For the past two days, I had been resting at an inn in Charas. The bed was more comfortable than anything I’d experienced in a while, but it didn’t stop the constant fog that hovered over my mind. The dull ache in my head had come and gone, but it never really disappeared completely. Mannes and Silvana were checking on me constantly, keeping a close watch. Mannes, in particular, seemed overly concerned, almost too watchful. Silvana, on the other hand, had taken over my duties as quartermaster, and though some of the recruits were complaining about minor things, she had been handling it quite well.

Cassius, however, was absent. I hadn’t seen him in the past two days, and it struck me as strange. Normally, he wasn’t the type to vanish without a word, and it left a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. But then again, this whole situation with the cloth, with the banner, had made everything feel off.

That piece of cloth. Mannes had been acting paranoid ever since it was handed to him by Baron Ingalther. I couldn’t blame him. There was something about it, something that made my skin crawl and my head spin whenever he came too close to it. He had been keeping it hidden, moving it around constantly like he was trying to stay one step ahead of a thief that only he could see. Mannes hadn’t told anyone where he kept it hidden, but I had an idea. I didn’t want to, but I knew.

Every time he had that cloth on him—tucked inside his clothing somewhere—my headache would flare up. The closer he got to me, the worse it would become. My vision would blur, and I would start to feel nauseous like the world was tilting beneath my feet. I didn’t understand why, but I knew it had something to do with that cloth. So, I kept my distance from him as much as possible, making sure there was always some space between us whenever he approached.

It didn’t take long for Mannes to notice my avoidance. He started thinking he had done something wrong. One afternoon, after an awkward silence between us, he finally apologized, his voice low and sincere.

“If I’ve done anything to offend you, Augustus, just tell me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression. “I know I can be overbearing sometimes, and if that’s the problem—”

I cut him off before he could overthink things any further. I couldn’t tell him the truth—not about the strange connection between that cloth and my headaches—so I came up with a lie that felt close enough to reality.

“It’s not you, Mannes. It’s that cloth you’ve been carrying,” I said, forcing a chuckle to ease the tension. “Whenever you get too close to it, I get nauseous. Must be the smell of it or something.”

He laughed at that, though I could tell he was still uneasy. “The smell, huh? I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe it’s been kept in some old storeroom too long. Don’t worry, we’ll just keep our distance until we deliver it to Garios.”

I nodded, grateful that he bought the excuse. Mannes didn’t press further, though I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was a sharp man, but sometimes, he didn’t push for answers when he should’ve. He trusted me, and that trust was a burden I carried now.

The next morning, we departed from Charas and headed back toward Lageta. The weather was pleasant, the skies clear, and there was a light breeze that made the journey almost enjoyable. The equites had taken up their scouting positions, riding ahead and behind to ensure we weren’t caught off guard by any raiders. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter any Battanian raiding parties, which was always a relief. We had enough on our plate without worrying about ambushes.

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The journey took us back to the same spot we had camped at during our previous trip. It was a safe location—an elevated clearing that gave us a good vantage point. From here, we could see anyone approaching long before they reached us. It was perfect for keeping an eye out for both Bandits and Battanians. We set up camp, and as the sun began to set, we made plans for the night.

Our priority was clear: protecting Mannes’ camp. The cloth—the banner—was our mission’s objective, and keeping it safe was crucial. Cassius and I decided to take turns guarding it. We flipped a coin to see who would take the first shift, and Cassius ended up with the first watch. I was to relieve him later, once he started getting drowsy. It seemed like a simple enough arrangement, so I made my way to the common camp where I shared a tent with some of the recruits.

The night was quiet, and soon enough, exhaustion pulled me into a deep sleep. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out when my slumber was suddenly shattered by the sound of loud shouting. My heart raced as I bolted upright, my mind still groggy from sleep. But the moment I stepped outside the tent, my stomach sank.

Mannes’ camp was engulfed in flames.

I froze momentarily, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding before me. The orange glow of the fire cast an eerie light over the camp, and I could hear the panicked voices of the recruits as they scrambled to put out the blaze. Equites were rushing back and forth, some shouting commands, others dragging supplies out of the reach of the flames.

My eyes darted around frantically, searching for Mannes. That’s when I saw him—being carried out of the camp by two equites. His body was limp, his throat... slit. Blood soaked the front of his tunic, and even from a distance, I could see the life draining from his face.

I tried to move, to run toward him, but something held me back. My body felt heavy as if I were wading through thick mud. And then, it happened again.

That damned system. The same voice I hadn’t heard in days echoed in my head, louder than before.

*Tutorial not completed… Can’t interact with banner…*

The dizziness hit me like a wave, my vision blurring at the edges as the robotic voice continued to repeat itself over and over. I could see Mannes, his body cradled in the arms of the equites, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t reach him.

*Tutorial not completed… Can’t interact with banner…*

It was as if something was pulling me back, preventing me from getting closer to my friend. My frustration and helplessness grew with each step that I tried to take but failed. I wanted to be there for Mannes, to say something, anything before it was too late, but I was powerless. The system was controlling me again, denying me the chance to even say goodbye.

I heard Silvana’s sobs from somewhere nearby. She was on her knees next to Mannes’ body, tears streaming down her face as she held his hand, whispering something that I couldn’t hear. The sight of her crying, the sight of Mannes lying there motionless, hit me like a punch to the gut. I should have been there. I should have been able to stop this.

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the dizziness disappeared. The robotic voice fell silent, the notifications vanishing from my mind. I could move again. But it was too late.

Mannes was dead.

I stumbled forward, my legs weak beneath me, but there was nothing left to do. The fire in the camp still burned, and the chaos around me continued, but all I could see was the body of the man who had been my closest friend in this world, lying still in the dirt.

I dropped to my knees next to Silvana, the weight of the loss hitting me all at once. My head hung low, and I tried to make sense of it all—of why the system had prevented me from helping, of why Mannes had to die.

But there were no answers—only grief.