The day after the group had arrived at their camp, sometime around noon, a loud horn resounded through the forest. They heard the clatter of hooves, many, many hooves.

Maréin, Arwund, Vaciana, Enorwin and Bedreigh all instantly got up. In the distance, they saw riders approaching.

"It's my father!" Enorwin said, suddenly more enthusiastic than Vaciana had ever seen him.

"Looks like it," she said.

Arwund, who was standing next to her, muttered under his breath, "This should be good."

It was a long line of riders, some of them wearing elaborate suits of armour, others merely wearing gambesons. Once more, one of the riders blew on a horn; several birds flew away in panic.

In front of the line, to the right of the rider who had blown on the horn, rode a man in shining plate armour. Two long, white feathers were attached to his closed helmet. By his side, he was carrying a sword in a heavily decorated sheath. The caparison of the black horse he was riding was white, covered in depictions of the coat of arms of the Flaming Lands: white and gold in colour with a sword at the centre. Vaciana immediately realised that this man was Enorwin's father, earl Raynnard of the Flaming Lands.

The riders slowly came to a halt at the campsite. Earl Raynnard opened his visor, revealing the face of a man in his late forties. He looked at Enorwin. "I see you've gained some new companions," he said. His voice was low and serious.

The others bowed to him. "My lord," Arwund said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Marholdson," the earl said. "I do hope you've kept your end of the deal."

"He has, father," Enorwin said. "He has been of great service to me."

The earl raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I see," he said, before dismounting his horse. Now standing in front of his son, he asked, "Do we have duke Hadufried's permission to enter the duchy?"

Enorwin's eyes widened in surprise. "Er..." he muttered.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Enorwin?" the earl asked. Vaciana suppressed a chuckle: he spoke in the same tone of voice her father had always used when he suspected his young daughter had broken some rule behind his back.

The prince of the Flaming Lands looked at his friends, his panicked eyes asking the others, Should we tell him?

"There has been an uprising in Dracherwold, my lord," Bedreigh said. "The duke has fled from his castle. We have no idea where he is now."

"An uprising?" the earl asked, briefly looking at Bedreigh. Then his gaze shifted back to Enorwin. "Why did you hesitate in telling me that?" He paused, then added, "You're not hiding something from me, are you, son?"

Ouch, Vaciana thought.

Enorwin was silent, his face growing redder and redder by the minute.

"Enorwin," his father said sternly.

What if Enorwin told the truth? Would the earl vent out his anger on his son's friends? Suddenly, Vaciana felt a strong urge to run away to safety, but she thought that would only look more suspicious.

Enorwin sighed and looked at the ground. "The truth is," he said, "that I was there."

"You were there?" the earl asked. "What do you mean, you were there?"

"I mean that I had a part in the uprising," Enorwin admitted.

"You WHAT?" the earl shouted, taken aback. "What got into you?"

"I had no choice, father!" Enorwin said. "The duke, he was..."

"I don't care what the duke was doing!" the earl exclaimed. "You are not to interfere in another noble's lands! That man is as much a servant to the king as we are! You can't just go around deposing your fellow nobles!"

"Dad, I couldn't...!" Enorwin said, attempting to explain himself.

His father let out a sigh. "We'll get back to this," he said, before turning around and ordering. "Set up camp!"

The order was relayed by other riders and infantrymen - whom Vaciana had only just discovered among the group - and they immediately got to work. The earl, too, left to instruct those who would set up his tent.

Enorwin and his companions stayed behind. "That didn't go so well, did it?" Vaciana remarked, unable to hide her worry.

"Not at all," Enorwin agreed.

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Enorwin was standing in front of his father's tent. It was large, the largest tent in the camp, and it was made of canvas dyed white and gold, the colours of the Flaming Lands. Two guards, armed with halberds, were guarding the entrance.

Suddenly, the canvas was pushed aside from within by a man. To his surprise, Enorwin recognised his fighting teacher, Nickandon Wilnasson. The old, grey-haired man looked at him. "Your father wants to see you now," he said, then added, "You're in trouble, Sir Enorwin. Big trouble."

Enorwin swallowed. "I gathered," he said.

Master Wilnasson couldn't suppress a gleeful smile as he said, "Good luck, my lord."

Enorwin took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Then, he pushed aside the canvas and went inside.

