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Greyith wheeled around and saw a very tired and angry Lord Dyrant leading nine of his Black Knights. Frantically, Greyith started back up the path he had just come down. It was too late. Two knights stood there, blocking the Royal Path. Before they could grab him, Greyith darted into the brush near the side of the mountain and ran for his life. Several Black Knights pursued him, but Dyrant called them off.

"Leave the kid alone," Dyrant barked. "That beggar can't get up there unless he takes this path. Someone stay here, and there won't be any problem."

Lord Dyrant posted three of his men to guard the path's entrance. Then he and his remaining knights galloped up the narrow mountain path.

Meanwhile, Greyith had been circling the base of Mount Royal and found a partially accessible route near the back of the mountain. After a long period of climbing, he heard a noise up above him. The King's guards, called the Royal Guards, had discovered their uninvited visitor. Greyith knew that he was trapped, so he continued climbing until he reached the top. Two burly guards lifted him up and placed his feet on the flat ground.

"What are you doing, peasant?" The guard spit out the words, hovering over Greyith. "Stealing from His Majesty again, aren't you? Well, now, we've caught you--you thief!"

Greyith kicked the guard in the stomach and bolted free from the other. With all his strength he ran toward the palace, noticing his route was clear of any other people besides a single girl. As he drew nearer, the girl looked up at him. Her flawless complexion framed by flaming red hair turned pale when she saw him. She opened her mouth, and Greyith realized that she was screaming.

Consciously looking down at his clothes, Greyith realized what kind of monster he must look like. His whole body was plastered with mud and grime, his hair was matted against his sweaty face, and his bare arms and legs were covered with open bruises and scratches.

Greyith had almost reached the palace, when his heart jumped to his throat. The group of Black Knights led by Lord Dyrant were just arriving. There was no way that they could possibly miss him. As the knights saw him, they let out a bloodthirsty cry. Greyith spun around and ran straight into the other Royal Guard.

"Oomph!" Greyith fell, trying to catch his breath.

"We've got you now, you little slime," Lord Dyrant laughed, sending shivers down Greyith's spine.

"Lord Dyrant, I pray, sire, please help me cart this thief to prison," the Royal Guard asked.

Lord Dyrant looked at the guard in surprise, but said nothing. He realized that perhaps Greyith might not actually be a spy hired by the King.

"Sure, best to rid this creep," Dyrant replied. Then, to his men, he muttered, "Now we can carry out the plan."

His men grinned at him, and then dragged Greyith to the palace. The Royal Guard led them into the castle's dungeon, where neatly kept prison cells lined the walls. The knights threw Greyith into one of the cells, and then left him to go back upstairs.

When Greyith woke up several hours later, he had no idea where he was. At first he thought he was back in the castle dungeon, but then he remembered.

"The King!" he shouted. "I've got to save the King!"

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