Osias waved off Erdma and pushed him to continue for the first tower’s entrance.

The new addition to his head did not affect what he wanted to figure out here atop the walls. He’ll explore what ensues with the centipede afterward — for now, he wanted to meet with the Cratys or perhaps even more.

…From within the tower, Osias heard loud chatter and bickering from many voices.

‘The Cratys and Urotyses should already know of my presence, perhaps even as I came upon the steps.’ He thought, slightly hesitating before entering.

Osias heard a loud dry swallow from Erdma who looks as meek as a weasel now.

‘Having him enter first is too much.’ Osias thought to himself with a grim smile.

He knew he was a level lower than a true Jentys, an outsider who had earned the title through his feats rather than his standing or fluency in their language. His presence here, unannounced and uninvited was reflective of that.

But he had to know.

Bringing a hand to the gate, he gave a small push as it creaked and rattled.

And as soon as he stepped in, the room shifted. Conversations halted for a second, the sharp clang of armor and weapons being adjusted echoing in the brief silence. In the next moment, the once loud chatter pulled to a stop as many of the Jentyses threw a glance at him — their expressions ranging from curiosity to irritation.

‘That’s right… if word hasn’t spread, only a handful including the lone Urotys who gave me this armor knows of my rank despite being an Ordinary.’ Osias inwardly said, studying the crowd.

‘There!’

In the far rear, seated against a wall was a muted, yet overwhelming presence…

But before he could inspect the looming figure any further, the tower’s bustling noise returned to as it was before as the Urotyses continued as though nothing had happened.

‘Bastards… scared me there.’ Osias thought with a heavy sigh leaving his mouth — Erdma followed his relief.

These people of status were arrayed in odd groups, each handful of Jentyses were obviously led by some Urotys. These groups were conversing with others while some addressed the Cratys who sat at the back pensively…

Osias eyed the Cratys and inspected him.

It was a large and burly man, someone Osias wouldn’t be surprised to find on the battlefield. Donning armor thick as though they were castle walls. Although not as tall and wide as Kiran, the seated Cratys wasn’t someone Osias dared to cross.

‘Sharp.’

That was the only thought he remembered after looking at the Cratys.

As though the man could simply look at Osias and cleave him whole — not murderous or thick in blood and danger, but it was an eerie presence nonetheless.

‘Like a sheathed blade at the side of a warrior.’

Circling the vast floor, Osias spotted a familiar Urotys conversing with others of his standing with his company of Jentyses behind him.

‘I haven’t gotten his name.’ He thought, heading towards the Urotys.

The Urotys were already aware of Osias’s intent as he hushed the men around him and waved the other Urotyses from further talk.

As the Jentyses parted aside, Osias found Erdma at his side in a slight bow and… gesturing something odd.

Erdma’s hands were extended and had a fist balled into the other hand’s clasp.

“Jelmazma darys, Urotys.” Erdma said in a tone Osias has yet to hear from any of his followers… even Geral didn’t speak and great an Urotys in such a manner.

Osias followed the gesture awkwardly but decided against echoing the same words he assumed were a greeting.

Lifting his gaze, the Urotys once more had an amused and intrigued face.

Now that Osias had been in the presence of the nameless Urotys once more, he studied his appearance, taking advantage of the well-lit tower.

The Urotys were donning a similar black armor that covered all around and extended into a flap towards his knees. A more intricate brooch of a red feather adorned the man, but most notable was the face. Littered in scars, the intense eyes were full of wildness. He seemed more mirthful than the other somber-looking Urotyses at his side.

Drawing in a deep breath, Osias straightened his back and pointed towards himself, “Visalros.”

Erdma threw a glance at Osias, before continuing.

Perhaps Erdma was explaining Osias’s station and being a foreigner, but Osias could only guess as he heard what his followers called him amidst a string of words.

‘Visalros… still, is it my name or my title?’

The Urotys put up a hand and Erdma snapped silent.

Then, the Urotys pointed at himself and looked Osias in the eyes before saying, “Solmer.” then he pointed at Osias and echoed, “Visalros.”

The Urotys—Solmer had a croaky and harsh voice that cut through all the clatter from the other groups.

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Solmer repeated the same words and gestures with a more amused face and walked closer to face Osias… or Visalros.

Solmer turned and said something to Erdma before heavily patting Osias’s shoulder, rattling his body beneath.

Then with a grin, Solmer withdrew his heavy arm and returned to converse with the people surrounding him as he welcomingly motioned Osias to stay with the other Jentyses.

Osias and Erdma stayed there for a while as Osias thought to himself.

‘All these Urotyses… and perhaps more in the other two towers. It's also likely that a Cratys is present in each tower. Is there a Fourth Ordeal leading these three?’

But as much as Osias wanted to know, it was enough to see the face and appearance of the Cratys that oddly stayed in the rear whenever the army fought and marched.

Eventually, an hour or so passed and Osias grew bored of listening to the rabbles of others in a language he didn’t know, so he pulled Erdma aside as they followed another group make off from the tower.

…As Osias descended the same stairs toward the city below, he began to change his focus to the centipede.

And what entails with his new tattoo.

It wasn’t painful, perhaps surprising when it happened, but it was far from what he had to endure with Garm.

Yet the lingering feeling felt alike…

He exhaled heavily as he dismissed and waved off Erdma to do as he liked.

Erdma fervently nodded and ran away, perhaps uneager to remain so close to the city walls after being forced to join Osias.

Stifling a small laugh, Osias stared at many fires that scorched the city. Some were perhaps used for warmth through the cool night, but Osias doubted it as he recalled the glints in the eyes of the Ordinaries.

Choosing a small humble abode away from the fires and relatively untouched from the soldiers, he made comfort a top of its small thatched roof and laid there, bringing a hand to touch the skin around his right eye. His hand dragged across his temple and then to his neck in a daze.

