Fhoust was staring out the window of his chambers, pondering the encounter that Gorundor had in the Great Hall the previous day, when someone knocked on his door. He opened it, and Gorundor stood in the hall looking grim.
“I need you to write a letter to Baldor.”
“My lord, I would happily do so, except I have no clue of his whereabouts.” Fhoust explained.
“How did this happen?”
“During the battle of Fallkirk, we made it into the woods outside the walls of the city. He had a gash running down the side of his leg, and could barely walk. The fire was spreading through the city, and orcs were combing the woods, looking for wounded soldiers. They were approaching our position, and I knew Baldor would not be able to out run them. I bound his leg tightly, and covered him with leaves and mud, disguising him into the forest floor. Then I ran as fast as I could to bring reinforcements. By the time I got back with a group of spearmen, he was gone.”
“So the orcs could have gotten to him?”
“They could have, but Baldor is the most fearsome warrior I have ever seen. It took a whole tribe to give him his wounds at Fallkirk. If they had him, there would have been signs of a struggle.”
“Fhoust, listen to me, I need you to find him. Alanon’s return could easily bring war to this kingdom. If we are to go to war, I want trusted individuals like Baldor by my side.”
“My lord, I completely understand, but Baldor is the only person to have ever become a Royal Scout, and a Knight of The Realm. If he does not want to be found, I do not know if I can find him.”
“You must find him for all of our sakes.” Gorundor turned and strode away, cloak fluttering behind him.
Fhoust took a deep breath, and began to pack his things. He was going to find his long lost brother in arms.