text: "Fine," you grunt. "I'll do it myself." Of course Bertrand can't get them out of here. They're the king's men with an order to get you, not some con man looking to sell you cheap wares at an inflated price. He's never had to do this to someone who has good reason to come in, and it scares him. You understand, somewhat.
  
  For the first time in ages, you leave the master bedroom and walk the halls of your manor, Bertrand following after you. It's been well kept by your servants, for the odd occasion that someone comes to visit. The fine paintings adorning the walls are flawless and their frames clean of dust, the walls are painted a regal blue, and lanterns hung on the ceiling keep the place well lit.
  
  You walk out to the courtyard to greet the king's men. A lone tree sits in the center of the courtyard on a circular patch of grass, surrounded by a cobblestone path. A series of bushes encompass the manor itself, giving the entire courtyard a reserved, tidy appearance. The knights are sitting in wait and look up when you approach. One stands and walks over to you.
  
  He removes his helmet, revealing a youthful yet stern face. His sandy blond hair is cut short, and his green eyes burn a hole into your own grey ones. He gives you a salute, then speaks, "Good day, Sir Kit. I am Miller, of the Gold Hawk Knights. We've come here to take you with us to Castle Oren."
  > considering it, you sigh and nod. "Fine. I'll go with you to Castle Oren."
  Miller smiles at you, nodding at your answer. "I'm glad to hear it, sir. Go, gather your things and we'll head straight for Castle Oren." You nod at his request, quickly heading back inside and packing what you need. You make sure to grab your sword as well, as you know you'll need it.
  
  When you exit the manor, you and the three Gold Hawk Knights enter their wagon and begin the ride to Castle Oren. You end up having to stop for the night, but in the morning you continue on to finish the last stretch. You arrive at Castle Oren around lunch time. The castle is large and imposing, made of stone that has gathered a fair bit of moss over the years. It was built a thousand years before your time, and still stands after all this time with only minor renovations to keep it up. A town surrounds the castle, full of shops and inns and homes and other assorted buildings. People mill about, paying you no mind as the wagon rolls up to the castle gates.
  
  The guards there stand at attention, waiting for you to make a move. Miller nods to them, and they move to open up the gates. The wagon rides into the castle ground proper. Inside the castle grounds, the knights park their wagon and you all hop off. Miller stands beside you. "When can I see the King?" you ask.
  
  "Come along, I'll take you to him." Miller walks away. You follow closely behind, examining the castle grounds. The courtyard leading into the castle is home to many trees and flowers, a few of which you've never even seen. The King's gardeners must take their work very seriously.
  
  You head into the castle proper, in an entrance hall that doubles as a throne room. The King is nowhere in sight, and Miller continues on past the throne and to a door not far from it. As you step into the room, you see a man in fine clothing sitting at a desk. The desk houses a golden crown. The King is around his mid thirties, though the wrinkles in his face and the gray streaking his hair indicates a man at least a decade older.
  
  "Your highness. Sir Kit has arrived," Miller says. The King looks up from his writing at you, and gives a faint smile. He waves Miller off, and the young knight departs from the room.
  
  "Sir Kit. It is an honor to finally meet you." The King stands from the desk and approaches you. He's only a bit shorter than you, impressive considering your bulky stature, though his posture and build indicates he's never been a fight before. He sticks out a hand for you to shake, which you do.
  
  "The honor is all mine, your highness," you say, though rather half-heartedly.
  
  The King laughs. "Let's skip the formalities. Call me Walter. We're not here to discuss something officially." His face darkens. "I called you here because I need someone to weaken the Kishak Empire, so that my army can strike the final blow against them."
  
  "I see."
  
  "I need someone who doesn't mind getting their hands dirty, Sir Kit. I need a warrior such as you. I take it whatever you face on this mission will be enough for you to handle, and I'll be sending you backup anyhow."
  
  "What's this mission you're sending me on?"
  
  "My spies in Kishak have uncovered the location of the Empire's supply cache: in the heart of their capital city. If you can destroy the supply cache, there goes all of the Kishak army's food, weapons, and gunpowder. They'd be running on what they have left, and soon enough that would run out and my men would be able to drive them back."
  
  "... This sounds like a suicide mission."
  
  The King nods slowly. "Perhaps. But if you manage to see this mission through, the war will be won by next year. Would you not want to see an end to this war that has claimed so many lives? An end to a war your grandfathers would have fought in, and your grandchildren will fight in if it doesn't end?"
  
  You shake your head, chuckling. "You're wrong there. My grandfathers were simple farmers, and I don't have children. This war means nothing to me."
  
  "Maybe it doesn't. But think of the millions of lives that have been lost to it, and the millions of lives you will save by ending it."
  
  You sigh. At the very least, this is something to do.
  
