Chapter Text
Long ago, the lands were untamed and roamed by legendary adventurers.
Among these were a few foremost gems like Shovel Knight and Shield Knight. After decades of training (and with the benefit of lineage fit to impress a king), they were dubbed Knights of Pridemoor Keep. Since the land had not known war for some time, they patrolled the land, keeping the peace and occasionally vanquishing dangerous beasts.
There would one day come a knight by the name of Specter Knight-- a tall, imposing figure clad in a red cloak, a member of the undead, and the head of an army of undead soldiers. His name would strike fear into the hearts of the Valley as he carried out the will of the Enchantress, who sought to rule the region with an iron fist.
But that wouldn't be for years to come. Before he became Specter Knight, he was Donovan, a serious, steely-eyed youth running the streets of the graveyard-bordering village known as Richyard.
That was the official name, of course. But the village's geography placed it in a basin within the Valley and filled its air with clouds almost every day of the year. Between that and the strange supernatural creatures that were rumored to stalk the fields at night, the villagers had taken to calling it the "Lich Yard" as a joke.
It had been generations since any rich people had lived in Richyard, of course. Who in their right mind would take residence in a dreary place like that when the Village proper was a short horse ride away? There you could have sunlight, good food, good juice, and polite society all at once. The Lich Yard lacked all four.
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The people of Richyard knew to be on their guard around Donovan. The problem wasn't his lack of family, nor the fact that he mysteriously kept his face covered at all times, although they certainly didn't help his reputation. No, rumor had it the town guard had caught him stealing some half a dozen times, and he had a famous temper that he didn't care to restrain. When Donovan walked the streets, fearful mothers would corral their children and the guardsmen would instinctively reach for their scabbards.
Nobody knew where he went during the day, but he was always sure to come out at night, just as the migratory merchants and vendors went to pack away their merchandise. It is on one such night that we begin our story, because it is the night that Donovan met a young man named Luan Seatlan.
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Donovan was sixteen years old. His faded blue cloak, dyed as cheaply as possible with local ectoplasm many years back, was threadbare in spots and clumsily patched in others. Donovan himself was skin and bones, the end result of being chronically underfed. His dark eyes passed over his surroundings with quiet appraisal.
As the sun went down, the people of the village retreated to their homes, and the warmth of candlelight illuminated their windows, one by one.
He ignored his pangs of hunger. They would only distract him from his prize, whatever it may be. The least reputable merchants could be found for a few more hours or so. If he got lucky and found something worth pawning before then, he'd get to eat tonight.
He stalked the streets, eyes poring over the land before him. The Lich Yard was not a nice town, and the people knew well enough to lock up what few valuables they had. But Donovan knew his way around a basic lock or two.
One such lock restricted the doors of the local armory shop. Today was Donovan's lucky day, then. Some different thieves had broken the old lock a few days before, and the owner had stationed a pair of sellswords to guard the place while he fashioned a new one. And, lucky for Donovan, the new one was shoddy work.
The streets were empty and the shop lights extinguished, so Donovan set to work. He'd accumulated a small collection of garbage that he used as lock-picking tools, and though they were far from professional, they could get the job done in a pinch. Besides, the armorer's lock only had one tumbler in it. What was this, amateur night?
It didn't take long at all for the lock to snap open in his hands. Donovan sneered and quietly entered the shop.
The windows let in very little light from the outdoors, but Donovan knew better than to light a candle. That was a surefire way to draw attention and get caught. And despite his reputation, he did know what he was doing. He'd only been caught three times, all three under the age of 14… and all three for stealing food. He'd been let off easy by the town guard because of his age and situation, he knew that now.
He was past that point now.
Donovan navigated the armorer's storefront primarily by touch, his gloved hands skimming over the countertops with practiced grace. Some of the weapons he could tell by touch were worthless. But some of the others…
A pair of voices from outside disrupted this train of thought. The town guard. Donovan ducked to the floor, well out of sight of the windows. His heart pounded.
The voices outside passed harmlessly from one wall of the storefront to the other. And still Donovan stayed on the ground, still as a statue. He'd wait until they were out of sight, and then he would grab some of the pricier pieces and leave.
Donovan was about to breathe a sigh of relief and do exactly that when a crashing sound rang out from the other side of the store.
Donovan's eyes went wide. Someone else was here. And they'd blown his cover…
Sure enough, he heard shouting from outside. How was he going to get out of this…
"Sorry, sorry!" a voice said cheerfully. Donovan looked over to a youth roughly his age with tangled, matted hair and a mischievous grin.
Donovan shot him a death glare, but it was too dark for the youth to see.
"Who goes there?!" a voice shouted from outside.
"Look, this has all been a misunderstanding," the youth said easily. "I'm just going to--" Then the youth stepped backwards and tripped over a suit of armor. The crashing metal noise may as well have been the crash cymbal of an orchestra.
"Hey, get out and put your hands where we can see them!" A town guard said menacingly. Two silhouettes entered the dark room.
Donovan sat frozen on the floor. On the one hand, he could probably stay there on the ground and escape detection if he got lucky.
But on the other hand… there were only two guards out at the moment.
He could take two.
Donovan stood up and grabbed the first blade he saw from the storefront-- a medium-length sword that curved at the end. It would do.
He leapt from his hiding spot, darted behind guard #1, and pressed his blade to the man's throat.
"Just leave this place," Donovan whispered. The man stiffened in his grasp, probably struck with fear. Perfect.
The other guard moved to draw his weapon, but the youth from the floor swept his legs from under him with a nearby chair, knocking him to the floor. Donovan took that as his cue to leave and bolted out the door.
He heard footsteps following behind him, but instead of looking back, he darted into an alleyway.
