If you ignored the vast number of orcs surrounding the city, and only looked at the magnificent palace at the center of the capital, this place actually wasn't so terrible.
However, despite the grandeur of the buildings and how wealthy the kingdom appeared, the poor were still desperately poor.
Just like the elderly man walking on the street, looking lonely, aged, and without support. A tattered robe hung loosely on his frame, clearly ill-fitting. He held a wooden staff, perhaps to help him keep going when his strength failed.
His face was covered with a piece of cloth from the nose down, probably to protect against prolonged sun exposure.
"Someone like him has probably traveled far and wide. If we offer coin, he'd certainly be willing to talk," Halbarad suggested, relying on his usual instincts, and was the first to step forward and speak.
After a brief exchange, the old man frowned and studied the tall wanderer standing before him, as if trying to recall something.
"I'm no beggar."
"But you... you look somewhat familiar..."
Shaking his head, the old man said, "What do you wish to ask? If I know something, I won't necessarily keep it from you."
At that moment, Garrett also walked over.
The old man glanced to the side, and once he saw Garrett, he couldn't take his eyes off him.
He completely forgot about speaking with Halbarad and hurried toward Garrett with his staff.
"You don't look like someone from around here. Perhaps your features resemble the people here somewhat, but at a fundamental level, you're different. Most commoners wouldn't notice, but the moment a noble lays eyes on you, you'll be exposed."
"What?"
Garrett tensed up.
Exposed?
"If you don't want to be surrounded and attacked by tomorrow, come with me."
Halbarad looked at Garrett, one hand gripping the hidden dagger in his cloak.
Garrett shook his head at him and followed the old man first.
They made their way, heads lowered, weaving through buildings until they reached an empty pavilion.
The old man turned around, pulled off the cloth covering his face, then removed his hood.
"It's you?!"
Halbarad exclaimed in surprise.
As he cried out, the old man removed the ill-fitting cloak from his shoulders, revealing a sea-blue robe underneath. Hanging from his belt was a wide-brimmed hat, the same color as the robe.
In that moment, everything became clear.
"Let me formally introduce myself," the old man gave a slight bow and said, "My name is Alatar, as you can see, I'm one of the Istari. Of course, you probably haven't heard that name much, since I rarely use it."
"But you might recognize it from various local legends, the sinister conspirator, the spreader of rumors, or perhaps Morinehtar, the Darkness Slayer."
"I didn't expect you to return, wanderer of the western lands."
"Honestly, I didn't really wish to come back..." Halbarad replied, then stepped aside to introduce Garrett: "This is the one I mentioned before, the lord who helped me escape that ferry crossing."
After that, he took a deep breath and introduced Garrett to the wizard.
"This is the legend of the western wilderness, master of crafting magic, founder of free settlements, slayer of dragons... Garrett."
Whoosh.
After finishing the lengthy introduction, he immediately gasped for air and took several deep breaths before finally calming down.
"...Since I first set foot on this land, I've never returned to the western realms. I didn't expect such a remarkable figure to emerge in these past years."
The elderly wizard, whose features still held a noble bearing, couldn't help but stroke his grizzled beard.
"You're Dúnedain as well?"
"I'm not," Garrett replied.
"May I ask who sent you?"
The man in the blue robe glanced westward, clearly implying something more with his question.
"I came on my own."
"Of your own..."
"Well then, impressive. Truly impressive."
He seemed to be misunderstanding something again.
Garrett didn't want to dwell on the topic. He said, "I've been looking into your whereabouts. I heard you said… you can't go back?"
"Yes. It's exceedingly difficult."
At the mention of this, Alatar sighed heavily.
"During a past confrontation, the Enemy left a mark upon my spirit, one that cannot be removed. That mark is corrupting my essence, drawing me closer to the Shadow..."
"I can barely remember what my homeland looks like anymore, only that it was a place of beauty."
"My time grows short, Master Garrett."
He continued simply, "At most a few decades, or perhaps a century, before I may no longer be myself."
"Why do you say that?"
Alatar didn't answer, he only shook his head.
"You don't understand how terrible that power is. It's not something ordinary means can combat. Anyway, let's speak of you, why have you come here?"
"I've heard Sauron's forces are strong in this region, and the situation isn't looking great."
Garrett didn't press the previous topic further. He followed the wizard's lead and said, "So I came to see what's going on. And if possible, I'd like to put some pressure on Sauron's forces. He's been far too active lately."
"The situation is indeed urgent."
Alatar said, "I've barely managed to assemble an army, and now it's about to be attacked by a combined force of orcs and Easterlings. And we still lack proper fortifications."
"An army? Where?"
There were allies in this region?
"Directly east of Mordor, not too distant from the Black Land itself."
Alatar recalled.
"Things weren't going well, but at least they were improving... until the Enemy suddenly revealed himself in Barad-dûr and issued a call to arms across the entire East."
"Even in a weakened state, the Enemy's power isn't something mortals can resist. Even those with strong will are quickly overwhelmed by Mordor's influence."
"Now, farther east, there's only one last stronghold held by those who resist. I hope it won't fall when the Shadow arrives."
Though his words were somewhat cryptic and not very detailed, he had more or less explained the situation.
"You say you're concerned about that last bastion... so why are you here, in the enemy's stronghold?"
Halbarad had been listening closely, but this was the one thing he couldn't understand.
Wizards were often seen as wise counselors or military strategists among many peoples. And a strategist, why come running into enemy territory instead of planning from the rear?
"I had a feeling. A premonition told me I should come."
Alatar glanced at Garrett and said, "It was... an Istari's intuition. And even without it, I would have come anyway."
"Dúnadan of the West, descendant of Númenor, you don't understand what the Istari are capable of."
"Sometimes, the power and solutions of one person can go far beyond your imagination."
At that, he smiled with quiet confidence.
"That's certainly true," Halbarad didn't argue.
After all, he had a prime example standing right beside him.
"I'm entering the royal palace now to meet their king. If I can break the Enemy's corruption over him, even if, afterward, they still remain hostile to the free peoples of the West or seek to destroy the last bastion in the East, it would still buy us precious time. The orcs outside will be enough to keep them occupied for a while."
"Need help?" Garrett sounded more than a little eager.
"No, young legend and rising lord of new lands. I don't know why you would risk coming here yourself, and with only one Dúnadan companion, no less."
"But you'd best remain here. As I said before, if any noble lays eyes on you, they'll instantly know you're different. And then the army will be summoned to overwhelm you."
"I'll return with good new."
With that, the man in the blue robe nodded to them both and turned to walk toward the palace.