Gary opened his eyes to the soft glow of dawn. A lone bird chirped outside the high window, filling the air with a hopeful note. He lay still for a moment, letting the sound soothe his tired mind. Each new day brought a blend of urgency and possibility. Some days felt grim, but he refused to let fear rule him. Rising from his simple bed, he pulled on a tunic and boots, then stepped into the corridor.

As he walked, he noticed the faint scent of burnt wood drifting through the stone halls. Torchlight still flickered in a few places, even though the sun’s light had started to creep into the windows. A guard saluted as Gary passed, and Gary returned a polite nod. The guard’s armor looked scuffed and worn, but the man wore it with a steady pride.

He found Jenny in the great hall, seated at a small table with a steaming cup of tea. Her eyes appeared slightly red, as though she had spent part of the night reading or writing letters. A stack of rolled parchments sat beside her. She offered him a small smile when he approached.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “I was about to come find you.”

Gary settled into a chair across from her. “You’re up early,” he noted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Any word from the nobles yet? Did they respond to our last set of letters?”

Jenny slid a parchment across the table. “We got two replies. One from Lord Elliot’s steward, saying they need more time to gather the promised funds. Another from Sir Hugo, who claims bandits near his estate have made it ‘impossible’ to send any goods right now. He wants us to deal with the bandits first.”

Gary frowned. “So basically, they’re stalling again. They promised to help, but now they’re finding excuses.”

Jenny leaned forward. “Yes, it seems that way. We can’t force them to send help if they keep claiming local troubles. But they leave me worried. If their farmland is truly under threat, we should step in. If it’s just a lie, they’re trying to avoid giving us what they promised.”

Gary folded his hands, thinking. “We might have to check it ourselves. A visit to Sir Hugo’s estate might tell us if the bandit problem is real or not. If it is real, we should help solve it, because it’s our kingdom too. If it’s an excuse…” He let the thought trail off.

Before they could speak further, Sir Alden stepped in from a side door. He carried a small wooden box under one arm, looking somewhat pleased. He placed the box on the table and bowed his head. “Your Majesty, Jenny, I have news. Our patrol from the western villages returned early this morning. They say the local volunteers are improving, though they still need more weapons. Also, the knights spotted no sign of Rodrik’s scouts nearby, which is a relief.”

Gary felt a bit of tension ease in his chest. “That’s good to hear. At least that region is calm for now. But we must keep watch. What’s in the box?”

Alden opened the lid, revealing a bundle of rolled parchments inside. “These are updates from the patrol leaders, along with some notes from local farmers. They detail small steps forward—repairs to roads, watch posts being built near farmland, that sort of thing. It’s not perfect, but at least progress is happening.”

Jenny took one of the scrolls and glanced over it. “It says here that a small hamlet managed to rebuild a broken bridge with local wood. They’re proud of their work, and it helps the merchant wagons cross a nearby stream. That’s a sign the villages can help themselves if we guide them.”

Gary nodded. “That’s what we need. If each area can stand on its own feet, then Rodrik can’t pick us apart so easily.”

They spent an hour or so reading through the reports, marking details on a large map spread across the table. Here, a new path had been cleared of debris. There, a group of villagers had agreed to take turns patrolling at night. It was all small steps, but each one gave Gary renewed hope that Arya could slowly reclaim its strength.

Once they finished, Jenny stood and stretched. “I’ll send a message to the guild, letting them know the western roads might see more wagons soon, since that bridge is now functional. More trade can mean more coin for us.”

Gary also rose, gathering the scrolls into a tidy stack. “And I’ll see about organizing a short trip to Sir Hugo’s estate. If bandits are truly swarming there, we should do something. If not, we can confront him about his excuses.”

Alden cleared his throat. “Shall I ride with you, Your Majesty?”

Gary thought for a moment. “Yes. We can take a few knights, maybe two or three. I don’t want to appear threatening, but we also can’t travel unguarded.”

