Chapter 1

molten gold, ever watchful for lies cloaked in shadows. Together, they were a trinity of clarity: knight, steed, and hawk, forged by justice and sworn to the light.

The towers of Eureka soon rose on the horizon—marble and sunstone spires catching the waning light. To Gavin, the sight stirred both pride and memory. Eureka, the jewel of the Land of Democracy, stood defiant against the foul breath of the Doom-Spreader’s lies. It had been built—stone by stone—by the vision and calloused hands of King Biden, the Just and Steady. Gavin rode not just toward a city, but toward a purpose renewed.

At the gates, he slowed Cathal and dismounted, the armor at his sides whispering its familiar clinks. The stables bustled with motion—pages tending reins, squires whispering news, horses stamping with unease. One young lad hurried over, his eyes wide as saucers at the sight of the knight.

Gavin stroked Cathal’s mane, then handed over the reins. “See him watered,” he said. “He carried me through miles of doubt and did not falter.”

The boy nodded, then hesitated. He glanced around, lowered his voice. “Sir... the city whispers. The King grows troubled. Prince Donold rallies his Maga minions. They say unrest slithers from the villages all the way to Eureka’s very gates.”

Gavin studied the lad, then nodded solemnly. “A stench of lies has a way of spreading quickly. Fear not—the King is not without champions.”

Leaving Cathal behind, Gavin climbed the long stone stair to the royal tower. Each step echoed with memories—some proud, others bitter. Each quest had carved a mark upon his spirit. He wondered, as he always did before facing the King: Would this be the last climb?

At the door of the royal chamber, Gavin knocked once and waited. A muffled voice bade him enter.

Inside, King Biden sat hunched over a desk cluttered with maps and parchment, lit by flickering candlelight. The years had stooped his back and carved deep lines into his face, but his eyes—blue and iron-hard—had not dimmed.

“Ah, Gavin,” said the King. “Come. Sit beside me. There is much we must discuss.”

Gavin obeyed, lowering himself into the wooden chair, eyes scanning the maps. Villages were circled in ink, rivers marked with runes, and beside them: annotations of unrest.

The King tapped one village with a knotted finger. “Word reaches me of your last quest—the one where Prince Donold, in his delusion, commanded the villagers to shut a great water valve.”

Gavin nodded grimly. “Aye, Majesty. He thundered through the square, claiming he had discovered a valve that could starve the land and flood the sea. The people, fearful and misled, obeyed. The crops withered. Their children cried for food.”

King Biden’s eyes darkened. “And there was no such valve.”

“None,” said Gavin. “Only madness, given voice. I searched every sluice, gate, and aqueduct. At last, I stood in the square and declared the truth: There is no valve to close the river. Water flows by the laws of nature, not by Donold’s decree.”

At this, Talon cried from his perch near the window, sharp and clear—a punctuation of truth.

“And the people?” asked the King.

“They wept. Not from grief—but relief. They had believed a lie. And when that lie was shattered, they were free again.”

King Biden allowed himself a rare smile. “Well done. Each truth you wield is a torch that pushes back the dark. You are no ordinary knight, Gavin. You are the Maga-Lie Destroyer—and this realm depends on your flame.”

With slow precision, the King rolled up a parchment and set it aside. He looked up with wearied grace.

“Remain in Eureka,” he said. “Tomorrow you will meet with two of my most trusted advisors—Barak and Michelle. They will prepare you for your next quest.”

Gavin bowed his head. “As you command.”

The King placed a hand on Gavin’s armored shoulder. “The lies thicken. But truth shall cut through.”

As Gavin stepped out into the corridor, the heavy door groaned closed behind him—and the whispers of unease met him once again.

The Land of Eureka trembled under the creeping shadow of Maga.

Across golden fields and whispering plains, Sir Gavin the Maga-Lie Destroyer rode with purpose. His warhorse, Cathal, struck the earth with hooves like drums of judgment, each thunderous step declaring the advance of truth. Above them wheeled Talon, the hawk, his eyes 

The Summons of Sir Gavin