The sun rose, spilling its light across the quaint fort of Foghaven. Ron stirred from his slumber, groggy and disoriented. A persistent knock rapped at his door, like an insistent drumbeat. He buried his head under the covers, hoping whoever it was would go away. But then a voice, a voice he knew all too well, cut through the haze.

“Brother!”

Ron groaned as he roused from his slumber, the incessant sound of her voice ringing in his ears like an alarm clock. He rubbed the bags under his eyes, a telltale sign that he had slept far later than he intended after realizing he was trapped in this place. Despite his best efforts to escape, all his attempts had proven futile. He had come to accept his fate, to make the best of it, and to focus on one thing: surviving and completing Main Quest 1.

Ron reluctantly got out of bed and trudged towards the thick oaken door, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. The lock groaned as he turned the key and pushed open the door, revealing a bright smile that could rival the sun. It was Elinor, his sister, standing there with a grin that could light up a room.

"Morning, brother," she greeted him warmly.

"You're up early," Ron said, stifling a yawn. "I haven't slept this well in ages," Elinor replied, a note of relief in her voice.

Ron felt a twinge of guilt for not being there for her, but he pushed it aside. He had promised himself that he would make it up to her.

"So what brings you here?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Elinor's smile faltered for a moment before she looked down. "I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast with me," she said softly.

Ron didn’t hesitate, nodding immediately. "Sure, why not?"

A look of pure joy lit up Elinor's face, making Ron feel a twinge of warmth in his chest. She turned and led the way down the hallway, her footsteps light and graceful. Ron followed beside her, his mind racing with thoughts of what he should do after breakfast.

As they entered the dining hall, Ron noticed that it was already bustling with activity. Knights were gathered around tables, eating and talking animatedly, while squires bustled about serving food and drinks for their seniors. Elinor led Ron to the serving line and their appearance drew eyes from most of the crowd. The sight of Elinor in here during breakfast was a normal sight, but Ron, on the other hand, was a rarity.

“Here, brother,” Elinor passed him a wooden plate, her delicate fingers gesturing towards the steaming food.

"There's plenty to choose from," she said, "but may I suggest the scrambled eggs? Madam Margery makes the most fluffy and delicious scrambled eggs you could ever eat." Her voice was smooth and honeyed, carrying a gentle lilt that spoke of her good upbringing.

Ron's stomach rumbled at the thought of warm, buttery eggs, and he eagerly grabbed a spoon to serve himself a generous portion. He loaded up his plate with a little bit of everything with half of it reserved for those perfectly grilled sausages. His eyes were blinking with delight as he couldn’t wait to have a taste of it.

Just as Ron was about to leave the serving line, the kitchen doors swung open with a loud creak. In walked Madam Margery, the main cook for the Knight’s mess hall. Her presence commanded attention, and every person in the room fell their eyes on her, greeting the cook with praises.

Elinor greeted the cook with a warm smile. "Good morning, Madam Margery," she said. "I hope you're well today."

“What’s this? Lady Elinor smiling before taking a bite of my scrambled eggs? That’s a first,” Madam Margery said. “And I reckon it has something to do with this boy here.”

Her eyes flickered over to Ron, and she arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, well," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I couldn’t believe it until I see it. To think Lord Sauron would grace his presence in this measly mess hall, and from the look of it, my lady here did well enticing you to try my food."

“It’s hard to resist when someone kept praising how delicious it was,” Ron said, grinning.

Madam Margery was caught surprised by how Ron reacted and she was quick to change. She chuckled, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Well, you won't be disappointed, my lord," she said, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "I take great care in preparing each dish, and I assure you, it's worth every bite."

“Then let’s not make me wait then,” Ron said. He smiled and took his leave, finding himself an empty seat by the window.

“He’s different,” Madam Margery said. She slightly nudged Elinor who was at her side and gave her a curious eye.

Elinor just smiled and gave her thanks to Madam Margery for the food. She found herself a seat right next to him and both dined in.

Ron took his first bite, and the taste exploded in his mouth, sending a warm feeling coursing through his body. Madam Margery was right - the eggs were fluffy and perfectly seasoned. He couldn't resist a contented sigh as he savored every bite.

“This is really good,” Ron said, glancing at Elinor.

She smiled. It was delightful for her to hear such a thing from her half-brother. She had never imagined that this day would come and deep down she was grateful for every second of it.

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As the morning meal drew to a close, the heavy wooden doors of the mess hall swung open with a resounding bang, drawing the attention of all present. A young squire, panting heavily, stumbled into the room and immediately caught the gaze of his fellow knights. Gasping for breath, he managed to steady himself before letting out a bellowing announcement.

“Goblins sighted near Thornfield!” he exclaimed, pausing only briefly to catch his breath. “Sir Yarwyck has requested an impromptu squad to investigate.”

The hall fell silent as the news sank in. Some resumed their previous activities, while others contemplated the situation in silence. The young squire was taken aback by the lack of excitement his announcement had garnered.

“Sir knights! Sir Yarwyck has given the order, if we don’t—“

“Bron!” a voice interrupted him. The owner of the voice was a knight in his late thirties, his eyes fixed on a lone figure slumped over a table in the corner.

The man, named Bron, had a wild, unkempt beard, dark circles under his eyes, and a face that looked older than his years. Slowly, he raised his head to face the speaker, still groggy from his stupor.

“You do it,” said the knight.

“Fuck you, Kegan,” Bron grumbled.

“Bron, you’ve been skipping patrols for the past few weeks,” Kegan pointed out. “The Master-at-Arms will be furious when he returns. At the very least, you can help us clear out some goblins.”

