Amadeus did the math. He had sneaked around White Harrow before, and remembered seeing their entire army of battle-wizards as they assembled one morning for inspection. He recalled seeing ten platoons, each consisting of about a thousand battle-wizards. This would mean that there were at the very least ten thousand battle-wizards in the White Harrow army. Would five hundred Avianath riders be able to face down ten thousand battle-wizards? This was highly unlikely. Amadeus decided to keep this little fact to himself for the moment.

"How would we contact them?" asked of the older members of the camp.

"We would need someone with the courage and skill to sneak out of camp, and make the arduous journey towards White Harrow," answered Old Jarbus.

Amadeus would always much rather run away from trouble than into it. However, this time, he was fidgeting uncomfortably in place. This is all my fault. I'm the one who fought back against a Noble. Seeing that innocent man die for my actions, I just felt like throwing up.

Guilt washed over Amadeus in waves. It made him feel sick to his stomach. Amadeus held his fists so tightly that his hands trembled. It felt like he was about to explode. He couldn't just sit silently anymore; he had to do something about it.

Standing up, Amadeus raised his hand in the air. "This is my fault. Let me go."

There was a moment of silence and the crowd of commoners stared at him with disbelief.

"You have caused enough trouble already!" shouted one angry commoner.

"You are incapable, the weakest commoner from the smallest family of the weakest clan among us. You are unworthy!" another shouted.

Soon, the crowd began to chant in unison, shouting many vulgarities that should not be repeated here. Although Amadeus had been the object of ridicule and scorn many times, the screams of hatred that emanated throughout the tent were overwhelming. His heart felt as though it had sunk to the bottom of his stomach, making his insides churn uncomfortably.

"Stop yelling at him! He's just a boy," shouted Madam Marcella in his defense. She went to his side and covered him protectively.

Old Jarbus gave the crowd a stern warning look, and the chanting died down to a still calmness. He then looked Amadeus in the eye. In that moment, Amadeus saw a glimpse of pity. "I understand that you have good intentions Amadeus, but you would not make it far before a Noble would kill you.

"You are far from ready." Old Jarbus shook his head as he spoke. He then turned back to the crowd and asked, "Who else is willing to go?"

A few hands started to rise across the room, only from the bravest and toughest commoners who were well known for their strength and courage.

"We will only take the risk with one person. That way there is less risk of the Nobles noticing that someone is missing."

Old Jarbus's eyes scanned the crowd. Looking at the sea of hands, he raised a finger and pointed towards the crowd, slowly moving from person to person before coming to rest on one of the strongest commoners in the camp.

"You," he said as he gestured towards the chosen commoner to come towards the center of the room. The commoner whose name was Uthaes stood up proudly as cheers of encouragement burst forth from the crowd. "Gather a small bag of items for your journey and devise a plan to depart unseen by the Nobles. They would probably not have any lookouts, but would have left some sort of magical spell upon our camp to prevent us from leaving."

Old Jarbus's gaze returned to the piece of parchment on the table. He picked it up gently with his both hands and started to roll it into a scroll. "This map will lead you to the Jagged Peaks, where you will find my tribe. Please take good care of it, for without it – you would be lost in the wilderness."

Old Jarbus passed the roll of parchment to Uthaes and hesitated for a moment, deep in thought. His frail frame turned slowly as he carefully selected a single feather from his cloak and plucked it from the weave.

"This cloak is only worn by the Avianath Exiles. They are made from very rare bird feathers, only found in the Jagged Peaks, where our tribe lives. Give this to the Avianath Chief, he will recognize it and come to our aid." Old Jarbus held out the feather between his index finger and thumb before placing it carefully in Uthaes' hands.

"Very well," said Uthaes, grasping the feather respectfully in his hand and bowing. It was a great honor to be chosen as the one who would save the camp.

"Time is of the essence; prepare to leave tonight, itself. It will only be an hour or two before dark." explained Old Jarbus. "The rest of you get back to your duties and act normal. We don't want to raise any suspicion." He then dismissed the meeting and the commoners started to file out one by one.

"It's not your fault Amadeus, don't blame yourself." Madam Marcella gave Amadeus a hug before she left the tent to return to her duties, leaving Amadeus sitting there alone with his thoughts.

Amadeus stared at the wall in front of him made of tent cloth; feeling very, very small, and very, very useless. The fire in the middle of the tent was starting to die out, and night was fast approaching. Daylight was fading and the entire tent was bathed in a dim orange glow. The sounds of wild animals and crickets were starting to fill the night air.

