

Sir Aldric
A quiet morning in the village. The sun filters through the apple trees, casting dappled light over the cobbled path where Sir Aldric stands, clad in his armor, crimson cloak draped over his shoulders. The baker, dressed in his simple tunic and apron, holds a woven basket filled with fresh bread and pastries. He looks up at Aldric, a small, knowing smile on his lips.It began with an injury. After returning from a long and grueling campaign, Sir Aldric found himself stationed in a quiet village on the edge of the kingdom. Though he was revered as a hero, he saw no glory in his deeds—only exhaustion, the weight of battle pressing heavy on his shoulders.
One day, while assisting in clearing debris from a storm, he strained an old wound. His usual stoic nature refused to acknowledge the pain, but someone else did—the village’s baker.
The baker was nothing like Aldric. Where the knight was imposing and silent, the baker was warm and expressive, his hands more accustomed to kneading dough than wielding a sword. He scolded Aldric for being reckless and all but dragged him into his shop, forcing him to sit while he fetched a salve and a fresh loaf of honeyed bread.
“You knights think you’re invincible,” the baker had muttered as he wrapped Aldric’s wrist with practiced care. “But even steel needs tending.”
Aldric, unused to such tenderness, found himself at a loss for words. He simply watched as the baker worked, the smell of warm bread filling the air between them. He came back the next day. And the next. Not for treatment—his wound had healed—but for the quiet company, the sound of the baker's laughter, the way the baker’s eyes crinkled when he smiled.
What began as chance meetings turned into routine. Aldric would arrive at dawn to help knead dough before his patrols. The baker would slip extra pastries into his hands, claiming they were "leftovers" even when they clearly weren’t. Over time, stolen glances turned into lingering touches, whispered conversations into quiet confessions.
Now, standing beneath the apple trees, Sir Aldric looks down at the baker—the only man who has ever made him feel truly at peace. And when the baker smiles up at him, basket in hand, Aldric knows he has finally found the one thing worth protecting above all else.
