The Castle Basset stood stalwart in the distance, it’s tower walls nearly thirty feet high.

Before it, the Count’s men were impossible to miss.

Polished plate armor gleamed in the sun as Knights and Men at arms rode along the snaking columns. There were more soldiers than I’d ever seen grouped together - even at the War Camp.

“They look like bloody peacocks,” said Kato.

As we watched one of the supply wagons hit a loose stone. It bounced, jerking sideways. One of the wheels loosened and popped off. The renegade wheel rolled towards the slope of the hill, gaining momentum and bouncing as it went.

Two foot soldiers chased after it, the furious shouts of their sergeant ringing behind them.

“I suppose we shouldn’t have bothered rushing,” said Gills, bemused. “This is quite possibly the slowest moving army I’ve ever seen.”

The Count sat astride a broad shouldered war horse outfitted in a caparison of blue and yellow. The man himself was unmistakable, in pale steel plate and a feathered helmet.

“You’d think all the Nobility are competing to see who can look the most pompous.” Said Kato as we made our way towards the column of men.

“Lord Blackthorne’s not like that,” I said. “He has a flashy sword but his armor seemed pretty plain.”

“Blackthorne’s different. He fought as a foot soldier in the front lines before his father passed away. I heard his gift didn’t even manifest until he hit level thirty. The man’s the real deal.” Said Gills. He kept tugging on Bessy’s lead, swearing when she tried to dig her heals in and resist.

“All the noise has her spooked.”

It took some time and a little bit of bribery before Bessy decided to follow us to the front of the line. One of the Knights, a man named Ser Robert met us and guided us in.

“My Lord,” he called to the Count. “These men are from the 3rd Auxiliary. They have a message for you from Lord Blackthorne.”

The Count turned his mount and trotted towards us, three mounted guards in toe. When he reached us he lifted a gauntlet to raise his visor, which got stuck halfway.

“Blast it all,” he snapped, “I can’t see in this bloody thing. What did you say Robert? These men are Messengers?”

“Soldiers, Lord. They are here to deliver a letter from Lord Blackthorne.”

“Soldier’s, eh.” The Count regarded us dubiously, or it least he tried to. He had to turn his head at an angle to see past his jammed visor.

“Very well. Deliver your message and be on your way.”

Gills stepped forward, pulling the paper from the inner pocket of his tunic and handing it over with a bow. The Count took it from him and broke the seal. It took him only a few seconds to scan the contents.

“No.” He said abruptly.

The ten of us stared. Gills licked his lips, fidgeting.

“I beg your pardon Lord?”

“You’ve come to ask for my aid on behalf of The Lord Blackthorne. You can tell him my answer is no. I’m leading my men south to drive out the Ork tribes of the burning sands. I can’t afford to spare the men. Blackthorne is on his own for this fight, I’m afraid.”

He gripped the reigns and made to turn away.

“My Lord Count,” I had stepped forward before I had time to regret my decision. It was a bad plan, but it was all I had. I took a breath and plowed ahead.

“I've heard of you," I said. "I thought a man who earned the title of Spear of the King would be someone to fear, or even admire. But now I see the rumors of your bravery are greatly exaggerated.”

Gills gasped. Ser Robert spun in his saddle, his eyes burning.

“Watch your tongue boy,” he snapped. “You stand before nobility.”

“I stand before a once great bloodline. The Bassets have long been a household name where I am from My Lord."

It was a bold faced lie, but I was committed now.

“I expected… a different man. The fault was mine.”

I saw the blow coming long before it fell but I stood my ground, allowing the Count of Basset to strike me. The force of the backhand knocked my head sideways and I tasted the salt of blood.

My cheek stung where the metal had bitten into skin.

“You speak to me like that again soldier and I will have your tongue removed with a hot iron.”

A rider stepped forward from behind him and I fought back a smile. I had read his stats only moments ago, and hoped he might intercede on my behalf.

Class: Royal Knight

Rank: Heir to Castle Basset

Level: 37

It was a gamble, but I had seen the way his son had looked at the Count as he spoke. There had been disapproval in his eyes.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Father,” he said. “The boy is a fool, but he is correct. What would be said of our household if retreated from the front lines and left our allies to fend for themselves?"

“This is no retreat.” said the Count angrily. “Castle Basset is besieged on all sides by enemies. In the Mid East the Goblin Hordes run rampant. In the south the Ork tribes ravage our lands and take our people captive. What would you have of me, Dacon? I cannot very well abandon one to favor the other.”

“No. But You’ve trained me for this all my life. I'm ready to take command of my own company. Let me take my men and ride to Blackthorne’s aid. You can spare my knights and a company of foot, at least.”

The Count considered this and I decided to make a point of studying the ground. The moments ticked by before the Count finally grunted his agreement.

“Very well. You have decided your own path. Serve our house with honor. And for Throne’s sake don’t make your mother weep.”

He turned to me.

“If my son should fall on the field of battle I will hunt you down boy, and your head will roll.”

With that he turned his horse rode away. The Heir to Castle Basset watched the Count go.

Then he turned to me.

“That was very unwise,” he said. “But it was bold. You have my respect…” he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Will my Lord. Will of Blackbriar.”

“Will of Blackbriar,” he mused. “Now that’s a name.”

The Count’s Heir was named Dacon, and he was a much different man then his father. We watched him give orders and round up his own men to march out.

