Stepping precariously through the muddied ground of the temporary military camp, set up by Sir Vermund and Sir Searmundr, Ethelston remembered why he disliked spending time in them. The stale smell of body odour and horse manure was in stark contrast to that of the brothel he had spent the night before.

Silk dresses and feather beds were now replaced by weeks in leather armour and beds of straw. The thought made him shudder; hopefully, the pay would be worth the sacrifice.

As he entered the camp, Ethelston studied the twenty troops practising various drills in preparation for their engagement against the mythical beast, the Manticore.

He watched as they thrust their two-metre-long spears in between their tightly knit shield walls. They lowered their shields after an intense drill and Ethelston felt some regret knowing that most of these men, the oldest only around twenty winters, would not be returning home. He could not question their abilities as foot soldiers it was apparent they were trained for fighting in a battle, but their disciplined structure, excellent timing and coordinated efforts would be useless against the unpredictability of the beast known as the Manticore.

Dismounting from his horse, he guided it towards the biggest tent in the centre of the camp. Ethelston then studied the six other mercenaries Mutt had managed to unearth. Despite them all being hired to work together, even at a distance their tremendous levels of distrust and resentment were evident. These types of mercenaries were always capable of functioning as individuals, rarely as an effective cohort.

One or two of them noticed Ethelston casually walking past. He could feel their glaring eyes studying him, trying to work out his strengths and weaknesses and whether he was a man to stick close to or the very definition of Manticore fodder. As he returned their gaze, Ethelston knew that by the end of the day, he would undoubtedly have some allies and some enemies.

Among the group sat two archers. One held a composite bow, rarely seen in the Isovine or Ruvian Empires, the archer must have travelled from the east, close to the Sea of Sorrows. He had heard rumours of some of the archers from that region, how they could sit on horseback and easily hit targets from one hundred yards away. Her smooth muscular olive-tanned toned body made her look like a goddess and extremely valuable within a fight, yet her dark mysterious eyes drew Ethelston's attention instantly toward them.

Whether he wanted to investigate her personally or not, was irrelevant, she looked like an efficient killer, and for that reason, Ethelston knew that she was essential to being an ally.

All thoughts of the dark-skinned Artemis flitted away as soon as he reached the tent and spotted the bright curly hair of the enthusiastic Mutt. Now that the day was much brighter than the tavern and Ethelston was proceeding further into a state of soberness, he only just noticed how freckled the young squire was. As his smile lit up his face, the darkened spots pronounced themselves like tiny little islands on a sea of pale flesh.

"Ethelston, you came!" Mutt bounced as he watched Ethelston tie up his horse on the fence rail. "I wasn't sure if you'd remember our conversation."

"Bianca has ways of making you remember things," Ethelston chuckled.

Mutt guided Ethelston past two sentries and into the tent where the two knights stood discussing tactics and examining maps. Neither stirred as Mutt and Ethelston stood waiting to be spoken to.

This wasn't Ethelston's first encounter with nobles; they were deliberately making them wait as a way to solidify their need to establish superiority.

While they discussed among themselves it gave Ethelston a chance to study them.

Smells of lavender and lemon strongly scented the tent, designed to mask the fragrant smells within the rest of the camp.

The tent was well laid out, with servants attending to their tasks throughout the room. There was no jewellery or coins on display, but carefully hidden in the back of the room, at least two large oak chests were barely visible. They were indeed not short of wealth, and this trip, if successful, would likely be very lucrative.

Mutt was true to his word.

Eventually, Ethelston studied the men themselves. Both men were battle-hardened and stern. This was not their first adventure, and given the meticulous planning they were undertaking, they were hoping it would not be their last.

That was the first sign of danger; it would mean that the mercenaries to be hired were Manticore fodder. A chill ran up Ethelston's spine as he realised that he was expendable.

However, this was not the first time in his life!

Eventually, after a few minutes of discussing absolutely nothing of importance, they slowly raised their heads.

The elder knight, a man exceeding his fortieth winter, turned to Mutt. His stern round face seemed to glare at the young squire as he prepared to speak, yet the knight's mouth, hidden behind his bushy greying beard and his kind brown eyes, appeared to quiver in satisfaction toward's Mutt's initiative.

"Mutt, please introduce us."

Rocking back and forth on his feet, Mutt could not hold back his enthusiasm to deliver his introductions, "My Lords, may I present Ethelston. Ethelston may I present Sir Vermund, son of Vermund, twenty-first count of Oakfort, Knight of the Isovine Empire and Sir Searmundr, son of Dorvald, heir of Kiteborough, Knight of the Isovine Empire."

"That was a mouthful." Ethelston retorted, knowing it would likely irritate the two nobles.

