A/N: Really, I end up having to apologise for taking so long to update far too often. Sorry, people. I'll try to update quicker next time.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

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Never in Arwund's life had breakfast been such a bizarre experience.

Maréin had at first refused to eat, saying he did not want their hosts to go hungry because of him, but Nibelinde and Hageriech had insisted that they should eat.

"We'll have plenty of time and plenty of food to eat after today," Hageriech had said.

And so the three guests ate with the family at sunrise. They did not say much: they all knew what would happen today.

Sir Tarnhald would arrive later, accompanied by a group of henchmen. Probably tasked by the duke to take revenge on the people of Dracherwold. No-one knew what exactly the duke had asked his knight to do, but no matter the details, everyone knew it would once again be something violent and destructive.

Only this time, the village was not going to sit back and wait.

That fact seemed to be a piece of unspoken knowledge shared by all. Everyone knew that things could not go on like this for much longer. It had been enough.

And like seemingly everyone in the village, Nibelinde, Hageriech and Adalmaer knew it. Their expressions were a mixture of dread and anger, but also of hope and determination. Today, everything would change. Today, Dracherwold would take a stand.

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Time seemed to have slowed down. The seconds were slowly passing by, echoing through the duke's mind, taunting him, reminding him that his orders would irrevocably be fulfilled. The minutes went by, lasting longer than ever.

His body had involuntarily begun to tremble. How long? he wondered.

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Enorwin was standing besides several other courtiers in the courtyard as Sir Tarnhald and his men were preparing to ride out. It was a large group; at least ten men on horseback and some twenty soldiers on foot. He'd been informed by someone who spoke the Middle language that they were riding out to the town in the valley to look for Enorwin's companions. The prince had to admit he found this to be a bit strange. After all, the duke had told him they had until dinnertime to return of their own accord. However, who was he, the prince of the Flaming Lands, to question the duke of Dracherwold?

Still, he wondered why a mere search party would be so large.

Suddenly, the image from his nightmare appeared before his mind's eye: duke Hadufried's face appearing in Darfith's flames.

Maréin and Arwund had distrusted the duke. Could it be... could it be that his dream was telling him that they were right?

No. No, that was impossible.

Sir Tarnhald, fully clad in black armour, looked down at him from his horse. The visor of his helmet was open, and his eyes met Enorwin's; they blazed in a warning. Enorwin swallowed, but did not break eye contact; that could be considered a sign that he was hiding something.

Sir Tarnhald briefly narrowed his eyes, assessing the prince. Then, he moved his head to look at the castle gates in front of him and closed the visor. He squeezed the sides of his horse, urging the animal onward.

The group rode out of the gates, on their way to the town in the valley. A strange feeling overcame Enorwin; the feeling that somewhere, somehow, something was very wrong.

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The cold wind was blowing through the main street. It had started to snow, and the wind carried the snowflakes through the village. Any sound potentially made by the people hiding behind crates, carts and barrels was drowned out by the noise of the weather.

Arwund sat next to Maréin and Vaciana behind an empty, wooden cart, his back against the wood. His breath formed tiny clouds in the cold air. He didn't know how long they had been waiting; it felt like a very long time.

Turning his head to look across the street, he could see Nibelinde and Hageriech behind a large crate. Tucked under his belt, Hageriech - or Wilhart, as the people knew him - was carrying a dagger.

Adalmaer had wanted to help the rest of the villagers, but his parents had insisted that he stayed inside. Finally, the boy had grudgingly obeyed, choosing to watch the happenings from inside the house.

Suddenly, the clatter of hooves - many, many hooves - became audible. The sound was distant, but it was coming closer and closer with the second. And as the noise approached, Arwund could also hear voices talking, excited, energetic voices. The soldiers and knights sounded enthusiastic.

The sound was awfully close now, and he could clearly understand the excited words spoken by the soldiers. The clatter of the hooves and the sound of footsteps grew slower, until it stopped. And then, one of the horses let out a dreadful, piercing neigh that sent a shiver down Arwund's spine.