By mid-morning, they had prepared for the journey. Jenny would stay behind to manage communications with the guild and any returning patrols. Gary, Sir Alden, and three knights mounted horses in the castle courtyard. Royce, the blacksmith, came to watch them off, wiping his hands on his apron. He called out, “Good luck out there, Your Majesty. Bring back some decent ore if you find any,” and gave a good-natured chuckle. Gary responded with a brief wave.

They set off through the gates, hooves tapping against the worn cobblestones. Beyond the city walls, the main road stretched out, still showing signs of neglect. Potholes forced them to ride carefully, and fallen branches from a recent storm had not yet been cleared in some spots. Gary felt a pang of guilt that such disrepair was normal now. He vowed to see it fixed if the nobles’ pledges finally came through.

As the small group traveled, they passed farmland in varying states of upkeep. Some fields looked well-tended, with rows of young crops sprouting in neat lines. Others lay bare, their owners gone or too discouraged to plant. A few villagers waved from their doorways, while others simply watched in silence, unsure if these riders brought help or trouble.

Sir Alden, riding beside Gary, spoke in a low voice. “When we arrive at Sir Hugo’s estate, do you plan to question him directly about his promises?”

Gary nodded. “I’ll be polite, but yes. We can’t afford vague answers anymore. If bandits are truly a problem, we’ll assess the threat and see if we can help. But if he’s lying, we need him to know we won’t be fooled.”

It took most of the day to reach Sir Hugo’s lands. They passed an old wooden sign bearing his family’s crest—faded paint and chipped edges revealing years of neglect. Beyond it lay a modest estate, surrounded by low walls. A few laborers tended fields or carried crates near a barn. A watchman at the gate looked surprised to see Gary and his men, but quickly opened the entrance when Sir Alden announced them.

They rode into a small courtyard. The main house had two stories, with wooden shutters on the windows. Some shutters hung crooked, suggesting a lack of repair. Gary dismounted, patting his horse’s side to calm it, then handed the reins to a stable hand who appeared, looking anxious and hurried.

Before they could step further, a short, middle-aged man with a patchy gray beard emerged from the house. He wore a deep green coat and had a sword at his belt. Gary recognized him as Sir Hugo from the meeting in the castle some days ago.

“Your Majesty,” Hugo said, bowing stiffly. “This is an unexpected honor. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gary tried to keep his tone warm but firm. “I came to see how things stand with the bandits you mentioned. And to remind you of the help you promised for the crown’s efforts in securing the roads.”

Hugo cleared his throat and gestured toward the front door. “Please, come inside. We can speak more comfortably. Your men can wait in the courtyard or stable, if that suits you.”

Gary glanced at Sir Alden. The knight nodded once, indicating he would remain alert. They followed Hugo inside, stepping into a dim hall where a few candles flickered. The air smelled faintly of damp wood. Hugo led them to a small parlor with a rough-hewn table and a handful of chairs. A single window let in pale light, revealing dust in the air.

When they were seated, a tired-looking servant brought a pitcher of water and a few cups. Gary thanked her quietly, then turned his attention back to Hugo. “So, you wrote that bandits have made it impossible to send us the aid you promised. Where have these bandits been spotted? How many are there?”

Hugo shifted in his seat. “Well, they strike at odd times. Usually at dusk, near the eastern part of my fields. They threaten my workers, steal supplies, and vanish into the hills. I’ve been forced to spend what little coin I have on hiring extra guards, but we barely keep them at bay.”

Gary noticed that Hugo’s words sounded rehearsed, as though he had practiced them in advance. Sir Alden, standing at Gary’s side, crossed his arms. “Have you any proof of these raids? Any footprints, stolen items found, wounded guards?”

Hugo shrugged. “My guards have chased them a few times, but we never catch them. As for wounds, a few of my men took nasty scrapes, but they’re healing. I don’t know what more I can say, other than that it’s a dire situation.”

