As dawn broke the next morning, Manfred galloped with the 20 other knights in Tom Holt's cavalry unit, accompanied by Kelly the former knight killer. Under his mare's rumbling hooves, the terrain transitioned from Monterayne's fertile plains to a forested maze of evergreens and low brush characteristic of the foothills they so swiftly approached. Dark clouds parted overhead, allowing the rising sun to shine through and highlight plumes of smoke climbing from a burning garrison. Manfred's heart sunk upon observing a flame here and there erupting on the outskirts of the adjoining town, the place he'd grown up, and where his family still resided.

Despite Manfred's increased motivation to pick up the pace and speed uphill to his hometown, the thickening forest insisted otherwise. He and the others slowed to a canter in order to maneuver more safely, though Tom Holt kept an impressive lead on everybody else. He and his mount wove through the labyrinth of trees and hoof-snatching vines with experienced mastery any knight would envy, and none more than Manfred.

Soon enough, Manfred found himself having fallen behind with the less experienced horsemen in the group, that number including Nathan, Kelly, and a trio of knights of wildly varying dispositions who yet shared the same determination in progressing through the demanding terrain. Manfred clutched the spear in his hand tightly while occasionally ducking his head to avoid smacking it on a low branch.

The experienced riders continued gaining distance on Manfred and his peers, but to be fair, Tom had explicitly stated upon setting out that he intended for the men to use their instincts and stick to their individual strengths instead of relying on organized formations and coordinated attacks. Personally, Manfred found himself contemplating whether or not that would mean dismounting upon engagement, as his riding skills were questionable enough even without throwing combat into the mix.

As the mind-numbing task of swerving through the forest dragged on, Manfred's thoughts swirled around the idea that his parents could currently be fighting off the Garuntan pillagers and rogue knights creeping in on the town. The idea of it manifested as a bitter weight in his stomach. He pressed on.

Soon enough, Manfred and his comrades emerged from the forest and worked back into a gallop in the short clearing around the town. Given the south gate's close proximity to the demolished garrison and the ravenous flames devouring it, they made the same decision Tom and his peers had made and strode alongside until they reached the north gates.

Manfred's grip on his spear managed to tighten as he burst through the open gateway and into the chaotic cluster of activity that was his hometown. All around were grinning Garuntan tribesmen, messy-haired and olive-skinned savages who dashed to and fro setting buildings on fire and doing harm to the mostly defenseless townspeople. One such pillager lunged at Manfred's horse with a crude dagger in hand, but he miscalculated the distance and found himself trampled under hooves instead.

The difficulty presented to Manfred was no lack of options in who to engage, but rather the overabundance thereof. When his gaze alit on a wiry Garuntan chasing down a wailing old man, his target had been set. Manfred galloped over and thrusted his spear into the savage's back.

Manfred continued on, with Nathan and Kelly apparently having decided to follow him. As they progressed through the town, they took out Garuntans left and right. Here and there, a rogue knight attempted opposing them, but given the fact they only ever used swords, Manfred and his companions easily took the men out with their reach advantage.

But eventually, Manfred's spear penetrated too far into a pillager's sternum, and his horse raced by too quickly to retrieve it. With a sigh, he reached for his longsword and unsheathed that. Seeing his trajectory passed close by his father's house, Manfred veered over to it and hopped over the fence.

Upon landing, he spotted a pair of knights sneaking up on the house. Manfred's eyes narrowed, and he dismounted. With silent determination pumping through his veins, he charged at the two traitors, longsword blade poised over his shoulder.

He caught the first knight unawares. The blade tore through so much muscle tissue in the man's shoulder that his chances of ever raising that arm again looked quite slim, assuming he lived long enough to try. His companion spun about and thrusted at Manfred.

Manfred easily batted the incoming point away and immediately swung a counterattack at the knight's neck. The rogue's sloppy defense only barely saved his life. His own counter would have split Manfred's skull in half, had he not blocked. Manfred used the connection between their weapons to throw his opponent off balance. Before the knight could rise again, Manfred's blade had been in and out of his chest cavity.

