The day after Sir Paulus had left, Henry and Arthur departed as well, their satchels and saddlebags packed with the essential provisions and supplies needed for the long journey ahead. The Whistling Mines were a good week's ride away, and Henry didn't want to waste any more time than was necessary to complete his first Trial.

  In the early morning of their departure, well before the sun had even risen, Henry had already packed his horse and bags, and was preparing the last of the baked bread to bring with them on their journey when Arthur at last rose from his quarters in the guest chambers.

  "You're up early," Arthur said, still bleary-eyed from sleep. He blinked and stared at the spread of dried food on the cloth Henry had placed on the table. "Breakfast already?"

  "Our provisions for the journey ahead," Henry replied. He wrapped everything up in the cloth and neatly tied it up, gingerly tucking the food sack into his bag. "I've already prepared yours. I'd like to leave before the sun comes up, if we can."

  Arthur nodded sleepily. "Hmm. Right. Of course. Can do, that." He shuffled off back to his quarters, mumbling to himself as he went.

  Henry sighed and finished his preparations, taking everything out to his waiting horse in the stables.

  When Arthur finally emerged from the manor fifteen minutes later, Henry had fetched both his horse as well as Arthur's, the mounts nickering restlessly in the morning darkness in front of the manor. The sun was still a good hour or so from rising, yet Henry was raring to go.

  "Alright, alright, keep your trousers on, will you?" Arthur grumbled. He wearily mounted his horse, his movements clumsy and slow. "I'm surprised we didn't leave before the witching hour."

  Henry shut the manor door and locked it with the ornate key Sir Gallant had entrusted to him, before slipping it into his bag. The manor was dark and silent, empty and devoid of any life; even though he and Sir Gallant had left it as such many times before when they had quested together, something about this time made it feel more... final.

  It's because Sir Gallant's not coming back. The thought flashed into his mind before he could suppress it. And frankly, you shouldn't either.

  He pushed it out of his mind; there was no time for that. After ensuring that everything was in order, he returned to his horse and mounted it, guiding the animal out of the gate at a slow and steady pace with Arthur not far behind.

  "Off we go," Arthur yawned. "On an epic quest to retrieve some rocks. Joy."

  By the time the sun had finally crept over the horizon, the pair had made decent headway, the sleepy town of Lisselton and Sir Gallant's modest estate a mere speck behind them. Aside from the occasional watchman or merchant traveling to town for the day, the roads were empty, allowing the duo a wide berth on the path; on either side of them, verdant green hills and amber fields of wheat stretched and rolled as far as the eye could see, with the intermittent tree every now and then providing a solitary landmark beside the path.

  "So, Henry," Arthur drawled, munching on an apple for breakfast as he rode beside the squire, "what's your story? How'd you come to be Sir Gallant's squire?"

  Henry looked at him. "Sir Paulus didn't tell you?"

  "No, unfortunately. Only said you were Gallant's best and brightest, that's all." Arthur shrugged. "The rest was 'impertinent to your task.'"

  "Oh. I see." Henry paused for a bit. "I... was adopted by Sir Gallant when I was about six."

  "Adopted?" Arthur raised his brow. "Your parents gave you up?"

  "No, they... they were killed during the border wars with the Empire at the time. Sir Gallant was part of the Regent Knights that drove the Imperials out of my town."

  "Oh. Oh." An awkward silence hung between them for a moment, before Arthur spoke again. "I'm sorry."

  "It's alright. You asked, and I've answered." Henry's gaze was fixed ahead, the faint memories swirling about in his head. "Sir Gallant found me in the ruins of my home, my parents still holding on to me even in death. He took me in and raised me as his own."

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Arthur nodded. "Good man, that Sir Gallant. And you've been his squire since?"

  "For as long as I can remember." Henry smiled to himself. "He already had me drilling with the longsword on my seventh birthday, horseback riding on my eighth. And the Codex, he made me start memorizing the Codex back and forth before all that." He laughed softly. "I still remember how he'd make me run a mile for every question I'd answer wrong about the Codex."

  Arthur frowned. "That's... concerning."

  "Oh, not at all! I rarely got any questions wrong, so I barely ever ran!" Henry grinned. "Thanks to him, I've memorized the Codex front and back before I was nine. Sir Gallant always made sure I kept to the Codex, no matter what."

  They crested a hill, and before them the open fields had given way to sparse woodland. Trees now dotted the landscape in clusters and bunches, not yet coalescing into forests, but a definite change of scenery from the rolling hills from before.

