In walked, as Drav said, three knights and two females. The knights were dressed in the typical armor – greaves, chest plates, bracers, chain mail. The chest plates were inlayed with the kingdom’s crest – a white shield with a purple cross on top. This signified that they were knights of the Purple City and warriors of Christianity. The women wore fake smiles and forced laughter, probably bought already or wanting to be paid for their services. Their dresses were made with the finest material, almost like a Chinese silk.

  The knights took seats at the bar; one woman caressed one of their faces while the other nibbled on another’s ear. “Round o’ mead, boy,” the tallest, darker haired knight said. “Make it quick.”

  Os turned his back to the knights looking for any mead in the cupboards below. He took a deep breath. He had to remain calm and not arouse any suspicion. He was just a local barkeep, trying to maintain his dwindling business. He found a few bottles and served the knights and ladies.

  “Whas’ your name boy?” The tall knight, who seemed to be the leader, eyed Os as if he knew he was the new member to a rebellious group. “You knew around here?”

  “Oseric,” he swallowed the lump his throat. “But most people call me Os.”

  “Os, huh? I must t ell you, I’ve been around here a few times, and I’ve never seen your face. Are you new here?” The man swilled his drink, trying not to get distracted by the lady in the purple dress shoving her boobs in his face.

  “Yes, actually,” Os took a small breath. Telling the truth was much easier than telling a lie. He could hide in plain sight, like Rwo said earlier. “I’m from Thevs. Just moved here a day ago.”

  The man nodded, satisfied with Os’ answers so far. “What brought you all the way out here?”

  Os, trying to act busy, started tending to the dwindling candle lights. He struck some flint over a small bundle of fine horse hairs, and lit the surrounding candles across the bar. “Got into some bad business in Thevs. A friend of mine died from the Greay. I was addicted too, but I’m trying to clean myself of it.”

  One of the other knights, now with a visible scar across his face, looked at Os and raised his glass. “It’s not easy,” he said. “That stuff’s nasty. I got into it too, during my training. Kicked it, thank God. You’re doing the right thing, Os. Getting away from that stuff.”

  Os, even though they were the enemy, felt a sense of calm and acknowledgement wash over him from this stranger. It was an odd feeling since he didn’t know the man from Adam, but Os felt he could come to respect this man.

  “Of course,” he kept going, “that shit’s from the natives. God, I’m glad we cut them all down.” Os’ feeling of calm immediately vanished.

  “They brought the Greay to Heill,” Os asked, genuinely curious. “I thought it was the Asian trades.”

  The man shook his head. “No, no, no –“

  “You’ll have to excuse him,” the tall knight said. “His brain got a little nicked when he got that scar.”

  The scarred man grunted, and returned to his mead and lady. “I’ll nick your dick,” he mumbled.

  “They were from both,” said the tall knight. “The Asians created it, traded with the natives. This was what King Jelpt, God rest his soul, found out the Asians were trading to the natives. The natives, in turn, were selling Jelpt’s resources. The natives got our men addicted to it. This is what got them slaughtered.”

  “Huh,” Os said, genuenly surprised with learning some new knowledge about the kingdom’s history. “My grandfather was a knight. I never knew that part of Heill’s history.”

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  The men stopped drinking and the women stopped flirting and nibbling. The eyed Os curiously, like he had just said King Phelch was his brother.

  “A knight, you say?” The third knight, who was too busy with the lady attached to his ear, broke the silence. “What was his name?”

  “Sir Hawthone, Amborse Hawthorne,” Os said. He felt his stomach drop as something told him that this was a bad move to reveal his grandfather’s identity.

  “Ambrose…Hawthorne…” muttered the tall knight.

  “Wasn’t he the… No, that wasn’t… Was it?” said the scarred one.

  “Farmer?” said the third knight. “He retired to Thevs about twenty or so years ago, if I remember correctly.”

