The next morning, George began his journey north with the guide sent by the knights.
He rode in the back of a small wagon, watching the world slowly change.
The green plains faded behind them.
The air grew colder.
Grasslands gave way to rocky hills, and soon the land was covered in snow.
By midday, the fortress of Belmont finally appeared.
It stood atop a black ridge like a frozen giant.
Tall walls of grey stone surrounded the castle, and towers rose like spears into the pale sky.
George swallowed nervously.
This place did not look welcoming.
As the wagon approached the gate, two armored gatekeepers stepped forward.
"Halt!" one of them called.
"State your business, young man."
George climbed down and handed them the sealed letter given to him by the senior knight.
The gatekeeper opened it and read quickly.
"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow. "So you are the new squire."
"Good, good."
He folded the letter and nodded to the other guard.
"I'll call the guide."
The man lifted a horn and blew a deep note that echoed through the fortress.
Almost instantly the entire castle seemed to react.
Guards on the walls turned their heads.
Archers stepped forward along the battlements.
Dozens of eyes settled on George.
The attention made his stomach tighten.
A moment later, a man with silver hair came walking out from the inner gate.
His stride was quick and confident, and he wore a wide, cheerful smile.
"Well now!" the man said warmly.
"You must be the newcomer."
"Yes, Mr. Guide," George replied.
"And what is your name, young lad?"
"George."
The man laughed happily.
"Ah! A fine name."
"Come then, George. Let us walk."
The gates opened with a heavy groan, and they entered the fortress.
As they walked through the courtyard, the silver-haired man spoke casually.
"So tell me, George… how does it feel to finally become a knight after such a long struggle?"
"I imagine those cocky knights must have treated you terribly."
George shook his head.
"No, sir. They were actually quite kind. Kinder than many knights I've heard of."
The guide glanced at him with interest.
"Is that so?"
He chuckled.
"Well then, George… do you have a lass waiting for you back home?"
George shook his head again.
"No, sir. I prefer to keep my distance from girls."
The man grinned.
"Oh? Are you frightened of them, or do you perhaps swing the other way?"
George flushed slightly but answered calmly.
"Neither, sir. I simply believe they deserve respect."
The silver-haired man laughed loudly.
"Well now, you are certainly an interesting young man."
They reached a heavy wooden door leading into another courtyard.
The guide pushed it open.
"After you."
George stepped forward.
The moment he crossed the doorway—
The guide suddenly shoved him hard from behind.
George stumbled forward into the courtyard.
At the same moment, a massive man stepped forward and placed one enormous foot lightly on George's back, forcing him to the ground.
The man's arms were thicker than George's waist.
"Well now," the giant said calmly.
"What have we here?"
The silver-haired guide walked in behind them.
"Sir Bate," he said casually, "either this boy is incredibly innocent… or he is very good at lying."
He studied George carefully.
"His aura is steady and confident."
"He claims his former knights treated him well, even though his body is covered in old wounds."
"He respects women."
"And even now…"
The guide tilted his head slightly.
"…he is still trying to push your foot away."
Sir Bate pressed down a little harder.
George's arms trembled as he tried to rise.
"So," the giant said.
"He is strong?"
The guide shrugged.
"No."
"Completely average."
"Pure willpower."
Sir Bate raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
The guide smiled.
"According to your description, this one fits almost perfectly."
"Stubborn."
"High-willed."
"Honest."
"Respectful."
He chuckled softly.
"It is almost as if he were made for this place."
Sir Bate thought for a moment.
Then he said calmly,
"He is a spy."
George froze.
Sir Bate turned toward the guide.
"Torture him."
"And extract the truth."
The guide bowed slightly.
"As you wish."
George awoke slowly.
At first there was only pain.
Then he realized the world was upside down.
His wrists were bound tightly to a rope, and his body hung from a wooden beam. Blood rushed to his head, making his vision blur.
Cold stone walls surrounded him.
A dim lantern burned somewhere nearby.
Footsteps echoed in the chamber.
A small figure stepped into the light.
George couldn't see the face clearly, but the shape suggested a woman.
She stopped a few steps away.
"So," she said calmly, "you are a spy."
George struggled to focus.
"No… madam," he said weakly. "I am a squire."
A sharp crack split the air.
Something wrapped around his torso.
The whip tightened suddenly.
The woman pulled.
George screamed as the barbed leather tore through his skin.
Blood splattered onto the stone floor.
"Tell me honestly," she said coldly.
"You are the spy, aren't you?"
George gasped through the pain.
"No… madam."
"I am a squire."
Another strike.
The whip snapped again, ripping deeper this time.
"You are a spy."
