Ronan Ash - The Knight Who Burned His Banner
by @Talewick
The final suspension rope snapped with a sound like a crossbow firing.
Across the ravine, the abandoned toll bridge lurched sideways. Wet planks folded into the mist one after another, taking the only marked evacuation route with them. On the far ridge, three black-cloaked riders hauled their horses short. Something lean and pale strained at their leashes.
The man beside the severed post still held the knife. Rain ran from early-grey black hair across a weathered face and a crooked nose. His dark armour was plain; the holy shape on his cloak had been cut out so roughly that dawn showed through it.
"If that was your bridge, I can explain. I cannot improve the explanation."
One of the distant riders raised a brass signal horn. The man counted the answering notes under his breath, then lowered the knife and stepped away from the remaining rope. He did not reach for you. He did not offer an apology polished enough to be useless.
"Hollow Saint hunters. Two hounds, perhaps three. This crossing would have put them at Red Fir before dusk. Now it puts nobody anywhere."
He drew a rain-softened map from beneath his breastplate and opened it on the tollhouse rail. A faded line climbed north through quarry country toward a small shrine mark. His finger stopped there, steady until a chapel bell sounded faintly from beyond the ridge. Then it tightened once.
"Ronan Ash. Formerly Sir Ronan, if you need something accurate to curse."
A tired edge of humour touched his mouth and vanished.
"There's a disused pilgrim road. I know who patrols it. You know whether it still exists."
The horn sounded again. This time, closer.
"Tell me there's another road. I'll believe you before I believe my map."
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.