Kegan's words hit a nerve, and Bron had nothing to say in response. With a resigned sigh, he downed the rest of his drink and stood up, joining the squire at the entrance.

“Sir Bron, will you be taking on this task?” the squire asked.

Bron let out another sigh. “Get ready to depart. We leave as quickly as possible,” he said, resigned to his fate.

“Only the two of us, sir?” the squire asked, puzzled. Sir Yarwyck had ordered an entire squad, after all.

Once again, Bron let out a sigh. “Boy, two is enough for reconnaissance,” he explained wearily. “Any more than two would be—“

“Mind if I come along?” a voice interrupted from behind. Bron and the squire turned to see Ron standing there with Elinor by his side.

“Lord Sauron!” the squire exclaimed, flustered. Bron simply gazed at Ron up and down, sizing him up.

“My lord, despite the fact that we're going on a reconnaissance mission for goblins, it's still a dangerous task,” Bron cautioned, showing a bit of respect despite his lazy demeanor. As far as he knew, and as far as the other knights in the hall knew, Ron, the fourth child of the Greylock family, was not as talented as his siblings.

“I promise I won't do anything reckless,” Ron declared, raising his hand in a solemn oath.

Bron's face was etched with irritation, his displeasure apparent even in the presence of the young lord. "Are you certain about this, my lord? Unlike your usual attendants, we won't be able to serve you in the same way as your retinue," Bron grumbled.

Ron flashed a confident grin, undeterred by the older man's skepticism. "That's precisely why I want to do this, Bron. I want to see what it's like to live without my aides by my side."

The two men locked eyes in a tense moment of silent contemplation. Eventually, Bron relented with a sigh. "Very well," he conceded. Turning to the squire, he barked, "And what's your name, lad?"

"H-Horace, sir," stammered the young squire.

"Horace," repeated Bron, nodding curtly. "Take our lord here to the armory. We can't have him joining us empty-handed."

“Yes, sir,” Horace said.

“And is my lady coming also?” Bron asked.

Elinor felt the heat creeping up her neck as these three men’s eyes turned to her. Ron's quick reply, though, put her at ease. "Don't worry about Lady Elinor," Ron said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "She has her duties to attend to here in Foghaven. One baggage is enough for this mission, isn't it?"

Bron raised an eyebrow at Ron's words.

Elinor flushed slightly at the mention of her name but remained quiet. Bron gave a nod of approval, his mood seeming to improve slightly at the thought of a smaller party. "Very well, then," he said. "Let's get moving."

Bron took his leave first, and Ron felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Elinor. "I want to come along," she pleaded.

Ron shook his head firmly. "It's too dangerous, Elinor. I can't risk your safety, and don’t you have classes to go to?"

Elinor pouted, but Ron knew she understood. He promised to bring her back something nice from his journey, perhaps something glimmering that would fit with the expensive dress he promised to buy for her.

Elinor beamed at the promise and gave Ron a tight hug. "Please be careful, brother," she whispered in his ear.

Elinor parted after realizing what she did, her cheeks flushed as she didn't dare to look Ron in the eye. She had let her emotions get the better of her, and now she felt embarrassed. She stepped back, smoothing out her dress and trying to compose herself. "I'll be waiting for you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ron chuckled. “Come here,” Ron gave her a hug of his own. “We’re brother and sister. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, okay?” He looked down at his sister who was a head shorter and she nodded back with a smile.

Then a window appeared.

[Current progress: 2/5]

She was happy, and that was good.

“Should we get going?” Ron asked, looking at the awkward-standing Horace who saw and heard everything.

“Y-y-yes, my lord,” Horace said.

Horace led Ron to the armory, a vast room filled with weapons of all kinds. The young lord was awestruck by the sight of it all. The walls were lined with swords and axes, bows and arrows, and even a few pieces of siege weaponry. Ron had never seen anything like it before.

He walked over to a rack of swords and picked one up, feeling the weight of it in his hand. It was much heavier than the sword he had trained with back home, but he knew that he would need to get used to it if he was going to be a true warrior.

As he inspected the sword, Horace went to work fitting him with armor. He handed Ron a breastplate and a helmet, both made of the finest steel. Ron put them on, feeling the weight of the metal against his skin.

He was ready. He felt like a true warrior like he could take on anything that came his way. But at the same time, he was nervous. He knew that this journey would not be easy and that he would need to be prepared for whatever lay ahead.

Horace sensed his anxiety and patted him on the back. "Are the armor uncomfortable, my lord?" he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Ron said.

“Are you sure? From what I heard the armor issued to the knights is of inferior quality compared to that reserved for the Lord, his trusted aides, and family."

“Is that so?” Ron learned something new. But he guessed it wouldn’t be that bad going out for his first adventuring in the standard-issued armor.

Horace then left first as he needed to prepare provisions for the trip. It was his first time out there in the wilderness and he didn’t want to be unprepared.

Ron's grin widened as he cast a furtive glance around the empty room. He took hold of a spear and, with a flick of his wrist, the weapon vanished into thin air. Ron opened his inventory window and saw that the first two slots were already filled - the first one containing a spirit-summoning scroll and the second, the spear he had just held.

Without hesitation, he picked up another spear and repeated the same trick. The spear disappeared into thin air, and Ron's eyes darted up to the floating inventory window. He couldn't help but smile wider as he realized what he had assumed to be real. Instead of filling another slot, the second spear stacked perfectly with the first, enabling him to use his limited inventory space more efficiently.

He then surveyed the entire armory with a glint in his eyes, eager to fill up his inventory slots.