Steelborn Legacy

# Chapter 15 – Oaths and Shadows

**Arthur Vaelstrom**

Three mornings had passed since Arthur claimed the guardian's rune. Mist hung heavy over Broken Stone's ridge as he led Ser Delwyn, Maelis, and Tarren past the outer wall. Their boots sank into wet grass, the fortress fading behind them like a scar in the fog.

No patrol had come back whole in two nights. Arthur's sword hung at his hip, the Codex a warm weight against his chest. Each step sent a faint pulse through the shard he'd found yesterday, like a whisper of warning.

They reached a torn slope where claw marks and hoofprints gouged the earth. Delwyn crouched, brushing dirt from a track. "Fresh," he muttered. "Too close." He nodded toward a cluster of black pines uphill.

Arthur took point, moving steady. The forest swallowed sound—only the faint crunch of stone under leather broke the quiet. He paused, closing his eyes for a heartbeat, reaching beyond sight. The Codex hummed, alive, attentive.

A branch snapped. Tarren's blade hissed free. Arthur spun, sword up.

A knight stepped from the shadows, armor dented and streaked with dark blood. His cracked helm showed hollow eyes, red-rimmed and unblinking. On his chest, the guardian's rune—Arthur's rune—sat fractured, warped.

"Brother," the knight rasped, voice like wind over bones.

Arthur held his ground. "Name yourself."

No answer. The knight moved, mechanical, blade rising. Arthur's pulse surged—this was no beast, no mere raider, but something twisted, bound to an oath gone wrong.

Delwyn and Maelis fanned out, flanking. "Hold steady," Arthur said. "We don't know what it wants."

The corrupted knight stopped, framed in the dawn's pale glow.

Then he lunged.

Steel screamed. Arthur caught the first strike with a high block, his arms jarring under the force. A silver flash sparked from his blade—his guardian vow answering the broken rune. The knight stumbled, then recovered, swinging low, not for flesh but for bone, precise and cold.

Arthur parried, countering with a thrust that bit through the knight's gauntlet. It crumbled like ash. The creature hissed, slashing wide. Arthur ducked, rolling under the arc, and carved a shallow cut across its thigh. The armor barely scratched.

This wasn't just a fight. The knight's moves were too sharp, too trained—a warrior chained to a vow he couldn't keep, now cursed by its weight.

"Arthur! Form up!" Arga's voice cut through the trees. The Knight-Captain charged in, his rune-etched shield raised, his presence heavy, slowing the corrupted knight's rhythm like a tide pulling back.

Arthur darted inside the knight's guard, driving his sword under the cracked visor. The helm buckled. The knight staggered, clutching its face.

"For Broken Stone!" Arga roared, stepping forward.

Arthur thrust, blade piercing the knight's chestplate. The figure crumpled, knees hitting the wet earth, then pitched forward, still.

The forest went quiet. Arthur's breath came hard, his sword dripping black ichor, thick and wrong.

They stood over the fallen knight as sunlight broke through the pines. Maelis knelt, closing the visor with care. Delwyn traced the fractured rune on the armor, now stained with that same dark residue.

"He wasn't evil," Arthur said, voice low. "He was bound. Trapped by a vow he couldn't fulfill."

Delwyn's hand rested on Arthur's shoulder. "Then we carry it for him. His fight's not wasted."

Arthur nodded. He drew the shard from its pouch—it glimmered, drinking in the dawn. He pressed it to his Codex, and warmth spread where they met, steady, sure.

"Bury him in Broken Stone," Arthur said. "Under the guardian's rune."

They hauled the knight's body back down the ridge. Word spread fast. By dusk, a small wreath of white flowers and a tattered banner marked with the fractured rune lay at the crossroads.

In the courtyard, Arthur led the rite, his voice carrying over the gathered knights. "He fought for an oath he held true. Let his honor guide us." They knelt as the body was laid beneath the old tree, its roots curling like a promise.

Villagers watched from their windows, faces pale. Arthur felt the weight of command settle deeper, heavier. Oaths, he saw now, cost more than he'd thought. But they held power worth carrying.

That night, alone in his quarters, he studied the shard by lantern light. Its fractured rune glowed whole now, steady. The Codex pulsed, and in its depths, a new mark formed: *A heart tested. A vow reborn.*

Tomorrow, he'd drill the knights harder, forge them sharper. But tonight, he let himself believe Broken Stone had a defender.

And that defender was him.