*Flashback*

Riding through the dense forest on his majestic black horse, a solitary knight unsheathed his sword from its scabbard. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting a radiant glow on his exquisitely adorned armor, embellished with delicate golden accents. With a swift motion, he lifted his helmet, revealing piercing grey eyes that scanned the surroundings with a sense of purpose. Despite a scar beneath his left eye, his ruggedly handsome features remained unblemished. A hint of stubble adorned his face, adding to his aura of confidence. The knight's steed, a magnificent creature, possessed both speed and strength, its allure further enhanced by a striking white marking on its forehead. As the horse let out a resounding neigh, its pace quickened, mirroring the knight's heightened senses. Vigilantly, he surveyed the forest, searching for the imminent danger that had stirred his instincts. Gripping his sword firmly, he raised his sturdy iron shield, poised to defend himself against any potential attack. Yet, despite his readiness, the anticipated threat failed to materialize, leaving the knight in a state of anticipation and uncertainty.

       The knight's tense shoulders relaxed as a wave of relief washed over him, causing him to burst into a hearty laughter that echoed through the dense forest. Countless tales had been whispered about the very woods he now found himself in, known as the legendary Ferthway Forest. Whispers of demons and monsters lurking within its depths, tales of unfortunate souls vanishing without a trace, and even rumors of it being a gateway to the dreaded kingdom of Xalvador, the Lord of the Undead and the underworld. The knight couldn't help but shudder involuntarily at the mere mention of that name, his hand instinctively reaching for the protective charm he had acquired to ward off evil. Initially skeptical of such fantastical stories, he had scoffed at the superstitious villagers who shared these tales at the inn where he had sought refuge during his journey. Days had passed as he rested, yet the inn had become a breeding ground for outlandish rumors that had only fueled his amusement.

The knight had always been regarded as an outsider by the superstitious villagers, who glared at him with disdain because he refused to believe in their tales.

"Tis true my lord. Little Mike, Sera's son was abducted by one of those horrible two headed beasts that can fly faster than any man, never to be seen again!" a villager had stated with conviction and many more had agreed with him loudly, but there was nothing the villagers could say that could change the knight's opinion. He knew that half of these stories were made up lies and the others had been so distorted that it was impossible to decipher what was true and what was false.

   The words of the villagers echoed in his mind, haunting him on that serene morning in the depths of the forest. Every little noise made the knight freeze in his tracks, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword as if he were a frightened child. He couldn't help but feel relieved that his loyal squire wasn't present to witness his moments of weakness, as he knew he would become the subject of mockery and shame among his fellow Paladins and their squires. The mere thought of it sent shivers down his spine, so he pushed it aside. However, the eerie silence of the forest continued to unnerve him, causing his eyes to dart anxiously from one tree to another, imagining the lurking horrors that could be concealed within the shadows.

The knight berated himself for his decision to halt at the inn, realizing it was a regrettable mistake. It had proven to be an unproductive detour, wasting precious time that could have been better spent on his journey or engaging in more meaningful activities rather than indulging in the tales of common folk. However, deep down, he couldn't ignore the fact that the villagers' stories seemed to align with his own quest, which was arduous and fraught with danger. The oath he had taken weeks ago echoed in his mind, its words etched vividly as if he had uttered them only moments ago.

" I, Sir Gareth, Paladin of the Order of the Phoenix, do solemnly swear to protect the laws and regulations of our kingdom, to protect and safeguard the helpless to always say the truth and to never fear the face of the enemy. I swear to do everything in my power to promote and follow these values and to fight the forces of Evil led by Xalvador, the ruler of the Undead and the Underworld until I destroy him or until my last breath is spent defending the forces of Good." Gareth had said.

