The thunder of hooves grew to a deafening roar, shaking the very foundations of Eldrin's humble cottage. The air outside filled with the metallic scent of horses and men-at-arms, the sharp commands of officers, and the nervous murmurings of the Oakhaven villagers, who had quickly retreated into their homes, peering fearfully from behind shuttered windows. This was no mere patrol; this was a significant deployment of Royal Knights, arriving with a speed and purpose that spoke of grave matters.
Inside the elder's cottage, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. Gregor, Lyra, and Renn stood frozen, the stale bread forgotten in their hands, their brief respite shattered by the arrival of armed authority. Eldrin's face was a mask of grim concern, his eyes flicking between his unexpected guests and the sounds of encirclement outside. Only Saitama seemed oblivious to the shift, now attempting to see if he could flick a breadcrumb into his own mouth from across the small room (he missed, the crumb landing somewhere near Lyra's foot).
The cottage door, which the breathless young villager had left ajar, was suddenly darkened by a figure. Tall, clad in the gleaming plate armor of a ranking Royal Knight, a visored helmet obscuring his face, the man exuded an aura of disciplined power and unwavering authority. The rose-and-sword crest of Midgar was emblazoned on his breastplate. He was flanked by two similarly armored knights, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords, their stances alert, professional.
"Elder Eldrin," the lead Knight's voice was crisp, clear, carrying easily through the small room, "by order of His Royal Majesty, King Olric Midgar, Oakhaven is hereby under martial decree. You and your villagers will remain within your homes until further notice. Cooperation will ensure your safety." His gaze, unseen behind the visor, swept across Gregor, Lyra, and Renn, lingering for a moment on each. "The escapees – Gregor, Lyra, Renn – you are to come with us. Resistance will be met with appropriate force."
Then, his helmeted head turned slowly, fixing on Saitama, who had just managed to flick a breadcrumb successfully into his mouth and was chewing thoughtfully. The Knight paused for a fraction of a second, the almost imperceptible hesitation of a man confronting something his training hadn't prepared him for.
"And you," the Knight continued, his voice carefully neutral, "designation 'Tempest,' also known as Saitama. You are… requested… to accompany us to the Royal Capital for an immediate audience with the King."
The word 'requested' hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. It was not a request one could easily refuse, not when delivered by a troop of heavily armed Royal Knights with a royal decree.
Saitama swallowed his breadcrumb. "Audience with the King? Cool. Does he have snacks? Like, a royal buffet? Because I'm still kinda hungry. This bread is okay, but it's no pancake."
The lead Knight didn't react to Saitama's question, his professional composure unwavering, though perhaps a muscle twitched beneath his visor. "You will all come peacefully. This is not a negotiation."
Gregor stepped forward, placing himself protectively before Lyra and Renn, though he knew it was a futile gesture against such overwhelming force. "On what grounds are they being taken? They've committed no crime. They are victims!"
"Their status will be determined by the Crown, not by you, nor by me," the Knight stated flatly. "They possess information vital to the security of the kingdom. As, it seems, does your… associate." He nodded curtly towards Saitama.
Saitama looked from the Knight to Gregor, then back to the Knight. "So, you guys are like… official kidnappers? With fancy hats?" He tilted his head. "Doesn't seem very heroic."
"We are Royal Knights, carrying out the King's decree," the lead Knight retorted, a hint of steel entering his voice. "We are ensuring the safety and stability of Midgar." He took a step into the cottage, his armored boots thudding on the wooden floor. His two escorts followed, their presence filling the small space, their gaze unwavering. "Now, will you come quietly, or must we resort to less… dignified methods?" The threat was clear, backed by the scores of knights surrounding the village.
Gregor looked at Lyra and Renn, their faces pale with renewed fear. He looked at the implacable knights. He knew they had no choice. Resistance here would mean a massacre, and Oakhaven would pay the price. He slowly lowered his hands, a gesture of unwilling surrender.
"We will come," Gregor said, his voice heavy. "But if any harm comes to them…"
"Their treatment will be fair, commensurate with their cooperation," the Knight replied, cutting him off. "And yours." He then looked back at Saitama. "And you, Tempest? Your cooperation is… particularly anticipated." There was a subtle emphasis on the word 'anticipated' that suggested a wealth of reports, analyses, and perhaps deep concern had preceded this encounter.
Saitama shrugged. "Sure, I'll go. If there's a buffet. And maybe I can get a new cape. This one's getting pretty raggedy." He stood up, stretching. "So, are we walking? Or do you guys have a car? Or maybe a cool chariot? I always wanted to ride in a chariot."
The lead Knight just stared at him for a moment, then gestured curtly towards the door. "You will be provided transport. Now, move."
Under the watchful eyes of the knights, Gregor, Lyra, Renn, and Saitama were escorted out of Eldrin's cottage and into the village square. The scene was one of controlled military occupation. Knights on horseback patrolled the perimeter. Foot soldiers stood guard at every cottage door, their expressions grim. Villagers peered fearfully from behind curtains, their morning peace shattered.
