Castle Crasher Red Knight Novels & Stories

They'd stolen his faith, his honour, his very identity. Time to show them what grew in the ashes of their cruelty. As if in answer to his resolution, footsteps approached through darkness. Multiple figures, trying for stealth but lacking professional training. Bandits, perhaps. Or desperate locals who'd turned to robbery. Kaelen gripped the stolen knife, positioning himself in shadow. The old knight would have called out warning, offered peaceful resolution. That man was dead. Three figures entered the ruins, weapons drawn but held uncertainly. Not bandits: their clothes, while rough, showed careful maintenance. Rebels of some sort, or scouts for a larger group.

I curse internally for not finding my motorcycle's key when I need it the most. "Okay. I'm coming. Don't worry. He will be okay." Cutting the call, I throw a long coat on my nighty and leave my apartment in a hurry. Thankfully, I have shorts on, so it doesn't look awkward to ride my motorcycle on that street half-naked. What the hell is wrong with me? Inwardly, I ask myself about what I am doing and what makes me do it.