Brad and his companion, Middleton the pathfinder, embarked on their ascent to the summit of the east wing. The duo had heeded Brad's advice to pack light for their expedition, hoping to make a speedy ascent and return before sundown.
The first hour of the climb proved relatively effortless. Brad, with his innate sense of direction, seemed to navigate the rocky terrain with ease. Middleton marveled at his companion's dexterity, almost convinced that he was a seasoned mountaineer or logger who had dedicated his life to such pursuits. At each obstacle that stumped the pathfinder, the brawny warrior found a solution with little to no difficulty, forging ahead and pulling Middleton up with him.
As they reached the midpoint of the second hour, they encountered a perilous cliff edge that dropped down at least ten meters. Though there were ledges on the mountain surface that offered some purchase, the path ahead seemed treacherous and unforgiving. Middleton's pride was wounded, and he insisted on taking the lead. Unperturbed, Brad produced a sturdy rope from his pack, securing one end to a robust boulder and the other to Middleton's waist.
"As you look towards the northeast flank, can you spot the ridge bristling with thorny camelbacks, Middleton?" Brad asked the patfinder who was making final preparations for their climb.
"Affirmative, sir," replied the pathfinder.
"That's most likely where the pass we're seeking opens up."
"How can you be so certain, Sir Brad?" asked the pathfinder, unable to resist his curiosity.
"I can scent the mountain goat droppings," Brad replied with a smile.
As the pathfinder caught a glimpse of the serious expression on the knight's face, he could not dismiss the answer as a joke. Nonetheless, he gazed at the brawny warrior incredulously and then focused on his ascent, leveraging each protrusion to pull himself up. He had made a few meters of progress when Brad suddenly bellowed, "Stop, wait!"
The man, taken aback by the unexpected command, inadvertently touched the protrusion above his head, which was his next target. As the loose rock dislodged, it threw off his entire balance. Dazed and disoriented by the impact of the heavy boulder that crashed onto him, Middleton began to plummet downwards.
Brad, who was waiting, clung onto the safety rope even tighter, gritting his teeth as he strained to slow down Middleton's plummet. Without the protection of his leather gloves, his fingers would have surely blistered from the friction. Middleton barely avoided slamming into the jagged rocks below, but the rope's swing sent him careening into the mountain face at a breakneck pace. A pained groan escaped him. The worn-out rope couldn't handle the weight, snapping with a sickening crack. Another groan emanated from the pathfinder as he fell a few meters. Brad cursed himself for not inspecting the climbing rope he'd grabbed from the depot before starting the climb.
"How fare you, Middleton?" Brad hollered down from the precipice.
The pathfinder remained hidden amidst the tangle of thick underbrush and prickly shrubs.
"I'm immobile. I think my ankle... it might be shattered," Middleton replied, his words strained through gritted teeth and agonizing groans.
Brad scouted for an easier way to descend, but came up empty-handed.
"I'll cross to the other side first. The descent will be smoother from there," Brad declared, starting to climb towards the pass.
The muscular warrior had effortlessly traversed the treacherous terrain in a matter of minutes, his climbing skills surpassing even the fallen man's, almost arrogantly so.
Brad surveyed the dense thicket of shrubs enveloping him, acutely aware of how close he was to the summit. There, in the distance, stood a ruined tower atop a rocky hill, a few hundred meters away. Its crumbling walls and decaying stones hinted at a long-forgotten grandeur. The faint aroma that had lingered in the air since he had ascended from the plateau settlement seemed to emanate from the tower. As he fixated on the spot where the tower once stood tall, Brad caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure slipping into the shadows within. "Did I just imagine that?" he silently questioned himself.
"Stay put, Middleton. I'll be back shortly," Brad said, though he knew the injured pathfinder was in no condition to move.
Middleton grumbled incomprehensible words, but Brad paid him no mind. He set off at a sprint towards the tower, wary of any traps that might have been set. The passage he had crossed earlier had seemed too easy, too convenient. There was no telling what dangers lay ahead.
With each step, Brad scanned his surroundings, keeping a watchful eye out for any signs of danger. The path towards the top of the hill was overgrown with dense bushes and tangled branches that leaned towards the road. As he neared the tower, he spotted a few crude traps that had been laid out, more suited for catching small prey than an armored knight.
Despite the dangers that lay ahead, Brad pressed on, his focus sharpening with each passing moment. He was determined to uncover the secrets hidden within the tower's walls, no matter the cost.
As Brad approached the door of the ruined tower, he unsheathed his sword. The outbuildings around the tower had crumbled into rubble, but the tower's first few levels, constructed from sturdy dark-gray bricks, stood tall and steadfast. With each step toward the door, the acrid stench grew stronger, suffocating his senses. As he examined the lion-shaped door knocker on the wooden portal, Brad envisioned powerful enchanters having once inhabited this place, imbuing the door with magical snares. Slowly, he opened the door, praying that even if these traps had once existed, they had long since ceased to function. The aged door creaked as it gave way. The aspiring knight proceeded cautiously, taking stock of his surroundings.
A decrepit fireplace, abandoned and untouched for ages, loomed before him. Faded, melted paintings, their surfaces etched with claw and cut marks, hung on the walls, like ancient relics recounting a bygone battle.
The Great War of Giants and Humans. A brave human army standing against a vicious horde of rock-throwing giants, but they were not the only ones on the battlefield. Reckless dwarves charged at the giants' ankles, while sharp-eyed elves rained arrows on them from a distant hill.
Each painting depicted the same sentence: "Unity begets strength." Brad hummed the words to himself, pondering their meaning.
"Our ancestors learned through experience, yet we still struggle to comprehend what the gods desire, do we not?" The voice of a woman, with an alluring tone, echoed from the spiral staircase in the southern wing of the tower. The scent grew stronger near the entrance to the stairs, indicating that the woman was likely on the upper floor.
The aspiring knight found himself torn between racing up the stairs to find her or engaging in the conversation initiated by the mysterious woman.
"History tends to repeat itself, my lady," Brad replied.
"I like that. It seems as though I'm speaking with a wise knight, a rarity these days. Have you come in response to my call for aid?"
"Milady, I am Brad Silverhilt from the Knighthood of Illuen. I must admit I have no knowledge of any distress calls from this region," Brad introduced himself with a formal tone. "We are here to investigate a notorious group of bandits that have been causing trouble in the area. Perhaps, if it pleases you, you could provide us with some information regarding their whereabouts. And if it's not too much to ask, I would be honored to meet you in person."
"That is a reasonable request," the woman responded, her disciplined steps echoing down the wooden stairs.
As she descended, Brad gazed at her with a gentle and respectful demeanor. She had luscious shoulder-length locks of crimson curls and deep, mesmerizing emerald green eyes that shone like jewels. She was draped in a flowing cloak, uncinched in a luxurious shade of purple, with strips of mauve cascading down from the collar. The outer part of her stiff collar was adorned with intricate and powerful dark matte grey metal runes that exuded a sense of authority. Underneath her cloak, she wore a pristine white shirt, bedecked with ornate and exquisite lace, and adorned with sparkling gemstones that glinted in the light.
Her form-fitting, light brown leather pants accentuated her slender figure, and she was clad in thick-heeled, knee-high, dark brown leather boots, embroidered with intricate silver designs that shimmered in the sunlight, and clicked with every step she took.
Brad couldn't help but feel a flush of attraction and admiration for the woman in her mid-twenties. Her crooked smile revealed deep dimples on her rosy, freckled cheeks, and she radiated a confident and alluring charm that was impossible to resist.