The cloak he wore covered his form, though the sword poking out of his hip and the shield strapped to his back were obviously protruding from the veiled body of the squire. Rain dripped idly from the birch trees that surrounded the city of Dal'Mahra. They say strange spirits lingered in the forest further inland, but he was just glad to be leaving. It perturbed Roland to be in a city where a third of the city's power was held by the court of Mages. Even with all of the Paladins within the city maintaining order. 

He had arrived seeking his Knighthood, and he had heard the Order of the Silver Fist had taken hold of the city after they had liberated it from the demonic invasion not seventy years ago. Ever since, the Paladins had held the military power in the city, though the Court of Mages and the local nobility still held much political sway. He'd been called to service via a council of Knights to scout out the northern mountains. There had been strange stories coming from some of the local villages near the blighted ruins. 

He wished they would have provided him a steed. But he had two fortnights to report back, and it would take days simply getting there. Not only that, but he had never met his traveling companion. He was only told he would know them when he saw them, and so the young soldier stomped through the muddied gravel, traversing the outskirts of the walls. He'd been at the stables, speaking to one of the horsemasters to see if he could purchase a good steed, but no such luck. 

It was a dreary day to set off on the road. He had been trained from the age of seven winters old to fight and ride, and to rough the elements. But even he felt there were some days best spent inside with a fine drink and a roaring fire. This was his lot in life, however. If he wished to serve faithfully, he needed to perform this last mission. Truthfully he was honored to have been chosen. An opportunity to rise through the ranks like this didn't come often. 

Cresting the hill, he found himself in sight of the gate. He took a deep breath and removed his hood to reveal a heroic, handsome face. Tough, but still fresh with youth. His brown eyes drank in the dim light of the overcast day around him, as if they were pits of depth to be explored if one was deemed worthy. A fire danced in them, glimmering with the passion of duty and righting wrongs. Truly a Knight in all but title. 
[@Luminosity]