The soldiers and knights instantly fell silent.

Never in his life had Arwund been this much aware of his own heartbeat. Despite the cold, he noticed beads of sweat rolling down his cheek.

This is it, he thought. It all comes down to this.

"Get out of your houses, you scum!" a voice shouted - the harsh voice of Sir Tarnhald of Wirengond.

Arwund exchanged looks with Hageriech. The latter slightly raised his hand to signal Arwund to wait.

In a first act of rebellion, not a single person came out of the houses. Arwund wondered how many people were hiding here in the streets - it might as well be the entire village.

"What's wrong?" Sir Tarnhald bellowed. "Should I repeat myself? GET OUT OF YOUR HOUSES!"

Arwund swallowed. He wondered how many people obeyed Sir Tarnhald only because they were afraid of his voice. And yet, every single villager remained in hiding.

"All right, fine!" Sir Tarnhald shouted. "You asked for it! We're burning this useless village down!"

Maréin suddenly stood up. "No, you're not," he said calmly.

"You again?" Sir Tarnhald asked. "Still pretending you're a famous knight?"

Maréin smiled. "That depends on your definition of 'pretending'."

The black-clad knight let out a joyless laugh. "You're no coward; I've got to give you that." He drew his sword. "Now get out of the way, lest I have to kill you."

"We've got out of the way often enough," Hageriech said, standing up. "Now we will remain where we are."

More people began to follow Hageriech's example. Arwund, too, stood up and now stood in the street among the others. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw that there were a lot more villagers in the street than he had expected; dozens of people had been hiding behind objects in the street, completely invisible to the arriving soldiers and knights.

For a moment, Sir Tarnhald just sat in his saddle, observing the defiant villagers from behind his closed visor.

Then, he began to laugh.

"This is the most pathetic display of rebellion I've ever seen!" he roared. "What do you expect me to do? Fall to my knees and beg for mercy?"

His fellow knights and soldiers joined in their commander's laughter. It was obvious they did not take the villagers so seriously.

"Oh, come on!" another knight, whose face was also hidden behind his visor, said. His voice was significantly higher than Sir Tarnhald's. "You're not even armed!"

"And you aren't fire breathers!" Arwund responded in a loud voice.

When Arwund said 'fire breathers', some of the attackers fell silent. Apparently, they hadn't been expecting this.

At last, Sir Tarnhald managed to pull himself together. "This man won't harm us!" he said to his companions. "Don't fear!" He looked at Hageriech. "You're not getting out of the way? Fine!" the knight said. "It won't prevent us from riding on! Men, attack!"

The men urged their horses on, the hooves trampling the snow as the animals began gallop forwards. Time slowed down. Arwund focused - he could feel pressure building up inside of him. He had to act now - NOW! - or it would all be too late...

"Stop!" Maréin commanded, his voice wielding the authority of a hundred, a thousand knights.

Hageriech drew his dagger, his arm gesturing wildly to his wife. He shouted something, probably, "Get out of the way!", but Arwund couldn't hear.

The hooves were still galloping, ever closer; his heartbeat was growing faster and faster, and he could yet hear himself thinking, Now!

He breathed out.

A seething, raging flame came out of his mouth, melting the snow, scorching the soil, covering the street in a fiery, bright orange hue. Sir Tarnhald's horse, which was closest to the flame, let out a shrieking neigh and pranced in fear. The other horses also came to a terrified halt, sheer horror in their dark eyes. The draconic human had to admit he felt a bit sorry for the poor animals.

Sir Tarnhald remained in the saddle, struggling to keep his horse under control. He directed the animal a few steps backwards. Opening his visor, he looked at Arwund, grey eyes blazing in anger. "If I were you, I'd be a bit less daring, peasant!"

