Julius stood beneath the flowering tree, staring at the two graves in front of him.
His mother loved spring.
His father hated it because the pollen made him sneeze every five seconds.
Somehow, he still sat out here with her every year anyway.
Now, both of them were buried beneath the same tree.
Julius adjusted the travel pack on his shoulder and looked down at the lion emblem in his hand. Gold and silver wrapped around the shape of a lion.
Knight’s crest.
He found it hidden beneath a loose floorboard in his father’s room three days after the funeral.
Three days of cleaning the farmhouse by himself. Three days of selling tools, packing supplies, and pretending he had any idea what he was doing.
Three days of wondering why his father never told him the truth.
Julius reached into his bag and pulled out the old leather book wrapped in cloth.
To Be a Knight.
His father’s name was written on the inside cover.
Julius Johnson.
The First Black Lion.
Julius still had no idea what that title meant.
Most of the book was filled with lessons about knighthood, Virtue, and responsibility. Half of it sounded inspiring.
The other half sounded like his father expected knights to suffer professionally.
Julius flipped through one of the marked pages.
“Courage is not fearlessness. It is the decision that fear does not deserve the final word.”
Julius frowned.
“Could’ve just written ‘don’t panic,’” he muttered before stuffing the book back into his bag.
“You could’ve mentioned you used to be a knight,” Julius muttered toward the graves.
The wind pushed through the branches overhead.
No answer.
“Kind of feels like something a son should know.”
Still nothing.
Julius let out a slow breath and tightened his grip on the emblem.
“I don’t know why you left the Order. I don’t know why people hid your name like it was cursed.” He looked down at the graves for a second before continuing. “But I’m gonna figure it out.”
“You planning to brood there all day?”
Julius nearly jumped.
A man sat on the old stone fence nearby wearing a dark cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. Julius had no idea how long he had been there.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked if you planned to brood all day,” the man repeated. “You look terrible at it.”
Julius frowned. “Who are you?”
“Traveler. Gambler. Occasionally stabbed, depending on the season.”
Julius stared at him.
The stranger pointed toward the sword on Julius’s back. “That thing yours?”
“My father and I made it.”
“Big sword for a farm boy.”
“Big monsters out there.”
The man laughed at that before his eyes drifted toward the crest in Julius’s hand.
His smile weakened for just a second.
“Interesting emblem.”
Julius immediately closed his hand around it. “What do you know about it?”
“Enough to know your father either made very powerful friends or very dangerous enemies.”
Julius stepped closer. “You knew him?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting for free.”
Julius groaned. “You sound like one of those old men in stories who speak in riddles.”
“And you sound exactly like your father.”
That caught Julius off guard.
The stranger hopped down from the fence and adjusted his cloak.
“If you want answers, you won’t find them sitting in a graveyard.”
He pointed down the road.
“The capital’s that way.”
Julius watched him start walking down the hill.
“Wait!” Julius called out. “What’s your name?”
The stranger glanced back with a grin.
“Dre.”
Then he disappeared down the road before Julius could ask anything else.
Julius looked back at the graves one last time.
“I’ll figure it out,” he promised quietly.
Then he grabbed his sword and started walking toward the capital.
By midday, the capital of Leona rose before him like something from a story his father had never finished telling.
The city wall stretched so far in both directions that Julius could not see where it ended. Its white stone caught the sun, and banners snapped from the towers. Gold lions rippled in the wind. The main gate was packed with merchants, farmers, nobles, soldiers, wagons, horses, and children darting between them like birds.
Julius had spent most of his life surrounded by open fields, mountain cliffs, and quiet woods. The capital had no quiet in it. It breathed noise. Wheels clattered. Armor rang. People shouted over one another. Julius finally pushed through the crowd at the front gate. The city was loud. Merchants yelled from booths, horses pushed through the streets, and people bumped into him from every direction. Somewhere nearby, someone was cooking meat over an open flame, and Julius realized he hadn’t eaten all day.
“State your business, son.”
Julius turned to see a guard holding a spear across his chest.
“Excuse me?” Julius asked as another person bumped into his shoulder while passing by.
“I said, state your business in the capital.”
“I’m here to enroll in the Knight Academy.”