While Mutt chuckled at his response, the silence and look of disdain from the two nobles appeared that they did not share his amusement.

The sharp blue eyes from the towering figure of Sir Searmundr appeared to look at Ethelston with utter disgust. "Another mercenary?" he scoffed, turning away impetuously to grab a half-drunken goblet.

"Ethelston, is it?" Sir Vermund asked, reacting in a much calmer way than his compatriot. "I'm assuming my squire has informed you of our task?" He commented with an air of authority around him.

Ethelston nodded. "Aye, and I have to say that I don't think you are very well prepared for it," he replied nonchalantly.

Sir Searmundr smashed his goblet down the echo cracking through the atmosphere like smashing glass, "The insolence."

Ethelston struggled to hide a childish smile that crept onto his face. It appeared that irritating this knight was an effortless task, one which Ethelston planned to abuse at every opportunity.

Sir Vermund raised his hand before his compatriot's temper escalated further. He studied Ethelston with a fierceness in his eyes before replying, "Explain." Sir Vermund demanded.

Ethelston smiled at Sir Searmundr, deliberately antagonising him further. "You see, my Lord, I've never encountered a Manticore, but I have heard rumours of it's ferocity. Body of a lion, tail of a scorpion, wings of an oversized bat, not exactly something I would take lightly. Your soldiers practice a shield wall designed for fighting an enemy in formation on the ground, but I've never known a flying beast to advance directly at you, and I have seen a normal lion on a hunt. They tend to stalk their prey and attack from a direction and time that is generally unexpected. You have two archers, and only half the mercenaries appear to have any pike type weapons, which are needed for keeping the beast under control. Based on this, I'd say this adventure is a fool's errand."

"Hah!" Scoffed Sir Searmundr. "You need not concern yourself with tactics, mercenary; your betters have that in hand." He retorted with his trunked-like arms folded.

Sir Vermund raised his hand, which immediately silenced his compatriot. He carefully walked around the table and stood face-to-face with Ethelston. "Your appearance is familiar to me Ethelston, have we met before?"

For the first time since their encounter, Ethelston was at a disadvantage. "No, my Lord, I do not believe so," he replied, almost stuttering

A small smile appeared behind Sir Vermund's bushy beard. "Strange, despite your obvious disapproval for the nobility that resides in this room, you have the features and demeanours of one of noble birth."

Ethelston did not respond initially. He watched as Sir Vermund studied him before looking towards the disgusted Sir Searmundr. "You must be mistaken, my Lord; however, I believe nobility stems from the heart, not from birthright."

"Hah!" Sir Vermund laughed before returning to the table. "There is some truth in what you say; there is also an element of treason."

Ethelston knew not to push any more; Sir Vermund had laid his point across clearly.

"We shall take your advice under consideration," Sir Vermund commented flippantly.

"To hell, I will!" exclaimed Sir Searmundr his whitened face gradually turning various shades of red.

Ethelston smiled, displaying his set of perfect white teeth. Turning to Sir Searmundr, he taunted, "I would advise against ignoring experience and reacting in a way similar to that of a child."

Like a serpent, Sir Searmundr grabbed his goblet and hurled it venomously across the table. The crash of the goblet as it clattered into armour positioned at the side of the tent caused Mutt to unceremoniously jump on the spot.

"How dare you talk to me in such a manner?" Sir Searmundr spat toward the grinning mercenary, "I demand that I get the satisfaction to avenge the taint on my honour."

The exasperated sigh from Sir Vermund caused Ethelston to turn directly toward the elder knight's frown. "Sir Searmundr, I believe this is not the time or the place for such irrational behaviour."

The blonde-haired knight turned to his compatriot, his eyes full of rage. "Every mercenary should prove themselves before they can be a part of this hunt, then let this vermin prove himself against me!"

If the first sigh hadn't been obvious, Sir Vermund's second sigh seemed to reverberate around the tent. "So be it, Ethelston, you have been challenged to single combat by Sir Searmundr, do you accept?"

"With pleasure," Ethelston replied, his eyes focused solely toward the rage of the towering knight.

As Ethelston turned briskly toward the exit, Mutt quickly attempted to follow his stride. Almost breaking into a small jog to keep up with Ethelston, he said "I've seen Sir Searmundr fight, he's scarily strong and has a temper like no other. I once saw him break a man's neck with his bare arms."

Ethelston chuckled as he stepped out of the tent, "He'll be on his back in under ten seconds."

"My Lo... Ethelston, please be careful, Sir Searmundr will try to kill you as retribution for your words."

