Cameron was standing at the outskirts of the small town of Bríona. Two heads, still snug in their metal helms, landed at his feet before the two brothers came running at him from different directions.

“Glad the two of you could finally make it,” the man said to the breathless brothers. They panted with their hands on their knees, exhausted not only from the swinging and the running, but also the circling about in thick forest and sometimes cutting away at thick vegetation with their swords to clear a path to find their head—not the one that’s not on their shoulders—only to send it sailing once more through the air with a solid strike and looking for it once more.

“Technically, I have not yet won as I have not struck my head into Bríona,” Cameron said as he pointed towards the town ahead of them. “I thought that since it was your first time playing, I’d give you all a fair chance to win.”

He opened his arms and stepped aside.

“Please, if you will,” the man said as he pointed in the direction of a tall white tower that had a large golden bell hanging at the top of it. “Strike your head forth into that golden bell in the distance, and you’ll be declared the winner of this game.”

“That… bell…?” Sir Balin asked, still panting.

“Yes,” Cameron said.

“That’s easy,” Sir Balan said as he shook out him limbs and lined himself up.

“Miss this shot, however, and you will lose,” the man added with his finger now pointed at Sir Balan. “Go ahead, Knight of Singular Sword. Swing away.”

Sir Balan gritted his teeth, lined himself up, and swung at the head.

He lined himself up, then swung hard. The head flew threw the air, but missed the bell and flew past the tower.

“Wide,” Cameron said before turning to Sir Balin.

“And now,” he said, holding up two fingers. “Knight of Two Swords. It is your turn to swing away.”

Sir Balin gulped, then lined himself up with the head and squared up to the tower.

Cameron wrung his hands nervously as Sir Balin approached the battered helmet upon the ground.

Sir Balin waggled his club as the squared up to the head, then he swung the club hard and fast, striking the head and sending it flying through the air. It soared up before smacking right into the white bricks of the tower itself and rebounding off.

“Darn it,” Sir Balin said. “So close.”

Sir Balan shook his head.

“I think I was closer,” he uttered.

“No way,” Sir Balin remarked. “Mine is definitely the closer one. Are you blind? I actually hit the tower. You missed it!”

“The point wasn’t to hit the tower, dummy!” Sir Balan shouted. “It was to hit the bell. What, are you deaf?”

As they were arguing, the man swung his club and sent his head sailing through the air. The head connected with the bell, ringing it loudly.

“Oh, ho!” the man said. “What a shot, wouldn’t you agree?”

The brother stood there, in disbelief, before clapping slowly in amazement.

“Well done, man,” Sir Balan said.

“That was, indeed, an impressive shot,” Sir Balin said, nodding as he applauded.

“Thank you, you two,” Cameron said. “Now, since you have lost to me, you must ride on to King Rience’s castle, capture him, and bring him before King Arthur!”

“What?”

“A boon is boon, Dorkley brothers,” Cameron said with his hands on his hips. “I won. So, that’s what you are going to do. Listen close. You two are to going to ambush King Rience when he abandons his post for a brief moment from the siege of Castle Terrabil—are you following so far?”