One of the guards noticed the lion crest hanging from Julius’s belt.
The laughter stopped for a second.
“Where’d you get that?” the older guard asked.
Julius blinked. “It belonged to my father.”
The guards exchanged another look.
“What was his name?”
“Edward Johnson.”
The older guard’s expression changed immediately.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“Huh,” the guard muttered quietly.
Then the smirk returned as nothing happened.
“Well. Good luck, kid.”
The guards looked at each other before laughing.
The guard looked at Julius’s dusty boots, worn vest, sun-darkened face, and oversized sword. Then he laughed.
The other guard laughed too.
“You?” the first guard said. “A knight?”
Julius gripped the strap of his sword for a second before letting out a slow breath. Fighting the city guards five minutes after arriving probably wasn’t the best way to start his journey.
The guard noticed anyway and smirked. “Good luck, kid.”
Julius rolled his eyes and walked through the gate while the guards laughed behind him.
This wasn’t how he had pictured this moment at all.
Back on the road, he imagined walking into the capital, showing someone his father’s emblem, and finally getting answers. He thought someone would recognize the Johnson name and point him in the right direction.
Instead, he was standing in the middle of a giant city, getting laughed at by guards.
Instead, he stood in the middle of a city bigger than his entire village, with no idea where the Academy was, no idea who to speak to, and no plan beyond not turning around.
His mother’s voice came back to him, gentle and merciless.
You act first and think once the damage is done.
His stomach growled again.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Food first. Destiny after.”
Julius followed the smell of cooked meat through the crowded streets until he found a small restaurant squeezed between a clothing shop and a cobbler. Compared to the chaos outside, the place was quiet. Only a few tables were filled, including a group of boys sitting in the back wearing dirty jackets and ripped pants.
Julius grabbed a seat near the wall and rested his sword beside him. The waitress gave him a nervous look when she noticed the massive blade, but said nothing as she handed him a menu.
The waitress had barely taken his order before one of the boys from the back wandered over and dropped into the chair across from him.
He had spiky blond hair, green eyes, and a smile too clean for the clothes he wore.
“That sword yours?” the boy asked.
Julius glanced at him. “No. I stole it from a giant and came here to brag.”
The boy laughed. “Good answer.”
“My father and I made it.”
“So you’re a blacksmith?”
“Apprentice. Was.” Julius tapped the table with one finger. “Now I’m going to be a knight.”
The boy leaned back. “That so? Have you already gotten your equipment for class?”
“What equipment?”
The boy’s smile slipped into something almost pitying. “You just got here, didn’t you?”
“This morning.”
“Then you’d better hurry. If the Academy gates are already closed, you may have to wait six months for the next class.”
“Six months?” Julius shot to his feet.
The waitress arrived at the same moment with his plate. Julius knocked into her arm, and meat, bread, and gravy hit the floor in a tragic heap.
“Oh no. I’m sorry.” Julius grabbed for his coin purse. “I’ll pay for it.”
The blond boy slid two gold pieces onto the table before Julius could find a copper.
“I got it.”
Julius stared at him. “That’s too much.”
“Then hurry before my generosity bankrupts me.”
Julius grabbed his sword. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Sure you will.”
“What’s your name?”
“Shane.”
“Julius Johnson.”
At that, Shane’s smile changed. Only for a second, but Julius caught it.
“What?” Julius asked.
“Nothing. Go find your school, farm boy.”
Julius ran.
He asked directions from a baker, a woman carrying laundry, two guards who ignored him, and a boy who tried to sell him a map he clearly did not own. By the time he found the Knight Academy, sweat had soaked through his shirt.
He should have seen it sooner.
Two massive golden statues stood before the gates, both shaped like armored knights. Their crossed swords formed an arch above the entrance. Beyond the iron bars, Julius could see stone courtyards, banners, and training rings.
The gates were locked.
“No.”
He grabbed the bars and pulled.
They did not move.
“No, no, no.”
He shook them harder. Iron rattled. A few people slowed to watch.
“I came all this way!” Julius slammed one fist against the gate. “Open!”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The voice came from behind him, sharp as polished steel.
Julius turned. “Who said that?”
