*Three months after the Magnolia incident*
The abandoned fortress of Galuna's Edge stood like a broken tooth against the storm-darkened sky, its ancient walls scarred by decades of neglect and the recent battle that had raged within them. Dark Guild Crimson Fang had chosen their stronghold well—remote, defensible, and far from any civilian populations that might be endangered by the magical combat sure to follow any assault.
Unfortunately for them, they hadn't counted on Prince Damian E. Fiore taking a personal interest in their activities.
The prince moved through the fortress's lower levels like a wraith, his World Magic creating pockets of shadow and silence that rendered him effectively invisible to the scattered guards. Three months of intensive field training had honed his combat instincts to a razor's edge, and tonight he intended to put an end to Crimson Fang's reign of terror once and for all.
The dark guild had made the mistake of targeting merchant caravans carrying supplies to remote villages—supplies that included food, medicine, and materials desperately needed for the coming winter. Worse, they'd begun taking hostages, using innocent civilians as leverage against any guild that might interfere with their operations.
The Magic Council's response had been predictably inadequate: a formal complaint and a bounty that barely covered the cost of travel to reach the fortress. Meanwhile, people suffered.
Damian paused at a junction in the stone corridors, listening carefully. Voices echoed from ahead—guards discussing their patrol routes. Beyond them, he could sense the magical signatures of the hostages, weak but alive.
A golden bubble materialized silently around the guards—his Sleep World. Within moments, they collapsed into peaceful slumber, and Damian stepped over their unconscious forms without breaking stride.
*Almost too easy,* he thought grimly. These dark mages were strong enough to terrorize civilians and merchant guards, but they lacked the discipline and tactical awareness of true threats. Still, their leader was reportedly a former Magic Council enforcer who'd gone rogue—that could prove more challenging.
He found the hostages in what had once been the fortress's great hall, now converted into a makeshift prison. Twenty-three civilians, mostly caravan drivers and their families, huddled together in crude cells made from scrap metal and magical barriers. Their faces were gaunt with hunger and fear, but their eyes still held hope.
*Not for much longer if I don't act quickly.*
Damian was about to create a Liberation World to free them when a voice spoke from the shadows above.
"You move well for a royal brat."
The prince spun, his hands already weaving magical energy, as a figure dropped from the rafters. The man was tall and powerfully built, with shoulder-length dark red hair and eyes like chips of granite. He wore battered leather armor over simple dark clothing, and his movements carried the fluid grace of a trained warrior.
But it was the sword at his side that made Damian pause—not because it was particularly ornate or magical, but because of how the man wore it. Like it was part of him. Like he'd been born with a blade in his hand.
"I wasn't aware Crimson Fang employed anyone with manners," Damian replied, not lowering his guard. "Though I suppose even dark guilds occasionally stumble across quality recruits."
The red-haired man snorted, a sound that might have been amusement. "I'm not with these idiots. Name's Tycun. I've been tracking this scum for three weeks, ever since they hit a village near my hometown."
"A bounty hunter?"
"Something like that." Tycun's hand remained near his sword hilt, but his posture suggested readiness rather than aggression. "Though I could ask what brings a prince to personally handle what amounts to cleanup work. Shouldn't you have lackeys for this sort of thing?"
Damian's eyes narrowed. "How did you—"
"Know who you are?" Tycun shrugged. "Your magical signature is unlike anything I've ever encountered, and you move with the confidence of someone who's never doubted their right to command. Plus, there are only so many people in Fiore with dark jade hair and emerald eyes who could afford combat training that good."
"And yet you don't seem particularly concerned about threatening a member of the royal family."
"Should I be?" Tycun's granite eyes met Damian's emerald ones without flinching. "You came here to free hostages and stop criminals. So did I. Seems like we want the same thing."
Before Damian could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. A massive figure emerged from the corridor beyond—easily seven feet tall, with arms like tree trunks and magical energy crackling around his scarred fists. This had to be Gareth the Crusher, Crimson Fang's leader and former Magic Council enforcer.
"Well, well," Gareth rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "A prince and a vagrant. The hostages just became more valuable."
"I don't think so," Damian said coldly, raising his hands. A Prison World began to form around the dark guild leader, but Gareth was faster than his bulk suggested. He lunged forward, magical energy erupting around him in a wave of crushing force that shattered Damian's partially-formed construct.
The prince backflipped away from a fist that would have caved in his skull, landing gracefully as he reassessed his opponent. Gareth was strong—stronger than the dark mages he'd faced in Magnolia—and experienced enough to disrupt magical constructs before they could fully manifest.
"Careful, Your Highness," Tycun called out, drawing his sword in a fluid motion that spoke of countless hours of practice. "He's got Crash Magic—specializes in breaking things apart at the molecular level."
"Thank you for the warning," Damian replied, dodging another devastating punch. "Though I'm curious why you're helping me."
"Professional courtesy," Tycun said dryly, then moved.
