Slowly, carefully, people began to trickle out of their houses onto the streets of the town. Their faces were pale with terror, and they were anxiously eying the knights who had entered the town. A father was clutching his little daughter tightly in his arms.

The knight in black armour opened the visor of his helmet. There was a vicious look on his face, and Arwund noticed a vile enjoyment in the knight's eyes as he drew his sword and used it to threateningly point at some townspeople.

"As most of you scum probably already know," the black knight loudly proclaimed, "the duke has been assaulted and stabbed today."

Some people let out horrified gasps. From the corner of his eye, Arwund saw that Nibelinde, who was standing beside him, began to tremble slightly. Adalmaer put his arms around her.

"Oh, yes, now look at you acting all shocked," the knight said in disdain. "You may count yourselves lucky that His Grace hasn't died. Otherwise what horrors would we, his loyal knights, have been forced to inflict on you?"

If he was seriously trying to fake compassion, Arwund thought to himself, he was doing a terrible job at it.

"However, you will know what it means to attack your rightful ruler!" the knight bellowed. "So we are offering you a choice. Either the assailant turns themselves in, or we will have to find out who did it by ourselves. And for that purpose, we will take away and interrogate every person in this worthless town one... by... one." He emphasised the last three words, while letting his gaze go over all the people assembled. Then, his lips twisted in the most cruel smile Arwund had ever seen, and asked, "Well, is there anyone here who would like to surrender themselves to us?"

The crowd stayed silent. Arwund could see people looking at one another, and he could read in their eyes that they were all hoping for someone to step forward and confess. But no-one did.

He cast a sideways glance at Maréin. The wandering knight had tears in his eyes. Arwund immediately understood what he was thinking: he was at the verge of kneeling down to the knight in black and admitting to having stabbed the duke, but there was no point. As soon as Hadufried would see his guest, the duke would know that he had been lied to. It was a miracle that none of the duke's knights had recognised the two strangers yet.

"You filthy, secretive bastards," the black knight said, sneering. Once more, he let his gaze slide over the crowd. Then, he pointed his sword at Adalmaer and looked at his companions. "Take the boy," he ordered.

Adalmaer screamed in fear. Nibelinde opened her mouth, but no sound came out. As one of the knights roughly pulled him away from his mother and dragged him away, she did not move an inch. She was petrified.

At that moment, Maréin began to move. He made his way through the masses until he stood face to face with the black knight. He uttered three simple words. "Let him go."

His voice was not loud, nor did he emphasise anything. He did not shout or bellow. Apart from the fact that he gave the knight an order, there was nothing commanding to the sentence. And yet, the command held an almost superhuman authority. It was as if an entire choir had spoken, although Arwund had not heard anything but Maréin's own voice. The rogue felt the words resonate through his veins and he knew that, had he been the black knight himself, he would immediately let the boy go. Not only because Maréin ordered him released, but because somehow, deep down, he suddenly held the unshakable belief that that was the only possible right thing. Although he had already believed the abduction to be wrong before, now, it was no longer just a belief; for a moment, it was almost an instinct, a piece of knowledge deeply imprinted in his heart, his very soul.

A muscle in the black knight's face twitched. The entire town was completely silent, safe for rustling of the wind through the pine trees in the valley.

Then, the black knight began to laugh.

It started of as a chuckle, but it quickly turned into a contemptuous, roaring laughter. The man shook his head in utter disbelief and disdain.

"Oh, that's rich," he said. "He wants me to let the boy go!" Some of his companions now joined in his laughter. Their leader, however, had calmed down by now and urged his horse a few steps forward, forcing Maréin to look up at him even further. Their was a sneer on the black knight's face. "And who might you be? Who has given you the right to order Sir Tarnhald of Wirengond around?"

"My name is Maréin," the wanderer said.

Sir Tarnhald sniggered. "Of course. What's your last name? Aurácez?" he asked sarcastically.

"It is," Maréin said, his voice colder than Arwund was used of him. He almost sounded challenging.

"Sure," the black knight said. "I don't know how many people you have fooled with that little alias of yours, but you won't fool me." Suddenly, he squeezed his eyelids. "Do I know you?" he asked, tilting his head a little.

"Perhaps," Maréin replied.

"Hm." Sir Tarnhald pulled his horse's reins to turn the animal around. He threw a look over his shoulder at the wanderer. "I would watch that big mouth of yours if I were you, Maréin. It might just get you in trouble someday." One of his companions handed him the other end of the rope which had been used to tie Adalmaer's wrists together. The black-armoured knight tugged at it, pulling the boy to the ground. His face landed in the snow.

"Get up, you scum," Sir Tarnhald commanded. "I don't have all day."

