In the following days, they continue on their path, encountering only minor inconveniences, such as a band of goblins trying to rob them. They handle these with ease, making steady progress toward their destination. They decide to split up when they are about a day away from the capital. Runner needs to report to his knight master barracks, while Talich and Zavet need to find a room to rent.

  Runner waves goodbye and tells them they will meet again one day. "But for now, I need to tell my knight master what happened and what's happening in Ffair'Fon," he says. Talich nods, knowing this was part of his master's plan, and lets Runner go. Runner takes off at a run, reaching the capital a few hours earlier than the other two.

  As Runner ventures into the vibrant capital of Tiaghaneth, he is immediately overwhelmed by the powerful aroma that fills the bustling city. Nuri'Fon, named after one of the three original dragons, sprawls out before him, its streets alive with the hustle and bustle of the people. The grand castle of the imposing queen stands proudly at the heart of the city, a clear testament to Nuri'Fon's significance in the realm.

  The streets are a maze of activity, with merchants lining the sides, each clamoring for attention. Runner navigates through the crowd, the air thick with the scents of exotic spices, freshly baked bread, and the metallic tang of worked steel. Street vendors shout their wares, displaying what they claim to be ancient artifacts adorned with the names of dragons, illustrious knights, and legendary wizards, all in an attempt to fetch high prices.

  Runner pauses occasionally to examine the goods, his eyes scanning over intricately crafted jewelry, ornate weapons, and colorful fabrics. The merchants' voices blend into a cacophony, each trying to outdo the other in their sales pitches.

  "Handcrafted by the finest artisans, sir! This sword once belonged to a dragon slayer!" one merchant exclaims, holding up a gleaming blade.

  "Ancient relics from the First Dragon War! Genuine and priceless!" another cries, waving a collection of dusty scrolls.

  Despite the chaos, Runner remains focused on his mission. He makes his way through the crowded streets, his destination clear. The knight master barracks are near the castle, and Runner knows the importance of promptly delivering his report.

  As he approaches the barracks, the marketplace noise fades, replaced by the disciplined atmosphere of the knightly quarters. Guards in shining armor stand at attention, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Runner is greeted with nods of recognition and respect as he enters the barracks.

  Inside, the barracks are a hive of activity. Knights and squires go about their duties, cleaning weapons, tending to armor, and practicing drills. Runner heads to his knight master's quarters, where he finds the master poring over maps and reports.

  "Runner," the knight master greets him, looking up from his work. "Report."

  Runner stands at attention and begins to recount the events in Ffair'Fon, detailing everything he witnessed and learned. The knight master listens intently, occasionally asking questions for clarification. When Runner finishes, the knight master nods thoughtfully.

  "Good work, Runner. This information is crucial. We must remain vigilant. You did well to return quickly."

  Runner feels pride and relief at his master's words. He is dismissed and instructed to rest and prepare for further assignments. As he leaves the knight master's quarters, Runner feels renewed purpose.

  Meanwhile, Talich and Zavet enter Nuri'Fon, marveling at the vibrant city around them. They find an inn to stay in, planning their next steps as they navigate the bustling capital. The journey has been long, but their adventure is far from over.

  Despite the prevalence of counterfeit goods, Nuri'Fon boasted potent magical items crafted by mages of unparalleled skill. Beyond its commerce, the city also captivated visitors with its culinary offerings. Renowned food stalls and taverns dotted its streets, enticing passersby with a diverse array of delectable fares. Aromas of roasted meats, spiced stews, and sweet pastries filled the air, mingling with the scents of exotic herbs and magical elixirs.

  Yet, what intrigued Runner most were the intersections where the four baronies convened. Here, amidst the delicate dance of diplomacy, trade negotiations, and the occasional duel, the baronies perpetually teetered on the precipice of conflict as they vied for dominance and power. It was a place where alliances were forged and broken, and the balance of power in Tiaghaneth was constantly in flux.

  As Runner approached the imposing walls of the queen's castle, he couldn't shake off the feeling of urgency. The barracks of his knight master, Ivan Krauss, stood nearby, a tangible reminder of the responsibilities that came with his allegiance to the Morning Glory order. The castle loomed over the city, its towers piercing the sky, symbolizing the kingdom's strength and the queen's authority.

  Upon entering the training yard, Runner spotted Ivan Krauss, a figure of authority and strict discipline. Ivan's tall, slender frame was adorned in a blue gambeson and brown trousers, starkly contrasting the colorful flowers adorning the knights of the Morning Glory. His presence commanded respect and attention, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

  In a show of respect, Runner dropped to one knee, placing a fist over his heart as he addressed his knight master. "Sir Ivan, I have returned with news from Ffair'Fon."

