"Scowards, Ulthraks, Adrossis, Feretonians, these are the nations of northern Modena. Never once have these nations come together for a common cause, always separated by something, they are. I'd imagine that with your expertise and your leadership, there could be something done to rectify this curse of history." Hildebran spoke alone to Scourden's lord. He had forced Ser Ovald not to follow him into the throne room, knowing all too well that tongue of his would get them into trouble.

"I cannot speak for the other kingdoms, fiefs, and towns of Scourden, but we are living in a time where peace is valued over all else. I can assure you that no one will agree to preparing for arms now—especially not after the devastation of the war we have just emerged from."

"Your majesty, if you would, allow me to explain to you what has happened to my homeland, Fereton."

"Your manners are appreciated but it would be rather polite to respect my time by skipping that discussion. Talk that over with my royal hand if you'd like, or even my son. He is heir to my throne so perhaps he'd be more likely to hear you out, for his time may be soon."

"Why do you say that?"

"My health is not well, Hildebran of Fereton. The war took a toll on my mental health, as well as my physical being. I have chronic pain in my body, and I lose feeling in my left arm. My brain is decaying, Hildebran, but what good is it to dwell? Why am I even telling you this? I should be gone with you now." His solemnly, as if ashamed.

"No, King Leocreid, I beg your pardons your highness, but what I am trying to speak to you goes beyond your health, whether it fails you or not. You have the power to mobilize your people, this kingdom," Hildebran was motioning with his hands as his eyes scanned the great big ceilings of the dim-lit room. A warm, orange fire was roaring in the fire pit. Its heat sent streaks of sweat down the King's forehead. His long, straw hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, but his crown concealed most of the mess of blonde hair.

"I will tell you this now, and hopefully you will note its significance and come to your senses. Fereton has been overthrown. King Arynda, the new king, his mind has been poisoned by a necromancer called Savok. I fear for the inhabitants of Fereton, and its neighbors as well. I get a strange feeling about that necromancer."

"It is not uncommon for necromancers to obtain a grip on a nation for a few years, Hildebran, I am deeply sorry for this situation. However, if it is symp—"

"—I do not care for sympathy. I am sick of it. For heaven's sake, we have journeyed long and hard with enough heart ache and crying families to last a generation. What I am seeking is action. I would not expect Savok to sit back and be content with Fereton."

Now King Leocreid's voice hinted at irritation, "Are you speaking to me as if I am some fool that you can draw a whole army from? How dare you raise your voice to the King that you are guests to! Lord Hildebran your reputation has done you well, you are a Northman with fine swordsmanship and clearly you care greatly for your homeland, but I can be of no help. My people are done seeing blood, families are done saying goodbye to their loved ones, and I must conserve my health to run this kingdom until my last breath as my duty states, are we clear?"

Hildebran knew he had pushed the final button, and that would most likely be that.

"You are welcome to stay a week if you wish, but no longer. We are already breaking our new laws by inviting foreigners past our walls."

Hildebran had reached the rear door of the palace to exit and the guards began to unlatch the door to allow his leave.

Hildebran hesitated and turned back a moment. King Leocreid froze as if daring Hildebran to start again. Hildebran dared, "What if I told you the war's not done, it has only just begun."

King Leocreid narrowed his eyes, and now rose from his throne seat at this, "What are you saying?"

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"The War of the Last Kings...it is only the beginning of days darker than our realm has seen in thousands of years." Hildebran was now pacing back toward King Leocreid, knowing he had captured the King's engagement now.

"It all makes sense, Leocreid. Recently there were two odd men who turned up outside our gates one night. They appeared disoriented and crazed, but they bore some sort of urgent message. And do you know what that message concerned?"

"What?"

"The land of Mestrane. With them, they brought all sorts of darkness. They brought anarchy amongst our people, like never before. They brought to our healers and our potions master. They were the reason that Savok was freed from his filth hole in the dungeons below. And now our land is controlled by dark wizard."

"How does this tie into Mestrane? What in Steed's twisted name has that got to do with anything?" King Leocreid was tied in by now. His hands were running through his hair profusely, and he was chugging cup after cup of wine, his servant maids were struggling to keep up with his outstretched arm.

"The two mysterious men said it themselves. They said something 'bout the curse being lifted. They had journeyed far, and endured so much, the healer said that they were no longer the same person they once had been. Their bodies were polluted by dark magic and they had seen too much. I pray that every night that I never heard the one boy correctly, but I could've sworn he said during his dying breath, 'the curse is gone'. Not only that, but somehow as if by magic, the boy Terran disappeared."

"Now you're just making stories, Hildebran. Do not play that game with me."

"No, do not downplay the severity of this, Leocreid. If what the boy, Terran I think his name was, said is true—the curse of Mestrane is lifted, and its wondrous mystique of proclaimed paradise and tranquility is gone. And the age of King Steed and his legions has begun again, and we are looking at a return to the Dark Age."

Somewhere from beyond the shadows of the large room, the son of the king had been lurking. His footsteps gave note of his presence as he strode from the darkness out into the light of the throne room. He had pleasant features with hair that naturally curled back and a blue-eyed and white-toothed smile to match it. His face offered no softness however, in fact, he looked quite peeved.

"Father, I thought this man was simply a guest in our kingdom, not an advisor to the king."

"He is just a guest, but he brings important news. The curse of Mestrane may be lifted, and there may be signs all around us." King Leocreid did not face his son but remained staring at Hildebran.

"Very well Ser Hildebran," King Leocreid began sounding much more resolved, "If what you say is true, I shall send an army to the doorstep of Fereton. My son, Levin, shall lead at the command with you beside him. Savok must be taken out."

"Oh, my lord, I don't know if that is wise. We cannot just make the decision that simply."

"Why not? You just gave me all the reasons why I should." The King was incredulous.

"There are many complexities to this, we must devise a plan first. We do not have the resources nor the brain together to pull something off, plus, we may need to prepare for something much graver than simply Savok."

"I do not like how you speak of my men as if they are simply yours. Be gone from this room. Thank you for your valuable information, you may be called upon when I have need of your presence. Otherwise, be gone within a week."

Hildebran bowed and exited the room; he could feel the prince Levin's eyes on his back. He had to dodge the shoulder of Eyofred as he left. Eyofred shuffled between the two large doors and the soon after the doors slammed shut behind him.

Later that night, Hildebran filled his small council in on the meeting. Ser Ovald was in shock over every detail as per usual. Elder Rattar spoke little but soaked in all of Hildebran's words. Alvar offered to speak his mind on Savok but Ser Ovald turned him away in a heartbeat, almost hysterical at the attempt.

The rest of the escapees from Fereton were fast asleep in the bunks of the small guest room of an overnight Inn just across the way from the main castle. Hildebran sat in discussion with his two men just outside, their breath came as ragged mist in the cold, night air.

"We should be leaving by now. The King sounds a fool to me." Ser Ovald had his mind set already.

"No, we were getting somewhere. A few more days of talks with him, I think we can convince him that this is a place where we can start to accumulate a force, an army perhaps."

"And how will we do that? We've got forty men and the backing of one army." Elder Rattar spoke now.

Hildebran rubbed his hands for warmth, "Well, we can leave our men here, and search the lands for more help. We must align with those who are left of the Magi Order. Surely there are some Magi Knights out there somewhere still. They will be the key in our battle here in the north against the necromancers."

They continued to chat long into the night, eventually moving the conversation inside the inn to an area of more warmth. It was about three past midnight when the wooden door of the inn was bust down to the ground in a heap, and three men in large black robes and jagged dirks stood facing them, their faces concealed.

"Here they are," the central figure grinned devilishly.