Gary stood on the castle’s eastern wall, the early morning wind tugging at his cloak. Thin clouds drifted across the pale sky, and he squinted to catch any hint of movement on the distant fields. News had arrived the day before: a small group of unknown riders was spotted near the far hills. Some folks feared these riders might be scouts for a larger army. Others guessed they could be roving mercenaries, hunting for easy loot. Either way, the threat weighed on Gary’s mind. Arya had made some gains recently, but so much remained uncertain.

He turned at the sound of footsteps. Sir Alden joined him on the wall, carrying a scroll in one hand. The knight’s face looked etched with concern. “Your Majesty,” Alden said, handing over the scroll, “we received this at dawn. A local messenger brought it from a nearby village. They claim a few of these unknown riders approached at night, asking questions about our defenses.”

Gary unrolled the parchment. The message was brief, describing how strangers dressed in dark cloaks had spoken to a frightened farmer, demanding to know how many knights served in Arya’s army. When the farmer refused to answer, they rode off. Gary felt a chill. “They’re testing us,” he said softly. “Either they are part of Rodrik’s plan, or they want to see if we are weak enough to rob.”

Alden gazed across the fields. “I’ve assigned extra watchers, but we can’t cover every road. Some of our knights remain on the southern route with the merchant guild. Others are busy training militias further inland.”

Gary nodded, handing the scroll back. “Then we must be smart. Let’s send a small patrol to that village. If these riders return, the locals will have protection. We can’t allow fear to spread. I’ll also speak with Jenny to see if we can spare any more supplies for them.”

They left the wall and made their way down the winding steps into the courtyard. Early sunlight lit the worn cobblestones where a few castle workers hurried about with baskets of food and tools. Gary spotted a young stable hand brushing a mare, while two merchants argued softly by a cart loaded with crates. Each scene reminded him that life went on in Arya, even under the shadow of danger.

Inside the great hall, Jenny waited at a long table with maps, letters, and a few open ledgers. She gave Gary and Alden a quick, tired smile. “I have fresh news,” she said, pointing to a pile of letters. “The merchant guild is worried again. One of their caravans was attacked near a crossing to the north. A few guards were hurt, but they managed to drive off the raiders. No proof of who they were, though.”

Gary sank into a chair, letting out a slow breath. “Every day brings another raid or rumor. If these strikes keep happening, trade might freeze completely, and we’ll be in worse shape than before.” He looked at Jenny’s ledger, noticing her neat handwriting marking funds, supplies, and promised aid from the nobles. “How about the nobles? Any new support?”

Jenny shrugged. “A little. We got a small shipment of grain from Baroness Clara. She also sent a note saying she will sponsor an extra guard post near her lands, which should help protect a key stretch of road. But Lord Elliot remains silent, and that one lord who demands a new title insists he’ll ‘think about it.’” She shook her head in frustration. “Even so, some villagers are stepping up to help each other, sharing seeds and basic supplies. They don’t have much, but they’re trying.”

Sir Alden tapped the table. “And what of Rodrik’s direct moves? Has anyone confirmed whether these mercenaries or raiders actually work for him?”

Jenny looked uncertain. “No. A few claim they saw Rodrik’s crest on scraps of clothing, but we have no solid proof. This might be a mix of mercenaries, bandits, and restless soldiers from broken armies. Hard to tell without capturing one to question.”

Gary stood, running a hand through his hair. “Then maybe we need to take a more active approach. If we can catch some of these riders, we can find out who is behind them. Until then, we remain in the dark.” He glanced at the stack of letters again. “Before that, though, we have to keep roads open, or all the progress we’ve made will slip away.”

Jenny leaned on the table, thinking. “Could we organize a larger sweep in the eastern area? If we gather a few squads of knights and militias, we might push out any lurking groups. But that would leave other zones weaker. The guild route in the south is still at risk.”

Sir Alden exhaled. “We’re spread thin. If only the nobles who promised men and coin would deliver in full. We could do a multi-front approach. Right now, we can barely hold two lines.”

Gary felt his frustration stir again. “We’ll do the best with what we have. Let’s plan a patrol that includes at least two knights, plus local volunteers who know the land. They can move fast and hopefully catch any small band of riders off guard. Meanwhile, we’ll keep minimal defense in other areas. We have to gamble a little.”

They spent an hour drawing up a plan. Jenny wrote down resource needs—food for the patrol, a few more horses if possible, extra arrows from the blacksmith’s limited store. Alden made a list of potential villagers who had finished basic training and showed promise in scouting. Gary proposed they work with one or two loyal nobles nearby who might lend a few extra men, at least for this operation.

Later that morning, Gary and Alden went to the training yard to find potential recruits. A half-dozen militia men were sparring with wooden swords under a knight’s watchful eye. Their faces shone with sweat in the rising sun. A lean, quick-moving villager named Bram caught Gary’s attention. He had shown skill with a bow, and the knight praised his calm mind under pressure.