A boy his age stepped out of the growing crowd. He wore white clothes trimmed in gold, and every inch of him looked clean enough to make Julius feel dirtier by comparison. His dark hair was neatly kept. His posture belonged to someone who had never been told no by anyone who mattered.
“I did,” the boy said. “Prince Edward Leona. Firstborn son of King Arthur Leona. Crowned prince of this kingdom. Now answer me, peasant. Why are you assaulting Academy property?”
Julius’s anger shrank under the word prince, then came back twice as ugly under the word peasant.
“I came to enter the Academy.”
Edward looked him over. “You?”
Julius hated that word more every time he heard it.
“My name is Julius Johnson.”
The prince’s expression sharpened. “Johnson?”
“It was my father’s name.”
Edward’s mouth curled. “I have heard that name. A traitor’s name.”
The crowd went quieter.
Julius stopped hearing the city.
His father had been many things. A farmer. A blacksmith. A widower who forgot to eat unless Julius set food in front of him. A man who taught his son to swing a hammer, split wood, and never strike someone weaker than himself.
He was not a traitor.
“Take that back,” Julius said.
Edward rested one hand on the hilt of his sword. It was curved, elegant, and bright at his side. “Or what?”
Julius drew his greatsword.
Edward smiled. “Stupid, then.”
The prince moved first, or tried to. Julius swung before Edward finished shifting his stance. The greatsword cut through the air with a heavy roar. Edward leaped back, but the force of the swing knocked him off balance.
The crowd scattered with a collective shout.
Julius came after him. His attacks were wild, ugly, and strong. Edward’s blade flashed as he dodged and blocked. He was faster. Far faster. His cuts opened Julius’s cheek, arm, and leg in bright lines of pain.
“You fight like a boar,” Edward said.
Julius grinned through blood. “You run like one.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed.
Purple light crackled along his blade.
Julius hesitated.
Lightning crawled over the curved sword, bright and hungry.
“Behold,” Edward said, “the strength of Justice.”
Their blades met.
The shock hurled Julius backward. He hit the ground hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. The crowd cheered for the prince.
Julius rolled to one knee.
His arms trembled. Smoke curled from his sleeve. Every sensible part of him told him to stay down.
He stood.
The cheering faltered.
Edward took one step back.
Julius raised his sword again. “Not bad for a rich brat.”
“Enough.”
The word struck harder than Edward’s lightning.
A man in shining armor rode through the parted crowd on a white horse. Sunlight flashed across his breastplate until he seemed less like a man than a judgment given human shape.
Someone whispered, “Paladin Lance Royce.”
The man dismounted and walked between Julius and Edward.
“What happened here?” Lance asked.
Edward sheathed his sword. “This peasant attacked Academy property. I intervened.”
Julius lowered his blade. “He called my father a traitor.”
Lance looked at him properly for the first time. “Your name?”
“Julius Johnson.”
The paladin went still.
“Your father shared that name?”
“Yes, sir. Julius Johnson Sr.”
Lance took Julius by the arm. His grip was not cruel, but it allowed no argument.
“You’re coming with me.”
Julius glanced at the locked gates, the prince, the staring crowd, and the city that had already tried to spit him out.
Then Paladin Lance dragged him toward the castle.
King Arthur Leona VI did not look like the kind of man Julius could lie to.
He sat on a high throne beneath banners of white and gold. His hair was touched with silver, but his eyes were clear and hard. Lance presented Julius before him like evidence.
“Sire,” Lance said, “this is the son of Julius Johnson.”
The king rose.
Julius dropped to one knee before he realized he had moved.
The king descended the steps slowly, studying his face.
“You look like him,” the king said.
Julius swallowed. “You knew my father?”
“Knew him?” The king’s hard expression softened. “We squired under the same knight. “We were squires together once. Close as brothers,” the King said.
Julius just stared at him.
His father never talked about the capital. Never talked about the Knights. Never talked about the King.
“My father never told me any of this.”
Arthur gave a small nod. “That sounds like him.”
Julius looked between the King and Lance. “Then tell me this. Was he really a traitor?”
The room went quiet.
Lance crossed his arms while the King slowly walked back toward his throne.
“Your father was exiled under my father’s rule, not mine,” Arthur finally said. “After I became king, I offered him a place back in the Order.”