The boy struggled to get to his feet, a look of hatred in his eyes.

Arwund looked at Nibelinde. She still could not move, but tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her body was shaking, but she could only produce some kind of muffled shrieks.

The rogue looked around. If only he had a knife, an axe, anything to hack that rope in two... Or he could try and get back to the castle and attempt to free Adalmaer from inside... Could he use his fire? Then he rejected the idea; he would have to set the rope alight very quickly, or Sir Tarnhald would have enough time to ride up to him and kill him. He doubted that was possible.

Then, suddenly, something seemed to snap back together in Nibelinde's head. She pushed her way through the crowd with the force of a wild boar and ran after the knights. "Wait!" she cried, falling to her knees in the snow. "I surrender!"

Sir Tarnhald immediately made his horse come to a halt and raised a hand, signalling his companions to do likewise. The black knight turned his horse around, an intrigued look in his eyes. "Do you confess to the attempted murder of His Grace duke Hadufried of Dracherwold?" he asked.

"Yes," Nibelinde said in a husky voice. "I attacked him this morning. I stabbed him. I tried to kill him. Take me as your prisoner. But please, I beg you, let my son go." She bowed her head and extended her arms to the knights.

Sir Tarnhald smiled. "There. Was that so hard?" He looked at his men. "Tie her up. Only release the boy once we've got her safely in our captivity."

"Yes, my lord," one of his men said, and he quickly descended his horse to tie Nibelinde's wrists together. He handed the rope to Sir Tarnhald, who accepted it. The black knight looked down on his prisoner, satisfied like a wolf that had just caught a tasty-looking rabbit.

One of the duke's knights untied Adalmaer's rope, and as soon as the boy was free, he ran back to the crowd as fast as he could.

"Yes, run for your life, kid!" Sir Tarnhald mockingly called after him. Then, for a brief moment, he looked at the dark clouds in the sky, thinking. Shifting his gaze back to his men, he ordered, "Burn down their house."

"But... my lord, other houses might catch fire as well!" one of the other knights objected.

Sir Tarnhald threw him a perplexed look. "Well? Should I care?"

"All right, my lord," was the answer. His men quickly got to work. They opened their saddle bags and took torches out of them, which led Arwund to deduce that Sir Tarnhald had already been planning something like this when he departed from the castle. One man produced a flask of oil, and they began to drench the torches in it. Then they proceeded to walk towards the house.

At that very moment, something snapped in Arwund's head.

He stepped forward, his arms spread to prevent the men from walking past him. "Enough," he said.

"Get out of the way, you rat!" one of Sir Tarnhald's men commanded.

"I said ENOUGH!" Arwund roared. He felt his anger flare up like a flame inside him. "Leave this town and never come back!"

"Or else?" another so-called 'knight' asked, his tone challenging.

Arwund's face was completely serious. "I'll breathe fire. Right in your face!"

"A draconic human!" Sir Tarnhald said, looking at Arwund with a look of amused fascination. "What a pleasant surprise. First we get an impostor claiming to be famous knight and now we get a draconic human. This could get interesting."

Arwund ignored his remark. "Go away and let the woman go," he ordered. "I'm warning you."

Sir Tarnhald looked at him, his eyes little more than slits. He tilted his head again, his face evaluating the draconic human. No-one spoke a word.

Arwund pushed the group of knights in front of him aside without so much as looking at them; they would probably postpone setting fire to the house until Sir Tarnhald gave them new orders. The rogue looked the black knight in the eye. The knight's gaze was not cold, as Arwund had expected; on the contrary, Sir Tarnhald's pale grey eyes were brimming with a sadistic excitement, as if all this was a game to him.

Arwund breathed in. Then he exhaled, and a large flame came out of his mouth, melting the snow, bathing the streets in a warm light, and almost, but not quite, scorching the legs of Sir Tarnhald's horse. The stallion let out a loud neigh and pranced in fear. The rider, however, had probably been trained extensively, so he stayed in the saddle, an angry look in his eyes as he tried to calm down the horse. It seemed to have the desired effect, because the horse remained in place.

Sir Tarnhald's face had finally grown serious. His grey eyes looked at Arwund and the breather could almost hear the black knight thinking, You'll pay for this, draconic human.

Arwund smiled mockingly, panting slightly. The flame had cost him quite a bit of energy and he was unsure if he would be able to create another one like that. However, chances were that Sir Tarnhald didn't know that.

The black-armoured knight looked away. "We're leaving!" he ordered. And then, suddenly, he turned his head back to Arwund, a wicked smile spread across his lips.

At that moment, Arwund knew Sir Tarnhald was going to take the risk.