  Ivan turned his piercing gaze on Runner, nodding in acknowledgment. "Rise, Runner. What have you learned?"

  Runner stood and began his report, detailing the events in Ffair'Fon with precision and clarity. He spoke of the goblin skirmishes, the progress in their training, and the rumors of unrest brewing in the baronies. Ivan listened intently, his expression unreadable, occasionally nodding or asking for clarification.

  "Sir, there's also news of necromantic activities linked to Mah’nethotep," Runner added, noting the tightening of Ivan's jaw at the mention. "We've encountered signs of necromancy being used to disrupt the peace, likely orchestrated by forces loyal to Mah’nethotep."

  Ivan's eyes narrowed. "This is grave news, Runner. The resurgence of necromancy threatens the stability of our kingdom. We must be vigilant and prepare for the worst. Your information is invaluable. You've done well."

  Runner felt a surge of pride at his master's praise. "Thank you, Sir Ivan. What are your orders?"

  Ivan pondered for a moment, his eyes distant. "Rest and recuperate. Your journey has been long, and you will need strength for what lies ahead. Tomorrow, we will discuss our next course of action. The Morning Glory must be ready to act swiftly and decisively."

  Runner nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. He was dismissed with a wave of Ivan's hand, and he left the training yard, his mind racing with the implications of what he had learned and what his master had said.

  Meanwhile, Talich and Zavet entered Nuri'Fon, marveling at the vibrant city. The bustling streets, filled with merchants, artisans, and travelers, seemed to pulse with life and energy. They found an inn to stay in, a cozy place with a warm hearth and friendly staff. As they settled into their room, Talich began to plan for the coming days, knowing their journey was far from over.

  The journey had been long, but their adventure was just beginning. The capital city held many secrets and challenges; together, they would face whatever came their way.

  "Lord Ivan, I have returned with dire news," Runner announced, his voice weighted with the burden of his revelation. The training yard, usually a place of discipline and focus, seemed to hold its breath at his words.

  Ivan's response was laced with annoyance as he inquired, "Oh, only you returned?" His tone was sharp, his expression of impatience as he folded his arms over his chest.

  Unperturbed by Ivan's dismissive tone, Runner maintained his composure, standing tall despite the weariness etched into his features. "Yes, lord. Right now, I believe you should gather the barons and the queen, for the lords of necromancy have set foot in the prime. The Forgotten has fallen, and all the undead have amassed in Ffair'Fon."

  Ivan fixed Runner with a skeptical gaze, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer. "How can you still live in Ffair'Fon when necromancers have infiltrated it?" His voice was low and dangerous, dripping with doubt and suspicion.

  Frustration simmered beneath the surface as Runner retorted, his tone rising slightly with the intensity of his emotions. "They slaughtered my companions, forcing us to face one of their champions. Impressively, the champion spared my life, swayed by my skill and determination. Mah'Nethotep himself granted me mercy." He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he recalled the harrowing events. "It was not a mercy born of kindness, but of calculation. He saw something in me, something he could use."

  Ivan's eyes flickered with a mix of anger and concern. "And why should I believe this tale, Runner? Why should I trust that their power did not corrupt you?"

  Runner met Ivan's gaze unflinchingly. "Because I stand here before you, with no mark of necromancy upon me. Because I bring this warning not out of fear but out of duty to our order and kingdom. The necromancers seek to sow chaos and destruction. They aim to undermine the very fabric of our society. We must act swiftly and decisively."

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ivan's mischievous smile did little to soothe Runner's rising aggravation. "Do you truly expect me to believe such a tale? Why should I not have you executed for consorting with necromancers?"

  Runner respectfully appealed to Ivan, struggling to contain his anger, "My lord, I firmly believe that the necromancers are plotting something. If you choose to punish me for uncovering this information, I accept it. However, I have already warned others, and they will not look favorably upon your decision to silence me. The barons already view the Morning Glory as mere knights, barely outranking the town guardians—"

  Before Runner could finish, Ivan's swift kick to his chest sent him sprawling onto his back, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. As Runner attempted to rise, another brutal blow left him reeling. Ivan's fists and boots rained down on him, each strike more vicious than the last.

  "You insolent fool!" Ivan snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "You dare undermine our order? You dare to question my authority?"

  Runner's vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious, each blow sending waves of pain through his battered body. He tried to shield himself, but Ivan's relentless assault left him no respite. Blood trickled down his face, and his limbs felt like lead, barely responsive to his desperate attempts to defend himself.