“And?”
“He refused.”
Julius frowned. “Why would he do that?”
The King looked at him for a moment before answering.
“He said he finally found peace.”
Julius almost laughed. Peace. His father had spent years staring across fields like he expected the horizon to accuse him of something.
The king placed a hand on Julius’s shoulder.
“You want to enter the Academy?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Then you will.”
Julius looked up. “Just like that?”
The king’s mouth twitched. “Try not to make me regret it.”
Lance waved over a guard to escort Julius to a room for the night. Julius bowed, thanked the king twice, and followed the guard out before anyone changed their mind.
Only after the doors closed did Lance speak again.
“How much do you think he knows?”
The king looked toward the empty doorway.
“Nothing.”
“And if they hear about him?”
Arthur returned to his throne. “Then they will come.”
The next morning, Julius reported to the Academy wearing a white tunic with a yellow lion crest stitched over the chest. He kept his old black leather vest over it. The vest was scuffed, burned, and stained from years of forge work. Against the clean uniform, it looked like a bad decision made permanent.
Most of the students looked like they had been born knowing how to stand in formation. The courtyard was packed with students standing in perfect lines. Most of them looked like nobles. Clean uniforms, fancy boots, perfect posture. Julius suddenly became very aware that his vest still smelled slightly like smoke from the forge.
He quietly stepped into an empty spot next to a tall girl with long red hair tied behind her head. She stood with her arms crossed, staring straight ahead like a soldier waiting for war.
“Hey,” Julius whispered. “Do you know what we’re supposed to be doing?”
The girl didn’t even blink.
Julius glanced around awkwardly before trying again.
“Are you ignoring me on purpose, or are you just naturally scary?”
“Quiet!” someone shouted from the front of the courtyard.
Julius straightened up immediately while the red-haired girl smirked without looking at him.
The command came from the platform at the center of the courtyard.
A broad man sat in a chair with wheels, his shoulders square, his voice deeper than the bells that had woken the city.
“I am Knight Sergeant First Class Eckhart,” he said. “You will address me as Master Instructor. This year, you will be tested in combat, discipline, knowledge, teamwork, and Virtue. Some of you will become squires. Some of you will go home.”
Julius felt the last word like a threat.
Eckhart began assigning students into groups of four.
“Julius Johnson. Aria Kade. Edward Leona. Shane Leona. Team Four.”
Julius stepped out.
So did the red-haired girl.
So did Prince Edward.
So did Shane from the restaurant.
Julius stared at Shane. “You’re a prince?”
Shane grinned. “Surprise.”
Edward looked offended by both of them. “Of course, he knows the slum prince.”
“Better than being the discount thunderstorm,” Julius said.
Edward’s hand twitched toward his sword.
Aria stepped between them, her voice low. “If either of you makes me fail, I will break both your legs and carry you through the exam myself.”
Julius believed her.
Their first test took place in the arena, a circular pit with a stone ring at its center. Six teams stood around the edge while Eckhart explained the rules.
“Three knights are currently seeking squires,” he said. Six teams are competing. Half of you will fail.”
Aria’s fists clenched.
“Team One and Team Four. Enter the ring.”
Julius followed his teammates onto the stone.
“First test,” Eckhart called. “Virtue control. Knock your opponents out of the ring. Begin.”
Shane snapped his fingers. Wind curled around his feet.
Edward’s body sparked with purple lightning.
Aria slammed one hand onto the stone. Rock climbed over her fists, forming jagged gauntlets.
Julius looked from one to the other.
His stomach sank.
Shane leaned toward him. “Go on, farm boy. Unleash yours.”
“My what?”
Edward looked at him as if he had just confessed he could not read. “You do not know how to manifest Virtue?”
A ball of ice hit Julius in the chest.
A stone cracked against his shoulder.
Lightning snapped across his ribs.
A gust of wind finished the job and shoved him clean out of the ring.
“Out,” Eckhart said.
Julius lay on his back, staring at the sky.
So this was the truth.
His father’s name had gotten him through the gate. It would not keep him here.
Months passed.
Julius learned how much he did not know.