  "Fine. Let's get prepped for this suicide mission."
  > continue
  You spend the rest of the day in the castle, resting up and mentally preparing yourself for your mission. The King's servants bring you whatever you wish, and in this case, it's more alcohol so you can psych yourself up. Liquid courage and all that. By nightfall, you're as drunk as can be, staring silently at a wall as you usually do.
  "Stop doing this."
  "Well what do you want me to do?" you mumble, replying to no one.
  "Anything else."
  A chuckle escapes your lips. "Really? I guess you'd prefer me going on a drunken rampage and slaughtering all the guards."
  "That's not what I meant, Kit."
  "Then what did you mean?"
  "I meant you need to stop drinking. It's not doing you any good."
  "Of course it's not doing me any good if I'm having a conversation with myself."
  "You know who I am."
  "Quit lying. You're just a figment of my imagination I start hearing when I get too wasted."
  "Please, Kit. For me."
  "Buzz off." You throw the empty bottle of wine in your hand at the wall, then crawl into bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and you need your sleep.
  
  In the morning, you're woken up by a knock on your door. You get up, groaning slightly, and head for it. When you open it, Miller stands before you. "The King sent me to wake you. We're leaving today."
  
  "We?" you ask.
  
  "He asked me to accompany you, along with a mage in our military. A small enough team to get behind Kishak lines unnoticed, and hopefully enough to provide backup should you need it."
  
  You nod, heading to the dresser to grab some clothes. Miller turns away so you can get dressed, yet you still speak to him. "So what are you going to bring to the table?" you ask as you slide into a pair of breeches.
  
  "I was knighted at twenty-one, the youngest man to be knighted... Aside from yourself, of course. For the past seven years I have served the Royal Family, and have led many knights to victory against Kishak forces."
  
  "Hrm. How good are you with a sword?" You put on your boots and pick out a shirt.
  
  "I've never lost a one-on-one sword fight, sir. I have also managed to take down ten men at once with only minor injuries."
  
  "This bodes well then." You finish your ensemble by sliding on a tunic. "Alright then. Let's get going." Miller turns to face you then nods. He allows you to grab your sword and hook it onto your back, then leads you to where you'll depart.
  
  You head through several hallways before Miller stops in front of a bookcase. He taps on it once, pauses, taps twice, pauses, taps once, pauses, then taps three ties in quick succession. The bookcase opens slowly, and he leads you through a secret passage. A whistle escapes your lips. "How fancy."
  
  "Indeed."
  
  Miller continues leading you through the tunnel for what seems like half an hour before you come out the other side. You're in a clearing, about a mile out from the Castle, where a wagon and two people wait for you. You're not far from Kishak now, only a few more miles until the border.
  
  One of the two people, a woman about a year younger than Miller, steps forward. She eyes you up and down, and looks unimpressed. "This is the legendary hero who saved our city? He looks like a drunk and smells like one too." You give her a quick glare.
  
  "Hold your tongue, Iris. If it weren't for this man, we wouldn't be here talking today," the other person says, an older man who is checking the horses. You shift your glare to him. It wasn't just you.
  
  "Please. This man had backup even then. Did you only hear the children's tales, Oliver?" the woman, Iris, asks. "If it weren't for his friends, I'm sure he'd have died not far into his journey." Well, at least she has her facts straight.
  
  "Both of you, shut your damn mouths," you say, stepping forward. "Whatever your thoughts on me are, I'm the real deal, and we're here to finish a war." You turn to the man, Oliver. "I assume you're our driver?"
  
  "Aye, I am. I'll take you as far as the border. There, you'll be on your own. Kishak's capital, Ornislov, is only a couple miles out. You should reach there in no time if you stay off the roads and don't stop for anything."
  
  "Right," you nod. You head towards the wagon, motioning for Miller and Iris to follow you. "Come on. Don't have all day." You climb into back, and they follow. After a moment, the wagon begins moving towards the border. You stay silent for a moment, assessing Iris, before speaking up. "I did this with Miller so you should be no different: what are you bringing to the table?"
  
  Iris scoffs. "I spent my whole life training at the Academy in Loren. I enlisted with the military when I came of age, and I've seen my fair share of battles. I can also speak fluent Kishak, so if you need a translation just ask me."
  
  "That'll come in handy. How quick are you at casting?"
  
  "I can get a fireball off before you can blink."
  
  "Good enough for me." You pause, then consider something. "How'd you know about my friends? There's not exactly much documentation on the real story."
  
  "You five passed through Loren twenty years ago, right? You helped the Academy secure a magical artifact while you were in the area."
  
  "... Yeah, we were. What about it?"
  
  "I was there. I was about seven at the time, and got to meet one of your friends. The mage woman."
  
  Your face darkens. "Is that so?"
  
