Mid-autumn had arrived, a time of neither biting cold nor warmth, but with each passing day, the winds grew harsher, turning the leaves of the trees a deep yellow hue, warning of the coming winter.
That evening, Brad and Ismeth had made their way to the Southern Outpost and spent the night in the cramped dormitory. While waiting to appear before the captain the next morning, they surveyed the compound.
The outpost was surrounded by imposing walls made of dark gray brick that towered three meters high. Spear-tipped iron bars, most of them rusted, adorned the top of the walls as a warning to any would-be intruders. The campus consisted of six main buildings, including a grand three-story main building, a two-story dormitory that could accommodate up to fifty people, two warehouses, and two barns. With the exception of the stables, all the exterior bricks of the buildings were made of dark gray granite stone hewn from the Charlatan Mountains. Unfortunately, the training and shooting ranges were in a state of severe disrepair.
Brad had stopped by the warehouse in hopes of finding a pair of chain-mail gloves but had returned empty-handed. With the tacit permission of the slumbering warehouse supervisor sergeant, they had ventured inside and found that most of the warehouse was empty, save for some withered food and moth-eaten clothing.
The two were summoned by Captain Byron Stonecold, and they hurried to the main building. The captain's office was on the second floor, in the largest room with cracked plaster walls. The captain was gazing at the Charlatan Mountains across the wide window, and there was a weak fire burning in the fireplace. Scrolls and reports were piled up everywhere, from the desk to the cabinets, and even above the bed. The captain's aide let Brad and Ismeth in, and they approached the shabby carpet in the middle of the room.
The captain gestured for them to stop, and after a few moments of silence that made Ismeth nervous, the captain spoke, still looking outward. "It's not that I didn't enjoy what you did last night. I will not deny that. In fact, you attacked them, according to Corbin. I don't care what that jackal said. I'll be ready to hear your story and your defense shortly, candidates. But first, I must ask you something. Your mission officially began this morning. Why did you not come straight to the station? What business did you have with dwarves and halflings? Why did you go to the inn after that? That's the detail that really intrigues me."
Brad took a step forward, but Ismeth interrupted. "Ismeth Crimsongale, sir. We did not go directly to separate the two parties' fight, sir. Only, sir, since the order given to us stated that urgent reinforcement was requested, we thought we would check if there was an incident happening at that moment, and also to see if the knights were there. Then the two groups began to argue heatedly. We intervened as a matter of urgency. When we asked why they were arguing, both sides claimed that they had been swindled by a man named Corbin who did not refund their money. When we went to the inn and asked about Corbin, the sleaze bucket pulled a knife directly on us and attacked with his friends. You know the rest, sir. Brad suggested that we go to the station first, but I insisted, sir."
"Brad Silverhit, is it all true?"
"Partly true, sir. I convinced Ismeth to join me in checking out the inn after we were told about a problem by the dwarves and halflings. As for the fight, sir..." Brad trailed off as the captain lifted his hand to silence him.
"Enough," the captain said sharply. "Your report should reflect the facts as you've stated them. Keep it concise, and leave the rest to us. But if you undertake any more unsanctioned raids, I'll have you crawling on your hands and knees. Understood?"
The two candidates nodded in unison, their faces solemn.
The captain continued, "The Southern Outpost, or 'Knight Damn,' as some call it, is a wretched place. We're understaffed and underfunded. You'll be helping with the renovations for the time being. During the day, explore the city and meet the townspeople, but do not venture out at night. Remember, you're still candidates. Any off-duty fights could spell the end of your careers. Be cautious and move deliberately. A fast horse can tire quickly. If you want to climb the ranks, avoid making any costly mistakes. That's all for now. Now go find Sergeant Henderson. He'll tell you what to do."
The two young men saluted and left the captain's office.
Brad descended the stairs and asked, "Why did you interrupt, Ismeth?"
Ismeth replied, "Oh, come on Brad. Is that even a question? I've been accustomed to nosy inquiries since I was a child. Twisting and spinning stories is my specialty. While you protect us in this wild environment, I'll shield us from the superiors. Do we have a deal?"
"So be it," Brad said, shrugging.
Ismeth had already realized that Brad was inherently incapable of lying. Matters such as fabricating covers were not for Brad, who preferred a straightforward approach.
Sergeant Henderson, a bald man with a large belly and a red machete mustache, assigned the duo to the construction business. They were given the task of maintaining all the walls. Scouting the area, they discovered broken bricks and holes the size of rabbit burrows that required repair throughout the station.
"We're screwed, Brad. What do we know about constructing walls?" Ismeth exclaimed.
"You're partly right, Ismeth. Even if we locate granite stones, transporting and processing them will be challenging. If we use makeshift mortar, it will undoubtedly crumble by spring. They've been using that approach for some time now," Brad replied.
"They botched it," Ismeth said, laughing heartily.
After assessing the damage and making some minor repairs, Brad and Ismeth received permission to purchase materials and explore the area, and so they set out for the Burrow. Their first stop was the spot where they had encountered the dwarf and halfling party. To their surprise, the dwarves were still waiting for permission to enter the city fair and had yet to receive any response to their complaints about the paperwork. Brad promised to do his best to assist them, then they moved on to the halflings on the east flank. The poor folk were still struggling to retrieve their cars from the swamp and voiced their grievances to the duo. Brad offered reassurance, telling them that he had a solution in mind and would return soon to help.