Several horses were waiting, held by squires. Three were sturdy but plain mounts, clearly intended for Gregor, Lyra, and Renn. The fourth was a much larger, more powerful warhorse, heavily armored, its tack gleaming – clearly intended for someone of significance, or perhaps someone they expected to be… difficult.
A different knight, older, with captain's insignia on his pauldrons, approached the lead Knight who had entered the cottage. "Commander Alaric, all secure. Perimeter established. The targets?" He nodded towards Saitama's group.
"Secured, Captain Borin," Commander Alaric replied, his voice still filtered by his helmet. "Prepare them for transport. Standard prisoner restraints for the three escapees. The… Tempest… will ride unconstrained, but under heavy escort." There was a subtle emphasis again, a recognition that restraining Saitama was likely a futile, if not actively dangerous, proposition.
Saitama looked at the massive warhorse. "Whoa. Big horsey. Does he do tricks?" He then noticed the restraints – heavy iron manacles – being brought out for Gregor, Lyra, and Renn. He frowned. "Hey, what are those for? They're not gonna run away. Where would they go? Back into the scary forest? Doesn't make sense."
Commander Alaric turned to Saitama. "Standard procedure for detainees, Tempest. Do not interfere."
Saitama's frown deepened. "Detainees? But they didn't do anything wrong. They were the ones who got kidnapped and chased by monsters. Seems kinda unfair to chain 'em up." He took a step towards the knight holding the manacles. "Maybe you guys should chain up the monsters instead? Or those creepy shadow guys? They were way more annoying."
A ripple of unease went through the surrounding knights. Commander Alaric held up a hand, forestalling any aggressive reaction from his men. He knew, from Kristoph's initial, frantic reports relayed through Elara, that provoking Saitama over a minor issue could have disproportionate, catastrophic consequences. The King's orders were clear: contain, observe, do not unnecessarily provoke.
"Their 'detainee' status is temporary, pending inquiry," Alaric said, his voice carefully measured, trying to placate the incomprehensible being before him. "The restraints are for their own safety during transport, and to ensure… orderly procedure. They will not be harmed if they cooperate."
Saitama still looked unconvinced. "Orderly procedure? Sounds boring. And uncomfortable." He looked at Lyra, who was trembling as a knight approached her with the manacles. "Look, how about this? They promise not to run away. I promise they won't run away. And if they do, I'll… uh… I'll give them a stern talking to. How's that?"
Commander Alaric felt a headache forming. How did one negotiate with a being who had destroyed a Titan because it was noisy? Who had erased ancient magic because it was annoying? He exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance with Captain Borin. The captain gave a minute shrug, a silent acknowledgment of the impossible situation.
Alaric made a swift calculation. The risk of Saitama becoming actively uncooperative over the issue of restraints versus the perceived risk of three exhausted, unarmed escapees attempting to flee from a company of Royal Knights. The former was infinitely greater.
"Very well, Tempest," Alaric conceded, his voice tight. "On your… assurance… they will ride unrestrained. But any attempt to flee, by them or by you, will be met with the severest response." He silently prayed to whatever gods might be listening that Saitama's 'assurance' was worth more than his understanding of geopolitics.
Saitama beamed. "Awesome! See? Talking things out works! Way better than fighting." He turned to Gregor, Lyra, and Renn. "Okay guys, no running away, got it? Or I'll have to get all… responsible. And nobody wants that."
Gregor nodded dumbly, still trying to process the fact that Royal Knights were taking orders, however indirectly, from the bald man who just wanted pancakes. Lyra and Renn looked equally stunned, but also profoundly relieved.
With the issue of restraints resolved (in a way that would undoubtedly cause much consternation back at the Royal Court), the group was mounted. Gregor, Lyra, and Renn were helped onto their horses, their exhaustion making them clumsy. Saitama, after trying to feed the warhorse a piece of his stale bread (the horse just snorted disdainfully), managed to clamber aboard with a distinct lack of equestrian grace, looking profoundly uncomfortable on the high saddle.
"This is kinda wobbly," Saitama complained, gripping the reins too tightly. "And it doesn't have a seatbelt. Or a cup holder."
Commander Alaric sighed internally, then gave the order. "Move out! Escort formation! Maintain vigilance!"
The troop of Royal Knights, with their strange collection of 'guests' and 'detainees' at its center, began to move out of Oakhaven, taking the southward road that led, eventually, towards the Royal Capital of Midgar. The villagers watched them go in silence, their faces filled with fear and uncertainty. Elder Eldrin stood in his doorway, his expression grave, wondering what fate awaited his village, and his kingdom, now that the Tempest had been formally drawn into the affairs of men.
As they rode, Saitama, perched precariously on his warhorse, looked back at the retreating village, then at the vast, dark line of the Valgothian Deepwood. "Well," he said to no one in particular, "that was an interesting detour. Still didn't get any pancakes, though. Hope the King's buffet is good."
The journey to Midgar had begun. And with it, Kristoph knew, observing from a safe distance as his own small team prepared to follow, the real chaos was likely just starting. The 'assessment' of the Tempest in the Royal Capital… that was going to be a spectacle for the ages. And the tournament he'd heard whispers of? If Saitama was involved, Kristoph had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be much of a competition. It would be a demolition.