"No… madam."
Strike.
"I am… a squire."
The chamber filled with the sound of the whip.
Again.
And again.
And again.
After the tenth strike, the woman stopped.
George hung limply from the rope, his body trembling.
Blood dripped steadily onto the floor.
The woman stepped closer.
"Listen carefully, boy."
Her voice softened slightly.
"You only need to say three words."
I am a spy.
"Say it, and this ends."
She tilted her head.
"Why does it matter? You can leave Belmont alive."
She looked at his torn back.
"At this rate, five more strikes will kill you."
The lantern flickered.
The woman raised the whip again.
"Now tell me."
"You are a spy… right?"
George barely managed to lift his head.
His voice was almost gone.
"No… madam."
"I am a squire."
Silence.
Then the woman lowered the whip.
"Well," she said quietly.
"That settles it."
She turned slightly toward the darkness behind her.
"Congratulations, young man."
"You are the first to pass this examination in fifty years."
She chuckled softly.
"Even the sons of great lords failed."
"You, however… possess remarkable vitality."
She stepped closer to examine him.
Then her expression changed.
"…Wait."
George's body had gone completely limp.
His breathing had become shallow.
The rope creaked as he swayed.
"He's dying," she said sharply.
"Cut him down!"
Men rushed forward from the shadows.
They quickly lowered George to the ground.
"Take him to the infirmary," she ordered.
"Hurry."
---
Later, in the infirmary.
The massive man George had seen in the courtyard stood beside the bed.
"So," the giant said.
"The boy is strong."
The woman shook her head.
"No."
She looked down at George's battered body.
"He is not strong."
She paused before finishing.
"He is resilient."
Polished Scene – The Second Test
George awoke slowly.
For a moment he thought he was still dreaming.
His entire body felt strange—tight, heavy, and strangely warm.
When he tried to move, he realized why.
Needles covered his body.
Dozens of them.
His arms, shoulders, back, and legs were all pierced with thin silver pins.
A calm voice spoke nearby.
"Do not worry, lad. This is not a test."
George turned his head slightly.
A woman stood beside the bed, adjusting a tray of instruments.
"Now tell me," she said casually, "how do you feel?"
George opened his mouth.
Only one word came out.
"Pins."
The woman smiled.
"Yes. Acupuncture."
She gently tapped one of the needles.
"It shouldn't hurt."
George took a slow breath.
"No, miss… nun."
The woman stopped.
"Nun?" she repeated.
She slowly turned toward him.
"How old do you think I am, young squire?"
George studied her face.
"Twenty-five… maybe younger."
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
She folded her arms.
"How bold."
"Flirting so brazenly while lying in my infirmary bed."
George blinked in confusion.
"And I am not a nun, young man."
She suddenly turned toward a guard passing the doorway.
"You there," she called.
The guard stopped.
"How old do I look?"
The guard glanced at her nervously.
"I… don't know. Maybe fifty?"
Her expression darkened.
Before the man could react—
Smack.
She slapped him across the face.
The guard quickly fled down the hallway.
The woman sighed and walked back to George's bedside.
"Well then," she said calmly.
"I heard you cleared your first obstacle."
George said nothing.
She leaned closer to him.
"I could tell you how to pass the second one."
Her voice dropped slightly.
"And afterward…"
"…we could enjoy a pleasant night in my room."
George blinked slowly.
Then he shook his head.
"No, my lady."
"Your offer is… tempting."
"But I must refuse."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
George answered quietly.
"How could I face Lord Robert if I passed that way?"
Silence filled the room.
Then the woman suddenly laughed.
"Good."
"Very good."
"You have passed the second test."
George stared at her.
"But," she added with a playful smile,
"the offer still stands."
"Room number five."
"In the infirmary quarters."
She straightened and turned toward the door.
Outside, the large knight from the courtyard stood waiting.
"So," the giant said.
"The boy has passed two already."
The woman nodded.
"Yes."
"But the third will be difficult for someone like him."
She looked back at George.
"The next test will be held on the fourth floor."
At that moment, a young servant hurried down the corridor and stopped at the doorway.
He bowed quickly.
"Sir, the council has sent word."
The giant looked down at him.
"Well?"
The servant turned toward George.
"Your next test will be with Sir James, in the equipment building."
The giant let out a low chuckle.
"Sir James, huh?"
He glanced back at George lying on the bed.
"Well, boy…"
"James is going to chew you up."
"And he won't even leave the bones."
The servant swallowed nervously.
"Your trial begins in one hour."
George slowly pushed himself up from the bed.
Pain shot through his body.
But he said nothing.
Belmont staff is not finished with him yet.