The daring peasant was leaning on his knees, panting. He looked up at the black-armoured knight and grinned defiantly. "If I were you, I'd be a bit less daring, knight."

One of the footsoldiers involuntarily began to snigger at Arwund's response. Sir Tarnhald threw him a quick, ominous look. The soldier's laughter instantly turned into a nervous cough.

It was Maréin who spoke up now. "Your people aren't even allowed to laugh at a joke?" he calmly asked Sir Tarnhald. "What a life that must be," he added, averting his head, some of his knightly powers seeping into his words, lending them an audible authority.

Some footsoldiers looked at one another, and whispers began to rise up from the group. Arwund wasn't sure, but he thought he heard one of the footmen say, "The guy's got a point."

"SILENCE!" Sir Tarnhald ordered, not even bothering to look behind him. The soldiers didn't think twice about obeying.

Lowering his volume, the black-clad knight said to Arwund, "You can't keep breathing fire. You'll need energy for it."

"But he's not the only breather around," Vaciana said suddenly. "I can breathe fire as well."

In the meantime, Maréin had grabbed a chunk of bread from the basket standing beside the cart they had hidden behind. He held the piece out to Arwund, who accepted it, nodding in thanks. The breather began to eat it, feeling new energy - and with it some new firepower - flow into his weakened body.

"Two of those miscreants?" Sir Tarnhald said.

"Three," a woman somewhere behind Arwund suddenly said. She walked up to where Arwund was standing. Had she been a normal human, he would have estimated her to be in her early twenties; however, since she was a breather, she was probably in her late forties or early fifties. She wore her auburn hair in a single braid that ended between her shoulder blades. She wore a dirty-white cotton dress and a grey woollen cloak. Her fists were clenched and her blue eyes seemed to shine in anger.

"It would have been a lot wiser for you to just stand back," Sir Tarnhald said ominously.

"Would it, now?" the woman said challengingly.

"You're not going to win this!" Maréin said, addressing not Sir Tarnhald, but his men. His knightly powers flowed into his words, making them strong, convincing. "Give up your attack and leave the village now! You will not be harmed!"

"You know, he's right," one of the soldiers said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Stay here!" Sir Tarnhald ordered. "Anyone who leaves will be hunted down and killed!"

"This is exactly what the problem is!" Maréin said, still speaking with the voice of many other knights; Arwund was not sure whether he really heard the voices of thousands of others or whether he was imagining them. The wandering knight continued, "You only obey because you're afraid! Because Sir Tarnhald keeps threatening that he'll kill you! But if you stand together, if you protect one another, he'll have no hold over you!"

Many footsoldiers now began to exchange looks. Arwund could see some of them nodding meaningfully at one another.

"Stand with us now!" Maréin urged. "You no longer have to fear Sir Tarnhald!"

For a moment, the footsoldiers hesitated. Then, suddenly, more than a dozen footsoldiers began to break away from the group. "Come on," Arwund picked up one of them saying, "this isn't worth it."

A muscle in Sir Tarnhald's face twitched. "Stay where you are," he said, his voice deceptively soft.

Some of the soldiers seemed to hesitate. They looked back over their shoulders.

"Don't listen to him!" Maréin said, still using his powers.

These words seemed to strengthen the soldiers' resolve. A few of them began to walk out of the town, but about ten of them actually moved closer towards the townspeople.

Now Sir Tarnhald turned his horse around. "Stay where you are!" he repeated, much louder this time. "Do as you're told or face the consequences!" He pointed his sword at them, his gaze moving over the group.

The other knights now drew their swords, too. The sound of scraping metal echoed through the streets. "My lord?" one of them asked.

Some of the soldiers swallowed. They looked at their lord, fear in their eyes. Some of them began to walk back to where they had originally been standing.

"That's how you rule them, isn't it?" Maréin said, shifting his gaze to Sir Tarnhald. "It's as I said: you threaten you'll kill them if they disobey you." The wanderer's voice was completely calm, and Arwund was surprised to find that there was no judgment in that voice; it sounded genuinely friendly. The wandering knight added, "I wonder: have you ever known love? Caring? Friendship?"

