Hector of house Aeronwen, a knight of the Order of Oswald and faithful servant of King Ulric III, Queen Amelia had a reputation of acting unknightly.

Hector wondered what could have given people such impression, even after three years spent as a squire since the age of 10, then five years as a ranger apprentice, and an official knight of the Order for the last two. He came to the conclusion that rumours have their mysterious ways, then resumed tasting the meat stew he had been laboring over since five in the morning. The aroma soothed his puzzled mind, then it journeyed all the way out of the kitchen’s window, on the way seduced the noses of hungry knights passing by.

“Could be better,” he whispered to the stew whose sleepy victims were dragging their feet like stew hungry zombies into the kitchen. Noticing the horde, he then shooed loudly with the ladle waving like a war club, “away! This is meant for someone else. You go to the army chefs or starve. Now make way!”

With the pot in hands, he marched out the door, and the horde divided at once. It was the combination of the bubbling pot and Hector himself. He stood tall, his white as snow hair almost brushed the door frame. From up there, he gave them a mean look. Then out he paced across the yard. After arriving at the infirmary's door, he nudged it open.

Inside beds lined up along the long walls. This Infirmary could house fifty or so people at full capacity, and wasn’t the only one in this massive stronghold. Right now, however, only two beds were occupied.

The merrier one had a girl sitting with the patient. Eva, his childhood friend, was replacing the bandage of the one on the bed

Carefully placing the pot on a three-legged stool, Hector greeted his friends, “How’s Roland doing? Up to eating solid food yet?”

“I still have all my teeth!” the patient protested, then to demonstrate the truth: he bared all his possibly visible teeth.

“Right you do,” said Hector flatly, all the while putting stew in a bowl received from Eva. “When I came here last night, you were having this sorrowful look on, so miserable I swore your teeth had gone for good. Here, Eva, make sure he eats it all and leaves no leftover. And hey, pretty leaf!”

Eva received the bowl and compliment with a relaxed smile.

“Thanks! Roland bought it for me yesterday. It’s where his bonus went,” the sweet smile withered slightly as she recalled the memory of, "then he proceeded to get wasted like this."

The hairpin in the shape of a white leaf did go nicely with the autumn color of her hair. Though Hector couldn’t imagine the girl would get too excited over such accessories if it wasn’t a present from Roland.

Eva continued, “well, you know I prefer it simple. I like my hair short in the first place for convenience sake. Small accessories don’t really get in the way though.”

Considerate as always.

“You eat too,” said Hector and filled another bowl with stew while Eva starting to feed Roland. Having a girl caring for you sure is nice, he thought. A nice thought as it was, yet Hector had the feeling he would be the one doing the caring instead.

“How did it happen?” asked he, “what he was blabbering last night doesn’t make a proper explanation.”

“The bastard got my arms first,” Roland spoke instead, “If he hadn’t… Holy hell, did you cook the King’s pet pig or something!”

“The King has a pet pig? And no. It’s only a boar tender in there. I gave the depot officer hell to pick out the best one. Woke him in the dead of the night. ,” giving up on the young knight, Hector turned to Eva, “A cave raid, I heard?”

“It was,” answered Eva, whose eyes for a moment went grim, “An unplanned surprise from a demon in the cave. One more was lurking way deep in, I don’t think that one had noticed us yet at the time. Kroger dealt both final blows.”

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“Now that is something expected,” Hector exclaimed. Then up he went and carried an already prepared third bow to the next bed.

There lay a man seemingly as tall as Hector was, but more stocky than lean. The way he was lying, his back was against the three friends, not turning even as Hector approached.

“Sir Kroger. You do need for food, I trust,” began Hector hopefully, “for a quick recovering.”

Although the man only replied with a grunt, he did turn around to face Hector. A red mane covered his head and around his face. He seemed annoyed.

“Like hell the food I need is yours, bastard. Leave me to myself. I will eat when I can get this body to go hunting.”

As expected of Sir Kroger. The man who prefered dried food over fresh; ascetic meal over lavish. He lived a soldier's life, hunted his own food and seldom cared for a better meal. A hardened man indeed.

“Stop looking at me with those eyes, bastard!” Sir Kroger snarled with disgust, “you send shivers down my spine the way demons could not. Just give me some of that and be done with it!”

Hector obediently handed the bow over and settled eagerly on a nearby bed, waiting for the tough-looking man to have the first taste.

“It’s alright, you hear me? But why is the samosa crushed.”

“I wanted to distil the taste,” Hector answered, unconsciously shifted in his seat.

“The whole point of samosa is for its magical restoration to the flesh, you idiot, what’s the point in crushing it and have all the healing effects burned away in the boiled water?

“Really, I thought it would be better crushed...”

“I will have to teach you all about it later, fool,” Sir Kroger barked an insult. In spite of it all, the man emptied the bowl before returning to his rest.

Collecting the bowl, Hector returned to his friend, who had now finished their owns.

“You know good old Kroger,” said Hector, “always grumpy. But deep down, such a kind heart he has.”

“I can hear your slander,” from the bed over Sir Kroger did not stay silent.

Before Hector could get any more detail about the incident from which two of the strongest vanguards in this stronghold suffered injuries. Two men entered the infirmary, looking for someone – Hector. They wore matching sets of armors, on each was a sigil of a round moon among stars, the symbol the Order of Oswald. More interestingly, they had almost the same face. The Falhecain twins.

“Duty calls,” one of them, the elder perhaps, said flatly, “I thought to remind you two.”

The two mentioned obviously didn’t include the injured ones.

Only Hector rose. Still sitting on the bed, Eva rejected their reminder, “I have permission from captain Sullivan to attend to the injured people.”

“What royalty cause,” the younger one of the twins spoke through his teeth, “more so than slaying demons.”

“And for that,” Hector interfered, he knew Eva never liked the twins, while Roland already struggling to sit up with his broken arms, no doubt trying to give them a piece of his mind, “us alone suffice. The captain awaits, and I must change to my armor. Can we go?”

Needless to say, both of the Falhecains, being senior knights, didn’t fancy being told off. But the mention of their captain’s name hurried them to their feet. Captain Sullivan was much like Sir Kroger, only without the kind heart.

“Then I shall be off,” Hector said after the twins had left.

“I don’t envy getting to team up with those people,” said Eva, “and then there was that business about the cambions…”

“Neither do I yours. I’d rather babysit the twins and those demons than keeping Roland still for a day.”

“Slay some in my honor, will you,” said Roland, then in a quick turn of mood typical of him, the young man said his serious parting, “and keep yourself safe. Stay alive.”

This time, those words lingered heavily on Hector's heart as he left the infirmary. Make all the jest you want, or making fun of demons, but death is a hair away when fighting the nefarious creatures. Hector didn’t know how many times he had thanked the Sun after learning that his friends were still alive after their disastrous raid last night. Eva was a childhood friend of his, whom he cared for dearly like a sibling. While Roland was, well, Roland: the guy was as great a friend as you could get.

And then there was this business with the Cambion…

He had never encountered those Cambions before. They were not so rare to be the stuff of legends. But most people live their entire life never meet one. And among the knights, only a rare few had, but they are few indeed. And most are tight lips about such encounters for whatever reason.

He expected them to be dangerous.