“That was a fool thing to do,” growled Gill. “Next time you plan on risking the whipping post give us a heads up.”

“Leave him alone,” said Kato. “He looks green enough already.”

“Perhaps because he’s just realized that he has to keep the Count’s Son or face the headman."

They laughed and I grimaced. They were right. My little stunt might have earned us the support that Lord Blackthorne had needed, but I had also just inadvertently tied my fate to his.

If Dacon were to fall, I had no doubt the Count would make good on his promise.

A notification pinged in my vision. With trepidation I opened the Quest window.

Quest Completed

New Quest Activated: Protect the Count’s Heir

I sighed and was just about to close the window when another notification popped up.

Prerequisites almost met. 9/10 Quests completed.

I blinked. Prerequisites? Prerequisites for what?

“Will are you alright?”

“What?" I started.

"Yeah, I’m fine.” I shook my head to clear it and closed the window on my HUD.

That notification was somethign I'd never seen before but now it had me wondering. If I completed the next Quest what would happen? I supposed surviving in order meet these unknown prerequseties was the only way I was going to get my answer.

Damn cryptic system.

Bessy choose that exact moment to let out a whinny. We all looked at her.

“I think she’s getting tired of carrying all of these Monster Materials around,” said Gills. and I could use a bit of coin. How about the rest of you sorry lot?”

***

Monster Loot, it turned out, was a lucrative business. Between the spider venom, mandibles, and ropes of spider silk, the ten of us earned a respectable amount of coin.

We weren’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nice to add some silver to the copper pennies in my inventory.

More than that, It was time I bought some new gear.

Lord Dacon’s company boasted almost a hundred foot soldiers and half as many mounted men. Most of them were well equipped, and keeping a force of that size in good working order required Crafters, Smiths and Artificers to travel with the company.

I made my way through the tents until I reached the Smiths temporary set up. The man was middle aged, with a short frame and wide shoulders.

“I need a new sword,” I told him Lifting my sheathed iron sword and laying it across the table. He eyed me warily and his eyes went vacant as he checked my stats.

“Swordsmanship trait ey?” he said in approval.

“That’s good. Many soldiers don’t care to earn a trait. They just bang away and demand higher level swords without any respect for the weapon itself. Keep at it, you’ll gain mastery soon enough.”

I smiled. I had managed to Earn the bronze swordsmanship trait over the past few days of training with Kato and Draxus. It hadn’t been easy, and I was sporting some new cuts and bruises that would take time to heal, but it was well worth it. I was now considered a bronze level swordsman.

“Let’s see.” He drew the blade and examined it with a practiced eye. He clucked his tongue when he saw the nicks and scratches in the blade and shook his head when he tested the edge.

“You need to learn to care for your blade,” he said. “What you need isn’t iron, but a good steel sword and a proper whetstone.”

He stepped inside the back of his covered wagon and rummaged around a bit before emerging with a short sword.

“Try this,” he said. I took the sword and gave it an experimental swing. At his urging I dropped into a stance with a guard. He frowned.

“How do you normally fight?” he asked. “One handed or two?”

“One handed.”

He nodded and held out a hand for the sword. I handed it over and he disappeared back into the wagon. Moments later he emerged carrying a different weapon. He handed it over and urged me to draw it. The grip was made of tight brown leather and it slid smoothly from the sheath. The blade was shorter than that of a long sword but wider than I’d expected from a one handed blade.

I gave it a few cuts and thrusts and decided I liked the feel of it.

Item: Steel Bastard Sword, common. +12 damage

“I’ll take it,” I said, laying the sword down on the wooden counter top. The man beamed.

“I also need a shield,” I said. “But I’ll be low on coin after I buy my sword. Is there anything you could sell me at a premium?”

The Smith considered this for a moment.

“Depends on the size of the shield and the material it’s made of. Mm, there might be something…”

He reached beneath the counter and grunted as he hoisted a shield up and set it down.

“It’s made of wood but braced with iron. It isn’t pretty but it’ll get the job done.”

I checked the weight of the shield and nodded. The leather straps were a bit worn but over all It seemed like a good piece. It was painted black in the center and white along the edges.

“I’ll take it.”

After handing over most of my silver I made my way back to where the others sat around a fire. We were isolated form the other men but the 3rd was used to that feeling.

“Got yourself some new gear I see,” said Gills approvingly.

"I could say the same of you.”

Draxus was now wearing a brigantine and Seth had a new hauberk and coif of mail.

We were starting to look more like Soldiers and less like a rag tag group of bandits.

"Heres to hoping there is more loot to come," I said, raising my canteen.

The others raised their own, or in Draxus case the book he was reading, and we sat in companionable silence.

I pulled a few strips of dried meat from my inventory and began chewing, washing it down with sips of water.

Compared to the hot meal of the inn it wasn’t much but I wasn't complaining.

Gills sat up moments later, glancing towards the camp entrance.

There was some sort of commotion. A rider had cantered into the clearing and dismounted at a run, nearly stumbling as he fell.

“Throne man, what is it?” Asked Dacon, emerging from his tent halfway undressed.

“It’s the War camp sir.” The man came to a halt in front of the Count’s Son.

“We’ve found it.”

“Well that’s good is it not?” Dacon looked confused. “Have you sent word to Lord Blackthorne to expect us?”

“That’s just it sir,” the Messenger wiped a brow across his brow.

“The camp… it’s been abandoned.”