Morning light cast long shadows across the fields surrounding Sir Hugo’s estate. Gary and Sir Alden had been out since the first hint of dawn, checking fences, scanning the ground for tracks, and talking with a few of Hugo’s laborers. Yet no one had seen or heard any sign of the dangerous bandits Hugo had warned about. The field fences looked sturdy, the crops untrampled, and the storehouse was intact, with no marks of theft or forced entry.

Near a row of tall wheat stalks, Gary paused to examine the dirt. If horses or large groups had passed through recently, the soil should show hoofprints or footprints. But the ground remained smooth except for the shallow marks of routine farm work. Sir Alden knelt beside him, gently brushing some loose soil aside with his gloved hand. He, too, found nothing.

“This place seems untouched,” Alden said in a low voice. “No broken fence posts, no scattered goods. It looks as calm as any farmland can be.”

Gary stood and wiped his hands on his tunic. “If bandits had truly roamed here in large numbers, we’d see something. A bent nail, a fallen tool, or signs of a chase. But there’s nothing.”

In the distance, they spotted a cluster of workers loading crates of vegetables onto a small cart. The workers talked in quiet tones, occasionally glancing toward the visitors. Gary and Alden made their way over, hoping to ask more questions. One of the workers, an older man with gray streaks in his hair, paused when they approached.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” the man said, bowing. “I’m Milo, a farmhand. I heard you were visiting.”

Gary offered a polite nod. “Yes, we’re checking on the trouble that Sir Hugo claims has been plaguing these fields. Have you seen any bandits here?”

Milo exchanged looks with the other workers, then shook his head. “None, sir. I’ve been working these fields day and night for weeks. If bandits came, I would have heard them or found damage. But everything’s been quiet, besides the usual worries of farming.”

Gary’s gaze swept across the crates. “Has anything been stolen? Tools, food, horses?”

Milo hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, we did lose a few chickens last month, but that’s more likely foxes than bandits. The rest of our supplies are accounted for. Sir Hugo told us to stay alert, but we haven’t spotted a single threat.”

Sir Alden frowned. “Hugo mentioned his guards were attacked. Do you know any guard who was hurt or had a run-in with thieves?”

Milo’s expression grew puzzled. “I haven’t heard about any serious attacks. Most of the guards spend their time near the main house. They rarely come out to the fields unless asked to do so.”

Gary thanked him, then stepped away, letting the workers resume their loading. Once out of earshot, Alden muttered, “It sounds more and more like Hugo invented these bandits to avoid sending help to the crown.”

Gary nodded, frustration building in his chest. “If that’s true, we can’t let it slide. Arya needs the support he promised. Let’s speak to him now, face to face.”

They walked back toward the estate’s courtyard. The main house stood in the center, its shutters half open, revealing little movement inside. Two guards leaned against a low wall, chatting. They straightened up when they saw Gary and Alden approaching.

“We wish to see Sir Hugo,” Gary said, keeping his tone respectful but firm.

The guards nodded and hurried inside. Moments later, Sir Hugo stepped out, wearing a patterned coat and a forced smile. “Your Majesty,” he greeted, “were you able to find the bandits’ trail?”

Gary met Hugo’s eyes. “We found no sign of any trouble. Your workers say they haven’t seen or heard a thing. Care to explain?”

Hugo’s smile faltered. “They must have been lucky. The bandits hide well. Perhaps the rascals stayed away, knowing you were here.”

Sir Alden’s voice carried a hint of impatience. “You claimed your men were hurt. Who are they? May we speak with them?”

Hugo cleared his throat. “Ah, they’re resting… most have gone off-duty. I wouldn’t want to disturb them. They did their best to protect the estate, but the bruises they got were minor. You might not see much evidence.”

Gary nodded slowly. “So you have no proof that these raids ever happened. No witnesses, no damage, no stolen goods.”

Hugo bristled. “Are you accusing me of lying? My estate is my pride. I wrote to you in good faith. Perhaps the bandits moved on, or they’re waiting for the right moment to return.”

Gary’s gaze hardened. “I came here hoping to help solve a real problem. All I see is farmland in good shape, workers who have no clue about these supposed attacks, and guards who seem at ease. Meanwhile, Arya remains starved for resources you promised. If you invented these bandits to dodge your duty, that’s a grave offense.”

Hugo’s face flushed. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but no words came out right away. Finally, he said, “Your Majesty, it’s not that I refuse to help. I’m just being cautious. I can’t send all my resources away if there’s a threat lurking.”

Gary let out a long breath, trying to stay calm. “Your caution is noted, but so is your lack of evidence. I’ll have two of my knights stay here for a few days. If bandits appear, they’ll face them. If not, you’ll send the promised aid to the crown at once. Understood?”

Hugo swallowed. “Of course. We’ll see how it goes.”

Sir Alden summoned two of the traveling knights, explaining they would remain on Hugo’s land to watch for trouble. The knights, both experienced in scouting, seemed more than willing to spend a few nights on alert. They also gave each other knowing looks, as if they too suspected the story was false.

That settled, Gary and Alden prepared to depart. The midday sun shone overhead, making the courtyard warm. Just before leaving, Gary caught sight of Milo and a few workers gathered by the barn, whispering among themselves. They glanced anxiously at Hugo’s men. Gary hoped the villagers wouldn’t face any backlash for telling the truth.