He learned that Virtue was the will of a knight made visible—courage, Justice, Generosity, Faith, Mercy, Nobility, and Hope. The great Virtues could take many forms depending on the person using them. Fire, lightning, wind, stone, water, light, shadow, and things even stranger than that.
Shane’s Generosity moved like the wind. Fast, wild, and impossible to pin down.
Edward’s Justice came out as lightning. The more convinced he was that he was right, the stronger it became.
Aria’s Faith was completely different.
It was stone.
Heavy. Unmoving. Brutal.
Trying to knock Aria down felt like trying to punch a mountain.
It was certain. It was the absolute belief that she could endure anything and that everyone else should try harder.
He also learned that he had nothing.
No flame. No light. No spark. No whisper of power waiting under his skin.
Because of him, Team Four stayed three hours after class every day.
Shane tried encouragement.
“Maybe you’re thinking too hard,” he said, walking backward across the training yard with wind dancing around his ankles. “Virtue is not a math problem.”
“I don’t know math either.”
“Then that means you’re perfectly prepared,” Shane said with a grin.
Edward tried helping next, which somehow felt worse.
“You keep trying to force it,” Edward explained during one of their evening training sessions.
“Virtue is not some weapon you grab off a rack. It comes from who you are.”
“That’s your problem,” Edward said during training. “You think Virtue is about strength.”
Julius wiped blood from his mouth. “I mean… lightning still sounds pretty strong to me.”
Edward sighed like he was already tired of this conversation. “That’s not the point.”
“Feels like the point.”
“Virtue reflects the person using it,” Edward explained. “Justice became lightning because lightning is fast, direct, and unforgiving.”
Shane raised his hand from where he was sitting against a tree. “To be fair, that description also works for Edward yelling at people.”
Edward ignored him completely.
“Justice doesn’t hesitate,” Edward continued. “It strikes the moment it sees wrongdoing.”
Julius crossed his arms. “That honestly sounds kind of terrifying.”
“Good.”
Aria cracked her stone-covered knuckles. “Faith stands.”
Julius looked between all of them. “And Courage?”
Nobody answered immediately.
That bothered him more than if they laughed.
Julius stared at him for a second. “Do you always sound this dramatic?”
Edward crossed his arms. “Yes.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“It should have been.”
Aria’s method was much simpler.
She punched Julius in the face.
She knocked Julius into the dirt for the ninth time in one afternoon.
“Get up.”
“I’m starting to think your method has flaws.”
“It will work once you stop falling.”
“I fall because you hit me.”
“Then stop being hit.”
Julius got up.
Every night, he returned to his small room bruised, sore, and angry. Every night, he took out the lion emblem and turned it over in his hands.
His father had carried this once. His father had belonged to this world of banners, blades, and power. Julius had inherited the name but none of the truth.
Some days, he hated his father for that.
Other days, he hated himself more for not being worthy of the mystery.
Near the end of the year, Master Instructor Eckhart summoned Team Four to his office.
Paintings of battlefields covered the walls. Winged horses soared over armies. An emerald spear with gold trim hung behind the desk.
Eckhart folded his hands. “You four are among the strongest students in combat, knowledge, and field training.”
Julius waited for the blade to fall.
“But you fail in one area.”
No one looked at Julius.
That made it worse.
“Virtue,” Eckhart said. “A knight without Virtue is just a dangerous fool with a weapon.”
Julius kept his face still.
“And before any of you idiots ask,” Eckhart continued, “no, possessing Virtue does not automatically make someone righteous.”
The courtyard went quiet.
“Some of the worst monsters in history wielded Virtue.”
Julius noticed several students shift uncomfortably.
“The Blessed,” Shane whispered beside him.
Eckhart heard him anyway.
“Yes. The Blessed. Men and women so consumed by their ideals that they stopped seeing other people as human beings.”
Aria crossed her arms. “My father fought one near the southern border.”
“Then your father was luckier than most,” Eckhart replied.
Eckhart’s gaze moved across all four of them. “I do not like wasting talent. So I am giving you a mission. Pass it, and your team graduates.”
Edward leaned forward. “A real mission?”
“Fairy Forest. Half a day west. Reports claim an armored demon has been seen there. You will kill it and bring proof.”
