The early spring rain was still as cold as ice, in fact it was far colder than it had any right to be. The last time the bard had been outside, it had been in the verdent southern county of Haldenshire. The forest about them was thick and strange, and the ground was both soft and unforgiving in its hardness. She heard the warhorse whinny above her and two heavy sets of armored feet hit the ground beside her, and as she drifted into unconscious oblivion, the voice of the Knight saying softly. "It was my honor." 

[i]Seven hours later...[/i] 

The world grew brighter again, and the sounds she had been only subconsciously aware of came into being with the gradual introduction of her senses. The wind lapped at her face and hair, but she didn't feel cold. She felt a constant bucking beneath her like a tireless lover, and only when she bothered to open her eyes did she see that she was on horseback once again. Her arms around the waist of who she knew was the Knight, and and all of her memories of the previous evening came flooding back into her skull. Had she still not felt the aches, it would have been easy to have imagined she dreamt it all now that they rode amid a lightly wooded forest on a bright day, ne'er a cloud in the sky. 

"I've been waiting for you to come to." The Knight said, the horse cantering beneath them. The cloak he had worn now wrapped around her. Vague memories of being helped back onto the horse and swaddled were now flooding back whilst she realized just how cool the air was. The trees, though they rode in a lightly wooded area, were darker and thicker than the ones she was used to. As if reading her mind, he said. "I could tell by your accent you're not from around here. I'm not sure where you're from, but in Gossenland we don't get many foreigners. Human foreigners that is. Mostly just frontiersmen and traveling merchants. And the occasional barbarian horde." 

His accent certain sounded like someone from the north. It was as hearty and strong as the oaks they rode past, with a hint of finery in his voice but nowhere near posh enough for the courts. The more stunning aspect of his speech, however, was their location. Gossenland was at least six hundred miles from Visamyrce, over the Blackwood and past the Capital of Andred in the Duchy of Anderon! The only things north was Gossenland was Nordenmark and the Dragonback Mountains that halted the frigid winds from covering the land in ice and savage Norgardians. 

"We'll eat breakfast soon. Then you can tell me what happened. I'm Sir Ulfengrad, by the way. Knight of the Baron Hammerford." He told her as they crested a hill. However long they had been riding, his horse still looked hale and healthy, much like the young Knight that rode with her. He couldn't have been over twenty six, if that. 

Torm truly was happy she had awoken. Carrying around a corpse wasn't his idea of a successful mission, and every life he could save was worth something. Evil had crept back into the lands like an infection these last decades. If the Knights couldn't do something to hold it at bay, who would? He took a deep breath, calming himself and pushing back his tiredness. Soon he could rest and speak to the woman, but until then he- 

A banner rose before them on the country road, tall and splendidly whipping in the morning breeze. To any commoner it was a sight to behold, but Torm recognized the Griffon Emblem immediately. He wasn't so sure it was good news, at least for him. Still, he kept Lycurgus at a steady pace as they cantered down the hill without pausing, approaching the Knight upon the white Stallion who awaited them upon the path, as still as a statue. 

The Knight was tall and resplendent, with gleaming plate encased upon his body, iron mail filling the gaps of his armor with an added layer of protection. His great helm was large and reminiscent of Holy Orders of the southern provinces, with two large sun colored wings reaching into the sky above him like great horns. A fearsome golden wyrm was emblazoned upon his kite shield. Behind his visor, his eyes were unreadable. Despite how ferocious Torm could look, this one had the look of a Paladin of Legend. 

"Sir Haukenbrass!" Torm called to him, drawing Lycurgus to a walk until they halted a dozen paces from the other Knight. "What brings you out of Keep Hammerford?" 

"I come to find you, Ulfengrad." He said, his voice echoing beneath his steel helm. He had an air of pompousness that only time amongst the finest of gentry could produce, but his accent was still certainly of northern stock. "The good Baron has grown weary of your rewards, or lack thereof. He sent me to ascertain if you had perished or brought back the head of the Warlock. Tell me, as you still ride upon your steed, do you have the head of the thing?" 

Julliette could likely feel Torm tensing up, and the younger Knight was quiet for a moment. "I fought the thing. I found its lair and killed many of its minions. But it fled like a coward! Even now the castle it had resided in disappeared with some foul sorcery. This woman here was enchanted by their magics, but I managed to get her out of there once she broke out of the spell. I come back to show her to Baron Hammerford so he could ask her of her experiences."

"So," the other said, letting the word hang heavy in the air. "You did not bring the head of the warlock?" 

"No." Torm said. "I will explain myself to the Baron, not to you." 

"The Baron sent me to speak [i]for[/i] him, boy!" The shining Knight declared. "That warlock was merely a nuisance to the county. He stole mere peasants and vagabonds, nothing more. This was so you could prove yourself and show him you were a Knight worth having in his retinue. And you have failed..." 

Torm growled low enough to only be heard by Julliette. "You cannot strip me anything, no matter how much you stick your nose up the lord's rump." 

It wasn't entirely a true statement, Torm had to admit. Haukenbrass served the lord loyally and brought him much loot, but in a way Torm knew he was still playing 'the game.' It didn't matter (at least to your patron Lord) how many men you unhorsed if you brought no loot to show for it. Torm was letting his anger get the better at him. He had nothing left to lose. 

"No, I cannot...But I can and will strip of you of your patron." Haukenbrass said, deathly serious. "Torm Ulfengrad, I hereby relieve you of your connection to Baron Hammerford, and leave you to fade away into nothing. History will forget you, as it forgot your father." Torm stiffened but Haukenbrass continued. "You're a Knight only by the King's pity, and even the King's influence ends after a point. Do not come back to the Barony or I will skewer you upon my lance myself."