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Night fell, and campfires sprang up across the temporary outpost.
A massively obese man sat in a heavy, high-backed chair. His head was as bald as a newborn's bottom, and he sported a thick, walrus-like mustache.
His gaze was steady as he sat quietly, listening to his subordinates report on the operation to eradicate the raiders around White Harbor.
The obese man was Wylis Manderly.
The eldest son of Wyman Manderly and the rightful heir to House Manderly.
Though his immense weight made it almost impossible for him to ride a horse into battle properly, he was still one of the few formally anointed knights in the North.
He was also a devout follower of the Seven, known for his quiet demeanor and strict adherence to etiquette.
"..."
"Lord Wylis, during this operation, we have slain a total of sixty-five raiders and captured thirty-seven!
"..."
The knight giving the report, clad in a thick teal wool surcoat, paused for a moment before concluding:
"The most outstanding performance belongs to the Bloody Hand Mercenary Company, who slew twenty-three raiders and captured seventeen!
"Following them is Ser Donovan, who slew four raiders..."
Nearby, a scribe's quill scratched furiously against parchment, recording every detail.
Slowly, the parchment filled with names, numbers, and tallies of battle.
The light from the nearby campfire danced across the parchment and reflected off Wylis's fat face.
The knight finished his report and fell silent.
Wylis thought for a moment before speaking in a measured tone:
"Announce the names of the most outstanding mercenary company and freelance knights to the entire camp.
"And announce that all freelance knights and sellswords who have recorded kills or captures will receive their pay immediately. I'm sure they are eager for it."
Wylis paused again, then added:
"After the announcements, have the captain of the Bloody Hand Mercenary Company and Ser Donovan brought to me."
"Yes, Lord Wylis!" the knight replied instantly.
With that, the knight turned and strode out to an open space nearby.
He swept his gaze over the eight or nine campfires and the freelance knights and sellswords gathered around them.
He waited a moment, letting the eyes of the camp settle heavily upon him.
Only then did his voice boom out like a ringing bell:
"In the name of Ser Wylis Manderly, the rightful heir to House Manderly!
"I hereby announce the results of the campaign to cleanse the banks of the White Knife of raiders!
"Your swords have secured the safety of White Harbor and shielded the smallfolk of the North. Lord Wylis bears witness to your deeds, by the Old Gods and the New!
"The scribe has recorded the achievements of every single man here. Not a single deed has been overlooked!
"The most outstanding performance of this campaign belongs to the Bloody Hand Mercenary Company! Slaying twenty-three raiders! Capturing seventeen!"
The camp erupted in cheers.
Around the Bloody Hand's campfire, the roaring celebration was deafening.
The other mercenaries around the camp turned to look at them.
Some whistled loudly, while others raised their waterskins in a toast of respect.
Men who made their living on the edge of a blade always respected true warriors.
The knight waited for the cheers to die down slightly before continuing:
"Following them is Ser Donovan, who slew four raiders!"
By a campfire on the eastern side of the camp.
Ser Donovan, fully clad in plate armor, gave a sharp nod and raised his longsword to acknowledge the crowd.
The knights around him raised their own swords in response, the sharp clatter of striking steel ringing out in unison.
Afterward, the knight read out the names of every freelance knight and sellsword who had earned merit, one by one.
From a young sellsword who had managed to kill a single raider, to squad leaders who had led successful ambushes.
Every single name was read clearly, without omission.
With every name called, the corresponding campfire erupted in cheers and jeers, the firelight illuminating faces flushed with excitement.
---
Don Quixote adjusted his gear, stepped through the roaring, celebratory atmosphere, and approached the campfire where Wylis sat. He bowed deeply:
"Lord Wylis!"
Then, he turned to the tall, broad-shouldered, heavily built knight standing nearby and smiled:
"Ser Donovan!"
Ser Donovan returned the greeting:
"Ser Don Quixote!"
Wylis spent a long moment studying Don Quixote before speaking in his steady, measured tone:
"Ser Don Quixote, Ser Donovan. My father is planning to host a grand tourney soon to celebrate and promote the spirit of knighthood!
"I would like to invite both of you to participate."
Having anticipated this, Don Quixote immediately bowed again:
"I thank you, Lord Wylis, for granting me the opportunity to win glory before the Old Gods, the New, and the eyes of the realm.
"I pledge to arrive at the appointed time, with my weapons, my destrier, and my squire, to answer my lord's call.
"I swear to strictly abide by all rules and edicts set forth by the lord for this tourney!
"And I shall uphold my knightly vows upon the tourney grounds!"
Hearing this, Ser Donovan hurriedly added:
"I thank you, Lord Wylis, for bestowing such an honor upon me!
"I, Ser Donovan, shall answer my lord's call.
"I will participate in this tourney to prove my worth as a knight."
Ser Donovan paused, feeling his words didn't quite capture his excitement, and quickly continued:
"I fear no hardship!
"My knightly spirit will be proven upon the lists!
"I will never back down from any challenge set before me!"
Wylis offered a faint smile, seemingly struck by a thought.
He slowly turned his massive head toward Don Quixote and added:
"Ser Don Quixote, in recognition of the Bloody Hand Mercenary Company's outstanding performance...
"I have decided to invite two more knights from the Bloody Hand to participate in the upcoming tourney!
"I leave the specific choices to you."
Stunned for a moment, Don Quixote quickly recovered and replied instantly:
"Thank you for your trust, Lord Wylis. I swear to carefully select men who embody the true spirit of knighthood. I will not let you down!"
---
"Lord Wylis has granted the Bloody Hand Mercenary Company three spots in the upcoming tourney."
Returning to their campfire, Don Quixote looked at his men and chuckled softly:
"I'll be taking one of those spots. The other two are still open. Who wants to compete?"
After a brief silence, six men quickly spoke up:
"Captain, I want to compete!"
Don Quixote scanned the group again, his eyes suddenly stopping on Zachary.
Zachary's brow was deeply furrowed, his lips twitched, and his gaze darted around nervously.
He looked entirely conflicted.
Don Quixote smiled slowly:
"Anyone else?
"Zachary, you don't have any thoughts on this?
"Aren't you the one who loves listening to and telling tales of knights and tourneys the most?
"Don't you want to be the main character in one of those stories yourself?"
Before Zachary could respond, someone else laughed:
"Captain, a knight's tourney is a place for knights. Zachary isn't a knight. I doubt they'd even let him on the field."