Gary approached Bram, who stood panting after a round of drills. “Bram, we’re forming a scouting patrol to the east. It might be dangerous, but it could help protect many villages. Would you join us?”

Bram’s brown eyes flickered with resolve. “I will, sir. My family lives near those borders, and we can’t sit still while raiders roam free.”

Gary clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Gather your gear, and report to Sir Alden by noon.” He turned to the others and explained the mission in brief, giving them a choice to volunteer. Four more stepped forward. Gary appreciated their courage, though he warned them that the road ahead could hold real danger.

While Alden organized those men, Gary visited the blacksmith’s forge to see if Royce had finished forging arrowheads from the scraps. The heat in the forge made the air thick. Royce, his arms streaked with soot, nodded as Gary entered. “I have about two dozen arrowheads ready. Not the highest quality, but they’ll fly true enough.”

Gary thanked him. “They’ll be useful. Maybe we can find better ore soon, but we’re grateful for your hard work.”

Royce grinned faintly. “I just hope it’s enough to keep those raiders at bay.”

Around midday, the patrol group assembled in the courtyard. Bram and his fellow volunteers carried short bows, spears, and small packs of rations. Two knights, each armed with a sword and shield, would lead them. Sir Alden stood by, explaining the route and pointing out which villages to check first. Gary stepped forward, offering a few final words.

“Your mission is to scout, not to engage in a huge fight,” Gary said firmly. “If you find suspicious riders, see if you can capture one or at least confirm their identity. If they attack in force, pull back and send word. We can’t lose you needlessly.”

The men nodded, some faces set in determination, others tinged with nerves. Then they set off, passing under the castle gate into the bright sun, dust swirling around their boots. Gary watched them go, silently hoping they would return with good news and no injuries.

That afternoon, the atmosphere in the castle remained tense. Jenny and Gary sat at the long table, sorting through more letters from scattered parts of the kingdom. A few messages described small improvements: a patch of road repaired, a well dug in a distant hamlet, a local noble delivering a small batch of seeds. Each sign of growth lifted Gary’s mood a bit. But then he read notes of new thefts and possible sightings of unknown riders in other areas, and the weight of worry pressed down again.

As evening drew near, Gary decided to check on the farmland closest to the castle. He took a short ride outside the walls, with only one guard for company. The fields by the river had once been neglected, but in recent weeks, small improvements had taken hold. A few laborers worked late, planting rows of green sprouts. They waved at Gary, who greeted them with polite words, asking if they needed anything. One older man said they could use more tools, but otherwise, they were getting by.

On the way back, Gary’s guard nudged his arm, pointing to a dark shape moving on a far ridge. Gary peered into the dim light and spotted what looked like a single rider paused on a hill. The figure remained still for a moment, then turned and vanished over the slope. It could have been a harmless traveler, but a chill slid down Gary’s spine. He ordered his guard to ride to the ridge, but by the time they reached it, the rider was gone. No hoofprints or tracks could be found on the rocky ground.

They returned to the castle at dusk. Torches flickered in the courtyard, and the smell of cooking stew drifted from the small kitchen. Inside, Jenny waited, wearing a thoughtful expression. “I heard you went out. Find anything?”

Gary shared the odd sighting of the lone rider. Jenny’s brow furrowed. “They keep watching us. It’s like they’re testing our responses, seeing how we move.”

He nodded. “Precisely. I just hope our patrol to the east can shed more light on who they are.”

Jenny sighed, rolling up a half-finished letter. “I’m writing again to those nobles who are slow to help. We’re running out of patience and time. I’ll make it clear that the kingdom stands on a knife’s edge.”

Gary placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Yes, tell them. If they hold back too long, the entire realm could suffer. Meanwhile, we’ll keep working with the good folks who do step up. Every little effort helps.”

Later that night, Gary stood on the battlements once more, gazing at the moonlit land. A few lights glowed in distant farmhouses. He thought of the men patrolling the east, hoping they’d find answers. He thought of villagers planting seeds by candlelight, trusting in the crown’s promise of safety. And he remembered the unknown rider’s silhouette against the sky, a silent emblem of the troubles lurking in the shadows.

Despite the steady tension in his chest, Gary also felt a spark of hope. They had come a long way from the kingdom’s darkest days. A handful of loyal knights, determined villagers, and even a few cooperative nobles were working together. If unity held, maybe Arya would withstand the storms ahead. He gripped the cold stone beneath his hands, letting the night wind brush his face. Tomorrow was another day, another step in the uphill climb.

At least for now, the castle still stood under the stars, and the people within continued to believe in a better future. With that thought, Gary made his way down the stairs, ready to face whatever dawn might bring.