Sir Tarnhald laughed mockingly. "Love, caring and friendship never made anyone powerful."

"Not powerful?" Maréin asked, smiling. "Your people are walking away as we speak."

"If they do, I, together with all those who do remain loyal to me, will kill them," Sir Tarnhald grunted.

"So you will keep killing everyone who doesn't do as you say?" Maréin asked. "And then? Will you take them down one by one? Until no-one remains?"

"I won't have to," Sir Tarnhald said. "They will obey."

"And all loyalty you'll ever receive will be based on fear," Maréin said. "No-one will really care for you because everyone is terrified of you." He looked away. "How empty such a life must be."

Sir Tarnhald's face contorted into an angry mask, and he guided his horse to stand closer to Maréin. Squeezing his eyelids, he hissed, "I think you've said enough, wanderer."

And then, quick as lightening, he heaved his sword and brought it down on Maréin.

The wandering knight's reflexes turned out to be extremely fast.

He ducked down, the sword sweeping through the air only a few inches overhead. Sir Tarnhald roared, and once again, he swung his blade in Maréin's direction; the knight, however, once more nimbly evaded the sharp steel by jumping aside behind the cart. He was now crouching down between the wall of a house and the wooden cart, a position Sir Tarnhald could not reach from horseback.

"Stand back, you!" Arwund commanded the black-clad knight. "You're up against three fire breathers!"

From the corner of his eye, the breather could see one of Sir Tarnhald's footsoldiers nudge one of his companions. The footman nodded at Arwund and seemed to whisper something. The other one suddenly smiled, and Arwund heard him say, "Yeah, he is."

Once more, a group of footsoldiers began to walk away from their companions. This time, they all went in the direction of the townspeople, the snow crunching under their feet.

Sir Tarnhald turned his horse around, his gaze rapidly shifting between the group of deserting footsoldiers and the people who remained under his command. Finally, his eyes rested on the latter group. "Well?" he asked, his voice indignant. "Are you going to stop them or not?"

The knights immediately started to spur on their horses, but the remaining footsoldiers were looking at one another doubtfully.

"Anyone who hurts them will have to deal with me!" the breather with the auburn hair shouted, stepping forward.

However, she didn't need to protect them; instead, the footsoldiers moved closer together, forming a line, their shields facing their former companions. "The wanderer is right," one of them said. "We've obeyed you long enough, Sir Tarnhald. But we're not going to hurt innocent people. We may have promised you our service, but not our consciences, not our souls."

The knights had stopped moving at the breather's threat.

"You WILL obey!" Sir Tarnhald bellowed, heaving his sword. Before he could attack, Vaciana yelled, "Remember we can breathe fire!"

Sir Tarnhald looked around, panic in his eyes. Now, the remaining footsoldiers also began to walk away, protecting one another by forming a line of shields - certainly to the black-clad knight's horror. The first group had now safely reached the townspeople.

Only the ten knights on horseback and their commander remained now, suddenly quite, quite powerless. Eleven armed riders might have posed a threat to a small group of unarmed human civilians, but not to three fire breathers, twenty armed footmen and an entire town.

"Might I suggest you leave, my lord," Maréin said, calm as ever.

Sir Tarnhald was seething with anger; his face had genuinely turned red. He was looking around, analysing the situation, and then ordered, "Kill any deserters that are out of the draconic humans' reach!"

"With all due respect," Maréin proclaimed, "I don't think there would be a point in killing footmen! The duke ordered you to punish civilians, didn't he? There's no way you're going to succeed in that anymore, so killing those people would be pointless bloodshed!"

"These deserters joined forces with the townspeople!" Sir Tarnhald said. "Attack them!"

At that moment, Arwund thought he heard Hageriech say something, though he didn't understand what exactly. Listening intently, he caught a few words. "This has lasted long enough."

