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Despite the king's furlough, everything had been well kept in the Kingdom of Bright-Field. The knights carried out their part as usual, patrolling the streets and keeping order as well. Serkonos had been one of them. As the king arrived, Serkonos was there to greet him, sword in hand. He rarely trusted any of the districts within the kingdom; a life of piracy caused this. "And how did you fare, sire?" he asked as he unloaded cargo from the back of the stage coach.

"Aye. Things here in the kingdom haven't changed much. Well-" Serkonos was cut off when a man with short black hair, a brown jacket, blue trousers, and brown boots pounced on him, wrestling him to the ground and knocking cargo out of his hands. "Dakarian!" Serkonos yelled. He had him in a headlock, showing no sign of mercy. Serkonos twisted his body, managed to put his hand through a crack of Dakarian's arms, pried them open, spun around and pinned his face to the ground while holding his arm back, ready to snap it. "I told you not to mess with me, Dakarian." Dakarian huffed, steadying his breaths before he spoke. “Naturally, I did it anyway,” he said. “For every action, there is a cause,” Serkonos said as he let up on Dakarian, shifting to truss him up. “You’re a good knight, Dakarian. However, you do have quite a thick skull. You do know this, don’t you?” Dakarian looked blank as if he had no idea what he was talking about. “Please. Your days of piracy hardly scare me.” Serkonos shook his head in disagreement. “I’m sure you wouldn’t like to test it, eh?” Dakarian shrugged it off. “I prefer the legend of Piv,” Dakarian said. “Piv had a temper, but he was a great man. He refused to take the king’s elixir. Told him that he wanted to live out his life in the seas. A short life and a merry one.” Serkonos sighed. Reminiscing about his old crew didn’t make him feel good. “Dakarian, I think it’s time for you to meet the king.”

“Sire, this is Sir Dakarian.”