  One of the key components of being a knight was to know your kingdom’s entire history, to Kings, noblemen, and even all its traitors. Thankfully for Os, these knights were three sheets to the wind.

  “Yes, he was a farmer after he retired.” This, technically, wasn’t a lie. Now Os knew that after his grandfather helped Rwo and Ena escape, he was forced into a life of farming to provide for his son, his daughter-in-law, and their son, Os. “Some raiders got to him about twelve years ago. I don’t remember much; I was really little.” The ladies went right back to flirting and the knights went back to sipping their beverages.

  “That’s too bad,” said the scarred man. “What about his sword?”

  Os took a small breath. This is where he had to lie, as he couldn’t come up with an excuse for the truth. He had left it behind in his home. He had totally forgotten about it since he was still reeling from his Greay addiction. Thieves had for sure already taken it. A knight’s sword was a family heirloom, to be protected at all costs. If these knights knew that he had left it behind because of his addiction, he would for sure be beaten within an inch of his life, if not worse.

  “My father sold it,” Os said. “Right back to the Purple City blacksmiths.” This was a common practice for knights or their families experiencing financial hardships. The blacksmiths would melt it down for scrap or sell it to other warriors to make some quick coins.

  “That’s too bad,” said the tall knight. “Well, Sir Oseric, if you can make your way to the Purple City one day, do please head straight to any of the Lord’s manors. There are training sessions all year round for knights in training.”

  “Knight? Me?” Os couldn’t believe his ears. It was something he had never considered, except in his youth when hearing stories from his grandfather. Even then, his grandfather warned him about becoming a knight. Now, thanks to Rwo and Ena, he knew why.

  “Of course,” said the tall knight. “If a knight’s blood runs in your veins, then you are to be a Knight yourself. In fact, why don’t you travel with us? We’re heading back to the Purple City in a few days.”

  Os shook his head. “Unfortunately, in my state, I don’t think I’d make a good knight. I’m still recovering.”

  “Ah, I see. Well then, Oseric, if you ever decide to go to the City, reach out to Lord Velleric, and tell him Sir Theodun sent you.”

  “Aye,” said the scarred man. “And Sir Gerum, and Sir Yuolnd.” The third knight nodded and raised his glass to Os.

  “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

  “No need to thank us, lad,” said Gerum. “We’re trying to recruit all the arms we can get. Heading to war soon.”

  “Shut it, idiot,” Theodun said. “Forgot what he said, Oseric. That is far, far into the future,” he shot Gerum and Yuolnd a look. “You probably won’t ever need to pick up a sword for battle. It’s your duty as a Knight’s grandson to join the ranks you are promised.”

  “Do you have any beds available,” said Yuolnd. “This one’s being feisty.” He immersed himself in his lady’s cleavage, sloshing his mead everywhere.

  “Of course, help yourselves to any of the unlocked rooms.” Thankfully, Os knew that the Black Hoof back in Thevs had this open door policy, and it was pretty universal throughout taverns. “No need for payment because of your offer. Just enjoy your night.”

  The knights and their ladies left to their rooms as Os cleaned up their cups and the leftover mead. From the back door. Rwo appeared and flashed Os a grin.

  “That was perfect. Actually, it went better than I expected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rwo exhaled and slapped Os on the shoulder. “The offer they extended you plays perfectly into our plan.”

  “Plan?” Os started extinguishing the candles, desperately wanting to hit a bed too.

  “We were planning to sneak you inside the Purple City somehow, and get you close as possible to the knights. The initial plan was for you to become a squire or a farmboy, tending to the stables. You would have had access to knights either way. But now, this would make your access even closer. You will become a knight and assassinate them from right under their noses.”

  “We should talk about this more in the morning,” Os said through half shut eyelids.

  “You’re right,” Rwo smiled. “The girls, Drav, and I are going to sleep in the church at the end of town. We’ll talk more over breakfast in the morning. You did a great job tonight, Os.”