The sun pressed down on the carriage as it rolled along the dirt road. Three knights sat inside, all under the command of the 3rd Commander serving General Fürtwald. Their armor clinked every time the wheels hit a stone.
"Are we close to the House of Fürtwald?" one knight asked.
"I think we passed it," the second knight said.
"No, we didn't," the third replied. "It should be near the farming district."
The commander lifted his chin. "Calm down. I know exactly where it is."
All three knights stared at him.
"Sir," the first knight said, "you said that an hour ago."
The commander frowned. "Well, I still know. My sense of direction is flawless. I just didn't activate it yet."
They groaned.
The carriage stopped, and the commander pointed at a random house. "This is it. I'm sure."
"That looks… wrong, sir."
"Watch and learn," he said proudly.
He marched to the door and knocked. A moment later, the door creaked open. An old man appeared, shirtless and sweaty. Behind him, an old woman peeked from the bed, blushing and holding a blanket.
The commander froze. The knights froze. The old couple froze.
"…Oh," the commander whispered.
The old man coughed. "Can we help you?"
The commander bowed awkwardly. "My apologies. Please continue your… passionate training."
He hurried back to the carriage with a stiff smile.
The knights stared at him, horrified.
"Sir," one muttered, "why did you say 'passionate training'?"
The commander straightened his cloak. "Because that's what it looked like. Maybe we should do that someday too... like team bonding."
"No!" all three knights shouted.
He shrugged and crossed his arms. "You're missing out."
They sighed and shook their heads.
"You were so confident saying those words to the old couple," one knight said.
The commander nodded. "Confidence is important. Even when I'm completely wrong."
The carriage rolled into the Gravenheim Farming District, wheat fields stretching far on both sides. Three knights stared out the window with tired eyes.
They thought they were close to Fürtwald's home.
They were not.
They were at the complete opposite end of the district. They didn't know that.
The commander stepped down proudly. "Men, we have arrived at the correct area. I can feel it."
One knight whispered, "Sir, you also felt it an hour ago."
"Silence," the commander replied. "My instincts are warming up."
He marched toward a farmer carrying a sack of carrots.
"Excuse me," the commander said, "do you know where the House of Fürtwald is?"
The farmer blinked. "Ah… that's on the other side."
The commander turned to the knights. "See? We are close."
The knights stared at each other.
"Sir," the second knight said, "he literally pointed the opposite direction."
"That's how you know he's lying," the commander answered. "Locals love misleading visitors."
He then questioned another farmer. And then another. And then a kid. And then a chicken.
He even asked a horse.
The knights watched in pain.
"Why did he ask the horse?" one knight whispered.
"Because he's desperate," another replied.
Minutes turned into hours. The sun dropped lower. Sweat dripped down armor.
They finally stopped in front of the same house they had passed three times.
"Sir," a knight said slowly, "isn't this the same house with the pumpkin garden?"
The commander shook his head. "No. That one had smaller pumpkins."
"It's literally the same," the knight whispered.
The commander ignored him and approached an old woman sweeping the doorstep.
"Madam, Haus Fürtwald?"
She pointed the same direction everyone else had.
The commander smirked. "See? All part of the test. If the answers match, they must be wrong."
The knights nearly cried.
They were hopelessly, completely lost.
And the commander was still confident.
---
Night covered the Farming District. The streets were quiet, and the three knights dragged themselves forward with dull steps. They were exhausted. They were also amazed their commander still walked with pride.
One knight sighed. "I cannot believe we followed him for six hours."
Another shook his head. "He even asked a horse."
The third muttered, "And he said the chicken was hiding secrets."
They looked at their commander. He walked like nothing was wrong.
"Men," the commander said, "we made great progress today."
The knights nearly collapsed.
They crossed the gates and entered Gravenheim. Lanterns lit the Market District. The commander found a small motel, and the group checked in. The tired knights went straight to their room. The commander stretched his arms.
"I will go visit the pub. I must collect information."
They all stared at him, but they didn't stop him. They were too tired.
He walked to a nearby pub. It was simple and noisy. People drank and laughed. The commander sat down at a table without asking.
He reached forward, grabbed a piece of roasted meat from a plate, and took a big bite.
The owner shouted. "Hey! That is for customers! Are you stealing my food?!"
The commander chewed calmly. "No. You are lying."
The owner froze. "What?"
