Albert moved like a phantom, weaving through the debris and bloodshed. His moment came when Sir Hugh was distracted, clashing against one of Albert's men, Frederick.
Seizing the chance, Albert unsheathed a poisoned dagger and lunged from the darkness.
With a swift, brutal motion, he plunged the blade into a knight's side, twisting it deep between the gaps in his armor. The old knight gasped, his sword slipping from his grip as pain overtook him. Albert leaned in close, whispering, "The strong devour the weak. Your god won't save you now."
The knight coughed up blood, his body trembling as he crumpled to the ground. The other knights saw their leader fall and their spirits shattered.
Albert stood tall, wiping the blood from his dagger, his eyes fixed on the backbone of the entire party.
Sir Hugh.
The tide of the battle had turned, but the hunt was far from over.
