The banners of the Silver Company fluttered under the morning sun as Dikun Silver led his men along the well-worn road to Rattay. The capital of Lord Berrick's domain loomed ahead, its stone towers a testament to noble power. Yet Dikun felt no awe, only caution.
The weight of the summons still lingered in his thoughts. Though the villagers of Brynstead had cheered his return, whispers had already spread beyond the borders. His decisive victory over the bandits had not gone unnoticed. There would be those who questioned his motives — those who saw his rise not as a defense of the people, but as a threat.
And Lord Berrick was not a man to ignore threats.
---
A Knight's Arrival
The great gates of Rattay creaked open, revealing bustling streets and merchant stalls. Guards clad in polished steel watched from their posts, their gazes lingering on the Silver Company's arrival. Even here, their name carried weight.
"Sir Dikun Silver," a herald announced as Dikun rode beneath the towering arch. "Knight of Brynstead and Lord Protector of the Eastern Marches."
Though the title was a recent one, it was well-earned. Dikun had bled for the people of the borderlands. But titles meant little in the face of noble ambition.
Elira and Rudric flanked him, their hands never straying far from their weapons. Behind them, the Silver Company marched with quiet discipline. Among them was Gareth, his spear strapped to his back, eyes wide with the awe of a first-time visitor.
"Keep your wits about you," Dikun murmured. "Rattay is not a battlefield of steel, but of words. And words can cut deeper than any blade."
Gareth nodded firmly. Though still young, the weight of Dikun's lessons had hardened him.
---
The Court of Lord Berrick
The grand hall of Lord Berrick was a monument to the realm's wealth. Golden chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their light dancing across polished marble floors. Nobles in silk and velvet lined the chamber, their expressions a careful mix of curiosity and suspicion.
At the far end of the hall, upon an elevated dais, sat Lord Berrick himself. The lord was a man of stern features, his graying hair neatly combed back. Though his frame was not what it once was, the air of command lingered in his cold, assessing gaze.
"Dikun Silver," Lord Berrick's voice echoed through the chamber. "You return from Brynstead victorious."
"I return with the people of Brynstead free and the bandits slain," Dikun replied, his voice steady. "Their homes rebuilt, their fields replanted. That is my victory."
The words stirred murmurs among the gathered nobles. Some nodded in approval; others narrowed their eyes.
"And yet," Berrick continued, "not all see it so. There are those who question your actions. Rumors of your ambition spread. Some claim you seek more than a knight's mantle."
Dikun met the lord's gaze without faltering. "I seek only to serve the people, my lord. The Silver Company stands as their shield, nothing more."
Berrick's lips curled into a faint smile — a smile devoid of warmth. "Then prove it. The realm has need of men like you. Men of action."
A servant stepped forward, presenting a sealed scroll. Dikun accepted it, breaking the wax to reveal the contents. His eyes scanned the words, his expression unreadable.
"A task awaits you, Sir Dikun. One that will test your loyalty."
---
A Task of Shadows
Later that evening, the Silver Company gathered within their temporary quarters. The warmth of the hearth did little to dispel the tension that lingered in the air. Dikun stood before them, the parchment clutched in his hand.
"Lord Berrick has commanded us to investigate reports of unrest along the western border," Dikun said, his voice low. "A minor noble, Lord Varnel, stands accused of aiding rebel factions. If these claims are true, the consequences could spark rebellion."
"Rebellion?" Elira frowned. "And Berrick sends us? Not his own men?"
"He wants deniability," Dikun answered. "If we fail, he loses nothing. If we succeed, he claims victory without lifting a finger."
"And if we find no evidence?" Gareth asked, his brows furrowed.
Dikun's jaw tightened. "Then we tread carefully. The wrong move could ignite war. But we are not pawns in Berrick's game. We will find the truth — and we will decide what justice means."
The men exchanged solemn glances, their resolve firm.
---
The Road to Varnel's Hold
The Silver Company rode at dawn. The western roads were lined with the remnants of forgotten battles — ruined watchtowers, overgrown fortifications, and the ghosts of war. Yet it was not the past that concerned Dikun.
It was the uncertain future.
Gareth rode at his side, the young spearman's gaze unwavering. "Do you think Lord Varnel is guilty?"
"I think guilt and innocence are seldom so simple," Dikun replied. "But we will listen. And we will judge with our own eyes."
A faint smile crossed his lips. "And Gareth… you will stand at my side when that judgment comes."
The young man's chest swelled with pride, though he said nothing more.
The Silver Company pressed onward, their banners flying beneath the pale sky. Whatever awaited them at Varnel's Hold, they would face it together.
For the bonds of the Silver Company were not easily broken.
And Dikun Silver would ensure they never would be.
---
Next Chapter: The Shadow of Varnel's Hold
Dikun confronts the rumors of Lord Varnel's rebellion.
Gareth is given a choice that will test his loyalty.
A hidden conspiracy begins to unravel, threatening the stability of the realm.