His father was sitting in an ornate wooden chair behind a table, on which a map of the Northlands had been spread out. Several wooden figurines had been placed on it, probably to represent troops.

"Father," Enorwin said.

His father sat back in his chair. "Do you realise what you've done, Enorwin?"

"I was part of a rebellion against duke Hadufried of Dracherwold," Enorwin said. "He was oppressing his people. I believed – and I still do – that protecting the people, standing up for them, was the right thing to do." He straightened his back.

"Enorwin," his father said, his face stern, "this has absolutely nothing to do with right or wrong. What matters is that you are my heir, and yet you rose up against the duke, who is as much a servant of the king's as we are."

"Doesn't serving the king mean doing what's right?" Enorwin asked in surprise. What did his father mean? How could he talk like that? How could he be so... pragmatic?

"Serving the king means keeping the king's laws, Enorwin!" earl Raynnard said, louder than before. "And being an earl or an heir to an earl's throne means taking care of your realm and its reputation! However, in rising up to another noble, you have offended another servant of the king's and potentially damaged the reputation of the Flaming Lands, if this ever gets out!"

"I don't think Sir Lannhil would have acted differently from me, had he been in the same situation," Enorwin defended himself.

In an uncontrolled surge of anger, his father got up, planted his hands on the desk and yelled, "Well, you're not Lannhil! You've never been Lannhil! Right now, you're nothing but a disobedient child!" He pointed at his son. "Let me tell you something. According to the law, I could have you executed for taking part in a revolt against a Garowainian noble! I'm not going to do that, because you're my son and I love you. But do realise the gravity of what you've done!"

Enorwin just stood there, unsure what to say. As far as he could remember, his father had never been this angry at him. And yet what else could he have done than side with the people in the end? What else could his companions have done?

His father closed his eyes and sank back into his chair, suddenly looking very exhausted. "Once this whole thing is over and Hadufried has his land back, I'll see if I can arrange something," he said. "Maybe he'll be forgiving. If not, I'll have to consider letting Winnlowe or Claranne succeed me instead of you."

Enorwin bowed his head. "As you wish, father."

Earl Raynnard laughed joylessly. "If you had cared more about my wishes when you were in Dracherwold, we would not be having this conversation right now." He picked up one of the wooden figurines on the map. Studying it, he continued, "I intend to go through with the campaign anyway, even though the duke is currently incapable of granting us permission to enter his lands with an army. This is too urgent to wait until His Grace has been located. I'm sure he'll understand. After all, I'll be protecting his lands." At those last few words, he threw a meaningful glance at Enorwin, as if saying, Unlike you.

Enorwin simply nodded, still at a loss of words.

"Well, if you're just going to stand there, you might as well leave," the earl said. "Tell Wilnasson to come in; I want to discuss our strategy with him."

"I will," Enorwin said. He bowed.

"Until you admit that you made a mistake in Dracherwold and openly defied me, I'm going to have a hard time taking your displays of respect seriously," earl Raynnard said. He nonchalantly waved a hand at his son. "Go."

Enorwin nodded and obeyed. He left the tent feeling strangely dazed. Master Wilnasson had been waiting outside and asked, "Has His Lordship requested my presence?" he asked.

"Yeah," Enorwin responded vaguely, walking away. Mentally, he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Initially, his father's anger had frightened him; however, Enorwin had grown truly terrified when that anger subsided and was replaced by an uncaring iciness, as if the earl had stopped caring for his son.

He remembered the conversation he had had with his father many years ago.

"But you are brave like Sir Lannhil, aren't you, dad?"

"I hope I am, son. And I am sure you will be a very brave knight, too."

But today, earl Raynnard hadn't expressed any concern for bravery. He'd spoken about reputations, he had regarded duke Hadufried's titles as more important than the way he treated his people.

"Enorwin, this has absolutely nothing to do with right or wrong."

The reason his father had disagreed with Enorwin's deeds had nothing to do with morals: it was all about appearances and reputations.

The prince recalled the times before the moment when he had shot Maréin in the arm. All those times he had had complete and utter faith in the system of Garowain. He'd thought the nobles represented the great knights of yore. Now, however, his ideals were more and more getting into conflict with the nobles around him.

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"That doesn't look good," Arwund murmured as Enorwin walked towards the group.

