The sun was just beginning to set as Carver rode into the small village, casting his gaze this way and that. He spotted a group of farmers pushing a wheelbarrow and called out to them, "What ho, friends! Keeping well?" The men simply turned their gazes downward and did not respond, hurrying on their way.

Carver sighed at that. It seemed men in armor were seldom trusted in these parts - doubtless the result of a few despotic nobles abusing their power to rob and injure the commonfolk. These were no true knights, Carver was sure of that. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that the world hadn't always been like this, grim and cynical and dark. This was not the way it was supposed to be...

The knight shook his head clear of those thoughts. These episodes of contemplation did no good for anyone. The world was the way it was, and it was the task of any true knight to improve it. "On then, August. Let us see if the folk of that castle have any tasks for a knight and his noble steed." Carver clicked his tongue and the horse broke into a trot, then a gallop, carrying him up the winding path, towards the castle on the cliff.