The Golden Knight

“Look! There he is!” A woman stared in awe from afar, her eyes glistening at the knight on horseback. It was as if she had fallen in love instantly. “They say he can turn enemies into gold statues with that sword of his.”

The villagers weren’t watching just any knight passing through; this was the golden knight himself, riding his chestnut horse proudly, almost boastfully. He was none other than Ser Gold the Golden. That wasn’t a fictional title, that was his literal name.

His build was the very definition of perfection, so beautiful that some forgot to breathe when he passed by. His shiny blonde hair swept upward like a tidal wave about to come crashing down, while his water-blue eyes shifted left and right. He waved at the cheering peasants, his hands obscured by gold gauntlets; even so, the villagers assumed the brightness of his face extended downward to his hands. His face was smooth, neither fat nor thin, just right, with a jaw as sharp as a dagger’s edge. Shining white teeth shimmered as he smiled joyously. His body was strong and masculine, surpassing any other knight in the realm. He wore golden armour that caught the sunlight, reflecting it into the eyes of onlookers. The entire armour was painted golden, down to his literal sabatons, with flower petals etched across his breastplate. His helmet, featuring a T-shaped opening, was tucked in his left hand while he waved with his right. The horse moved forward without guidance, as if possessing a mind of its own.

Most of the peasants clapped and cheered. Two hundred strong, they lined both sides of the street, staring at the golden figure as he rode through their puny town.

Even the scabbard attached to his waist was golden.

“He’s so kind… so lovely… so beautiful,” a woman murmured, reaching out toward Gold, desperate to be noticed.

Gold glanced at her, smiling gracefully. “Look at these disgusting boars,” he whispered under his breath without his expression flickering. His stature and beauty were truly golden; his language and actions, however, were not.

“Brother—” Silver said. His brown hair and eyes were dull by comparison, and he was thinner than Gold. While Silver was beautiful in his own right, beside his brother, he looked like a peasant. “You can’t say that.” He waved at the villagers, but no one looked; they were all gaping at Gold. Silver was used to it. He didn’t mind—in fact, he preferred it.

Gold was nine when Silver was born, yet already famous for his beauty. On that evening, he commanded his parents to name the newborn ‘Silver,’ and they listened; they heeded everything Gold had to say.

“It stinks of horse shit here,” Gold sighed, though his perfect face remained impassive. He was right; the town smelled horrible, not just of manure and mud, but of rotting flesh hanging thick in the air. Gold didn’t have time to discern the source. He and Silver had a job to do.

“Does Ser Gold not have guards for the mission?” one peasant asked, unaware of who Gold the Golden truly was.

Everyone nearby looked at the man as if he were a monster.

“You—you think he needs guards?” a villager laughed madly, as if the idea were a sick joke.

“He doesn’t need guards… and never will,” another added with awe. “No one in their right mind would want to fight Gold the Golden. He’s the equivalent of ten men.”

“That ain’t possible,” someone argued.

“It is!”

“Gold is a fuckin’ fraud!” another shouted.

Suddenly, their conflicting opinions turned to rage, and a brawl broke out instantly. Peasants tore into one another, punching, strangling, and kicking like starving hounds. Most fought to defend Gold’s honour, while a few opposed him.

Gold glanced right, noticing the brawl, and rolled his eyes in disgust. “Great,” he muttered sarcastically.

Silver’s face tightened with worry. “We must stop them.” He tugged on his white horse’s reins, steering toward the chaos.

“Silver… no.” The words hissed through Gold’s teeth, spoken with the authority of a father scolding a son. It was clear he wanted no one but Silver to hear.

“But brother—”

“We don’t have time.” He pulled his brother’s shoulder, nudging him back. “We cannot fail the king, can we now?” he whispered into Silver’s elf-like ear, sounding like an angel guiding the way.

Silver nodded, catching the scent of lavender on Gold’s breath. He looked at the brawl, then turned away, holding his head straight as an arrow now.

But then, in the distance ahead, cows emerged from behind a wooden building to the right. Not one or two, but exactly fifteen. Their white-and-black forms turned left, walking straight toward the brothers.

Gold was dumbstruck for a millisecond. “Great. Now this town shall smell of horse and cow shit.”

Silver looked at him apologetically. “I told Lord Durn to halt all labour while we crossed.”

Their moos echoed through the village. Gold’s heart-shaped lips twitched, but he knew he couldn’t show anger. He forced an even braver smile, suppressing the rage threatening to erupt. Being seen surrounded by dirty cows would be disastrous for his reputation.

Behind the cows, a man guided them forward. It was obvious he had been planning this for a while.

The herder was none other than Podzod of Milkstone.

“Not you again…” Gold whispered, a faint smirk touching his face as he relived the past.

A month prior, Gold had passed through Milkstone, a massive cow farm owned by Podzod’s father. Gold had spat out the milk offered to him because it was warm; Gold disliked warm milk. He thought nothing of it at the time, but it was clear Podzod had taken it as a grave insult to himself and his lineage.

Even the brawl stopped. Villagers gasped, looking around in confusion at the sudden herd in their town.

“YOU INSULTED MY MILK!” Podzod shouted, spraying spit from his broken teeth. He was a lean man with messy black hair and dull, heavy brown eyes.

When Gold had passed through Milkstone, Podzod’s face had been bright and welcoming as warm petals. Now, it was sharp and ugly as poison.

Gold chuckled lightly, scanning the villagers on either side. He hated being embarrassed, and Silver knew it; he could read his older brother as well as a book.

“Gold, let’s just go around—”

“How dare he bring a bunch of filthy cows in front of me?” Gold’s face remained warm. The villagers suspected nothing; no one could hear him.

Podzod wove through his herd until he stood at the front, staring at Gold like a vicious viper.

“I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL TO THE DEATH!”

Most villagers shook their heads in disbelief, thinking Podzod a madman.

“Does this fucker not know who he’s talking to?” a villager from the sidelines shouted.

Gold smiled. He knew declining would make people call him a coward, tarnishing everything he had built. I’m. Not. A. Coward, he thought viciously.

“Gold… we mustn’t. You said it yourself, we don’t have time.”

“Oh, but we must now, brother,” Gold said calmly, his smile twitching faster. “He’s blocking our way. Therefore, he’s blocking the king’s orders.”

Gold dismounted with the elegance of floating down. The villagers went silent. Even the dark clouds overhead seemed to stop moving.

“I accept!” Gold threw his arms out and turned in a majestic full circle.

The crowd went wild; cheers louder than before erupted. “Gold the Golden!” they screamed. Even those who had thought Gold a fraud were now on his side. No one knew the cow farmer, nor did they care for him. Podzod had no supporters.