Manfred glanced up fondly at his old home before turning back to the task at hand. Just outside the property, Nathan and Kelly had dismounted and were now being surrounded by a group of Garuntan warriors. Manfred hurried over to assist.

Coming down with a heavy blow to a savage's bicep, Manfred's arrival to the skirmish didn't go unnoticed. A whining cry filled the air as the Garuntan fell. Dodging attacks from crude weapons left and right, Manfred and Nathan artfully trimmed down the numbers of their cannibalistic opponents, and Kelly soon hopped into the fray as well. Her twin daggers quickly became slick and red with blood.

Manfred engaged a particularly brawny Garuntan warrior who wielded a cudgel with a sharp stone awkwardly tied to one end. After dodging the crude attempt at an axe head, Manfred thrusted his own blade forward. His opponent's reflexes saved his life, though. A swift raising of the body of his cudgel knocked Manfred's weapon aside.

The hair on the back of Manfred's neck bristled. He dodged to the left, only to see a gleaming longsword blade whistle by his ear. He spun about to see a rogue knight who had snuck up from behind. The traitor's onslaught hadn't ended, either.

Manfred's blade danced as he blocked attacks from longsword and crude Garuntan weapon alike. He also remained light on his feet, stepping swiftly one direction or the other as needed to evade or power his own counterattacks. As the encounter lengthened, his foes clearly became frustrated at their inability to score a single hit.

Manfred whirled about and stabbed into the chest of an approaching Garuntan who had clearly thought himself sneaky. Predictably, the rogue knight saw this as an opportunity to rush in and end him, but he had unknowingly played right into Manfred's design. The traitor's blue eyes widened when Manfred's blade tore right through his midsection. He dropped to his knees and stared down at the growing crimson pool of his liquid failure.

The Garuntan Manfred had been fighting didn't last much longer either. His determination and skill level showed themselves to be rather mismatched. As the fight lengthened, a new element came into play—desperation. With crazed eyes, the savage dropped his weapon altogether and hurled himself at Manfred. Side-step, pivot, and slash. Spewing blood from a severed vein, the tribesman dropped and rose no more.

Manfred wiped his sweaty brow and glanced about. He had inadvertently strayed a ways from Nathan and Kelly, and they themselves had set a new path. They worked as a cohesive team, Nathan's strong swordsmanship taking out any foes who came too close, and Kelly's archery serving to dispatch more distant targets. Nathan also used his shield to defend them both.

Having come to the conclusion the two didn't need his assistance, Manfred paved his own path. He advanced down the town's main street and took out any savage pillager who showed himself. Being far fewer in number, the traitorous knights less often presented themselves, but they likewise fell to Manfred's blade. His strongly defensive swordsmanship style served to tire them out, much to their detriment.

A mounted knightly comrade whizzed by Manfred and simply trampled a trio of Garuntans he had been somewhat less than enthusiastic about engaging. Then another companion bounded across his field of vision on foot, the towering Kemarian knight named Tao, who had become well known among his peers for his unique style of wielding two swords at once. He was a sight to behold as he raced across the town, blades whirling and taking out enemies before they had the slightest chance at retaliation. Even when one rogue knight successfully slowed Tao's momentum, their duel only lasted a few short seconds before the Kemarian's two blades came together in the flesh of his foe's neck.

Manfred's attention returned to his own surroundings just in time to spot a stealthy Garuntan who had retrieved an abandoned spear, likely Manfred's own. A swift leap to the side, and Manfred had evaded the spearhead. The savage thrusted again, but Manfred smacked it away. A forward lunge, and his longsword blade ended the cannibal's life.

Manfred happened to peek down a certain alleyway and spotted Tom Holt surrounded by tribesmen. Tom had stayed on horseback, but that had become disadvantageous to him as it limited his range of movement in axing the Garuntans round about.

Manfred hurried to assist Tom. His entry to the battle was synonymous with his blade's entry into a savage's back. He yanked out and split another tribesman's skull.

With the Garuntans' attention successfully divided, Tom dismounted and unsheathed his own longsword. The two loyal knights worked in concert to systematically dispatch their attackers, working first toward one another, and then fighting with their backs nearly touching in order to each defend the other's blind spots.