        In that very moment, a brilliant beam of sunlight gracefully descended upon Gareth's gleaming sword, captivating him with a sense of awe and wonder. His eyes widened as he marveled at the inexplicable phenomenon, pondering how such a remarkable event had come to pass. Within the grand hall of the revered order, the paladins rose from their seats, their faces adorned with expressions of pure joy and elation. Finally, after years of unwavering dedication and arduous training, Gareth had been deemed worthy to join their esteemed ranks. He had become one of them, a valiant paladin, a title that had always held a mythical allure in his mind. Since his early childhood, Gareth had eagerly absorbed tales of Uthar, the legendary Paladin of Old, who had vanquished a fearsome three-headed dragon and valiantly battled hordes of undead creatures. These stories had fueled his imagination, transporting him to a world where he stood in Uthar's formidable shoes. This vivid vision had served as a wellspring of inspiration, empowering Gareth to persevere through countless grueling training drills and fierce combat encounters, all in pursuit of his cherished dream to be part of the revered Order.

As soon as the gentle beam of sunlight touched his sword, King Furlong and Queen Marybore gracefully stood up from their majestic thrones. With a swift motion, the king exchanged his practice sword for a truly splendid hand and a half sword, its blade gleaming with brilliance and its hilt adorned with exquisite jewels. The paladins, overwhelmed with joy, tossed their helmets high into the sky, filling the air with laughter and jubilation. The atmosphere was filled with pure bliss as mugs of frothy ale were joyfully filled to the very brim, symbolizing the overflowing happiness that enveloped the entire kingdom.

"To a great Paladin! The best of us!" his trainer Sir Rolland had said Proud of his trainee. Sir Rolland had been a very difficult teacher to please and was harsh when needed but he also had his soft moments. He was like a second father to Gareth, and he smiled at Rolland as he said these words, raising his mug in recognition. In an instant they both lifted their mugs and with a crashing noise they bumped the glasses together, the liquid from both glasses of ale mixing.

Rolland and Gareth emptied their tankards and banged them on the table in front of them as more and and more Paladins joined and drank with them.

"Another!" Sir Rolland shouted with a loud voice yelling for the serving wench to fill the tankards once more.

Laughter and the roar of the sounds of people celebrating was all Gareth could hear and remember from that crazy night, the night where he had become a Paladin, the night that had marked his life ever since.

Gareth's face lit up with a smile as he reminisced about the joyous festivities. However, his pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a sudden noise coming from behind him. Curiosity piqued, he swiftly turned around only to find himself face to face with a majestic white horse. To his surprise, a stunning woman with flowing brown locks gracefully sat atop the horse's back. Her captivating emerald eyes fixated on Gareth, filled with genuine worry. As a few moments ticked by, a radiant smile adorned her face, illuminating the surroundings with its sheer perfection.

"There you are!" she said with her melodious voice.

"Adelaide!" Gareth said surprised, his heart pounding in his chest, whether from her sudden appearance or from her beauty, he did not know.

"I was searching for you for quite some time." Adelaide said with a mock accusing expression.

Gareth just smiled and replied.

"I wanted some time alone to think..." He wished he had found any other words to say but he could not think when she was around. He was always intoxicated by her beauty and her perfect smile, the smile that could make his day and week in an instant. Gareth sighed loudly.

Adelaide kept looking at him, waiting for him to continue but Gareth remained silent. She did not press him for answers.

"Very well. We should continue!. We don't have all day! Sir Rolland and the others are waiting for us ahead" she said as she urged her horse on.

"Last one to camp is a hairy toad!" she said loudly after having a bit of a head start laughing as she urged her horse on.

Gareth spurred his horse forward, his heart pounding with determination to emerge victorious in the race. As they thundered through the dense forest, he skillfully maneuvered his steed, swiftly ducking to evade the low-hanging branches that threatened to impede their progress. With every stride, Gareth could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, propelling him closer to his goal. Finally, he caught sight of Adelaide, her white horse galloping gracefully beside his own black stallion. In that moment, Adelaide leaned in and whispered a mysterious phrase, her voice barely audible amidst the thundering hooves. Suddenly, as if infused with a newfound energy, her horse surged forward, leaving Gareth's mount trailing in its wake.

A few more minutes passed until a small campfire appeared in his vision and he had to stop.

Adelaide was already dismounting when he finally arrived.