He quickly turned his head to see what was happening, and then he saw. Hageriech had apparently loaded his blowpipe, hiding behind the crate. Now, he placed the tube against his lips, took aim, and fired.

The dart zoomed through the air, hardly visible, and then, with a soft thump, it hit Sir Tarnhald in the right cheek. The black-clad knight's eyes were wide in surprise as he slowly slid out of the saddle, his limp body crashing to the ground with a clang of metal armour. His sword fell out of his hand, lying in the snow beside him.

"Thanks for opening your visor, my lord," Hageriech mumbled to the unconscious knight.

The ten knights looked at one another. "We're not going to win this," Arwund believed to hear one of them say. And another one said something like, "We need to warn the duke."

"We're going back!" the knight with the high-pitched voice commanded, turning his horse around. With a loud cry, he fired on his horse and rode away. The other knights followed suit.

The people had won.

It took a moment until everyone realised what had happened. The town was completely silent.

Then, everyone began to cheer.

"We did it!" Hageriech screamed. "We beat them!"

"YES!" Arwund found himself yelling, accidentally breathing a small flame into the air. Whoops, he thought.

He turned to look at the breather with the auburn hair. "Thank you for helping us," he said. "I don't know if we would have been able to do this on our own."

The woman smiled. "You're welcome. People are rarely happy when they hear of my powers, so it was pretty great to get a chance to use them like this for once."

Arwund grinned. He instantly took a liking to her. He extended his hand. "Arwund Marholdson. What's your name?"

"Amahilda Friedwinns," she said. "I already heard your name being mentioned. Many people liked the way you spoke up to Sir Tarnhald yesterday." She nodded towards the unconscious knight, whom several people were currently tying up.

"I just did what I believed I had to do," Arwund said.

Hageriech had in the meantime climbed on top of the crate he had hidden behind earlier. "Friends!" he shouted.

It took a while to get the rejoicing people to fall silent, but eventually, everyone looked at him.

"We may have defended our town against Sir Tarnhald," Hageriech continued, "but this is only the beginning. We have defeated Sir Tarnhald; let us now march for castle Dracherwold! Let us end duke Hadufried's reign!"

The people began to cheer, raising their fists, yelling loudly. It was clear that they had only one wish.

They wished for Dracherwold to finally be free.

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Duke Hadufried was still lying in his bed, wondering what was currently going on in the valley. How many people would be dead now, how many more injured, how many houses on fire?

It's all necessary, he repeatedly thought to himself. It's all necessary.

It helped a little.

Suddenly, he was brutally pulled out of his brooding by a young knight, who violently pushed open the door and rushed into the room. "Your Grace," he said, panting heavily.

"What happened to knocking before entering?" the duke asked.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," the knight said. "I bring bad news."

Oh no, the duke thought. What now?

"The townspeople had three draconic humans with them," the knight said. "Fire breathers. And some wanderer who can mess with people's minds or something."

"And?" the duke asked.

"All our footmen deserted," the knight continued. "On top of that, Sir Tarnhald was knocked unconscious by a poisonous dart. He's in the people's captivity now. And the worst is..." He paused to catch his breath.

Duke Hadufried swallowed. "What is the worst?"

"The worst is that they're coming our way," the knight said. "The entire town is marching to the castle. The people on the battlements could see them coming. They can arrive anytime."

"Tell me it isn't true," the duke said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his palm. "Not now, not while I'm lying here."

"I am sorry, Your Grace," the knight said.

Duke Hadufried opened his eyes once more to look at the messenger. "Make sure all the battlements are manned. Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone into the castle. And eliminate that wanderer as quickly as you can, lest he causes even more of my people to desert. One would think that this castle should be able to withstand a mob of angry peasants."

"I will see to it, Your Grace," the knight said. "They will not come far."

"Good luck," duke Hadufried said. "May the gods help us."