A year after the War of Shadows came to a close, the island nation of Altea was recruiting a new force of knights. Unlike other nations at the time, who might appoint knights from their status or wealth, Altea only sought skill and loyalty in its knights. Anyone could volunteer to become a cadet and rise to knighthood, if they passed the rigorous training and thorough lectures. 

One hopeful cadet approached the entrance to Altea Castle's training grounds with a calm stride that belied the broad grin on his face and excited twinkle in his eyes. He was a tall young man with brown hair long enough for the wind to brush, and the tanned skin of someone who's spent most his life outdoors. 

He stopped and took a breath, eyes scanning the gray stone gate up ahead. Beyond it led to the patch of green that all of Altea's knights had been trained on throughout history. **"Today, I join them."** he declared to himself. He felt his fists clench and tighten. **"Kristopher, Knight of Altea. It sounds good on the tongue."** He swallowed and smacked his lips, then came to another conclusion. **"Some water also sounds good."**

The sun and the walk had salted his body and soaked through his blue tunic. Licking his dry lips, he pulled a canteen from his leather belt and turned it up, draining every last bit of water in preparation for the day to come. With his eyes closed, savoring the liquid flowing into his parched throat, he at once became quite unaware of his surroundings.