‘I’ll ask Mance upon my return… if the Ordeals can truly conjure such a display of the past as I’m thrown into such an unfamiliar place.’

Rolling to his side, he let the distant cackles of men and scorching flames soothe him to sleep as he awaited the march tomorrow…

—

“Ventos!” The Jentys in the front yelled, his piercing cries somehow making its way towards Osias.

The bannerman was in high spirits today, and Osias didn’t hear much of the familiar tones and words of complaint from the day before.

As he glanced back, his eyes narrowed, trying to peer past the almost endless sea of bannermen trailing behind him. Their banners, a flurry of red feathers, waved like a living tide in the cold wind.

Despite much of the advance army being culled in the previous battle, the rows of bannerman still seemed innumerable from the front.

For a moment, he felt small, insignificant amidst the throng, just one man in a multitude. Yet he looked at the followers he led with a small grin.

“Hoo…” He sighed to himself.

‘I wonder how many would survive the siege…’ He thought wistfully, looking forward.

He wondered if he was marching himself along with his followers into sure death. It was clear that despite the planning, strategy, and bickering he had witnessed among the leaders of the advance army… they had yet to participate. As though culling the Ordinaries was part of their strategy.

‘Should I desert the army?’

Shaking his head, he knew it was another treacherous end if he left the army. He still needed to find the one he needed to slay to return, and he had a strong inkling that the army would lead him to them eventually. That was likely why he awoke on this side, to begin with, in a chaotic battle no less.

Time will tell, he told himself.

Though there may be something that time alone couldn’t solve… Osias brought a hand towards his right eye.

This morning Osias tried to do whatever he could to see what the relic could do… yet nothing ever happened. Whether it was essence control, sensing it through his blood connection, or even touching it, nothing garnered a response.

He truly had no idea how to benefit from this relic… and if intense feeling from his blood connection wasn’t present before he first encountered the centipede, he would’ve taken it for a mere dream—

“Valvalur!” The same Jentys bellowed — a change in orders as his voice rippled through the air.

Osias’s head perked up, recovering from his daze of thoughts, and swiped to his left, noticing a cold wind billowing through the vast plains.

‘Enemies?’ But Osias noticed that the leading Jentys had yet to take action, leaving all the Ordinaries confused as much as he was.

“Sorasa hii!” The Jectys bellowed.

Then the Ordinaries, even Osias’s followers, began to chant. The Jectys bellowed.

Next, the heads of the Ordinaries perked up and realized something that Osias didn’t, and then what they next confused Osias even more.

“Sora-sa!”

“Sora-sa!”

Then they all turned towards their left rear and suddenly a distant shadowy figure. Altogether the ordinaries began to chant as loud as they could with the same fervor as his followers once did.

They clanged against their shields and armor — anything to produce as much noise as possible as madness spread through them all.

Then from Osias’s left, a dark figure loomed in the distance… it was but a mere speck across the land, but in the coming moments it rapidly rose in height.

‘Towe— I see, siege towers.’ Osias thought.

It was an odd contraption. Very rarely would a soldier ever find the attackers not possessing a Path Finder capable of inflicting devasting damage against walls — or walls strong enough to withstand such power that the attackers are forced to scale it.

Although, Osias has only heard of such things from the returning

Blood Warriors of the band…

‘Maybe in this period, it was different? No… shouldn’t be.’

Then a sickly thought crept from his mind as he saw more towers approach in the distance.

‘Are they going to… force all the Ordinaries to scale such things? We’ll stand no chance if a Fourth Ordeal leads the stronghold we’ll attack, so why sacrifice this many?

Because Ordinary arrows shot from the ground don’t amount to much? That the best we can serve is to distract them with our numbers?’

Yet all Osias could do was guess. It was only when the siege began that he truly knew what was to happen to himself and his men.

Dissertation or voicing their complaints was out of the question. Even if they all banded together to escape, Third Ordeals are already enough to kill many, bringing the dissidents to heel, unwilling to die from opposing such might.

Even the presence Osias felt as he trudged atop the city’s wall wouldn’t need to lift a hand.

It'll be a slaughter regardless…

Eventually, the siege towers arrived in all its grandness. Each was high enough to make Osias wonder if the stronghold they would attack was truly so high and mighty that such a contraption was needed.

Each possessed quite the air of its own… perhaps it was conjured and constructed using an Ordeal Ability of a Path Finder or groups of them.

Osias’s eyes glazed over the still chanting Ordinaries and studied their faces — only to find faint trickles of the madness that engulfed some of his followers in his first day of war on the many faces.

'Do they… know of their coming fate?’ He mused, rubbing his wrists wearily.

…Osias took a deep breath as the chanting died and the many monstrous siege towers began rolling alongside their march.

He could never know what the siege would entail. He could only await his orders.

‘In a way… it seems I'm truly a soldier now if I'm thinking like that.’

Glancing behind him, Osias asked for Geral.

“Sora…sa?” Osias asked, pointing at one of the many rolling siege towers.

The rugged and hardy Geral looked at the siege tower and had his eyes wander there for a moment before pointing to the sky and responding:

“Sora-hii”

‘The sky? What is that again, I learned that one… Joruha?’

Osias wore a puzzled expression and pointed to the sky, “Sora-hii joruha?” he asked.

But that attempt only earned a mixed expression that Osias recognized as he was slightly correct in what he was trying to convey.

‘Sky… clouds? No, it can't be.’

Osias pondered to himself until he arrived at what Geral was likely saying…

“God… the heavens.” He whispered to himself in Vorin so no one could understand.

In this world and the last… God has always been thought of.

But even so, it seemed God only exists in the mind and heart…