"Hey, wait up!" a voice called. But it wasn't the voice of a town guard.
It was that kid from earlier. Donovan didn't get a good look, though. Instead, he grabbed the kid's arm and yanked him into an alleyway.
"Hey, what are you--" the kid protested, but Donovan put a finger to his scarf-covered lips. He moved a barrel out of the way, revealing a hole in the ground.
Donovan clambered in and gestured for the kid to follow, which he did, albeit uneasily.
Once secure inside the hole, Donovan moved the barrel back on top, and a pair of footsteps ran by overhead.
They were safe.
Now Donovan pulled out some flint and a small torch.
"What were you thinking?!" he yelled.
The kid looked taken aback. He was probably 15 years old, short and scrawny, with a thin, tan face and brown eyes. His dark hair was matted and tangled.
"I just… I saw you go in, and I…"
"What, you wanted me to get caught?" Donovan cut him off.
The kid looked guilty. "No, I just thought I could… help?"
Donovan eyed the kid's clothing. It was expensive looking. Leather boots, tailored pants, and was that shirt … silk? Donovan didn't know fabrics, but he knew he'd get a good price for it from the merchants, even with the road grime that had damaged it.
But he just shook his head.
"Just go home," he said, sounding frustrated. "You clearly belong somewhere. So go there and leave me alone."
The kid looked at the floor, suddenly downcast.
"I don't," he said hollowly. "Belong anywhere, I mean."
Donovan frowned, not sure whether to believe him.
The kid stared at the well of the hiding place. "My parents died a few days ago. They were pretty rich, and when they died, a bunch of family came to take over the house and stuff. They wanted me to go move to the Armor Outpost out East, but I told them that was stupid."
Donovan scowled. "So you ran away? That's way more stupid."
The kid punched the floor. "No it wasn't! They were gonna send me to live with my uncle, and he's evil! I'd rather die than live with him!"
Donovan looked away. "At least he'd probably feed you."
The kid shook his head. "My mom said never to eat anything he gives me."
"That's weird advice," Donovan said back. Sounds like a weird rich person problem.
The kid stood up proudly. "Besides, I don't need him! I'm gonna be the best knight ever, and I don't need a dumb uncle for that!"
Donovan shook his head. "Knights are the worst. You don't want to be a knight anyway. All they do is wander around on their horses and do whatever the king tells them to. They're all a bunch of jerks."
The kid frowned. "No they're not!"
Donovan raised an eyebrow. "If they're so good, then go back home and become one. See how much they like the fact you got caught stealing.
The kid had nothing to say to that.
"What was your name, anyway?" Donovan said casually.
"Luan Seatlan," the kid said with a grin.
"That's a rich person name, alright. I'm Donovan. Just… just Donovan."
Luan stood up and made a big show of bowing.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir!" he said stiffly.
Donovan laughed. Was this kid serious?
"Anyway, what is this place?" Luan asked, looking at the red brick walls around him.
"The catacombs," Donovan replied as he held the torch away from him. A deep tunnel extended into the darkness.
"A long time ago, this used to be a fancy rich person town. They made these tunnels for some reason. You can find old bones and stuff down here."
"Ew!" Luan shouted. "Like, bodies, too?"
Donovan chuckled and held the torch under his chin, casting strange flickering shadows on his covered face.
"Not just any bodies," he said ominously. "But the bodies of the undead, wandering the earth as zombies and skeletons. And sometimes ghosts, too. They say the people who die here never leave…"
Luan's eyes were wide with fear. "No, you're just making that up!" he protested, but the quiver in his voice gave him away.
"Why would I make that up?" Donovan said with an evil laugh. "You can see for yourself. Because there's something RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"
Luan shrieked and turned around. The torch light reflected eerily off a brick carving of a skull. Luan practically jumped out of his skin.
He screamed and Donovan laughed.
"That's… that's not funny!" Luan shouted while Donovan continued to laugh. "How would you like it if-- eek, it's the town guard!"
Donovan flinched in spite of himself.
"See?!" Luan accused.
"I knew you were faking it," Donovan said casually.
"Nuh-uh!" Luan shot back. "You jumped!"
"Psh," Donovan scoffed. He leaned back on the barrel he was sitting on. "I wouldn't jump. It was totally fake--AUGH"
He leaned too far and fell backwards into the brick.
Luan laughed. Donovan sat back up, rubbing his head. Then Luan's stomach grumbled, cutting the laughter short.
Donovan stared. Luan looked embarrassed.
"Not used to missing dinner, are you?" Donovan said bitterly.
Luan looked away.
Donovan sighed and stood up. "Well, I got this sword from the armorer, so I can probably sell it for some food if I'm quick. Might get us some bread at least.
"Wait…" Luan said suddenly. "I snuck these out when I left home." He opened his pockets to reveal a bag of gemstones in all kinds of brilliant colors, each the size of Donovan's thumbnail.
Donovan's eyes just about bugged out of his skull. "Where the hell did you... What?! That's more money then I've seen in my entire life!"
Luan shrugged. "This is probably enough for a loaf of bread, right?"
Donovan blinked. This kid had no idea how much he was carrying. He was gonna get chewed up and spat out by the world.
He sighed. "Luan, that's worth way more than a piece of crummy bread. You're gonna stick with me, and I'm gonna make sure you get what it's worth, ok? And in return, you're gonna cover my food for a few days."
Luan grinned. "And then when you have to steal something again, I'll go with you. We'll be partners in crime!"
Donovan laughed. This kid had a weirdly romanticized notion of what life on the streets was like. But… that was ok.
"Partners in crime," he said, smiling under his face covering. But his smile reached the corner of his eyes, and Luan saw it.