The breather had been sitting around the campfire with Vaciana, Maréin and Bedreigh, waiting for Enorwin to return. Now that the prince had finished his conversation with his father, his face was contorted into a saddened, worried and confused frown.

"I haven't seen him like that since his Sir Grumpy days," Arwund added, raising his eyebrows.

Wordlessly, the prince sunk down by the fire and let out a sigh.

"What happened, my lord?" Bedreigh asked, clearly concerned.

"My father did not understand at all," Enorwin said. "He talked about my actions damaging the reputation of the Flaming Lands. He actually went as far as saying that all of this had nothing to do with right or wrong."

"So he's still mad at you?" Vaciana asked.

"The thing is," Enorwin said, "that in the end, he didn't look mad anymore. He actually looked as though he'd stopped caring about me."

"Well, the guy hasn't punished you, has he?" Arwund said. "That probably means he hasn't completely given up on you."

Enorwin smiled sadly. "Not completely, no."

"You're not alone in this, Enorwin," Maréin suddenly said. "We'll be there for you."

Enorwin smiled. "Thank you." He sighed. "It's so difficult. I don't want to disappoint my father, and yet I can't possibly come back on the things I did in Dracherwold."

"Talk about tough choices," Vaciana said.

Arwund nodded. He couldn't agree more. Suddenly, he was incredibly glad he hadn't been born a noble.

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"You're up to something," Vaciana said to Maréin in Southern once the others had left the campsite. "I just know you are."

"I am," Maréin said. "How can you tell?"

"Your speech," she explained. "You sound a bit absent-minded. What are you planning to do?"

"I'm not yet sure whether I'm going to do it," the knight responded vaguely. "I'm unsure it'll be effective. Then again, I have my powers."

"Enigmatic as ever, Maréin," Vaciana said, mockingly stressing the name. "I must admit, you do an admirable job hiding your true identity."

"Luck, I suppose," Maréin said. "Then again, there have been people who recognised the name and just wouldn't believe it was really me."

"Well, it's a bit of an unlikely scenario, I must admit," Vaciana said. "Most people think you're human, a warrior and most of all, long-dead. They don't expect you to just show up in front of them, let alone as a wanderer." She paused for a moment, then added, "I do like the irony of it all."

"What do you think about the earl?" Maréin suddenly asked.

Vaciana thought for a bit. "Hard to tell," she said. "He seems clever, though. He immediately realised there was more to the uprising than Enorwin was letting on."

"True," Maréin said. He fell silent. After a while, he got to his feet. "I'm going to try," he announced.

"Try what?"

"Try and convince the earl," Maréin responded.

Vaciana laughed. "Good luck with that," she said.

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Maréin approached the large tent at the centre of the camp. In front of it stood two guards, who were wearing mail and white and gold tunics and carrying halberds.

"Who are you?" one of them immediately demanded to know.

"My name is Maréin," the wanderer introduced himself. "I am a companion of Sir Enorwin's. I would like to speak to His Lordship."

One of the guards entered the tent. Maréin heard two people talking inside, but he did not understand the words being said.

Soon, the guard came outside again. "His Lordship has ordered you to wait here."

"Very well," Maréin said. He wondered how long this was going to take: after all, the guard had not mentioned a duration. However, he did not intend to back away this easily. He wanted to speak to Enorwin's father, even if he would have to wait an hour to reach him.

The guards were staring straight ahead, their faces without expression. They did not appear talkative. Maréin would have no choice but to stand here until the earl was ready to receive him.

Suddenly, he saw one of the guards' eyes turn towards him. The knight looked back at him, and the guard immediately averted his gaze. Interesting, Maréin thought. Are you observing me? And if so, what for?

The seconds passed by, quickly turning into minutes. Still no sign of the earl.

"His Lordship is ready to receive me, is he not?" Maréin asked the guards.

"He is," one of the guards replied, and that was that.

Maréin shrugged. He would be patient. The thought struck him that maybe the earl was testing him somehow, perhaps in order to see whether Maréin would leave of his own accord. The knight smiled slightly. He had lived for centuries: a few minutes spent waiting in front of a tent did not matter that much in comparison. He could wait.

