Continuation of the last Interlude

Author's Note:

The scene you're about to read was in my plans for yesterday's interlude. However, as I finished the latter, I thought that it had went on for too long and adding this scene might have been excessive. After sleeping on it and reading the Interlude once again with fresh eyes, I do believe that this scene is actually needed as it pushes the story forward. You can either read it below or check out the past Interlude which I have updated, whichever suits your reading tastes best.

Big Scene:

While Tristan meticulously read through the quest details, absorbed in every word, his friend Oswald's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"How do we accept these quests?" Oswald inquired, turning to the old man. "I don't see a place to sign."

"Bring it here," the old man replied curtly. Oswald complied.

Meanwhile, Tristan continued to study the quest in his hand. Four guardians coming from all directions? Just how powerful could these creatures be? We need to prepare for battle immediately, he thought. Lost in contemplation, Tristan mechanically went through the process of accepting the quests, starting with the perilous Four Guardian mission before moving on to the daily tasks.

As he completed the paperwork, Oswald nudged him back to reality. "Something's happening outside."

Exiting the building, they were met with an unexpected sight: a new faction had arrived. A squadron of twenty knights stood at attention, commanded by a lord in his mid-fifties and a younger, unremarkable man who rode slightly behind him. The lord, sporting a sharp beard, was clad in full-plated armor and carried a lance at his side. His younger companion, in contrast, wore a simple light-brown, long-sleeved shirt and was clean-shaven, his features hardly noteworthy.

Tristan's brow lifted at the newcomers, but it was Oswald's expression that held the most surprise. "Father...?" he whispered.

"Oswald," the older lord dismounted hastily, his eyes searching his son's face with palpable concern. "You had me deeply worried." Turning to Tristan, he bowed with a hint of formality. "Your Grace, I am heartened to see you well. Hearing of your journey alongside my son through the monstrous hordes in this besieged city, I could not stay away."

General Henry gave a sarcastic cough, not bothering to hide his skepticism. It was obvious that, had Lord Johanness truly felt this way, he wouldn't have remained ensconced in his manor for the past two days.

However, Tristan, bound by decorum and respect for his friend's family, chose to respond with veiled civility. "Lord Johanness, your timely presence is most welcome. As the adage goes, 'a stitch in time saves nine,' and yet here we are." He allowed a brief pause, letting the weight of his words hang thickly in the air before lightening the mood. "Nonetheless, I appreciate your journey here. Unity is indeed our most potent asset during these testing times, wouldn’t you agree?"

Caught off guard, Johanness took a moment to recover before answering with a newfound vigor. "Of course, Your Grace. It is in these defining moments that we must step forward."

“I’m glad you share my thoughts,” Tristan approached the head of the Strongheart family, intent on emphasizing the contributions of the others. "General Henry has dedicated many years to our city's service. Even now, he leads his Iron Vanguard, rescuing our citizens and defending our inner walls."

General Henry chuckled warmly. "These old bones may ache, but they've never ignored the call of duty."

"It's heartening to see you so well, General," Lord Johanness said, "A lion may age, but his fangs remain as sharp as ever."

"Your kind words honor me, Lord Johanness," the general replied, bowing slightly with well-practiced grace.

"And let's not forget Oswald," Tristan interjected, "who has been indefatigable in his efforts. He is, without a doubt, the pride of the Strongheart family."

Johanness's expression grew complex as he looked at his son. After a moment's contemplation, he bowed his head lightly. "Your praise is most generous, Your Grace."

"There's no need for such formality among friends," Tristan said, extending a warm handshake toward Johanness. "I've admired you since my youth, Lord Strongheart. You have honored both your family and this city throughout your life."

Taken aback by the flood of compliments, Johanness could only muster a simple, "Thank you."

"Not to let the praise go unshared," Tristan chuckled, steering Johanness's attention to a woman clad in leather armor. "May I introduce Jasmine, the head of the Merchant Alliance? Her contributions have been invaluable—providing both our army and the civilian populace with much-needed food and clothing, purely out of the kindness of her heart."

Johanness's eyebrows lifted with keen interest. "Remarkable. To lead the Merchant Alliance at such a young age, and still extend such generosity. I am genuinely impressed." He turned back to Tristan, adding, "To see a young prince surrounded by such remarkable individuals harkens back to the days when we stood beside your father against the western barbarians."

"My father often regaled me with tales of those times," Tristan smiled, directing the conversation back to Jasmine. "In the past two days, it's become abundantly clear that without Lady Jasmine, the city walls might have crumbled and Locksley would have been lost. An army, after all, marches on its stomach."

Pausing to let his words sink in, Tristan looked earnestly at Lord Johanness. "In light of her heroic efforts and commitment to our cause, I intend to use my authority as the first prince to recommend Jasmine for a seat on the council. Would you stand with me in this, Lord Johanness?"

Caught off guard by the proposal, Johanness hesitated. Sensing the eyes of everyone upon him, he let out a deep sigh before nodding his agreement. "If it is your wish, Your Grace, then I will certainly support you."

"I knew I could count on you," Tristan declared, shaking Johanness's hand vigorously as he laughed.

"It's the least I can do," Johanness returned the smile. His gaze then swept across the enormous statues surrounding them. "Your Grace, rumors of these divine statues have reached even me. When might you acquaint us with their wonders?"

Following Johanness's gaze, Tristan chuckled. "Why not right now? These are divine constructs, gifts from the gods themselves. While we may need to establish some regulations, these blessings should not be hoarded by a single individual."

"Your wisdom continues to humble me, Your Grace," Johanness said, smiling graciously. "Shall we proceed, then?"

"Certainly," Tristan gestured, allowing Lord Johanness and his men to approach the statues and choose their classes. After brief deliberations among themselves, they dispersed, each selecting one of the four imposing statues.

"I apologize for my father's behavior," Oswald approached Tristan hesitantly. "It's disheartening to see him only step forward when it's convenient for him."

"There's no need to apologize," Tristan exhaled, releasing a tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. "Besides, I managed to secure his support for Jasmine's council seat, so it wasn't a total loss."

"I'm impressed," Oswald laughed. "I never thought you had such diplomatic finesse."

"It comes with the territory of being the first prince," Tristan replied, sharing in the laughter.

As the minutes ticked by, Lord Johanness's men busied themselves selecting their classes from the towering statues. But Tristan's attention shifted to the slender man who had accompanied Lord Johanness earlier. Unlike the others, he seemed in no hurry to make a choice, lingering on the sidelines.

Why does he seem familiar? Tristan pondered. I can't quite place where I've seen him before.

Despite his focused contemplation, Tristan couldn't pinpoint where he'd previously encountered the mysterious man. Soon enough, Lord Johanness completed his activities in the plaza and headed back into the city.

Even as the squadron rode off, Tristan found his gaze lingering on the slender figure, an inexplicable sense of unease gnawing at him.