his voice a dangerous warning.

“Careful, Sir Godfrey,” Matthew teased, winking. “You wouldn’t want to ruin your dignity entirely, would you?”

With a final frustrated curse, Godfrey yanked off his trousers, leaving him in nothing but his socks and boxer briefs. Karlos turned away, fighting back a laugh, while Merlin simply raised an eyebrow.

“You’re really going for the minimalist look, huh?” Matthew said, his voice dripping with mock admiration. “Not bad, though. I must say, you’ve got the legs for it. And those boxers? Bold choice.”

“Enough!” Godfrey shouted, his voice echoing like a clap of thunder.

But Matthew wasn’t done yet. With a wave of his hand, even the boxer briefs began to vibrate.

Godfrey froze, his face darkening as a vein throbbed in his temple. Karlos bit his lip to keep from laughing, while Merlin finally broke his silence. “Matthew, that’s enough,” he said, his tone sharp.

“Oh, fine,” Matthew said with an exaggerated sigh, snapping his fingers. The vibrations stopped, leaving Godfrey standing there, utterly humiliated and barely clothed.

The knight’s eyes burned with fury as he took a single step toward Matthew. “You’re going to regret this,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

Matthew’s grin didn’t falter. “You say that every time, Sir Godfrey,” he replied, blowing him a kiss. “But you always come back for more.”

Karlos couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “This is insane.”

Merlin glanced at him, his lips twitching in what might have been the beginnings of a smirk. “Welcome to our world.”

Godfrey’s face was a storm of rage and humiliation as Matthew’s taunts echoed across the chaotic scene. The knight, now stripped down to his socks and boxer briefs, looked like a man teetering on the edge of losing every shred of composure he had left. Karlos could barely hold back his laughter, but Merlin’s deadpan expression suggested that even he found this entire situation absurd.

Matthew, of course, was reveling in the chaos. Leaning against a barrel, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face, he seemed to grow more energized by the moment. Then his eyes drifted downward, locking onto Godfrey’s socks.

“Oh, my,” Matthew drawled, his voice laced with mock surprise. “I see someone’s still hanging on to their last scraps of dignity.” He straightened up, snapping his fingers with a flourish.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Godfrey froze as his socks shimmered faintly, and then, without warning, they disappeared entirely. The knight’s bare feet were now exposed to the world, and Matthew’s delighted laughter cut through the tension.

“Well, well, well!” Matthew exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “What do we have here? Sir Godfrey’s feet, unadorned and in all their glory.” He tapped a finger against his chin, his expression one of exaggerated contemplation. “Not bad. Strong arches, surprisingly well-maintained for someone who’s always stomping around in heavy boots. But those toes? A little stubby, don’t you think?”

Godfrey took a slow, deliberate step forward, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Matthew,” he growled, his voice as sharp as steel.

But Matthew wasn’t done. With another snap of his fingers, the air around Godfrey’s feet began to shimmer, and suddenly the knight jerked as if struck by a jolt. His feet started vibrating, the sensation visibly throwing him off balance.

“Ah, there it is,” Matthew said, his grin widening. “Now the mighty Sir Godfrey has dancing feet. Go on, show us some moves!”

Godfrey’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to stand still despite the involuntary tremors running through his body. His feet shifted slightly, and Karlos had to admit—watching the stoic knight try to maintain his dignity while his feet betrayed him was both hilarious and surreal.

“Stop this now, Matthew,” Merlin finally interjected, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I, though?” Matthew said, glancing at Merlin with a playful pout. “Because I think Sir Godfrey here could use a little more humility.”

“I swear,” Godfrey said through gritted teeth, his voice a dangerous rumble, “when I get my hands on you—”

“Oh, you mean like last time?” Matthew interrupted, his grin turning wicked. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret with everyone present. “I won’t reveal that to the world. Your reputation is safe with me… for now.”

Karlos’s eyes widened at the implication, and even Merlin raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly intrigued.

Godfrey’s face turned crimson, and for a moment, Karlos thought the knight might actually explode. “You little—”

But Matthew cut him off again, pointing at Godfrey’s vibrating feet with a look of exaggerated concern. “Oh, but those poor toes must be tired from all that shaking. Here, let me help.”

