The kingdom of Nateron stood quiet and unassuming beneath a fading evening sky, the walls glinting faintly in the golden light. Standing at the main gate was a lone figure, his posture straight and unwavering as his gaze swept the horizon. This was Sir Gareth, his silhouette sharp against the evening glow, every inch the knight he had worked so hard to become.
The memories of his journey played out in his mind as he stood there, as vivid as the landscape beyond the gates. He thought back to his early days in Purewood, the humble village that had once been all he knew. Back then, he'd only dreamed of standing in a place like this, carrying a title that set him apart. From Purewood, his travels had taken him far—to the grand city of Virencia, where he'd trained, persevered, and finally earned his knighthood. He remembered the weight of the ceremonial sword placed on his shoulder, the booming voice proclaiming him "Sir Gareth," and the sense of pride swelling in his chest.