He knew that it was clear that the entire camp resented him for all their troubles, and he had no one to blame but himself. A tear weld up at the corner of his eye, and try as he might, he could not keep the tear in, and it rolled down his cheek slowly. Another tear followed the first, and another, and another. He sat there, weeping silently in the loneliness of the tent of meeting.

"Weeping hopelessly never solved anything," said a gruff but kind sounding voice, breaking the silence.

This startled Amadeus greatly. He had no idea anyone else was in the tent with him. He jerked his head towards the voice, and saw a large elderly man.

The stranger towered above him and had a thick black beard. He wore a simple tunic and cloak made of dark brown animal skin. Judging from the shade of fur, it would have been made from one of the ferocious bears that roamed the wilderness. He leaned against his gnarled wooden staff and looked questioningly at Amadeus, as though he was waiting for an answer.

"I-I-I, I wasn't weeping. Who are you anyway? I'll report you to the Nobles. No outsiders are allowed inside White Harrow!" Amadeus tried to compose himself. He stood up slowly from the straw mat, and raised his shoulders. Like a peacock extending its tail feathers, Amadeus was trying to appear as tough and imposing as possible.

The old man found this to be particularly amusing. His gruff laughter bellowed loudly. He was unimpressed by the show Amadeus put on. "Go on, call them then," he replied. Amadeus couldn't believe his ears.

"Aren't you afraid of the Nobles, old man? They do horrible things to trespassers of White Harrow." Amadeus replied, surprised at either the courage or stupidity of the stranger before him. He wasn't sure which one it was.

"The Nobles attempt to rule by instilling fear, but that never works out." he said, taking one step closer. His voice softened to a whisper. "You even fought with one of them and won, it seems."

"You were there? How did you know?" Amadeus was truly stumped at this strange old man who seemed to know everything about him.

"I know lots of things, Amadeus. I know you have a good heart, but you are still very cowardly, selfish, and foolish." The old man then lifted up his staff and tapped Amadeus on the head lightly. "See? There's nothing but air up there."

Amadeus stood up as tall as he could. "I am neither selfish nor am I foolish! Far be it from me to ever be a coward! As a matter of fact, I am going to sneak out of the camp and look for the tribe of Avianath myself."

Amadeus reached into his pocket and yanked out a bag weaved of unused wheat stalks. Once the unused stalks were dried and woven together, they formed decent bags. These were widely used among commoners as they were cheap to make. He opened up the bag and then proceeded to take two loaves of bread from the shelf. He placed them in the bag as rations.

He reached into the other pocket and took out one of the feathers that he had managed to pick off Old Jarbus's cloak earlier without him noticing. He had tried to grab a handful of them, but only managed to yank out two. He showed the feather to the strange man before putting it in his woven bag. I'll keep one of them in my pocket just in case I lose my bag, Amadeus thought as he tucked the other feather into his pocket.

Amadeus' gaze turned to the large wooden table where Old Jarbus was standing. Making his way to the the table, the stranger watched in silence as Amadeus groped the edges of the table, as if looking for something. He had seen Old Jarbus open a hidden compartment in this table and was hoping to find another map in there. There was a clicking sound as Amadeus slid open a secret drawer hidden in the table. He shifted through the drawer and took out a parchment from the drawer. What luck, this was the very same map that Old Jarbus had given to Uthaes. Amadeus raised it up for Enoch to see.

"Look here, now I've also got the map and feather that Old Jarbus gave to Uthaes. With this, I'm going to sneak out and save the camp by myself."

The gruff and deep laughter filled the air again. "He, who is wise in his own eyes, is indeed foolish; and the man who thinks he knows much, knows little."

"I'm Enoch, by the way." The stranger extended his hand for a handshake.

Amadeus looked at it suspiciously.

"I'm a friend," he added.

Amadeus relaxed a little and shook Enoch's hand with a weak smile. Enoch's hand felt rough to the touch, yet warm. The warmth felt comforting, and Amadeus felt a wave of peace flood him. Amadeus, having lived his entire life in White Harrow, and having never heard of Enoch's widespread reputation, was uncertain of what to make of this stranger standing before him. If however, he had known anything about Enoch, he would actually be awestruck.

"You're only doing this out of guilt, aren't you? You feel obliged to save the town and be the hero because you are the very one who has caused all this." Enoch said thoughtfully.

Amadeus remained silent. Who is this strange man? He can read my mind even though we had only just met.