The king of Meladonia annually issues a challenge to the young men of the land. Those who seek fame as men-at-arms enter, but one who is not soldier material also receives the challenge. To what end?
 

     The afternoon sun beamed in through the window above Edward Entell, who sat, hunched over the account books, writing carefully with a quill pen. He had just entered into his fifteenth spring, but a weariness not fitting for such youth hung over him. A stack of documents which he was working from sat to one side on the desk.

     His father, Thomas, stepped into the room and stood behind him. "Have you completed all of the entries, my son?"
"Nay, Father." Edward put down the pen, straightened up, and pushed his sandy blond hair back out of his face. "That was an extensive cargo you brought in."

     Thomas chuckled. "Aye, it was; but, my customers seek to obtain their goods."

     "Error is the companion of haste."

     "Do you chide your father? I would not receive such from a hireling."

     Edward smiled. "But I am your son, and so you must bear with me."

     Thomas turned to go. "Be done by dinner." The door closed firmly behind him.

     Edward stretched his back and stared bleakly at the bills. "It appears that I may go hungry tonight, my friends," he said. Sighing, he took up his quill once more.

     About an hour later, Edward overheard one of his brothers call out, "Father, horsemen approach!" He limped to the small window that faced onto the laneway and opened it. Two nobles on horseback jogged up toward the house.

     Edward recognized the elder of them. Blanching, he shut the window.