Figured you guys might like to see the trophies we're using for a local Alpha Strike tournament this coming Saturday, 4/18/2026; the Iron Gauntlet III AS350 Tournament over at Noble Knight.
On January 27, 2024, I posted this picture on my Instagram stories with the caption, "I think the three people on the Noble Knight Brothers card are Agravain, Gaheris, and Gareth from left to right”
“Twenty-four.” The words fell stilted from the Knight’s lips, punctuated with a sharp exhale as though they’d been holding their breath. They could feel the stinging welt already forming across their back. It sat among twenty-three others. The Knight wondered briefly what pattern, if any, the Lady had drawn with them this session.
The thought was interrupted by another crack, sharper this time. “Ah - hhhhh. Twenty-five,” the Knight hissed. The fibers of the ropes bit into their wrists as they strained momentarily against the pain.
“Well, my loyal Knight,” spat the Lady, “are you ready to try again?”
The Knight made a show of panting for a moment, though the answer was already on their tongue. “Try what? Are we having din-ah! AH!”
They were cut off with a furious flurry of blows, hard and random. The Knight might’ve fallen to their knees if the restraints hadn’t forced them to stand. They slouched forward into the ropes, back arched. “Your answers are ‘yes, my Lady,’ or ‘no, my Lady.’ Not” - another crack - “your sarcastic defiance. So. Which is it? Yes, or no?”
“Yes, my Lady.” The Knight waited for another strike to cut another bleeding stripe across their back, but none came. Instead, they felt the Lady’s soft, slender fingers at their wrists. The Knight knew better than to slump into her as she untied their bonds. They lowered their aching arms and asked “did I bleed on you, my Lady?”
In the dim light the Lady looked more stern than ever standing before her Knight. “So you remember your manners after all. No, you did not manage to bleed on me. You’re hardly bleeding at all, a fact which I can change at any time.” She pressed the butt of the long leather whip she carried into the Knight’s chest, hard enough to make them step back. “Now. Let’s try again. Present.”
The Knight straightened, chest pressed forward proudly, arms at their sides. This drew a pointed look from the Lady. “I said, present. Don’t test me, Knight.”
“I’m sorry, my Lady,” they said a little too cordially. “Of course.” The Knight pressed their arms behind their back, folding their hands together at the hip. They made themself the picture of obedience, but for the wry half-smile on their lips.
“My dearest, noblest Knight,” the Lady asked, “when will you learn? What price must your insubordination carry before it is quashed?”
“I apologize, my Lady. I wish to obey,” they replied truthfully, taking a step towards the Lady. “But you must know by now, I simply can’t.” They took another step, putting their thigh between the Lady’s legs, and leant forward ever-so-slowly towards her neck.
The snap of the Lady’s backhand rattled the Knight’s jaw. “Well,” mused the Lady, “you’ve made your choice.” She pressed herself into the Knight, squeezing around their forward leg so tight they couldn’t easily step away. Up went her hand to the Knight’s naked chest. She pressed her fingers gently to their sternum, soft as a lover’s caress. But as soon as her palm touched the Knight’s skin, she tightened her hand into a claw, caught a handful of flesh, and ripped down. The Knight heaved as white-hot pain followed the scarlet lines their Lady’s nails left.
“Mm, now you’ve bled on me.”
The Lady relaxed her grip on the Knight, and paused for a moment. “One more time. Present.”
The Knight made no attempt to stand at attention as the Lady wanted. Something in them snapped on hearing the Lady’s order, and they threw themself at her with reckless abandon. They managed to smear their bloody chest across her blouse, but as soon as they had, her hand was in their hair, pulling them down to their knees and tilting their face up to her. They didn’t even have time to raise their hands before the Lady’s fist split their lip. This was too much, even for the Knight. They cried out, sputtering blood.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” cooed the Lady, saccharine sweet. “Did that hurt? Let me kiss it better.”
The Knight stared at her as she knelt down, not trusting her intentions. But true to her word, the Lady planted a warm, gentle kiss on the Knight’s bloodied lip, kissed over and over along the spot where it had been cut against their teeth. She smiled as she stood, and the Knight wondered if it was over.
Then the Lady spat the Knight’s own blood back in their face.
“Same time tomorrow, then. You’ll learn, one of these days.” She turned for the door, and motioned for the Knight to follow. “Come along,” she sighed. “Let’s clean you up. I can’t have my bedwarmer bleeding all over the sheets.”
