Back in Alistair’s keep, the fire had burned low and the room smelled of wax and parchment. Fister stood at the doorway, clutching a letter sealed with a crude stump signet. His disapproval was plain on his face as he handed it over.

  Alistair, however, moved with renewed purpose, a faint pep in his step as if the weight of prophecy itself had finally taken form. He sat at his desk and began to break the seal when Fister interrupted.

  “What happens if the boy isn’t who you think he is?” he blurted out.

  Alistair set the letter down and looked up, his expression darkening. “You question me as if I owe you an explanation.“

  “There is another,” Fister said quickly.

  Alistair leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Another?“

  “A true hero of Huble,” Fister said. “He is of the same age, and already a hedge knight. He’s fought the foulest creatures in the realm and come out unscathed. Because of where he’s from, and the silver helmet that grips his head, his identity is largely unknown. Perhaps you were right, my lord — a village on the outskirts of the realm hides our true hero. He’s hiding in plain sight.“

  Alistair nodded slowly, pretending to consider the thought. “You must be speaking of the Rose Knight. A perfect reflection of man, no doubt.“

  He returned his attention to the letter, unsealing it with deliberate care. Fister shifted beside him, physically displeased by his lord’s lack of response.

  Alistair began to read aloud.

  “To Alistair,

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  I-I would love to j-join you on such a quest. D-Danger is of n-no concern to me, for I have nothing to live for at this moment.“

  Alistair’s brow furrowed. “Is he… stuttering in written form?“

  Fister’s expression sagged further as his hope drained away.

  Alistair continued reading.

  “I-If by chance I do b-become a hero and fall in battle, I only a-ask that Bumbling of the Bumbling Stump Inn receive my weight in gold.

  P.S. I-If you are attempting to c-collect on debts, I’ll give you Basic myself as payment.“

  Alistair stared at the parchment, bewildered. “Are you sure this message wasn’t tampered with?“

  “I assure you, my lord,” Fister said grimly.

  Alistair leaned back again, the earlier spark of confidence faltering. “It appears the owner of The Bumbling Stump no longer wants him around.“

  Fister seized the opportunity. “My lord… What sort of hero would ignore Gilgamar’s call?“

  Alistair rose, his doubt hardening into resolve. “I’m afraid he doesn’t have a choice.“

  Fister watched, dismayed, as Alistair began moving about the room with purpose.

  “I shall be gone by morning,” Alistair said. “Take my place in court. Tell them I’m off on another expedition. I’ve prepared this letter for the council—it shall explain everything.“

  He began to pack light travel supplies, fastening his cloak.

  “My lord—you’re risking Gilgamar, and you’re risking yourself, all at once!“

  “Do not worry for me, Fister. I squired for many knights in my youth. I’ll blend in with the commoners as the dirt on their faces. A few months is all I’ll need.“

  Fister hesitated. “I’ll pray for your return, my lord.“

  Alistair turned back with a faint smile, placing a hand on his servant’s shoulder. “I shall return the homes of all of Gilgamar.“

  And with that, Lord Alistair departed, leaving Fister alone in the flickering firelight, staring after the man who had just wagered the fate of the realm on a fool.