Shane raised a hand. “When you say demon, do you mean demon as in ugly animal, or demon as in we should write farewell letters?”
Eckhart did not smile. “I mean, do not fail.”
They left the Academy before sunrise.
Edward wore dark gray armor with purple trimming and a long white cape that probably cost more than Julius’ entire farm. Shane wore black leather armor with green straps and his usual headband, struggling for its life against his hair.
Aria wore full plate armor without a helmet or gauntlets because, apparently, punching monsters with bare hands was part of her strategy.
Julius wore spare armor borrowed from the Academy armory. The chest piece fits fine enough.
The helmet made him look stupid. So he left it behind.
He left it behind.
The Fairy Forest looked nothing like its name.
No glittering lights. No tiny winged people. No songs in the air. The Fairy Forest looked nothing like Julius imagined.
There were no glowing lights, magical songs, or tiny winged girls flying around. Just massive old trees, thick moss, and an uncomfortable silence that made every snapped branch sound important.
“I thought there would be more fairies,” Julius admitted.
Edward sighed loudly. “Please tell me that was a joke.”
“Only a little.”
“Fairies are not real.”
Shane looked around at the dark forest. “That sounds exactly like something a person says right before getting kidnapped by fairies.”
Aria immediately raised her fist.
“Quiet.”
The group instantly shut up.
Even Julius had to admit the forest suddenly felt a lot creepier. The deeper they walked, the quieter things became. No birds. No animals. Nothing.
For the next few hours, they searched the forest for signs of the demon. Most of what they found were broken trees, deep claw marks, and tracks too large to belong to any normal animal.
Then they found the clearing.
A figure wearing black armor stood in the center, waiting for them.
Shadow bled from the gaps between its plates like smoke from a dying fire. In one hand, it carried a long dark sword. In the other, a shield engraved with a horned face.
The creature turned.
Its eyes glowed inside the helm.
Julius could not move.
Killing intent rolled across the clearing like winter air. His lungs locked. His hands tightened uselessly around his sword.
Black tendrils burst from the creature’s armor and lashed toward them.
“Move!” Julius shouted.
His body obeyed before his fear could stop it.
He dove aside. Shane vanished in a burst of wind. Edward rolled clear. Aria planted her feet and tore stone from the ground as the tendrils whipped past.
The demon advanced.
Edward’s lightning struck first, flashing against the shield. Shane circled in a blur, wind cutting at the creature’s legs. Aria hurled a boulder that shattered against black steel.
Julius charged.
His sword crashed into the shield with enough force to shake his arms numb.
The demon did not move.
“That’s all you have?” Julius growled.
The shield answered with tendrils of shadow.
They wrapped around his arm and dragged him forward.
Shane hit him from the side, knocking him free.
“Little help?” Shane said, breathless.
“I had it.”
“You were being eaten by darkness.”
“I had most of it.”
Aria slammed into the demon with stone-covered fists. Edward came from the other side, blade flashing with lightning.
For a moment, they worked.
Not as rivals. Not as nobles and peasants. Not as failures dragging each other down.
As a team.
Edward forced the sword high. Shane cut across the creature’s blind side. Aria hammered the shield low. Julius saw the opening and struck with everything he had.
The demon roared.
Dark power exploded outward.
The blast threw them apart.
Aria hit the ground and did not rise. Shane crashed into a tree and slumped among the branches. Edward’s sword spun from his hand. Julius landed hard, rolled, and came up on one knee with blood in his mouth.
The demon walked toward Edward.
The prince reached for his sword, too dazed to see the blade lifting over him.
Julius heard a voice in his head.
Run.
It sounded like survival. It sounded like common sense. It sounded like every smart thing he had ignored since leaving home.
He ran anyway.
Not away.
Toward Edward.
Julius reached him as the demon’s sword fell.
He swung upward with both hands.
For one heartbeat, the hilt of his sword grew warm.
Not burning. Not painful.
Warm like the forge beside his father. Warm like his mother’s kitchen. Warm like the fire that had kept their house alive through winter storms.
The warmth rushed through him.
His blade met the demon’s.
Flame erupted.
The explosion lit the clearing gold and red. Heat rolled over the grass. The demon flew backward and vanished into the trees, crashing through branches until the forest swallowed it.