The knight added, "And we're taking the woman with us!"

Quickly, his men lifted her on the back of Sir Tarnhald's horse so that they could ride as fast as they could. Arwund began to run towards them, but when he almost got into a range he knew his fire could bridge, the knights began to ride in full gallop. Nibelinde struggled not to fall of the horse; her hands were tied and Sir Tarnhald was holding the rope, so if she fell, she would end up getting dragged behind the horse by her wrists.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU BASTARDS!" Arwund screamed, and then he breathed another, smaller flame in pure, uncontrollable rage.

He looked over his shoulder. Adalmaer was crying, and Maréin had laid a hand on his shoulder.

How dared the duke's men call themselves knights? How in the world could they justify their actions to themselves?

The rogue slammed his fist against a wall in anger, letting out a cry. Then, he fell to his knees, trembling in rage, panting in exhaustion.

Suddenly, he heard the crackling sound of footsteps in the snow. He looked up. A girl, probably about fourteen years old, walked up to him. "Thank you for chasing them away, sir," she said.

"I wish I could have done more," Arwund said, staring at the ground.

"You prevented them from burning down our houses," someone called out of the crowd. "Things could have been much worse than this."

"Thank you, sir," an old man said. "Thank you."

Arwund looked up at the people of the town. He saw people of all ages, and they were all looking at him gratefully.

Slowly, the draconic human got to his feet. Physically, he felt weak and tired, but mentally, he found himself suddenly experiencing a new-found energy. A motivation to act.

He walked over to Adalmaer, and looked him in the eye. "Adalmaer," he said softly, "hey, Adalmaer."

The boy looked up at him, his eyes reddened and wet with tears.

"I'll do what I can to free your mother," he said. "I promise."

"And so will I," Maréin said.

Arwund looked at the wandering knight. His powers, which had stopped Joandrey and which had made Enorwin's sword stone cold, had been useless against Sir Tarnhald. How was that possible? Arwund couldn't deny that he felt a bit disappointed.

Slowly, the inhabitants of the town began to resume their daily business, leaving Arwund, Maréin and Adalmaer behind.

"You must be disappointed that my powers had no effect," Maréin said quietly, so that no-one but Arwund and Adalmaer could here.

"Powers?" Adalmaer asked.

"It's complicated," Maréin answered. "I may explain when I have the time." Then he looked back at Arwund. "I am sorry," the wanderer said, coming across as sincere. "My powers, too, have their limits."

"You'll have to clarify," Arwund said.

"I will," Maréin said. "But not here."

"You can come into our house," Adalmaer said, and then added bitterly, "I guess it's mine now that my father is out of town."

Maréin winced at the statement. They both knew it was true, but put like that, it sounded horrible.

They went into Adalmaer's house and sat down at the table. Adalmaer himself closed the door behind him and immediately lay down in the hay, staring at the ceiling. His face was expressionless. He didn't say a word.

Arwund looked at Maréin, who sat at the other end of the table. "Let's first figure out how we're going to free Nibelinde. Then you can explain the stuff about your powers."

"Agreed," Maréin said. "We need to get back into the castle first."

"And then we need to get into the dungeons," Arwund said. "The problem is that we've already defied duke Hadufried once. If we do that a second time, I'm positive he'll kick us out of his castle. This time, he'll probably be lenient because we're Enorwin's companions, but I don't think he'll tolerate a second time."

"Maybe we could disguise ourselves," Maréin said.

"That would be sensible," Arwund agreed. He rubbed his temples, thinking, his eyes shifting to the table. After a short while, he looked back at Maréin from the corner of his eye, and asked, "Do you think your powers would have any effect on the guards of the duke's dungeons?"

"It depends on the kind of people the duke has enlisted," Maréin said thoughtfully. "The thing with my powers is that they don't work on everyone. Contrary to what you might think, I don't hypnotise people or anything like that. What I do is make them see things from... from a different perspective, one might say. You see, many people just obey orders, but don't really feel like hurting anyone by their own accord. When I make them see the consequences of their actions, they often do as I command. However, as it turns out, Sir Tarnhald was completely convinced he was allowed to do what he did. That his actions were utterly justifiable. His belief in his superiority and his additional rights as a noble were stronger than the realisation of the pain he was inflicting."

"So basically your powers only work on people who have good in them," Arwund said.

"I don't believe we have the right to judge someone just like that," Maréin said. "Had I been born in the same conditions as Sir Tarnhald, with the same body, the same brain and the same natural inclinations, do you not think I would probably have done the same? And maybe you're right: maybe Tarnhald is a bad man at heart. However, I can't see what's in his heart, can I?"