  Ivan's onslaught finally ceased, leaving Runner a swollen, bloody mess on the ground. Ivan straightened, breathing heavily, and turned to address the knights in the courtyard. "Tie him to one of the wooden training dummies. Use him to teach the recruits the vital areas. Only have him healed when he faints. Continue this until the tournament starts."

  The knights moved quickly, their expressions a mix of pity and resolve as they grabbed Runner and dragged him to a training dummy. They tied him securely, ensuring he was upright and exposed. His breath came in ragged gasps, pain radiating from every part of his body.

  "Lord, the tournament is in four days. Would you like to have him taken down at night?" one of the knights asked, hesitant but dutiful.

  "Yes," Ivan replied coldly, glancing over his shoulder as he walked toward the barracks. "Bring him to his bed at night and tie him back up in the morning."

  As the day wore on, the recruits were brought to the courtyard, their eyes widening in shock at the sight of Runner tied to the dummy. Under the harsh supervision of their trainers, they were instructed to practice strikes on the vital points, and each hit elicited a muffled groan from Runner. His body, already bruised and battered, became a living target for their training.

  Runner's mind drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain blurring the edges of his awareness.

  Meanwhile, Talich and Zavet had found their way to a cozy inn, a welcome respite from their long journey. The inn's common room was filled with patrons' laughter and chatter, mugs clinking, and the mouthwatering aroma of hearty food, creating a welcoming atmosphere. They settled into their room, grateful for the warmth and comfort it provided.

  Talich spread a map on the small table, tracing their route with his finger. "We need to be cautious," he advised Zavet. This city is full of opportunities but also dangers. Stick close, and we'll navigate it together."

  Zavet nodded, absorbing his mentor's words. He felt a mix of excitement and apprehension about the days to come. The capital city held many secrets and challenges; together, they would face whatever came their way.

  As they drifted off to sleep, the day's events playing through their minds, they knew their journey was far from over. The vast and bustling city of Nuri'Fon awaited them with its intricate web of politics, commerce, and magic. Talich and Zavet knew that their presence here was just a tiny part of a much larger story unfolding in Tiaghaneth, and they were ready to play their roles in it.

  The following day, a gathering of knights encircled Runner, and among them stood Hal Perez, known as The Cleric of Morning Glory. Hal was easily recognizable with his gleaming sword and impeccably pressed tabard. Runner knew that as a cleric of the knighthood, Hal was instrumental in teaching the knights the art of healing magic. The cleric's solemn duty was to tend to the recruits' wounds and ailments during dangerous missions. With a formal bow, Hal greeted Runner, his expression betraying signs of weariness.

  "Hello, Runner," Hal began with a tired sigh. "We've managed to spare you from the punishment, but you must leave the order. Ivan insists you must align with a barony by the festival's conclusion or face the unwelcome prospect of laboring in the farms. We pleaded with Master Ivan, and this was the best compromise we could secure. However, there's a silver lining. He will grant you full knighthood if you successfully align with a barony."

  Upon hearing this, Runner lowered his head, fully aware of the daunting challenges ahead, especially considering his humble origins in Wispeineth.

  Determined to prove himself, Runner left the city to find a place to train his two-handed weapon fighting style. Before he left, he purchased an axe, camping supplies, a bow, and arrows. He traveled a few miles outside the city to find a secluded, quiet area suitable for training. There, he set up his camp and cleared out a quarter acre of land, fashioning it into a makeshift training ground.

  Runner set up multiple wooden training dummies, their crude forms standing as silent witnesses to his resolve. Hearing of his plight, some of the squires from The Morning Glory came out to help him set up. They carried wood, dug holes, and positioned the dummies, their camaraderie a comforting reminder of the brotherhood he was leaving behind.

  On the first day, a few of the squires stayed and trained with him, their presence a silent encouragement. Hal, ever supportive, brought Runner a bag of goods containing information about the plants in the area and their common uses. Runner found solace in Hal's gesture, his interest piqued by the possibilities in the realm of alchemy. He began to dabble in the art, specifically focusing on creating poisons.

  As days went by, Runner's training intensified. He practiced relentlessly, his sword becoming an extension of his will. His muscles grew stronger, and his strikes were more precise. The wooden dummies bore the brunt of his determination, splintering under the force of his blows.

  In the evenings, Runner turned his attention to alchemy. The knowledge Hal had provided proved invaluable. Runner collected herbs and plants from the surrounding area, experimenting with different combinations. He crafted poisons that could paralyze, disorient, or even kill, each concoction a testament to his growing skill.

