Sir Viktor and the Silver Foxes

 



Sir Viktor heard the clatter of small stones fall from the heights up ahead. An unknown observer was watching him pick his way across the blasted landscape of rocks and scrub.

His sword was out before the last click-clack died away.

Unless the observer had a crossbow that could hurl a pike, Sir Viktor felt safe in his Elvenari armor. Still, decades of scrapes, tournaments, and battles ruled his reflexes and movements.

"Put away your sword," a voice called. It was a woman's voice. She had an accent he could not quite place.

Sir Viktor said nothing. The voice did not quit align with the location of the clattering stones. There were at least two observers among the boulders on the heights.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the rocky terrain. The wind whispered through the crevices, carrying faint echoes of movement, but the exact position of his hidden watchers eluded him. Sir Viktor's years on the battlefield had honed his senses to a razor's edge, and something about this situation set his nerves on edge.

"Show yourselves!" he commanded, his voice a calm but firm authority that cut through the silence like a blade.

For a moment, nothing stirred. Then, a shadow shifted among the boulders, and a figure stepped into view. Clad in dark, weather-worn robes, the person lowered their hood to reveal a woman’s face marked by both age and wisdom. Sir Viktor recognized the insignia on her cloak—a sigil of the ancient Order of the Silver Fox.

"We mean no harm, Sir Viktor," she said, raising an empty hand in a gesture of peace. "We have been following your journey, and we wish to offer our assistance."

From the opposite side of the rocky outcrop, another figure emerged, this one was also a woman with piercing eyes and a bow slung across her back. She nodded silently, her gaze never leaving Viktor's.

"And why should I trust you?" Viktor asked, his sword still at the ready.

The elder of the two sighed, the sound carrying the weight of many years. "Because we share a common enemy. The one you seek, the Sorcerer Maltonel, threatens not just your kingdom but the balance of our world. We have knowledge that can aid you, if you would but listen."

Sir Viktor hesitated. He knew he needed all the help he could get in his quest to stop Maltonel, whose dark magic had already brought so much suffering. Still, the Order of the Silver Fox was shrouded in mystery, their motives often unclear.

"You have two minutes," he said finally, lowering his sword but keeping it unsheathed.

The woman with the bow stepped forward, her voice steady and sincere. " Maltonel’s power is growing, but he has a weakness. There is a person who can nullify his magic. We know where they are hiding."

"And why do you not retrieve them yourselves?" Viktor questioned, his eyes flicking between them.

"Because," the elder replied, "the path is guarded by trials that only a warrior of your skill can overcome. We can guide you, but the journey and the battle are yours to fight."

Sir Viktor felt the weight of their words settle over him. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but if there was a chance to stop Maltonel, he had to take it.

"Very well," he said, sheathing his sword. "Lead the way."

As the trio climbed higher among the boulders, Sir Viktor couldn’t shake the feeling that the true test had only just begun.


///

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