Sworn to the Crown of the Empire, steadfast in allegiance to safeguard the throne and diadem at any sacrifice. A cavalier, erstwhile deemed a mere spectre, scant regarded and oft derided. Subject to scorn and ridicule, yet unyielding, now he reigns supreme over the theatre of war, enveloped in an aura both ineffable and formidable. Terror and sovereignty preside, a ghastly ballet upon the beleaguered expanse. Neither commoner nor sovereign can escape the cavalier's steely grip and wrath.
A knight of such venerable honour and unassailable integrity, commanding and imperial in governance, thus he poses a threat to every diadem. Indeed, even within the very domain he serves, he is perceived as a menace to the crown, against which they must remain ever vigilant.
BOOM! BOOM!
A conflagration of crimson fire arrests my sight, as the heavens' fiery sphere strikes the tree nearest me. With a slight stoop, a malevolent grin spreads across my countenance upon beholding a figure most agreeable to my eyes.
"There you are, you rogue," I mutter under my breath, my thoughts as incandescent as the blaze surrounding us, whilst I surreptitiously advance towards the direction of my quarry.
Ah! A seeming path to freedom, an illusion amidst this inferno. Such an exodus I shall not allow.
Triumph is mine, once again. I bask in silent jubilation, my mind ignited with victory as I deftly shadow, unseen yet as persistent as the silhouette at zenith.
With furtive steps, I stealthily approach from behind, and with my nearness, he is rendered immobile, as if turned to stone.
"Ah, my lord, dost thou contemplate flight? Wouldst thou forsake thine own legion? Oh, what ignominy and cowardice doth adhere to thee," I jest. His fist tightens, ready to unleash fury, yet he remains motionless. Instead, he emits a profound guffaw that resonates through the dense forest, reverberating across the blood-drenched battlefield.
A laugh replete with contempt, derision, and pity, yet he dares not meet my gaze. Such a craven lord. Never could he endure the visage of a cavalier feared by all nations and kingdoms.
The Lord Lieutenant chortles, aiming to disconcert me and cloud my judgement, but in truth, his soul trembles with terror. He has no desire for an encounter with the Cavalier of Ethredan. At my mere presence, his bravery wanes. The Lord Lieutenant may feign cheer and bravado, but the Cavalier, adept at discerning veracity, can peer into the essence of one's being.
"Oh! Lord Lieutenant! Thy dread is palpable to me, even from afar. Perhaps the final jest shall be mine, as it has always been," thus I provoke his vanity, and forthwith he unsheathes his sword. Yet, his craving is not for combat, but for the vision of a comely maiden with tresses of fiery auburn.
"A lady? The Cavalier of Ethraden, a lady? How I am taken aback," the Lord Lieutenant exclaims as he appraises the lady from top to bottom. Desire gleams in his eyes. "Perhaps this one should not meet her demise at my hand. Rather, she could provide warmth in my bedchamber and attend to my whims." His eyes sparkle with the notion, for such a fair and noble lady should not be wasted, but rather cherished in entirety.
Unbeknownst to him, the cavalier of Ethraden is far from a mere damsel, for he has been enchanted by her celestial allure and elegance. The Cavalier perceives his lascivious gaze, as in his fancy, he disrobes her, envisaging deeds most profane.
"A maiden as lovely as thou has no place upon this field of conflict. Thou shouldst be at my side, in my quarters, granting me thy affection. In exchange, I shall bestow upon thee all that thou mightst wish," he declares, his words sodden with lust and deceit. Yet how could he deceive a woman, a Cavalier of such formidable might, who would not be tempted by any man's enticement?
A sly grin crosses the lord lieutenant's face as he observes the cavalier's expression alter. She draws her blade from its concealment. He smirks as she approaches him with deliberate pace.
"Everything I could desire for?" I inquire, feigning the innocence of a maiden beguiled by the lure of wealth. Yet within, I am engaged in a dance of wickedness and cunning. His yearning for me is evident, making the charade all too effortless.
I advance towards him as an unassuming lady might. With a brisk pull, he draws me near, and I, containing my wrath, remain serene as he begins to trace his finger along my figure. His gaze, laden with purpose, meets mine, and I instinctively smirk.
"Indeed, all things," he professes. As he attempts to possess me, I erupt in laughter before seizing his sword from his hold, snapping him back to the stark reality. Without delay, his lifeblood besmirches my face and attire as the Lord Lieutenant succumbs to my stratagem.
"Strumpet," he utters with his final breath, before losing consciousness, collapsing into the silence of the grave.
"Thou hast fallen for the ruse, and the triumph is mine. Now to display thy head to thine own brethren." As spoken, she decapitates him with her own sword and proceeds towards the battlefield. The ground is now awash with blood and littered with the bodies of vanquished legionnaires. Yet her legion stands tall and indomitable.
With each stride she takes, a new adversary rushes towards her, but to no avail; they fail to inflict even a scratch or a wound.
Indeed, the Cavalier of Ethraden is as the rumours suggest: a merciless, formidable, and potent woman. She who commands the battlefield and commands respect across all the kingdoms.