Grethan, the wild knight, accompanied the caravan, defeating three bandit groups along the way.
As they reached the Martin capital, he accompanied the caravan master. The huge palace of the Martins stood tall in the middle of the city.
When they reached the palace gates, the guards stopped them.
"I am a caravan master from Braxer, and this is a guest his lordship would like to meet," said the caravan master.
When the guards heard this, they quickly called the head guard.
The caravan master was not a very important person, but it was clear from the reaction of the guards that he must be quite valuable to the lordship, Grethan thought to himself.
The head guard came and greeted him with a bow, which the caravan master returned.
"Mr. Sevon, we have to confirm your request with his lordship. Until then, you may wait in the outer circle with these two guards," said the head guard.
As they sat in the guest room of the outer circle, Grethan could not stop admiring it.
There were paintings and carved statues of legends and religious figures. The room was yellow in colour and lit so well that it felt like daytime even at night.
"Mr. Sevon," the guard beside them spoke. "I am a huge fan. I have read about your charge at the Alsari Hills and even your horse charge against the rebellion."
"Good," he replied without any enthusiasm.
This man was not as simple as Grethan had thought.
"Mr. Sevon, his lordship has called for you," said a servant wearing a three-piece suit. His stature was tall but thin, and Grethan could feel a strange elegance around him.
"You wait here while I talk inside," Sevon said, moving with quickened pace.
Grethan waited, observing the art and sculptures until one of them caught his eye.
A strange, handsome figure stood atop a hill while men bowed before him. A silver-haired, hunched old man pointed a blaming finger at him, while the old man's disciples held pikes and stones in their hands.
Zylum, I would assume… and that old man must be Grachen the Graver. It is a beautiful piece of art indeed, he thought to himself.
As he admired the painting, he was suddenly called by a servant—the same one from before.
"Sir, his lordship has summoned you to discuss the terms of your employment," he spoke as elegantly as before.
"You must leave your sword here. I shall take care of it."
As he moved through the hallway, the corridor grew brighter with every step.
Prune wood, a pale wood known for its fragrance, made up the floor here. His entire month's earnings would not buy even a single log of it, and yet here it was laid across the floor.
The walls were painted violet, the most expensive colour to produce. Grethan was stunned by such luxury.
Soon he reached the door of the lord's study.
The servant knocked.
"Your lordship, the guest knight has arrived," the servant said.
"Bring him in," said the rough voice from inside.
As Grethan entered, he was a little shocked by the simplicity of the room.
The walls still had art, but it was much simpler. A crayon drawing made by a child hung beside several paintings that were far less extravagant than those in the hallway.
His lordship, Lord John Martin, sat behind the desk.
The man looked quite young for his position. His long curly hair was neatly set, and he wore a long beard with curled moustaches. He looked quite charismatic, to say the least.
"Sir knight," said John, "Mr. Sevon here greatly praises your talents. So I have decided to hire you as a junior knight under the Martin household. Your trial to become a knight will be held three months from now."
He continued calmly.
"As for your other demands—the caravan routes are an important responsibility. We cannot assign that duty without first checking your loyalty."
"Well, my lord," Grethan replied, "I deeply appreciate your offer, but I cannot accept it. Thank you for considering."
He turned to leave.
But he was stopped by the butler who had brought him there.
"Sir Veltrin, you misunderstand," the butler said calmly. "You do not have a choice in this matter. You are a liability. If you refuse this offer, it will be equivalent to forfeiting your life to the guards."
Grethan thought for a moment.
There was no way he would leave this place alive if he refused.
His greed had forced him into a corner, and now he had no choice.
"Your lordship," he said slowly, "I accept."
"Mr. Veltrin will serve as a squire to a junior knight. That position suits him," John said to the butler.
"But—" Grethan tried to speak.
"When I gave my first offer, it was out of respect for the honorable Mr. Sevon, who once served us in the army and now serves as a caravan master," John interrupted.
"But scum like you deserve no regard from my station or his. Therefore, you shall learn what it truly means to be a knight first."
His voice hardened.
"Now leave before I have you beheaded, worm."
Grethan Veltrin felt anger surge inside him, but speaking now would only invite death.
So he gritted his teeth and followed the butler out of the room.