Gary leaned forward, eyeing Hugo carefully. “Sir Hugo, we want to help, if the threat is real. But we also notice your estate still seems to be running. We saw no signs of damage or panic on our way in. Perhaps you could show us where these bandits struck?”

Hugo’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment. “They haven’t attacked for a week or two. Maybe they’re waiting for me to lower my guard.”

Gary exchanged a brief glance with Sir Alden, who gave a slight nod, reading the same doubt. Gary said gently, “We can have our knights patrol your fields for a few days. If bandits appear, we’ll help drive them away. After that, we hope you will send the promised goods to the crown.”

Hugo hesitated, then forced a tight smile. “Yes, of course. If you wish to post knights, I welcome the help. I only fear we might be tying up your men when the rest of Arya needs them.”

Gary’s gaze did not waver. “Arya needs honesty first of all. Let’s see if we can fix your bandit problem swiftly.”

They left the parlor soon after, Sir Alden making note of the fields’ layout. Hugo offered half-hearted answers about the spots where the raids supposedly occurred. The sun was dipping low by then, so Gary and Alden agreed to stay overnight and start watching the fields at dawn.

In a small guest room, Gary stripped off his traveling cloak and sat on the narrow bed. Sir Alden stood by a tiny window, peering at the courtyard below. One or two guards paced around, no sign of alarm or worry on their faces.

Alden turned to Gary, keeping his voice low. “Hugo’s story smells of deception. I’m no stranger to bandits, and if they’d been this troublesome, I would expect more fear or signs of conflict.”

Gary sighed, fingers tapping the wooden frame of the bed. “I think the same. But we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for one day. If no bandits appear, we’ll confront him about his excuses.”

Alden nodded in agreement. “We can take turns standing guard near the fields ourselves. If anything happens, we’ll know.”

Gary leaned back against the rough wall, a small wave of weariness passing through him. “Let’s hope we’re wrong, and there truly is a threat that we can stop. But either way, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Night came swiftly. Gary dozed off, the lingering smell of dust and old wood filling his nose. Now and then, faint noises sounded in the hallway—footsteps or distant voices. He slept lightly, ready to spring up if trouble called. At times, he dreamed of Arya’s farmland, a patchwork of fields linked by safe roads, free from raids. Other times, he saw shadows on the horizon, shaped like Rodrik’s soldiers marching across the land. In each dream, he felt torn between hope and fear.

When dawn broke, Gary roused himself and found Sir Alden already awake, polishing a dent on his shoulder armor. The knight gave him a quick update: no alarms during the night, no sign of any thieves. Outside, Hugo’s men moved around calmly, preparing feed for horses or loading small carts with tools.

After a quick meal of bread and cheese, Gary and Alden walked the fields. From the corner of his eye, Gary saw Hugo watching them from a distance, arms folded. Gary could not read the man’s expression—whether it was annoyance or worry, he couldn’t tell. But the rows of crops looked untouched, the fences around them standing solid, and no footprints or broken posts suggested any recent attack.

Sir Alden frowned. “No signs of struggle. Nothing here looks disturbed.”

Gary felt frustration boil inside. “If we find no proof by midday, I’m speaking to Hugo directly. We have too much to do in the rest of the kingdom to linger here.”

As they continued along the fence line, a cool breeze rustled the leaves. Gary paused, resting a hand on the worn wood post. The fields seemed peaceful, the morning sun giving them a gentle glow. It saddened him that a noble might make false claims, slowing Arya’s recovery for personal gain. He remembered Jenny’s words: they could not let these selfish actions derail all they had built so far.

One way or another, they would learn the truth. And if Sir Hugo had lied to avoid helping the crown, Gary would demand that he fulfill his pledge without further delay. Arya could not afford to be held back by false tales. Too many people depended on real solutions and honest deeds.

By day’s end, Gary vowed, they would have answers. If no bandits showed up, then Sir Hugo would have to explain himself to the throne. And if, by some slim chance, the bandits were real, Gary would meet them head-on, proving that he meant to protect every corner of the kingdom, no matter how distant or neglected.