  Runner woke up before dawn, the day before the tournament. He meticulously worked on his footwork, perfecting his upward attack, each swing of his practice weapon slicing through the early morning air with precision. The forest around him was still, the quiet only broken by the rhythmic sounds of his training.

  As he focused on his drills, the sounds of talking and footsteps reached his ears. Not recognizing the voices, Runner swiftly grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow. “Hello,” he called out, loud enough for the approaching figures to hear him.

  “Is that Runner?” a voice responded from the trees. Runner drew the bowstring tight and aimed toward the source of the voice. “Who's asking?” he demanded.

  Another voice, this one from above, answered. “It's Red, Red of the river. Do you remember me?” The runner dropped to one knee, aiming his bow upward, and saw the man with black smoke curling from his left eye sitting casually on a branch. Four other men emerged from the woods, two wielding swords and the other two armed with crossbows.

  “What brings you here, Red?” Runner asked, his voice steady.

  Red lifted his arms and fell backward off the branch, flipping midair to land gracefully on his feet. “We were just curious. Our base camp is about a ten-minute walk from here. One of our scouts reported seeing the man who killed our recruits make a camp nearby. So we came to investigate.”

  “If I am on your land, I apologize, and I will relocate,” Runner said, lowering his bow. Red shrugged and gestured for his bandits to lower their weapons. The four men complied, retreating into the forest and disappearing.

  Red turned back to Runner. “I have been watching you. I saw the way your knight order treated you. I wanted to extend an offer to you. Would you be willing to join my little band of misfits?”

  Runner rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You understand I am a knight, right? Why would I join you?”

  Red smiled and nodded. “Well, because every one of us shares a bit of history. We are all from the kingdom of Wisperneth. I ran away from the farms and found others like me, tired of being mistreated for something out of our control.”

  Runner shook his head, weary of people bringing up his past. “Look, Red, I am not interested in becoming a bandit. I have no desire to rob or kill people.”

  Red began to walk away but paused to correct Runner. “I respect your decision, but I would like to clarify something. We may seem like bandits, but we only rob and kill those who deserve it. We do our research before starting a job. That day on the road, we had just finished cleaning up a caravan we had taken out. It was full of our people. They were being taken to the farms. We enlisted them.”

  Runner looked down, remembering the encounter. “Is life on the farms truly that bad?”

  Red let out a bitter laugh and scratched his head. “We are worked to the bone, barely fed, and beaten when not performing to their standards. The farmers have their way with the women, sometimes even forcing us to watch. Once every male is old enough, they castrate them so they cannot get the women pregnant. They force the women to carry their babies to make a new generation of workers, slowly breeding out our bloodline.”

  Runner sighed in understanding. “Soldiers are given a tonic to ensure we are sterile. They only do this if we are in the kingdom. They don't care if we are outside the kingdom. It's put in our food and drinks while we train. I have seen someone react to it. The healer said it was closing up his throat. My knight master slit his throat and told us we had no choice. Castration is not an option for soldiers as it takes the fight out of them. Death or the farms are the only options for us.”

  Red spat on the ground, hearing the soldiers also had a rough time. “I hate this kingdom. I will leave you be, but I won't forget you. If you ever need something or work, I'll pay you twenty-five gold per job done.”

  Runner’s mind started racing. That was more gold than he had earned in two years in the army and three years in the knighthood. “I, uh, damn, that's a lot of gold. Do you have a job lined up now?”

  Red laughed. “Yes, I do. We need info. If you could get it for us, we will pay five on delivery and twenty when proven true.”

  Runner nodded and started digging out something to write on. Red told him, “We heard rumors of The Forgotten being destroyed. We would like to know what happened.”

  Runner recounted everything he knew, and Red paid him five gold. “In the future, if your info continues to be true and you supply it promptly, we will pay all of it upfront.” Red tossed him a magic compass. “I placed a small magnet on your sword the last time we met, and that's how I found you today.” Red picked up Runner's sword and removed the little magnet. “I will keep this magnet near the woods and our camp. If you need more work, use the compass to find us and look at the trees.” Red tossed a black cloth with a blue footprint in the center. “Welcome to The River Foot.”

  Runner looked at the favor and placed it in his pocket. When he looked up, Red was gone, leaving only a wisp of smoke. “Damn it, I did not ask him about his eye,” he muttered to himself.

  He went back to training until nightfall. The next day, he packed up his camp and traveled to the city to enter the tournament. On his way there, he picked poisonous plants and carefully coated his blade with the toxic substance. The weight of his new knowledge and alliances sat heavily on his shoulders, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.