He began to hum a song he'd picked up in a tavern somewhere. It was about the adventures of Sir Carvick, slayer of Brennsiel. Maréin had known Sir Carvick in person and had liked him; however, at some point, probably during the Draconic Wars, Carvick had vanished. Maybe he had died, or perhaps he had gone into hiding, much like Maréin himself. If so, could he still be alive? Probably not, Maréin thought grimly: he hadn't met any other knights since the end of the Draconic Wars. Even his old friend Rociane, who had been so frighteningly keen on going to war against the dragons, had disappeared. Many, far too many people had lost their lives in that horrible war.

Minutes upon minutes went by. Still, no-one came out of the tent. Maréin listened intently, trying to make out voices from inside the tent: perhaps the earl was still discussing tactics with someone. The wanderer didn't hear anything, though. It seemed more and more likely that the earl was testing him, wondering how the visitor would react.

However, Maréin told himself, he had not been rejected. He hadn't been told to go. There was still a good chance that this wait was not in vain.

He began to hum again, the seconds ticking away. He had lost track of the amount of time he'd spent out here: it could have been a few minutes, but it could also have been half an hour.

Suddenly, a young third guard pushed aside the canvas of the tent from the inside and said, "His Lordship would receive the visitor now."

The guards with the halberds stepped aside, allowing the knight to enter. Maréin smiled.

He entered the tent. In the back of the tent stood a wooden desk with a map on it, covered in wooden figurines. Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man, probably in his late forties, with grey hair and a small beard. His eyes were blue, like Enorwin's. He was gazing at his guest, as though he was assessing him.

At a corner of the desk lay a small, leather-bound book. The only other person in the room was the young guard. Maréin deemed it likely that the earl had indeed merely been reading all the time instead of receiving his visitor. The wanderer decided not to comment on it.

He bowed down. "My lord."

The earl nodded at him. "I understand you are a companion of my son's," he said thoughtfully.

Maréin stood straight again. "We met in Cafwick," he explained. "My name is Maréin."

"Maréin?" the earl said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "An interesting name. Isn't it the Southern word for 'knight'?"

"It is, my lord," Maréin replied. He decided against telling his last name.

"Your parents must have been interested in chivalry," earl Raynnard said.

"I'm not sure," Maréin said. "They did enjoy stories."

"Interesting," the earl commented. He leaned back. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Maréin came close to answering, Your son. However, he thought the earl would probably dislike a commoner questioning what he did in his private life. So instead, the wandering knight said, "I wanted to talk about the Dracherwold revolt, my lord."

The earl raised an eyebrow. He looked at the young guard standing in a corner of the tent and gestured at the exit. The guard bowed and left.

"Tell me what you know," the earl said.

"I was there with your son, my lord," Maréin explained. "However, I want to emphasise that he was not the one who instigated the revolt. In the end, it was the commoners of Dracherwold who did that."

"If you are going to criticise me for rebuking my son, you might as well leave," the earl said, sounding vaguely annoyed.

"He was right to help them, my lord!" Maréin said. "Those people were suffering! On top of that, he remained loyal to the duke for very long! He only changed sides when he realised he could no longer permit the duke to rule like that!" His mind strayed to the moment at the castle wall, when Enorwin had shot him in the arm. The wound in his arm began to sting a little.

The earl let out a sigh. "Maréin, your loyalty to my son is admirable, but you have no idea of what it means to be a ruler. Consider what will happen when Hadufried is put back in charge of Dracherwold! He'll know my son turned against him. He'll know my son committed treason! What implications do you think that will have on the relationship between the Flaming Lands and Dracherwold?"

"You speak as though it is certain that the duke will be reinstated," Maréin countered.

The earl let out a laugh. "Do you really expect those commoners to be able to maintain control in Dracherwold? They're up against the rest of Garowain, including the king himself! If necessary, His Majesty can send every soldier in the country to Dracherwold! Yes, it is certain that duke Hadufried will be reinstated."

Maréin fell silent. He hadn't stopped to consider this before, but he feared the earl was right. How in the world could the people of Dracherwold succeed in this rebellion on the long run? Maréin remembered the people he'd met in Dracherwold, all those faces, and then he involuntarily pictured them dead on a battlefield, or hanged by the duke. He briefly closed his eyes and swallowed.

"Do you see my point?" the earl said. "It's very unlikely that Enorwin will be able to succeed me this way. I pray that choosing another successor will be enough to pacify the duke, that he won't require a worse punishment."

