“I would like to apprentice myself to you, sir,” the soft voice said to Tallen, and he looked up in surprise, his eyes catching lifeless but bright emerald green orbs.

“I haven’t taken an apprentice in years, I have no interest in doing so now,” Tallen’s rough voice said as he turned away from the man.

“Perhaps I could convince you otherwise?” the man asked reaching out to Tallen.

Tallen put down his metal and crossed his arms, taking stock of the other man. He was in his early twenties perhaps, a farmer if his clothes were anything to go by, and homeless. He had the dust of several days travel on his over worn and torn clothes, as well as much soot, and he had not shaved in at least as long. He held a pitchfork in his right hand, and his left had a leather riding glove on it, although his right did not. His face was drawn, eyebrows furrowed over anxious eyes. Desperate is what Tallen would call him, desperate and at the limits of his hope, not a good combination usually, but something he could probably hone, with enough work.

“What would you be able to give me in return?” Tallen’s glare was known to scare away just about everyone, but this man didn’t even flinch.

“My life. I will dedicate to you and offer you blessings at each crossroads.”

Tallen snorted and shook his head. He hadn’t heard anyone offer that in years. “What is your name son?” Tallen asked, chuckling softly to himself.

“Reid Yarrow,” the man said, and Tallen furrowed his brow.

“Yarrow? From Ambigan? Farmer family, best potatoes come from their fields.”

Reid nodded as he spoke, “The fields are barren this year, and perhaps for the rest of the years to come. Ambigan is no more, it was destroyed by Clossen. The Dead Knight came and his troops set fire to everything, killing most and taking some prisoner. My last sister was taken in by friends from a nearby town and my wife…” he paused and looked away for a moment. When he looked back at Tallen his eyes were set and hard. “I’m the last male of my family, and not returning to the fields until Clossen is gone from our land.”

Tallen had almost held his breath at that name, a name he hadn’t heard in years. An impossibility though, the Dead Knight, and he dismissed it as being someone else from Clossen taking the title. He chided himself for even being surprised, the Dead Knight had been “the” force to reckon with last war. He dropped his arms and placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said gently. “This does not mean I have a place for you of course.” He studied Reid for several more moments and let go of his shoulder. “What do you really want from me?” he asked.