  "So what kind of quests have you gone on with Sir Gallant?" Arthur asked. "Surely, you've been on many?"

  "Mostly trivial or easy quests, monster slaying at the worst." Henry shrugged. "We fought trolls, ogres, wyrms, and the like. Nothing as serious as a dragon, though, not yet. The more dangerous quests, he usually did alone."

  "No dragon-slaying?" Arthur cocked his head. "A knight's archenemy is the dragon! I'm surprised you weren't launching yourself at the nearest lizard to prove your worth!"

  "I wanted to, I really did. But Sir Gallant forbade me from even looking at the manuscript for dragon-slaying. He said I wasn't ready for it yet."

  "And that stopped you?"

  Henry stopped, incredulous. "What do you mean by that?"

  "You had the chance to learn to fight dragons, and stopped because your master said no?" Arthur reiterated. He stopped his horse as well and wheeled around, facing Henry.

  "I won't break the Codex and disobey my master," Henry replied tacitly. "'A knight who breaks his oath and the law of the Codex is a rogue without honor, virtue, or discipline.'"

  "I'll assume that's from the Codex," Arthur sighed. "Look, the Codex is great and all, but there's only so far it can take you before it hinders you."

  "How can you say that?" Henry stared at him, dumbstruck. "The knight lives and breathes by the Codex! To break its law is to-"

  "Yes, yes, bring dishonor and misfortune and so on," Arthur snorted. "My point is, are you bound to the Codex, or are you shackled to it? The Codex is meant to be used to live your life, not the other way around."

  "Well, that's easy for you to say," Henry retorted. "Being a Braddock and all."

  "It helps," Arthur admitted. "But that doesn't mean you're bound where I'm not." He turned his horse back around and clicked his tongue, resuming their journey. "Let's go and find a shady spot. The sun grows hot, and I ill-mannered. A cool drink of ale will fix both."

  The first two days of their trip were relatively uneventful; by day, they rode their horses at a steady pace through the woodlands, spared from the worst of the sun thanks to the shade provided by the sparse branches from the trees. By night, they made camp off the road, enjoying a filling dinner of bread and cheese before settling in to sleep in the cool evening air.

  On the third day of their journey, as they rode through the ever-thickening forest with the midday sun veiled by thickets of branches above, a loud noise from somewhere in the forest made them freeze.

  It was faint at first, so faint Henry almost dismissed it as his imagination; but when it came a second time, the pair halted their mounts, surprised.

  It was a scream, a female one, at that. Henry instinctively drew his sword, as did Arthur; they both listened for the noise again, but there was nothing but deafening silence in turn.

  After a moment, Arthur finally spoke. "You... heard that as well, right?"

  "Yes." Henry's grip on his horse's reins tightened. "We should keep moving. These woods are seldom patrolled. We shouldn't linger."

  Arthur nodded, his sword still drawn as they rode along in silence for a few minutes. As they rounded a bend in the road, they stopped dead in their tracks at the sight before them.

  At first, Henry thought it was a pile of rubbish and clothing laid on the road, as if tossed or dropped from a passing wagon; however, as he looked closer, he could make out the shape of a figure beneath the flotsam.

  "Be on your guard," Arthur hissed, raising his sword once more. "That's a corpse. And a fresh one, it would seem."

  A chill ran down Henry's spine; he followed suit and raised his own sword as well, sweeping his gaze into the shadowy forest on either side. The once-cheery woods now felt cold and hostile, as if a million hidden eyes were trained on the pair as they inched towards the body lying on the road.

  "Watch my back," Arthur said, dismounting his horse. He crept up to the cadaver, sword at the ready.

  Henry stayed mounted and looked around, turning his head here and there. His gut was somersaulting within, his instincts screaming for him to leave the grisly scene.

  "She's dead," Arthur called out. "Knife to her throat. Whoever did this must still be nearby."

  The chill in Henry's spine turned to ice. Throughout his quests and travels with Sir Gallant, the knight had made one lesson abundantly clear to the young squire: no matter what beast nor creature they would face, none would be as unpredictable and dangerous as man. Even dragons, fearsome as they were, were predictable by nature; a man's true nature can be veiled and masked not just by the clothes and armor they wear, but by their words and expressions as well. It was a parable Henry had seen play out only too many times on his quests with the knight.

  "Bandits, I'd wager," Arthur muttered. He mounted his horse again, then clicked his tongue for it to resume the journey at a much more brisk pace. "We need to move, now. The faster we get out of these woods, the better."

  Henry followed him closely, his sword clutched tightly in his hand.