After having travelled the rest of the day, the group had finally set up camp.

They had managed to buy enough horses for everyone at the farms near Nehrfelt. Although Enorwin had discovered that the Servants of Darfith had robbed him while he had been unconscious, he had promised all the farmers a huge amount of money on his word of honour as a prince and a knight. Arwund had no idea how much money that prince's family possessed, but it was probably a ridiculous sum. Unless Enorwin wasn't actually going to pay them, of course; the farmers would never have dared to defy the orders of a prince anyway. Would Enorwin be prepared to deceive innocent people like that?

They had rushed through the land, travelling so fast that it was hard to even talk to one another. Not that many people had something to say.

And now, they all sat around the campfire, eating the food they had bought from the farmers. No-one seemed very willing to speak, and so the rogue thought through the day.

There was an image he kept seeing over and over again in his mind. At some point, not so far away from Nehrfelt, they had overtaken a cart. At first, they had not been able to determine its contents, but as they had approached it, they had discovered the gruesome truth: human corpses, covered in bright red sores, had been piled up on it. All victims of dragon's fever.

And no-one could do anything.

Where were the nobles? Why weren't they evacuating villages? Why weren't they addressing the people, telling them not to give up hope? Why weren't they providing the ill with food, which all those people undoubtedly needed if they were to survive?

He felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: anger at all this injustice. He was sincerely angry and he honestly pitied all those innocent victims.

He caught sight of Carlard. Was all this unfairness, all this cruelty perhaps the reason why he and Joandrey had joined the Servants of Darfith? Did they believe that Darfith would bring positive change to Garowain?

Suddenly, Enorwin looked up. "There's something I have to say," he said, his face stern.

What now? Arwund thought to himself, slightly annoyed.

"I am extremely displeased with your behaviour," the prince said. "It turns out that our dear friend Maréin," - he looked at the wanderer - "has allowed someone to join us who was originally tasked to hunt us down. Now this isn't the only thing that's happened in the past few days. The only person here who has ever respected my authority is Bedreigh. For the rest, Arwund mocks me at every chance he gets. Maréin seems to think he's the one in charge, when he is obviously not. And Vaciana even intended to kill us."

"And your point is...?" Arwund asked.

Enorwin looked at him, his eyes blazing in a warning. "My point is that my patience is running out. I have had enough of your mockery, your disrespect, your insubordination. So let me make this quite clear. From now on, everyone present here will do as I say. You will address me by my proper title, which would be 'Sir Enorwin' or 'my lord'. You will not reveal our intentions and our discoveries to anyone except with my express permission. If you do not follow these orders, there will be consequences when we come back. Keep that in mind."

Silence fell over the group. Arwund closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply.

It was as if a fire flared up inside him. That prince spoke of disrespect. Disrespect! Arwund wondered who was actually disrespectful here.

He knew that what he was about to do was risky. He was aware of Enorwin's power. But someone had to do it.

Arwund Marholdson clenched his dragon pendant, as if to imbue him with the courage he needed. And then he said, clearly, "No."

Enorwin looked at him in shock. "No?" he repeated.

Arwund looked him in the eye. "No. I will not obey your every word. I don't care about your titles. What did you do to deserve them? Did you feed the poor? Did you defend the oppressed? Did you do anything at all for the victims of dragon's fever?" He scoffed. "No. While Maréin here was showing compassion to a man whose wife may be dying right now, all you did was interrupt and hurriedly ask what we were going to do next."

Enorwin got up. "Is this an accusation?"

Arwund stood up as well. "You bet it's an accusation. And I've got more."

"You have no right to speak to me like this!" Enorwin yelled.

"Don't I?" Arwund asked. "And you do? You accuse me of theft, but aren't you the one who lives of food produced by hardworking, but hungry peasants? You call me a burglar, but aren't you the one who sends people to visit those peasants' farms and claim their harvest?"

"Your image of this system is completely wrong, Arwund!" Enorwin said. "We imitate the knights!"

"Knights, knights, what an empty term that is," Arwund said. "To you, chivalry is nothing but going on quests to gain some fair damsel's hand in marriage, nothing but competing in tournaments. The concept has been drained of all notions of goodness and kindness by you people. What happened to defending the weak? What happened to aiding the poor? What happened to standing up for the people instead of looking down on them?"

"Do not lecture me on chivalry, you draconic human!" Enorwin said. "Now sit down, shut up or I'll make sure you'll regret the day you were born!"