Once on the road, Gary and Alden rode side by side, their remaining knight trailing close behind. The estate fell behind them, dust rising in small clouds under the horses’ hooves. For a time, the group rode in silence, each lost in thought.

At last, Alden spoke. “You handled that well. Hugo might still try to stall, but leaving our knights there will force his hand.”

Gary nodded. “Yes. He’ll either have to fake a raid or admit the truth. In any case, we won’t let him hold out on the crown’s needs while the rest of Arya struggles. We should hurry back to the city now. Jenny must be waiting for an update.”

They pressed on, arriving at the castle by late afternoon. The guards at the gate recognized them and let them in at once. Inside the courtyard, Jenny was there, talking with a small group of travelers who bore the merchant guild’s crest on their sleeves. She waved Gary over, her expression tense.

“Welcome back,” she said as the riders dismounted. “This is Calder, one of the guild’s lead merchants. He has something urgent to share.”

Calder, a tall man with a trimmed beard, bowed to Gary. “Your Majesty, we’ve had trouble on the southern road. A gang of armed men attacked two of our wagons last night. The guards we stationed held them off, but one wagon was lost, set on fire during the fight.”

Gary felt a jolt of alarm. “Were any of your people hurt?”

Calder nodded grimly. “Yes, two guards and one merchant. They suffered bad cuts. They’re being tended to in the guild house, but it was close. If we didn’t have those hired guards, it might have been worse.”

Jenny’s brow furrowed. “Do you suspect these men work for Rodrik, or are they common bandits?”

Calder shrugged. “They wore mismatched armor, but they fought with skill. One guard swears he saw a patch that might link them to a known mercenary group. If Rodrik hired them, or if they operate on their own, it’s unclear. Either way, the road is more dangerous now.”

Gary exchanged a glance with Sir Alden. “We’ll need to send more forces there. The guild must keep trading if our kingdom is to grow stronger. If caravans stop coming, we starve.”

Calder let out a weary sigh. “We’ll double our guards, but we can’t keep paying for endless protection. That’s why we made a deal with your crown. We need real support from Arya’s knights or militias.”

Alden touched the bandage near his shoulder, perhaps remembering how many times he and his men had already been stretched. “We’ll see what can be done. We have a few knights left in the city who can join the guild’s patrols.”

Jenny looked at Gary. “Yes, but that means fewer knights for other tasks. We must be strategic about this.”

Gary turned to Calder. “Tell your people we’ll stand with them. I’ll speak with my captains tonight. We’ll figure out how to reinforce those roads. Thank you for bringing this news so quickly.”

After Calder departed, Gary and Jenny walked together into the great hall, Sir Alden and their knight following. A few servants were cleaning up from midday chores, giving the king a respectful bow. The hall felt cool and quiet, the afternoon sun filtering through narrow windows.

Gary sank onto a bench, letting out a heavy breath. “So, Hugo’s problem is fake, and the guild’s problem is very real. Our knights can’t be in two places at once. We might need more local militias to guard the roads, the farmland, everything.”

Jenny sat beside him, massaging her temples. “We need more than that. We need true unity. If the nobles who pledged resources keep delaying, we can’t outfit more militias. We’ll run short on weapons and funds.”

Sir Alden spoke up from where he stood, arms crossed. “Maybe we should confront the worst-offending nobles. Let them see the chaos their stalling causes. If they won’t listen to letters, maybe they’ll listen to a stern visit.”

Gary nodded slowly, remembering how he had just done that with Hugo. “I’m prepared to do so. But it’s time-consuming. Each day we spend chasing down liars is a day Rodrik or these mercenary groups gain ground.”

Jenny’s eyes flicked to the side, deep in thought. “We might divide our tasks. While you deal with the biggest offenders, I can keep building ties with the guild and farmland folks. Alden can coordinate the knights who remain. But we must be careful not to overextend ourselves.”

Gary agreed. “Yes, a divided approach. We’ll need every ally we can find. Also, we should spread the word: any free folk who wish to help defend Arya can join local militias, provided they follow the law. If we wait for the perfect time, we’ll do nothing.”

They settled on this plan, deciding to start first thing in the morning. For the rest of the day, Gary took a tour of the castle courtyard, speaking briefly with some new arrivals—merchants, travelers, and a few wandering laborers hoping to find work. He offered them fair words, encouraging them to stick around if they were willing to lend a hand. More people in the city meant more potential defenders and more minds to solve problems.

As evening came, a pale sunset painted the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. Gary looked upon the worn stone walls, the flickering torches, and the small clusters of people trying to make a living. A sense of duty tugged at him. This kingdom was far from thriving, yet each day they gained a tiny bit of ground. If they could hold off mercenaries and keep roads somewhat safe, maybe trade and farmland would heal the realm piece by piece.

Yet his mind strayed to Rodrik again. If Rodrik truly had mercenaries roaming the south, that was a bad sign. Gary vowed not to give in to fear. He would lead, gather allies, and face each threat as it came. The days ahead might be filled with tension, but he would not yield. Arya’s future depended on every ounce of strength, cunning, and unity they could muster.

Darkness fell across the courtyard, and Gary finally stepped inside to rest, a dozen plans and worries swirling in his head. Tomorrow would bring new trials. But as he looked at Jenny, Sir Alden, and the devoted few who stood by him, he felt something like hope spark within. They were not alone. And for Arya’s sake, they would keep pressing forward, whatever the risks.