"Sigilis, a Dúnedain ranger. Pleased to meet you, mighty warrior."
"Kaen Eowenríel, a traveler on a journey. Likewise, an honor to meet you."
The young man carried a bow on his back and gripped a finely-crafted spear in his hand. He was strikingly handsome, with a quiet, steady air about him.
Sigilis glanced at Adante and chuckled. "Master Adante, it seems you've crossed someone rather formidable. I can feel the presence Lord Kaen radiates—it's the kind of aura only years of bloody battle can forge. I wouldn't stand a chance against him."
"It wasn't quite a quarrel. Just a... difference in ideals, really," Kaen said with a casual wave of his hand.
Adante snorted coldly and turned to Sigilis. "Are you here to settle your debt? That blue-gold spear you're holding is worth fifty gold coins. You still owe me fifteen."
"But of course." Sigilis raised a brow, tossing a coin pouch toward Adante. "Fifteen gold coins, not a coin short. I had to take on several merchant escort jobs just to repay you."
"At least you honor your word," Adante grunted. He didn't bother counting the coins, simply turning to walk back toward his forge. Clearly, he had no intention of lingering.
But just then, Kaen called out, "Wait! Since you claim to be a master smith, why not reforge this blade? You called it a flawed piece, didn't you? Let me see what your peak craftsmanship truly looks like."
Adante turned around, brows knitting. "And what if I say I don't want to?"
Kaen shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just business. If you refuse, I'll find another smith. Rivendell isn't lacking for blacksmiths."
The dwarf considered this for a moment, then sighed and walked back toward Kaen, holding out his hand. "Five gold coins."
"Deal."
Kaen handed over his sword and said, "Engrave these words on it—'Courage and Glory.' That will be its new name. I'll return for it tomorrow morning."
"I will," Adante replied, then turned and disappeared back into the forge, sword in hand.
"Don't mind him, brother," Sigilis said with a laugh. "Master Adante's temper is sharp, but he's never crafted a shoddy weapon in his life."
"I could tell," Kaen nodded. "That's the only reason I entrusted him with my blade, temper or not."
Just then, Sigilis suggested, "Care for a drink? I know a great tavern not far from here. Bards gather there to tell tales—stories from distant lands. You might find it interesting."
"Just what I needed."
Kaen found himself growing more curious about this Dúnedain man. He readily accepted the invitation.
The two made their way to the tavern, ordered two bottles of ale, and sat down for a leisurely chat.
"I've been training in combat since I was eight," Sigilis said, leaning back slightly. "I consider myself a capable warrior. But you... you radiate a kind of threat I've never felt before. I'm curious—where are you from, and what are you planning to do?"
Kaen chuckled. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"
"It's just how I am," Sigilis replied plainly. "I can't stand people who talk in riddles."
"Same here."
Kaen nodded, and without much hesitation, shared the story of his companions, their journey, and what they were heading toward.
"The Troll-woods?"
Sigilis frowned. "That's not a place you stroll into lightly. There are hundreds of trolls there, not to mention multiple orc tribes. It's incredibly dangerous."
"I'll cleanse that forest," Kaen said, taking a swig of his drink. "It will be the first step in my greater goal—to found a mighty kingdom."
"How many do you have under your command?"
"Six. Each of them is a master in their own right. With me, that makes seven."
"You've got to be joking." Sigilis blinked. "Seven people to cleanse the Troll-woods? Why not just march into Mordor while you're at it?"
Kaen grinned. "Listen, Sigilis. It might sound absurd, but I have my own ways. If you're curious, you're welcome to come see for yourself."
The Dúnedain were born warriors—taller, stronger, and longer-lived than ordinary men. Though this man before him seemed young, a Dúnedain in his prime was likely well into his forties or fifties.
As a ranger, Sigilis was certainly formidable. Kaen could tell—just look at Lairon and Cathril in his group. Both Dúnedain, and either one could take on thirty to forty orcs alone.
And with Kaen's game panel granting them triple growth rate, they were growing stronger by the day.
It was only a matter of time—within a year, each of them would become a top-tier hero, capable of taking on a hundred foes singlehandedly.
"So... is this your way of inviting me to join your company?"
Sigilis raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Dúnedain rarely pledge themselves to anyone but the royal family."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping to recruit you," Kaen admitted, his tone easy. "I know we just met, but I believe you're someone of great potential."
He paused, then added, "Loyalty isn't about race or bloodline. I already have a pair of Dúnedain siblings under my command. I'm offering you an opportunity. Whether you take it—that's your choice."
"Tch, I thought you'd at least tempt me with gold, titles, or power," Sigilis teased, though his gaze toward Kaen grew more curious.
"I never sell dreams," Kaen said simply. "I don't weave visions of a beautiful future. That future has to be earned—with grit and effort."
Sigilis nodded slowly. "Well, I'll admit—I'm intrigued. But I have a wife and child. I can't make a rash decision."
He raised his mug. "If one day, I hear tales of your deeds echoing along the roads of the West, then I will come—with my family and friends—to stand by your side."
"That day won't be far off."
Kaen clinked his mug against Sigilis's, and the two shared a smile before downing their drinks in one go.
This was not the Anduin River Valley, nor one of the hill-tribe camps. Here, Kaen was a relative unknown.
He didn't expect to win over a Dúnedain ranger with just a drink.
But he had gained something valuable—a promise.
All he had to do was prove himself, spread his name across the land, and soon enough, he would be known even in the high halls of Rivendell.