Arwund smiled joylessly. "You think I never have yet? My parents left me in an orphanage for some unexplained reason. However, when it turned out that I had draconic blood, a local blacksmith was asked to take care of me. He would force me to breathe fire in order to power his smithy until I would pass out from exhaustion. I ran away when I was twelve, doubting everything I'd ever been taught, unsure if there really was any hope left in the world at all. And I still doubt it. Do you really think I have never regretted the day of my birth?"

He heard some of the people around the fire let out a shocked gasp at those words.

"Punish me if you like," Arwund said. "Maybe I deserve it. Maybe not. But before you turn me in to your father, I suggest you take a good look at yourself first. No, not at yourself. Take a good look at the peasants working on the fields of the Flaming Lands. And then ask yourself whether you have really been a good ruler to them. Ask yourself what you would do if dragon's fever broke out in your father's lands. Would you stay inside your castle and leave the peasants to die, preferring to save your own skin? Or would you do whatever you could to help the ill and prevent further spread of the disease?"

It was silent once again. The only sound they heard was the crackling of the campfire.

It was Carlard who broke the silence. "Are you quite finished with the rhetoric?" he asked, not even caring to look up.

"Quiet, you," Enorwin said. "Be glad we even allowed you to travel with us. We could have left you with the Servants."

"To be completely fair," Maréin said, "I've been told that was Bedreigh's decision, not yours."

"Well, I could have prevented it!" Enorwin yelled. "And to be perfectly honest, I find myself wishing I had!"

"Well, why don't you send me away, then?" Carlard asked, completely calm.

"Because everyone else here seems to like you so much, after you've shot us and sent an assassin after us!" Enorwin spat. He turned his back to the others and walked away. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Wake me when you need me to keep watch."

Arwund sat down again and watched him walk away. "Talking to him feels like talking to a wall sometimes," he said.

"I know the feeling," Maréin said quietly. "I had a friend once. He turned against me. No matter how much I tried to talk to him, it was as if he didn't hear me at all."

"The frustrating thing is that unlike your friend, Enorwin is actually going to be in charge someday," Arwund said. "At this rate, I'm afraid the situation in the Flaming Lands will never improve." He sighed. "I'm going to sleep," he said. "Maréin, can you and Vaciana keep the first watch?"

"As for me, sure," Maréin said. Vaciana nodded.

"Great," Arwund said, "I'm feeling very tired all of a sudden. Good night."

"Good night," a few of the people by the fire responded.

He walked away, feeling strangely disappointed. If only Enorwin could see...

————————————

Carlard, Joandrey and Bedreigh had left soon after Arwund, leaving Maréin and Vaciana behind. They now sat by the fire in silence, sharing the warmth of Maréin's cloak.

"Who was that friend you mentioned?" Vaciana asked suddenly.

Maréin looked at her for a brief moment, and then he shifted his gaze back to the flames. His mind wandered to the great dragons of yore. How majestic they had been, how fierce...

"His name was Rociane," he said. "He was a knight, just like me. And like me, he was dedicated to helping people out. He was a member of the Middle Order, one of the three Great Orders. It was a group of knights - including some of the first human knights - who were focused on defending the weak. This didn't necessarily involve violence, though. Rociane, however, gradually shifted more and more to the violent side of the Middle Order, and many members liked his ideas. The Middle Order became more and more violent after that, and after a while, this led to the start of the Draconic Wars."

"How, then?" Vaciana asked.

Maréin's expression saddened. "Somehow, Rociane became convinced that the dragons were responsible for all suffering in Garowain."

"Wait a minute," Vaciana said. "Are you saying the dragons were... good?"

"No more good or evil than humans," Maréin said. "Don't think that in war, any side is ever completely right or completely wrong. There are always some among every group who want to do what's right. The problem is that often, they're convinced that fighting for their side is the right thing to do. And quite often, it's easier not to look at both sides of the story and just do as you're told. But personally, I think the key to peace is just that - looking at both sides, trying to understand why other people do what they do, and not judging people just like that."

Vaciana chuckled. "You know, I've heard so many stories about you, but they never mention what a pacifist you are. It's so ironic."

"Which just goes to prove that you shouldn't judge people too quickly, I guess," Maréin said.

"Looking at both sides of the story isn't always that simple," Vaciana said quietly. "There are some people... some people I'll never understand. Some people I don't think I can ever forgive."

"Such as?"

"Enracio, the man who put down the Southern Rebellion," Vaciana said. "Officially, it would be Sid Enracio, but I don't think he deserves a knightly title like that. He knew that my family has kept safe a lot of scientific knowledge for years, so he kidnapped me. And then..." She looked away. "Then he interrogated me. He hoped to gain the knowledge he needed to design a weapon. A weapon so powerful it would be able to destroy all the rebels in only a few uses. And when I wouldn't talk, he resorted to different measures." She swallowed at the memory.

