Trent was making watching the recruits' training. It had been less than a week since the Bruntworth Estate Massacre but he needed to replace the men that he had killed. He would have been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder if it wasn’t for Grand Wizard Fen.

After the event, Lord Bruntworth took the knight to see the councilman. Fen has agreed to help as a small compensation for failing to discover Candice’s plot before it occurred.

The powerful wizard took Trent into an odd room full of sigils and a bed in middle. The knight was instructed to lay on it and then Fen magically forced him to sleep.

Apparently, while he was asleep, Grand Wizard Fen did some tampering in his mind so his feelings were more neutral towards the slaughter as it was to protect his lord. The faces in his mind were blurred so he couldn’t recall cutting down his friends. Trent was told this was extremely high-level magic taught only to prodigious people

Whenever he thought of killing his own men, the memory became distorted and since it wasn’t affecting his work he began forgetting about the incident.

The group of recruits in front of him were very green. Some of the men had never held a sword before but were trying to be a private guard because it paid well. He began instructing the new hires on proper stances when one of the house’s servants interrupted him.

“Excuse me, sir, the Lord wishes to see you,” said the young man.

Trent merely nodded and pointed at an experienced guard to take charge of the recruits.

Lord Bruntworth was in sitting at the head of the table in the dining hall. A mug of ale and a plate of smoked meat were there to keep him company as he glanced over serval documents.

“My lord,” Trent cleared his throat. “What may I do for you today?”

“Please, come sit down,” smiled Ronald Bruntworth while patting the chair next to him.

Trent walked across the room and plopped down into the seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Bruntworth. “In fact, I have a gift for you.” The lord clapped his hands and doors that lead to the garden opened up. On the other side of the door was a mannequin wearing full plate armour. It looked like it was made of steel with gold trimming.

“Ronald,” the knight was almost speechless. “I can’t accept that.”

“You can and you will,” insisted Ronald. “You saved my life and you are a dear friend. Also if memory serves me well, your birthday is in a few days.”

“I... I..,” stuttered the knight. “Thank you, my friend.”

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“That’s more like it,” chuckled the slightly plump lord. “Of course I’m increasing your pay as well so your family can have a nicer life. That is what friends are for after all.” Bruntworth downed his drink and called for two more. “Now tell me, how are the new recruits doing?”

“It’s going to be a long time before they can replace the men we lost. They are all very new to the ways of combat, never held a sword in their lives.”

A stein of ale was placed in front of Trent. He took a few gulps before continuing. “We should have tried to hire that group led by Gene. He was a capable fighter and so were the rest. Most of them even used restrain against our guards, reducing the casualties.”

“That would have been nice but by the time we went to summon them to the estate, Ken said they had already left town.” Ronald had a somber expression on his face. “I wanted to thank them or repay them but was unable to. I’m sure they will be back though. Tormumd has some great resources that I’m sure they will need one day. Hopefully, at that time, they will stop by to say hello.”

The knight chugged the rest of his drink, “Well, I better get back to the recruits.”

“After you put on your new armour,” said Lord Bruntworth. “I can order you to do put it on if that will make you feel less guilty.”

“Alright,” sighed Trent. “Just give me a moment to change.” Trent went towards a spare bedroom to change.

In the bedroom, he stripped off his light armour and stared at himself in a mirror. His torso and arms should have been riddled with scars but because his wounds were treated quickly thanks to the gnomish cleric from the Jellybeans, his skin healed quickly and without flaws.

His chest was firm and well developed which only accented his well-defined abdominal muscles. He was paying the most attention to his right arm. It was thick from years of training and swinging his greatsword but during the massacre a large majority of its muscles were slashed open, forcing him to swing the heavy blade one-handed. Yet divine healing magic made it possible for him to gain full functionality of it overnight.

While Trent was inspecting his body, somebody knocked on the door. He opened the door and saw a young male servant standing there holding a neat pile of clothes.

“The lord thought that some fresh undergarments would be required for your new look,” said the young man. His eyes never met with Trent’s as he held the clothing out.

“Thanks,” snorted the knight. He disliked all the extra effort his lord and friend was doing. Trent had done his duty and didn’t feel like he needed all the extra praise for keeping his promise. Besides, if it wasn’t for the Jellybeans intervening then he would have been a mindless puppet as Ronald's guts were ripped out by his wife.

That was the part that ate at him the most. Candice had taken over his mind and outsiders had to bring him back. He punched his old armour out of frustration and fury.

Trent wished that he could give all the credit to the Jellybeans but people only remember Trent cutting down other mind-controlled men. Everyone seemed to forget that they were also good men that became victims and casualties against their will. They weren’t these villainous traitors that a lot of Tormund believed they were.

Of course, the truth was told to the public but the truth got twisted and contorted until it became the version they spread around. The only saving grace was the other men’s names were never mentioned and their families knew the truth. Lord Bruntworth has also seen to it that those families were provided for under his care for the next two generations.

While lost in his thoughts, Trent had finished donning his new armour. It was a nice fit and gave him a dominating presence. He felt more confident wearing it and even thought he looked a bit more handsome. His wife would definitely approve and his two sons would be amazed. Trent placed his old attire into a neat pile so that it would be easy to clean and then left the room to see his friend.

When he entered the dining hall, Ronald had a panicked look on his face. “What’s wrong,” demanded Trent.

Lord Bruntworth turned to face Trent. All the colour was drained from his jolly face making sickly and ghost-like. “She’s gone!” Ronald’s scream took all his energy away and he slumped back into his chair trying to regain his breath.

“What do you mean,” asked Trent confused. “Who is gone?”

“Ca.. Candice” stammered Bruntworth. “She escaped from her prison.”

“What?!” Trent ran out of the dining hall into the main foyer.

“Get every man here now! I don’t care how experienced! This is an emergency!” The knight yelled his orders to every person that could hear him. Many maids and servants scrambled to follow his orders.

He turned back into the dining hall to talk to the lord before the men arrived. “I will make sure no harm befalls you, my lord.”

“Trent, please don’t let her kill anyone else. I can’t bear the guilt of sending more young men to their grave because of me. I know it’s a lot to ask but save everyone.”

With a nod, Trent stormed out of the room. He was determined to fulfill the request no matter what.

“Messenger!” A young woman appeared before Trent. “Send word to my family. A crisis has happened and I shall not be home for a few days.”

After sending his family peace of mind, the head guard turned to all of the men waiting for him. “Candice Bruntworth has escaped prison, as of this moment, no one gets in or out of the estate without my permission! Now, I will instruct you all on what you’ll be doing for the next few days!"