Silence followed.
Julius stood with smoke curling from his sword.
Edward stared at him from the ground.
Shane groaned from the tree. “Please tell me someone else saw that.”
Aria pushed herself up, blinking. “Johnson?”
Julius looked at his hands.
The flames disappeared, but Julius could still feel the heat under his skin. His hands were shaking slightly as he stared down at his sword.
Edward looked just as shocked as everyone else.
Julius walked over and held out his hand. After a second, Edward grabbed it, and Julius pulled him back to his feet.
“You manifested your Virtue,” Edward said.
Julius let out a tired laugh. “Yeah. Took long enough.”
Edward looked at the burn marks still glowing faintly on Julius’s blade.
“Courage,” he said quietly.
Hearing the name of his Virtue hit Julius harder than the actual fight did.
Before he could say anything back, branches snapped from the edge of the clearing.
Everyone turned.
The demon walked back out of the forest.
Shane slid down from the tree with a pained laugh. “Of course.”
The four of them raised their weapons, barely standing.
“Lower them,” the demon said.
Julius froze. “Did the demon just talk?”
The armored figure planted its sword and shield in the dirt, then reached up and removed its helmet.
A man stood beneath the black armor. Dark mist still curled from him, but his face was human, sharp-eyed, and amused.
Edward’s mouth fell open. “Lord Dre?”
Shane exhaled. “That is Dre Royce. The Black Knight.”
Julius kept his sword up. “You sent us to fight a knight pretending to be a demon?”
Dre smiled. “Technically, Eckhart sent you. I volunteered to be educational.”
Aria looked ready to murder him.
Dre’s smile widened. “I knew your father, Julius Johnson. He taught my brother and me when we were squires. When I heard his son had come to the Academy but could not unlock his Virtue, I wanted to see what would draw it out.”
Julius’s grip tightened. “You almost killed us.”
“If I wanted you dead, you would be.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It is supposed to make you listen.”
Dre stepped closer. The shadows around his armor thinned, revealing the crest beneath.
“You didn’t unlock your Virtue because you wanted to be strong,” Dre explained. “You didn’t unlock it because your pride got hurt, either. You unlocked it because someone was about to die, and you moved without thinking.”
Julius looked over at Edward, then Shane and Aria.
Dre crossed his arms with a grin.
“That is Courage. It’s not about being fearless. It’s about being scared and fighting anyway.”
For the first time since leaving the graves, Julius felt the road ahead of him become something more than a dare he had made to the dead.
It became a path.
“So what happens now?” Shane asked.
Dre picked up his sword and shield. “Now you four graduate.”
Edward straightened. Aria’s eyes narrowed with cautious satisfaction. Shane grinned like he had expected victory all along.
Julius looked down at his sword. The metal was scorched near the edge, but intact.
His father had made this blade with him.
Now it had answered him.
Dre turned toward the road back to the capital. “You will squire under me.”
All four students stared at him.
Dre glanced over his shoulder, that devilish grin returning.
“That means you belong to me now.”
Shane groaned. “I knew there would be a catch.”
Aria rolled her shoulder. “Good. I was getting bored.”
Edward looked at Julius. “Try not to hold us back.”
Julius rested his greatsword across his shoulder and smiled.
“For once, Your Highness, try to keep up.”
Above them, the last light of day cut through the branches, turning the forest gold.
“You didn’t unlock your Virtue because you wanted to be strong,” Dre explained. “You didn’t unlock it because your pride got hurt, either. You unlocked it because someone was about to die, and you moved without thinking.”
Julius looked over at Edward, then Shane and Aria.
Dre crossed his arms with a grin.
“That is Courage. It’s not about being fearless. It’s about being scared and fighting anyway.”
Edward Johnston is a U.S. Army veteran, film graduate, and fantasy writer from Missouri. His work is heavily inspired by character-driven fantasy, mythology, JRPGs, and anime storytelling. “Knight’s Code” is part of an ongoing fantasy universe exploring virtue, legacy, and the cost of heroism. When not writing, he spends his time building tabletop RPG campaigns and worldbuilding expansive fantasy settings.
Mountain Jay Books 