Exhausted and famished, the two decided to find an inn to satisfy their hunger. They glanced at the Stony-Broke Inn, but the rundown establishment was clearly not an option after the last night. Riding around for a while, they settled on the Charlatan's Inn, located on the north side of the mountains and half an hour's ride away. Carved into the natural structure of the mountains, the inn boasted a dimly lit interior illuminated by candles in natural niches on the wall. It was a popular stopping point for convoys heading north, bustling with activity but safe due to the presence of two full-time guards who resembled imposing half-giants. The guards, standing over seven feet tall, eyed Brad and Ismeth with a hint of discontent, but Ismeth greeted them warmly nonetheless.
"Brad, I believe these men hail from Dunhar. Just look at their towering size, they are the spawn of the blessed giant ancestors. You oversized minions of Demian," Ismeth whispered with disdain.
Brad didn't respond, for it was an obvious conclusion.
During the Great Drought, nearly one hundred and fifty years ago, many barbarian tribes from the north migrated to the Illuthar Continent from the Dunhar Continent. After that, Athelllas Adhellen, the last king of the Althar Kingdom, along with most of his descendants, perished from the Great Plague. Legend has it that the king's final words, spoken in his speech to the Northern lords gathered in the Valley of the Kings before his death, were cursed by the three great gods. Barnachia city remained cursed for nearly a century until the One Command Empire, also known as the Three Kings period, began. It lasted about fifteen years until Illuen D'Harven, one of the three kings, expelled the other two and established the United Kingdom of Illuthia.
"I'm quite satiated, Ismeth. How about you?" Ismeth asked, taking a sip of his beer after finishing his rabbit stew.
Brad nodded in agreement as he finished his pork chop and scanned the surroundings.
"The complaints of those dwarves and halflings caught my attention, Ismeth. We should address these issues," Brad said.
"Indeed, our primary concern should be the renovation, Brad," Ismeth replied.
"Every problem requires attention, Ismeth. We must understand the environment to solve the issues effectively," Brad said thoughtfully.
"Then let's expand our circle of allies, Brad," Ismeth said, standing up.
Brad trudged along behind his partner, a sense of reluctance gnawing at his gut. Ismeth led them toward a table at which three dwarves, their clothes and beards coated in dust, sat drinking ale. As Ismeth approached, he gracefully bowed and placed his right hand on his chest, a gesture of respect that the other men mirrored.
"Good fortune to you, fellow miners. Is this a break from labor?" Ismeth inquired, his words carrying a hint of formality.
"Aye, we've been toiling hard and could use some rest and merriment," responded a dwarf with a black beard that contrasted starkly with the snowy white of his hair. Thick waves cascaded from beneath his cap to his broad shoulders. "I am Charagast. These are my companions, Blimestone and Panderthor. And our assistant, Camill Berthans."
"Ismeth Crimsongale of the Illuen Knight. This is my partner, Brad Silverhilt. We're newcomers to these parts and thought it wise to meet our brethren in the mines and share a drink," Ismeth said with a genial smile.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, knights. Come, sit with us," said Charagast, gesturing to the empty chairs around the table.
As they took their seats, Ismeth leaned forward, his tone now earnest. "We are eager to learn about your endeavors. Are you mining granite? Any troubles besetting you?"
"Aye, granite is our business. It's easy enough for us dwarves to extract it from the earth, but transporting it is another matter," replied Charagast.
"What obstacles do you face?" asked Brad, his voice laced with concern.
"Bandits and highwaymen lurk along the roads, preying on those who pass by. Your organization offers us little protection, and thus our expenses rise," Blimestone interjected, his expression darkening.
"You'll outlive me, brother Blimestone," Ismeth said with a wry smile. "But we came here with the intention of aiding our mining brethren. We wondered how we might be of assistance."
"What sort of help could you offer?" asked Panderthor, eyeing the knights with suspicion.
Drawing nearer to the dwarves, Ismeth's expression grew serious. "Brad and I are part of a special team, devoted to ensuring the safety of travelers along the roads. We identify potential threats and devise swift solutions for any dangers we encounter."
The dwarves exchanged looks of uncertainty. The knights appeared strong and able, but what could two individuals achieve?
"Allow me to elaborate, dear dwarven brothers," Ismeth continued after a brief pause. "You'll guide us through your preferred routes, and I'll inform the commander. The two of us shall accompany your cargo through any hazardous regions. But there's a condition."
"What might that be?" inquired Charagast, his curiosity piqued.
"You'll provide us with granite blocks to aid in our station's renovations. As cut bricks, nothing too extravagant. And perhaps you might send a skilled stonemason as well," Ismeth said with a grin.
The dwarves murmured amongst themselves, their beards twitching with suspicion. Ismeth, the self-assured knight, let out a hearty laugh that echoed through the cavernous chamber.
"Aye, it seems we can cooperate," Charagast said, "but I fear our party may need stronger protection. No offense intended, my stout knight."
""Now you have broken my heart, Charagast. Have you not seen Brad? A warrior of formidable strength, I assure thee. Together, we shall make a fearsome duo." replied Ismeth, his voice tinged with conviction.
Charagast scrutinized Brad with a discerning eye. "Well, he's a sturdy fellow, I'll grant ye that."
"Aye, and more than that," Ismeth continued. "Observe those two figures lurking in the shadows, disguised as half-giants."
Charagast peered into the gloom and spied the looming silhouettes of two hulking brutes. "Brothers Char and Dhar, they call themselves. What of them?"
"Brad could defeat them both in combat, single-handedly," Ismeth declared with a smirk.
"Ye exaggerate, brother knight," Charagast protested. "Char and Dhar are the mightiest men I've ever seen. They could crush a boulder with their bare hands."
But Brad, the stoic warrior, had heard enough. He cleared his throat with a warning rumble. Ismeth caught his eye and winked in response.
"Alas, we knights have sworn oaths that forbid us from fighting for sport," Ismeth said with a sly grin. "But fear not, my dwarven friend. I have an idea that may put thy doubts to rest."