Maréin let out a shocked gasp. "That's... that's terrible," he mumbled. Kidnapping people, trying to abuse the lore of the Martalón family to create a weapon of mass destruction, and worse... all those things were wrong in every aspect.

"I still have nightmares about it sometimes," Vaciana said. "I wish I could let it go, but I... I can't..." Her voice was hoarse. A single tear rolled down her cheek, reflecting the light of the fire.

Wordlessly, Maréin pulled her against him. She rested her head against his chest, letting her tears flow freely.

————————————

"Carlard, please, lie still for once," Joandrey grunted, pulling her blanket over her ear in a futile attempt to block out the rustling. Why had she decided to sleep in the same tent as he again? Oh yes, they had made her. Too dangerous to let her sleep in the same tent as one of them.

"The thing is," Carlard said, "that I have a plan, which I can't wait to execute."

Joandrey turned over to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "You're actually excited about something? I didn't think you had it in you."

Carlard sat up on his bedroll. "The key is the necklace, Joandrey."

"You mean Arwund's?"

"Of course," Carlard said. "Who else here is wearing a necklace like that without even realising it?"

"What do you want to do with it now?" Joandrey asked, unable to prevent her scepticism from being heard.

"The same as before, actually," Carlard said, "the difference being that this time, I won't be serving Darfith while I have the necklace. I intend to... speed up the process."

Joandrey found herself unable to suppress a chuckle. "You're seriously planning to kill Darfith?"

"I understand your doubts, Joandrey," Carlard said. "In fact, I wholeheartedly agree with them. Which is precisely why I'm not under the illusion that I'll be able to kill Darfith myself." He nodded at the opening of their tent. "With a bit of luck, the others will do it for me. And once Darfith is dead, I'll make my move. And I'll use the necklace so that everyone will know who I supposedly am."

Joandrey nodded. "It could work," she admitted, "it could definitely work." She laughed. "You're awful."

"Well, if Arwund doesn't realise what he is wearing around his neck so casually, what's there to stop me?" Carlard said, letting himself drop back on his bedroll. "After all, someone will have to take that responsibility. And as long as he isn't aware of the fact that he has that responsibility, I'm afraid someone else will have to take it."

"Oh, yes, what a wise and sensible man you are," Joandrey teased. "Anyway, if you want to put a plan like that into practice, I suggest you get some sleep. And let me have some sleep, too." And with those words, she turned over and closed her eyes.

————————————

As Enorwin left his tent for breakfast in the morning, the others already sat around the campfire. Enorwin dropped to the ground, staring at the ground. Someone passed him a small cotton bag of food; he didn't care to look up to find out who.

He opened the bag and looked inside. It contained dried fruits and a piece of bread. He grabbed the bread and took a bite, chewing on it thoughtfully. He nodded to himself, before finally looking up.

"I have been thinking," he said, after he had finished the bite.

"Is there something you want us to do, Sir Enorwin?" Bedreigh asked.

Enorwin smiled slightly. At least Bedreigh was loyal to him. It was a shame he was the only one here with that degree of loyalty.

"Yesterday, Maréin told me that the Servants of Darfith are raising an army," the prince said. "I have come to the conclusion that my father needs to know of this threat. Someone needs to inform him of the imminent danger to the north of the Flaming Lands. And for that purpose, I want to send someone I can trust will safely deliver the message." He looked at his squire. "Bedreigh, I want you to go to him. Tell him everything we know and ask him to send troops to aid me, lest the Flaming Lands fall."

Bedreigh bowed his head. "It would be an honour, Sir Enorwin," he said.

"Good," Enorwin said. He looked at his left hand, hesitated for a minute, but then took off his signet ring and handed it to Bedreigh, who sat only two places away from him. The young man stared at the object in awe.

"Give it to my father," Enorwin said. "He will know you were sent by me."

"Thank you, my lord," Bedreigh said. "I shan't disappoint you."

————————————

They all gave Bedreigh their best wishes, and finally, the squire rode off to the south. Arwund looked after the horse until it disappeared, wondering where Bedreigh got his loyalty. He had always had a hard time being obedient, especially towards people he did not want to obey.

He noticed Enorwin standing beside him. "Have you thought about the things I said yesterday, my lord?" the rogue asked him.

Enorwin turned away, leaving the question unanswered. He walked over to his horse, proceeding to prepare it for the day's journey.

"Let's go," he said. "We don't have much time left."