"You placed this here for me. You must have forgotten." The commander nodded with confidence. "It happens to old people."
The owner was only thirty.
"I did not forget anything! That is my food! You—"
"You are gaslighting me," the commander said. "Do not twist the truth."
"I am the owner!"
"And I am the customer you prepared it for."
People at nearby tables turned to look.
The commander chewed calmly, sauce dripping from his mouth, ignoring the yells of the pub owner.
"You—You thief!" the man shouted, waving a broom like a sword.
The commander licked his fingers. "Excuse me, old man. I believe you're mistaken. I already paid. Or did you forget again?"
Before the argument could continue, shouts sounded outside. "Stop him! Thief! Guards!"
The commander stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, "Very well. Let's dance."
He bolted for the door. The pub owner grabbed a chair and swung it, barely missing his head. The commander ducked, spinning to avoid it, and kicked a table aside.
Plates shattered.
Outside, the streets were dark. Three guards appeared, drawing short swords. "Halt! You are under arrest!"
The commander smirked. "Do try to stop me." He ran forward, boots clattering on cobblestones.
One guard fired an arrow. The commander rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the tip. "You'll have to be faster than that!" he called over his shoulder.
Another guard lunged. The commander spun, grabbed a loose barrel, and threw it into the attacker's path.
The man stumbled, falling with a grunt.
"Impressive," muttered the third guard, charging with both sword and shield.
The commander jumped onto a low wall, landing on the other side with perfect balance. "Not bad either," he said, sprinting toward a narrow alley.
Arrows rained behind him. He ducked under a hanging sign, twisting midair to avoid hitting the wood. "Careful, gentlemen! You'll bruise yourselves!"
A guard shouted, "Stop him! He can't escape!"
The commander vaulted over a crate, sliding under a low doorway. The guard stumbled into the wall. "Blast it!"
He reached the main alley, leaping from wall to wall with the grace of a trained acrobat. Torches illuminated his path. One guard aimed at him from a rooftop.
The commander rolled under a pile of discarded sacks, the arrow thudding into the wood above.
"Still too slow!" he shouted.
The guards regrouped at the alley's exit. The commander paused, crouched behind a corner, smirked, and then darted forward at a sprint.
He vaulted over an overturned cart, landed in a roll, and disappeared into the night, leaving the guards shouting and panting behind him.
"Curse that man!" one guard yelled.
The commander's voice echoed faintly as he ran. "You'll get used to losing eventually!"
The commander skidded around the corner, boots scraping the cobblestones.
He stumbled, nearly crashing into a small figure standing in the middle of the alley.
"Out of my way, kid!" the commander barked, pushing forward, but the child didn't budge.
Lucian's eyes narrowed.
He snatched a fruit from a nearby crate and hurled it with precision. The fruit hit the commander's shoulder with a soft thunk.
The commander barely flinched. He grabbed another fruit and flung it at Lucian, who ducked and rolled, grabbing a wooden stick from a vendor's cart to block the next throw.
The alley became a chaotic battlefield. Fruits, crates, and random objects flew in every direction. Lucian's small arms moved faster than anyone would expect.
"Stop right there! Guards!" a voice shouted from the street above. Torches flickered as armored men poured into the alley.
They froze for a moment, eyes widening.
"That—That's Fürtwald's son!"
The commander's grin widened.
"Is that so? Well then, it'll be more fun!" He leapt, faster than Lucian could react, closing the distance in an instant.
Lucian swung his stick, trying to block the strike, but the commander's hand darted around, seizing his arm and flipping him onto the cobblestones.
Lucian hit the ground hard, scrambling up.
He tried another throw, but the commander anticipated every movement.
His eyes gleamed with excitement. "Impressive. Very clever."
Lucian's heart pounded.
He ducked, dodged, swung, and countered, but the commander's speed was unmatched.
In a single, fluid motion, the commander lunged forward, grabbed Lucian's wrist, and spun him around.
Lucian barely had time to think.
"Fürtwald's son, huh?" the commander said, smirking as he pressed him to the wall. "I like you. But you're mine now."
What is this guy's problem?
Before Lucian could react, a flick of the commander's hand sent him sprawling onto the ground.
Lucian looked up, chest heaving, stunned. The commander's shadow loomed over him.
"Done."
It all happened in a single second. Lucian barely registered the pain, the shock, or the fact that he'd just been completely overpowered.
The commander's grin widened. "Next time, don't make me wait."