A Squire’s Trial

5
"Ahoy, there!"
I turned around at the strange greeting, and saw a man
briskly walk toward me off the highway road and down the
path to the storage house. It wasn't rare that we got visitors all
the way out here; customers from the city would often come by
to check in on their goods, or deal with the boss when his job
demanded he stay here. But they all arrived by personal
vehicles, whereas this stranger that approached me was
traveling by foot. Moreover, he wasn't approaching from the
direction of the city – exactly how long has he been walking?
As he grew closer, I realized that he may have traveled quite
the distance.
He was clad in black, military-looking clothes, dust and dirt
from the road covering his boots and pants up to his knees, a
severely scraped and scratched knee-guard on the right leg. A
sizable back-pack, a jacket with rolled up sleeves, a loosely tied
scarf on his neck, and everything had pockets full of something.
The more he approached, the more the little details began
to spring up – like some custom patches over his clothes,
marks on his knuckles and some scars. What was the most