Damian had seen skilled swordsmen before—the palace guards included several masters of various blade arts. But Tycun moved like violence incarnate, his sword describing perfect arcs through the air as he engaged Gareth in close combat. The dark guild leader's Crash Magic could shatter stone and bend steel, but it required contact to work effectively, and Tycun never gave him the chance.
The red-haired warrior's blade work was poetry written in steel, each strike perfectly placed to exploit gaps in Gareth's defense while avoiding the devastating counterattacks. But even perfect technique had its limits against raw magical power, and Gareth was beginning to force Tycun back through sheer overwhelming force.
*Time to even the odds.*
Damian created a Gravity World directly beneath Gareth's feet, the increased gravitational pull disrupting the massive man's balance just as Tycun launched a particularly aggressive combination. The dark guild leader stumbled, and Tycun's blade found the gap in his guard, sliding between his ribs with surgical precision.
Gareth collapsed, not dead but certainly out of the fight. Around the hall, his remaining followers—those who hadn't already fled—threw down their weapons in surrender.
"Well executed," Tycun said, cleaning his blade before sheathing it. "Your World Magic is even more versatile than the reports suggested."
"You've read reports about my magic?" Damian asked, dispelling his Gravity World and moving to check on the hostages.
"I make it my business to know about powerful mages," Tycun replied. "Especially ones who might be worth following."
Something in his tone made Damian pause in his examination of the cell locks. "Following?"
Tycun was quiet for a moment, watching as Damian created a Liberation World that dissolved the magical barriers holding the hostages captive. The civilians rushed out, crying with relief and gratitude, but the red-haired warrior's attention remained fixed on the prince.
"I've spent the last five years hunting dark guilds," he said finally. "Cleaning up messes that the Magic Council couldn't or wouldn't handle. Protecting people who had nowhere else to turn. It's satisfying work, but..."
"But?" Damian prompted, genuinely curious.
"But it's reactive. I show up after villages are burned, after innocent people are murdered, after the damage is already done." Tycun's granite eyes hardened. "I've seen what happens when good people have no protection from those who would prey on them. I've buried children whose only crime was being born in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Damian felt a chill that had nothing to do with the fortress's stone walls. "And you think I can change that?"
"I think you're the first person I've met who might actually try," Tycun replied. "The stories say you want to bring the guilds under royal authority. Create structure, accountability, consequences for those who abuse their power."
"The stories also say I'm a would-be tyrant who wants to crush the freedom that makes the guilds effective."
Tycun snorted. "The stories are told by people who profit from the current chaos. I've seen your work tonight, Your Highness. You came here personally to save hostages you'd never met, in a remote location where no one would witness your heroism. That tells me more about your character than a thousand rumors."
As the last of the hostages was freed and the Rune Knights arrived to take the defeated dark mages into custody, Damian found himself studying Tycun with new interest. The man was clearly skilled, intelligent, and driven by a moral code that aligned closely with Damian's own vision for Fiore's future.
More importantly, he was someone who understood the cost of inaction, who had seen firsthand what happened when power went unchecked and justice moved too slowly.
"If you were to serve the crown," Damian said carefully, "what would you expect in return?"
"The chance to make a real difference," Tycun replied without hesitation. "The resources and authority to stop threats before they become tragedies. And..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "A leader worth following. Someone who wouldn't send others to do what he wasn't willing to do himself."
Damian was quiet for a long moment, watching as the freed hostages were loaded into carriages for the journey home. These people would return to their families, their lives restored because he had chosen to act. But how many others were suffering right now in places he couldn't reach, facing threats he couldn't counter alone?
"I'm planning to form an elite unit," he said finally. "Magic Knights who would serve directly under royal authority, handling threats that require immediate action and absolute discretion. The work would be dangerous, the hours long, and the recognition minimal. But the mission would be clear: protect the innocent, uphold justice, and ensure that power serves the people rather than the other way around."
"And you want me to be part of this unit?"
"I want you to help me lead it," Damian corrected. "Someone with your experience and skills would be invaluable in training others, planning operations, and ensuring that we never lose sight of why we fight."
Tycun was quiet for several minutes, his granite eyes studying Damian's face as if trying to read the prince's very soul. Finally, he knelt on one knee, his fist pressed to his chest in the traditional gesture of fealty.
"Your Highness," he said formally, "I offer you my sword, my service, and my loyalty. Not to the crown, but to the man who would use his power to protect those who cannot protect themselves."
"Rise, Sir Tycun," Damian replied, using the honorific deliberately. "Welcome to the Magic Knights. I have a feeling this is the beginning of something extraordinary."
As they walked from the ruined fortress together, neither man could have imagined that this moment would be remembered as the founding of the most elite magical force in Fiore's history. But looking back, historians would mark this night as the moment when Prince Damian E. Fiore's vision began to take concrete form.
The first of the future Four Horsemen of legend had taken his place at his prince's side, and the kingdom would never be the same.
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