  "Yeah. She was nice. Told me about the quest you all were on, even gave me pointers on how to be a good mage." A faint smile appears on Iris' face as she recalls your friend, Grace. "Even told me not to fall for some jarheaded fighter boy. I think it's obvious who she was talking about." Her smile shifts to a frown. "A shame what happened to her... I know I was being rude, but I want you to know that I am sorry for your lo-"
  
  "Can it. I don't want your sympathy."
  
  Iris glares at you, before shaking her head slightly and averting her gaze. The rest of the ride is silent, and before long the wagon stops. Oliver's voice pipes up from the front, "There's a gap here between the outposts. If you keep pushing through the fields you should reach some woods, head through there and just keep going forward. Eventually, you'll get to Ornislov."
  
  "Right," you say, climbing out of the wagon. Miller and Iris join you, and you see the wagon off as Oliver turns it around and begins driving back.
  
  You're beginning the march to the forest when Miller stops you. "I know a way to Ornislov that's faster, and bypasses the forest. However, it's much riskier and involves traveling out in the open. If we're lucky we'll get there much quicker."
  
  You consider it. Miller warns that it's risky, but you're used to high risks. Maybe this path is worth a try?
  > say "Fine, let's take your path. Be ready to fight, just in case."
  Miller nods, then takes the lead. He begins heading southeast instead of the east you were expecting. "If keep heading this way, then go around the forest and keep heading east, we'll get to Ornislov faster. I know a way in."
  
  You quirk an eyebrow. "You know a way in?"
  
  Miller nods solemnly. "I was sent there on a covert mission a few months. It's how we found out about the supply cache. Most of my team died, but I managed to escape." You nod at Miller's response, and continue following him. The sun is high in the sky, and on the horizon you can see Kishak troops marching. They wouldn't be able to spot you from here, but still, Miller gets down low. You and Iris follow his lead.
  
  "Keep low, stick to the tall grass. If we're quiet enough, they won't stop us," Miller warns, then continues walking slowly. The process continues on, and after what feels like hours but must have been only ten minutes or so, the Kishak soldiers are long gone. Your team releases a collective sigh of relief and stands, continuing on at a much faster pace...
  
  ... That is, until a bolt flies into your shoulder. You shout a curse in pain, then dive straight for the ground. Your companions follow suit. "Are you okay, Sir Kit?" Miller hisses urgently. You wave him off, then grip the bolt. You pull it out, slowly to ensure you don't tear any muscles, and let out a sigh of relief when it's out.
  
  Iris scowls. "Great thinking, Miller. You've just gotten us all killed."
  
  "Damn it, keep quiet!" Miller hisses.
  
  "Both of you, shut up and let me think," you say. There's two options here: you can either run for the woods, exposing yourselves for a bit before getting to adequate cover, or you can sneak forward and attempt to take out the archer. Either way, you're putting great risk on you and your team.
  > run for the woods, it's the only way to ensure your safety.
  "We run for the woods and don't fucking stop. You two hear me?" you ask. Miller and Iris nod, rather hesitantly. "Alright. Good. Wait for my mark..." You peek your head up slowly, above the tall grass. The lone archer kneels on the road, about forty yards away, and watches slowly. You wait until he's looking away from your current position, then nod. "Now!"
  
  The three of you pull yourselves up and begin running for the woods. A few bolts fly past you, but none manage to hit you. You keep running, until you hear a shout behind you. Whipping around quickly, you see a bolt has managed to catch Iris right in the back, and she's fallen to the ground. "Go, dammit!" she shouts, pulling herself along. "I'll be fine!"
  
  "Don't you die on me!" Miller shouts, and moves to help her up. He gets a bolt through the neck for his troubles, and collapses to the ground. With no other options, you continue sprinting to the woods as fast as you can. You hear a shout from Iris, presumably having another bolt hit her, then another which is cut short.
  
  Your companions are dead. Again. And this time, it really is your fault. You suddenly find yourself stopping in place, no far from the edge of the woods. This bastard took out both of your allies just as you were beginning your quest. And by God, there's no way you're going to let him get away with it.
  
  You unhook your sword from its chain on your back, and with a primal yell rush his position. Bolts fly your way, but it doesn't matter. He's going to die. Maybe you will, too, but his head will roll before yours does.
  
  You raise your sword to deflect any bolts coming your way, and before long you're right up in his face. He fires a bolt which hits your gut, but doesn't have time to reload as you slam your sword into his shoulder, cleaving him in half. That takes care of that.
  
  You drop to your knees and pull the bolt out of your stomach with a grunt of pain. The sounds of many men running hits your ears, and you turn your head to see the soldiers from before marching right for you. A ferocious grin spreads across your face. This is one way to go out, at least.
  
  You raise your sword and meet their charge head on.
  
  THE END