Another snap of his fingers, and the vibrations intensified, making Godfrey stumble slightly.

“Enough!” Godfrey roared, his voice echoing like a clap of thunder. He lunged toward Matthew, but the smaller man darted away with the agility of a cat, his laughter ringing out as he disappeared into the shadows.

Karlos shook his head, barely able to process what he’d just witnessed. “So, uh… does this kind of thing happen a lot around here?”

Merlin sighed, rubbing his temples as he dismissed the magical grid still floating in the air. “More often than I’d like. Welcome to the nightmare that is dealing with Matthew.”

Godfrey stood there, breathing heavily, his hands trembling with barely contained fury. “When I find him,” he muttered, his voice low and filled with promise, “he’s going to wish he’d stayed in those shadows.”

From somewhere in the distance, Matthew’s voice called back, sing-song and full of mischief. “Looking forward to it, darling!”

Karlos couldn’t help it anymore—he burst out laughing, clutching his sides as Godfrey turned toward him with a glare that could melt steel. “Oh, come on,” Karlos said between laughs. “You’ve got to admit, that was pretty funny.”

“Not. A. Word,” Godfrey snapped, pointing a finger at him before stalking off in the direction Matthew had fled, his bare feet crunching angrily against the ground.

Merlin watched him go, then turned to Karlos with a faint smirk. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t think I want to,” Karlos replied, still chuckling.

Godfrey froze mid-step, his glare snapping to Matthew as the troublemaker twirled the knight’s black socks between his fingers like a prized trophy. The smirk on Matthew’s face was wide enough to rival the crescent moon hanging overhead, his voice dripping with faux disgust.

“Good heavens, Sir Godfrey,” Matthew said with a dramatic sniff of the socks, then recoiled in exaggerated horror. “You’ve been stomping around all day, and it shows!” He held the socks out at arm’s length as if they were toxic, fanning the air around him for emphasis.

Karlos bit back a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried—and failed—to keep a straight face. Merlin, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath about “letting fools play with fire.”

Godfrey’s jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn’t shatter. “Matthew,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, “put those down. Now.”

But Matthew, of course, wasn’t done. With a wicked glint in his eye, he snapped his fingers, and the socks shimmered briefly before vanishing into thin air. For a moment, Karlos thought Matthew might have returned them, but then the troublemaker grinned and wagged his finger.

“Ah-ah, not so fast, my dear knight,” Matthew teased. “I wouldn’t dream of returning these… treasures without adding my personal touch.”

Before Godfrey could react, a faint jingling sound filled the air. It started softly, almost imperceptibly, but grew louder with each passing second. Godfrey’s bare feet began to twitch involuntarily, the jingling now unmistakably coming from… well, his feet.

“You didn’t,” Godfrey said, his voice filled with equal parts disbelief and dread.

“Oh, I most certainly did!” Matthew crowed, clapping his hands with glee. “Behold, the latest in fashion innovation: enchanted jingling feet! Perfect for knights who want to announce their arrival wherever they go.”

The sound grew louder, and now every step Godfrey took was accompanied by the relentless, mocking chime of invisible bells. Karlos doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his face as Godfrey’s attempts to stomp out the sound only made it worse.

“I swear,” Godfrey growled, his face a deep crimson as he tried to move without setting off the jingling. “When I catch you—”

Oh, darling, let’s not pretend you don’t enjoy the chase,” Matthew interrupted, winking as he took a step back toward the shadows. “And just for the record—those arches really are quite impressive. But next time? Maybe invest in some fresher socks.”

Godfrey lunged, but Matthew was already gone, his laughter echoing through the night.

Karlos, still gasping for air, managed to choke out, “I… I can’t… Does this happen every time?”

Merlin, his tone impossibly dry, replied, “Yes. And it’s always this ridiculous.”

Godfrey glared at both of them, the jingling still ringing out with every movement. “Not. Another. Word.”

But Karlos couldn’t help himself. “You’ve got to admit, though,” he said, grinning ear to ear, “it’s kind of festive.”

Merlin snorted, and even Godfrey, despite himself, let out a begrudging groan that might have been the faintest hint of a laugh.