By the time the tribesmen's numbers had dwindled, a few rebellious knights joined the fight. The onslaught's constant intensification overwhelmed Manfred. He began drawing more on desperation and self-preservation than his skill as the storm of sword strokes continued flying his way. He lost a bit of his sleeve to one particularly close cut. Manfred shuddered at the thought of how easily the sword could have sliced closer than even that.

A well-timed kick to the groin of his nearest opponent bought Manfred enough time to engage a crazed knight whose face was covered in an icing of dried blood. Half the time, the man hardly seemed to be paying attention to the fight at hand, but yet he performed admirably. Manfred had difficulty warding off his many blows, but finally he scored a fatal hit in the man's midsection.

He returned his attention to the other knight, who now returned with a glowering expression of one whose dignity had been insulted. Clearly a fellow Torlenian swordsman, the man presented a far different approach compared with his recently deceased comrade. His duel with Manfred was strategic—surgical, even. They paced in circles just outside of striking range, then lunged. Usually, whoever attacked first found himself met with a skillful block and counterattack, which the other subsequently smacked away. Then they backed off and eyed one another for opportunity again.

Manfred's foe bolted forward to attack. Manfred raised his own sword for the standard defense, but then thought to try something different. In the blink of an eye, Manfred retracted his sword and swung up, slicing right through both the man's wrists. His sword and the hands holding them dropped to the ground, but the bloodcurdling scream that ensued snatched Manfred's attention from that fact.

The next few seconds seemed to slow to Manfred. His eyes widened in horror. Tom glanced back, his attention snatched away from his own engagement by the earsplitting scream. His opponent took notice. He smirked and ran Tom through.

Manfred's heart raced as he bounded over to Tom and beheaded his foe with one strong swing. Then he dropped his own sword to catch Tom's fall. His concerned brown eyes darted over Tom's strained face as he eased his leader down onto the grass.

Blood trickled from Tom's mouth, spread across his tunic, and also defiled the grass. His single cobalt blue eye stared steadily up at Manfred as he winced through the agony.

"You...you'll be alright, I think." Manfred spat out without thinking, "You have to, Sir Holt."

"No." Tom croaked, immediately coughing up a clot of blood, "No...Rickland. I feel it. It's over for me...now."

"You can't give up, sir, please! We need you. Monterayne does. Your wife does."

"I've had...a good run, Rickland, I have. I've witnessed corruption, denounced it...eradicated it. Replaced it, too. Clearly, I've done it."

Manfred's eyebrows drew together, and he perplexedly obeyed Tom's cue to take the hand that wasn't clutched over his bleeding heart. "Done what?"

"My life's work. God has work for each...and every one of us. One's a warrior. Another, a protector. Sometimes a mentor. I've been...the reformer. And now...Monterayne has the weapons she needs...to stand strong."

"Please, sir, don't let go." Manfred begged with a squeeze of Tom's hand.

"I'm being called...no point resisting. Now that Monterayne's reformed, she needs...a protector. Guardian of peace...upholder of justice. I name you..."

Manfred's eyes shot even wider open as a tear trickled down his cheek. "Name me what? Sir Holt, stay with me, please!"

"Name you...your name..." Tom muttered, clearly struggling to stay conscious, let alone form words, "You're...head...of the knights, now. Take my place, Rickland...deliver this land from evil."

Much as Manfred begged otherwise, Tom's head dropped, and his eye glazed over. His chest stopped moving, and he breathed no more. Tears stung Manfred's eyes and scalded his cheeks. The legendary Tom Holt had finally left the land of the living. His days of reformation were over, and his final wishes had been to defend the ground he had gained in his lifetime. Manfred clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes shut, and vowed to fulfill Tom Holt's dying wish.

**** 

A/N: 😭😭😭 

And so a hero falls, a great warrior, lover of equines, reformer of the knights, and a beloved man to all of our hearts, I hope. I propose a moment of silence for our fallen hero, Sir Thomas Holt. 

[And now, please leave any eulogical statements/tributes/etc. here] 

I um...should move on to post the next chapter, but this is a bitter moment indeed. Tom deserved better, but that he'll get in the afterlife.