The earl was right. Maréin knew that. Suddenly, the likely consequences of the Dracherwold rebellion were becoming clear as crystal to him. He shivered and thought, How can such cruelty exist?

"I know those people," he muttered, shaking his head in frustration. "I know so many of the rebels."

"The leaders of the rebellion should have thought this through beforehand," the earl said in a neutral tone.

Maréin gasped. The leaders of the rebellion, he thought. Arwund. Hageriech. Amahilda. I.

It was all his fault.

"It was me," he suddenly blurted out, no longer able to hold on to his composure. "I led the rebellion."

Suddenly, something shifted in the earl's face. He slowly rose from his chair. "You?" he asked, pointing at Maréin.

"Yes, my lord," Maréin said. "It was me." Frankly, he'd stopped caring whether the earl would punish him for it. The thought of the people of Dracherwold being killed, those poor, innocent people, was too much to bear.

The earl nodded to himself. "Yes," he mumbled, "yes, that might work."

"What do you mean, my lord?" Maréin asked, trying hard to focus on the earl instead of the horrifying realisation of the rebels' likely fate.

The earl smiled. "Imagine," he said. "The battle against Darfith is over. Duke Hadufried is back in charge. He demands that I punish my son for treason." His smile was growing more triumphant with the second. "Then I tell him that my son had no real part in the rebellion. In fact, after the rebellion, he immediately fled the castle to the place where my army was supposed to rendezvous with him. There, he told me – utterly shocked by the honourless revolt he'd witnessed, of course – that his companions had started a revolt in Dracherwold. To save his own life – and thereby his mission – he had had to pretend to be on their side. By that time, of course, you'll be long gone and you'll stay away from Dracherwold and the Flaming Lands for the rest of your life. That way, Enorwin can still succeed me, the reputation of the Flaming Lands won't be harmed and I won't be forced to have you executed. Everybody wins."

Except the people of Dracherwold, Maréin thought grimly. He looked at the earl and asked, "Why are you sparing me?"

"Because I do not enjoy being arbitrarily cruel," earl Raynnard responded. "If I can spare an innocent life and maintain the good reputation of my realm at the same time, I'll do it."

So he's not on the duke's side per se, Maréin realised. He just doesn't want him as an enemy.

"Now go," the earl said. "I have important things to do."

Maréin nodded. Wordlessly, he left the tent.

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Vaciana caught Maréin's scent – wool and campfire – in the air as he approached. "How did it go?" she asked.

Maréin sat down beside her. "I told him I was the leader of the rebellion. He's going to use that fact to trick the duke into believing that Enorwin never betrayed him at all."

"Not that the duke will ever be in power again," Vaciana said.

"He will," Maréin said quietly. It was the voice of someone carrying an invisible, yet immensely heavy burden. "The earl knows it, and he's right. How in the world are a few rebels with a castle going to withstand the Garowainian nobles?" He sighed. "It's just like last time."

Why had she never considered this? Maréin was right. They were only townspeople, not soldiers. She felt a wave of sadness.

"Last time?" she asked.

"The Draconic Wars," Maréin answered. "I didn't manage to save anyone back then and in this age, too, I'm unable to truly help people." There was a frustration and anger in his voice she'd never heard before. She put her arm around him.

She heard him shift his head towards her. "What should I do?" he asked desperately, as though she was the only one who could save him. But what could they do? She wanted to help Maréin, she wanted to help him carry at least part of his burden, his seemingly endless desire to help everyone he met; and yet, she had no clue what to do.

Then, however, an idea struck her. "What about this?" she asked. "Soon, we'll travel to the mountains to defeat Darfith. Enorwin will no longer need us after that. Then, we'll travel back to castle Dracherwold and join the rebels. Maybe they're not physically capable of warding off an army, but you have your powers. I've seen you in Dracherwold. Thanks to you, the rebels were able to take the castle without using any violence. You gave them a sense of hope they'd never had before. With your help, they can win this. They really can. And you'll save many lives in the process."

"You really think so?" Maréin asked softly.

"I do," Vaciana said. "And I'll be by your side. I promise."

"Thank you, Vaciana," the knight said, his voice thick with emotion.

She smiled. Moving her arm away from his back, she extended her hand towards him. "Together."

He took it, sealing their promise. "Together."