"He's bad at heart all right," Adalmaer suddenly said.

Arwund and Maréin looked at him. The boy was still staring at the ceiling.

"I don't believe you, Maréin," he added.

"You have the right to make up your own mind," Maréin said, nodding briefly. "I was only stating what I believe."

"Let's not spend our time debating philosophy and ethics while Tarnhald is still holding Nibelinde prisoner," Arwund interrupted.

Maréin nodded. "Very well."

They spent about an hour talking, making plans, and afterwards, they had agreed on somewhat of a plan. They had decided to go back to the castle and simply turn themselves in to the guards, because, as Arwund had stated, Enorwin would probably request their freedom.

"Are you sure about that?" Maréin had asked sceptically.

"Enorwin took me with him in the first place because I'm a breather," Arwund said. "I have certain inside information which he does not have, albeit not much. However, it's enough to make him need me, I suppose."

"Vaciana could give him that information," Maréin said.

"True," Arwund said. "However, I don't think Enorwin trusts her enough. He's sufficiently cure of my – admittedly a bit relative – loyalty: he's offered me my freedom if I help him out. That can't be said of Vaciana."

And so they had decided hat turning themselves in was probably the easiest way back in. Once they had returned, they would let Vaciana in on their plans. At nightfall, they would leave for the dungeons. Maréin would use his powers on the guards if necessary.

Arwund had briefly considered waiting for Adalmaer's father to return before leaving for the duke's castle, but he had a nagging suspicion – which he dared not say aloud – that the boy's father was already dead and that Nibelinde and her son just could not get themselves to admit it to themselves in front of others – it would bring back too many fresh and painful memories. Because of that, the rogue thought it wisest not to mention the boy's father.

This was the reason why they were about to say goodbye to Adalmaer and leave when suddenly, a man in his late thirties opened the door and rushed into the room. He looked around the house, panic in his eyes. His eyes rested on Arwund and Maréin.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice threatening. "What have you done to my wife?"

Arwund felt a wave of relief that apparently, the boy's father was alive after all. "We're friends," he immediately said. "Adalmaer can confirm that. Sir Tarnhald was here today. He came close to kidnapping your son to interrogate him; it turns out someone stabbed the duke earlier today. Nibelinde confessed to being the one who attacked him in order to save her son."

Throughout Arwund's story, the rogue could see the man's eyes widening in shock. Tears welled up in his eyes. "That can't be true..." he whispered hoarsely. "Not her, not her..."

He walked over to the table slowly, leaning on the table top with his hands, staring at the ground. "Not her..." he uttered.

"Sir?" Maréin asked in concern.

The man's face suddenly turned towards Arwund and Maréin, a strong determination in his eyes. "Are you making plans to rescue her?" he said.

"We are," Arwund said. "I'd rather you didn't tell this to everyone, but we're staying at the castle with a group of travellers. However, my friend and I thought the duke behaved suspiciously, so we decided to go against his orders and visit the valley to find out more. I'm glad we did."

"So you can access the castle?" the man asked.

"We can," Arwund confirmed.

"Good," the man said. "I'm coming with you."

"I understand your desire, sir," Maréin said, "but it might endanger the mission. My friend and I can get into the castle with relative ease, but you do not have the same advantages we do."

"I know," the man said, "but I have different advantages." He stood straight. "This is something you're not supposed to tell others: although I now call myself Wilhart, my real name is Hageriech. I used to be a burglar, one of the stealthiest ones in the region. And although all that is long behind me, I'm still as skilled as I used to be. I can help you; more importantly, it's my duty to my wife."

"You might put yourself in danger," Maréin warned him.

"I know," Hageriech said, "but I have no choice. I need to make up for what I did."

"What do you mean?" Arwund asked.

"Dad?" Adalmaer asked.

Hageriech averted his eyes. "I mean that I know that Nibelinde can't be guilty." His eyes shifted back to the two visitors. "That's because I am the one who stabbed the duke."

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A/N: Hey everyone! Thank your for reading this chapter! As always: if you have time, constructive criticism is appreciated.

I going to try and upload another chapter the coming week, but after that, it's possible it'll take me more than three weeks to upload the next chapter. I'm going on a holiday and I don't know if I'll have much time to write while I'm there. On top of that, I've yet to see if I can use the WiFi of the place where I'll be staying. I've been told I can use the Internet there, but not for too much time every day. It's possible I'll be able to upload a chapter, but I'm really not sure. It would be cool if I could finish the Dracherwold story arc before I leave, but I can't promise anything; I find it hard to estimate how many more pages the arc will take.

So yeah, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you soon!

Stay awesome, dear readers!

~ HeroicPenguin