Salson and his companions descended from the snowy mountain, their breaths misting in the crisp air. A shared thought propelled them: the dark wizard Locren. Their destination: a nearby village. Glocury. A small, unassuming place where lifeblood flowed from the soil.
A silent understanding passed between Salson, Brihan, and Sabrin. They would split up, cast their inquiries like fishing lines into the village's quiet pond. The target: anyone who knew of a man marked by two black lines upon his face. Yet, house after house, field after field, the answer remained the same. Blank stares. Shakes of the head. No recognition.
Disappointment settled like a thin layer of frost as they reconvened before a rustic inn. "Nothing," Sabrin sighed, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. "No one knows anyone with those markings. We should move on."
Salson offered a curt nod, his gaze already drifting towards the edge of the village. They began to walk, the silence punctuated only by the crunch of their boots on the dusty path.
Then, a shout sliced through the quiet. "Hey, you guys! Come here! I know who you're looking for!"
They spun around, their hands instinctively moving towards their weapons. A figure sat sprawled on a wooden bench outside the inn, a half-eaten sandwich clutched in one hand. He was a spectacle of gleaming gold – a full suit of armor, reflecting the afternoon sun, and beside him leaned a matching spear and shield.
The golden knight gestured with his sandwich. "My name is Risbard," he announced, his voice surprisingly casual for his imposing appearance. "A holy knight, personally invited by the emperor to protect my young master. The very person you seek."
Brihan's brow furrowed. "Why are you telling us this?" Suspicion laced his tone.
Risbard shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. "You don't strike me as the villainous sort. Besides," a hint of weariness entered his voice, "I'm terribly bored. Locren keeps me at arm's length. But," he leaned forward, his golden gaze suddenly sharp, "in a few days, he'll be performing the ritual to create his magic circle. I don't know what he intends, but I pray it's nothing sinister. It will happen behind the mountain, near this village."
His posture stiffened, the playful air vanishing. "If you intend to interfere, you will have to go through me." He punctuated the statement with another bite of his sandwich, the mundane act contrasting sharply with his serious words.
A silent understanding passed between the trio. They offered their thanks, a mix of gratitude and apprehension swirling within them, and retreated.
As dusk painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, they found lodging in a modest hostel. The shared meal was quiet, their thoughts preoccupied. Later, gathered in their small room, Salson finally broke the silence. "We'll stay in this village for a few more days. Then, we'll set up camp behind the mountain. When Locren makes his move," his voice was low and resolute, "we will stop him."