Ethelston instantly stopped before turning to his new young compatriot. He smiled as the worried blue eyes of the freckled young man looked up toward him. Carefully placing his arm on Mutt's shoulder, he replied, "I thank you for your concern, young Mutt, yet, it is misplaced. A man in rage is a dangerous foe, but a foolish one. Watch and learn, study my stance, my movements, my eyes, and watch as serenity overcomes rage for a calm focused fighter is a man I greatly fear far more than a man of considerable strength."

Absorbing his words, Mutt's fear appeared to instantly disappear, instead, it was replaced with a huge welcoming babyish smile. "That I will, Ethelston."

It didn't take long for the other soldiers and mercenaries to gather together to watch the duel. It took even less time for one of them to assume the role of a bookie and organise bets for the bout between their patron and the new enigmatic traveller.

Grabbing a Zweihandler sword, Sir Searmundr grabbed it with both hands and started to swing it effortlessly around his body. The knight, donning full armour, displayed his skill with his sword, and the impressive strength that he had to use it as if it was an extension of his body. His movements appeared precise and calculated but also arrogant and impatient.

As the soldiers and mercenaries formed a ring around them, Ethelston spotted the dark-skinned archer and immediately winked toward her provocatively. He knew that it was unlikely that she would take the gesture with grace, but as he turned back toward his target, Sir Searmundr had seen the exchange, which appeared to enrage him even more.

Ethelston smiled as he watched the huge knight get drawn into his trap like a fly to honey. It was all too easy

He stood stationary, occasionally stretching his fingers and flexing his wrists but ultimately waiting for Sir Searmundr to make a move. Spreading his feet apart, he turned slightly away from his aggressor, preparing for the moment the huge man would strike.

As a huge cheer went up, Sir Searmundr lunged forward like a raging bull, as the almost man-sized sword sliced toward the marauding mercenary, Ethelston spun forward effortlessly, rolling underneath the assault, before regaining his stance as the knight stumbled forward from the missed strike.

Ethelston refused to reach for the two swords strapped to his back, instead, he once again returned to his calm but aware posture.

This appeared to infuriate Sir Searmundr further. Despite his size, he nimbly launched himself at Ethelston once more, cleaving toward Ethelston, forgetting that this was a non-lethal duel. Ethelston side-stepped, narrowly avoiding the large blade desperate for his blood and spinning inside his enemy effortlessly he grabbed ahold of the much large man before throwing him over his shoulder.

Sir Searmundr was left stunned by the speed and ferocity of the counterattack and his wide eyes were left alarmed as he hurtled toward the muddy ground. Faceplanting into the mud, he quickly attempted to restore his senses. Realising his sword had left his grip, Sir Searmundr turned, searching for the large blade, but as he did, he felt cold steel press against his neck and a tremendous cheer echo throughout the makeshift arena.

The duel was over far quicker than anyone anticipated, and the outcome was unexpected, but the thrill of Ethelston's skill and showmanship, along with the gratification of Sir Searmundr's complete and humiliating defeat had left nearly everyone celebrating wildly.

Ethelston returned his sword to its place behind his back and extended his arm to pick up the fallen warrior.

With a hiss, Sir Searmundr slapped the gesture away, forcing himself to his feet. His angry muddied face glared toward Ethelston, but as he saw Sir Vermund slowly shaking his head, he took a step back before bulldozing his way past Ethelston and the crowd to make the long shameful walk back to his tent.

It didn't take long before many of the soldiers came to congratulate the newest member of their cohort, but before Ethelston was to be smothered by those eager to call him friend, he took a quick glance toward Sir Vermund. Relief flushed over him as he saw the older man nod in acknowledgement, and pride flushed over him as he saw a wry smile briefly appear underneath Sir Vermund's beard.

Mutt ran up to Ethelston and greeted him with a huge grin. "I knew you could fight, knew it when I first saw you."

Ethelston smiled at the enthusiastic squire. "Aye, boy, knew it you did."

"Will you be riding with us for the Manticore? Sir Searmundr says it's going to be a hard battle and that I should remain close to him," Mutt explained.

Ethelston looked down toward the young squire. Not only had he expertly defeated a knight of the Isovine Empire, but he had been accepted by his peers and was now preparing to begin his most exciting adventure to date. Yet as he looked toward the young man's eyes, the eagerness that he showed and the youthfulness that he displayed, for the first time that Ethelston could remember, he felt compelled to think other than himself and his adventure.

Ethelston looked towards the tent and then back at Mutt. "I will ride with you, that is for certain. And boy, one word of advice for when we engage the Manticore."

"What's that?" Mutt asked, bright-eyed and full of wonder.

"Stay away from Sir Searmundr. I've fought with knights of his kind before. There reputation and their glory is of their only concern. If it is to his advantage, he will sacrifice you at the earliest opportunity. Stick with me, young Mutt, and your chances of survival increase greatly."