"You cheated!" Gareth said accusingly.

Adelaide laughed. "I did not cheat. I merely used my ability to my advantage."

Gareth looked at her for a few more seconds until her smile made him smile too.

"Magic..."he said shaking his head.

"You still didn't take my advice. Never make bets with a sorceress! You are bound to lose!" a square shouldered man on his right said.With a neatly trimmed black beard, his piercing blue eyes stood out against his rugged features. Adorned in a gleaming silver breastplate, he exuded an air of strength and authority. One arm casually rested on his sword, while the other skillfully maneuvered a whetstone against the blade, honing it to perfection.

His blue eyes studied Gareth for a while, checking him, analyzing him.

"You should sharpen your blade. We are in a dangerous territory."

"Relax Sir Rolland. I'm sure I will not be attacked by any two headed beast any time soon." Gareth replied.

"Are you sure about that?" a voice came from behind making Gareth turn in a jump, a chorus of laughs following his reaction.

Standing tall with her silver hair cascading down her back, an elegant elf named Branwyne stood behind him. Her piercing yellow eyes resembled those of a cat, adding an air of mystery to her enchanting beauty. Adorned in a gleaming white armor that resembled the ethereal glow of the moon against a dark night sky, she carried a long silver sword gracefully hanging from her belt. As she laughed, her radiant skin seemed to glow with joy.

"Branwyne, it's always good to see you." he said with a smile.

"Let's not get carried away here. That's almost never true." Frolkir stated as he continued to expertly skin the rabbit he had successfully hunted, his back was adorned with sheathed arrows. Despite being a dwarf, he possessed an astonishing skill with both the bow and arrow, as well as any object that could be hurled towards his adversaries."Be nice Frolkir. She was just having a bit of fun" Gareth replied.

"Always the gentleman." Frolkir said in disgust. "Very well. I apologize to the elf." With a mischievous grin, Frolkir theatrically performed a mock bow, gracefully lowering himself to the floor once more, right beside his cherished bow.

Gareth rolled his eyes. Frolkir was always ready to pick a fight. 

Moments of silence passed as nobody talked.

"What now?" Sir Rolland asked, as he finished sharpening his blade. "We visited the Village of Breawik but there was nothing helpful for our quest there.

In the recent weeks, he and his comrades had been on a relentless quest to locate the elusive Hercling, a legendary sword possessing immense power capable of obliterating both demons and even the Creator and Xalvador. Although demons were a rare sight, and few had survived an encounter with these malevolent beings, the truth was undeniable. The arrival of a messenger at the Order's stronghold had caused utter chaos, for this messenger was none other than a demon itself. Gareth vividly recalled the horrifying scene as the demon mercilessly slaughtered the Paladins, its sinister crimson eyes fixated on him, while the blood of his fallen comrades stained his somber attire. Green blood oozed from the demon's numerous wounds, until it was ultimately vanquished, dissipating into a swirling cloud of black smoke. Only a haunting symbol remained, etched into the ground, evoking fear and trepidation among the seasoned Paladins. It was a declaration of war, an unprecedented event not witnessed since the era of Uther and Artorius.

The Hercling, a legendary artifact, held the key to survival amidst the impending demon attack. It was believed to be the sole savior of the known world, a beacon of hope in the face of certain doom. However, its whereabouts remained shrouded in mystery, leaving everyone uncertain of its existence. The mere thought of this elusive weapon fueled their determination to find it, for with it, they could stand a fighting chance against the impending darkness. Without it, their fate seemed sealed, and despair loomed over them like a dark cloud.

"There's nothing we can do...We keep looking. There must be some useful information somewhere." Gareth said.

"Sounds a lot like a hunt for Brearks Hammer." Frolkir said.

"Or Athelnad's Resting Place" Branwyne stated.

"The Holy Grail." Sir Rolland offered.

"Enough! Whatever it is....It is our Duty to find it." Gareth said looking at them, his grey eyes spitting fire, a determined look on his face.

"Aye son, but how?" Rolland asked, silence being his only reply.