“I believe this is Lumine, my lord,” Sir Barmont said, holding the old map close to his shriveled eyes. “Shall we have the Runners scout ahead?”

“No, we should preserve their remaining use.” Arthur peered through his scouting lens. “What do your wits tell you, Sir Barmont?”

“If my servitude under your brother taught me a shred of his mind, I’d wager he’d fashion an outpost from the ruins. Lumine rests on the fork of Champion’s Road. There’d be no better place for camp. No doubt Lord Gabriel thought the same.”

That he would, Arthur admitted. Irritated to no end, he clicked his tongue. He caught himself before snapping the useless tool and stored the monocular away in his horse’s saddle. The haze made it look as if he were staring at a bowl of milky water. Though natural light was scarce, there was a peculiar glow burning at the center of the town’s belly. Was it a fire, Arthur wondered. Did the other houses reach Lumine before them? Or was the old knight’s words true?

“If I may, my lord, we should rest here for a full cycle. We’ve only broke march for meager meals and sleep. The men won’t last long if we continue on in such a manner.” Sir Barmont arched his back and there was a strum of cracks. “Neither will I, I’m afraid. Rattling on a saddle does the bones little good.”

Arthur looked back at the halted legion. The bannermen carried their flagpoles a slight less lower and the pace of their march slowed with each passing day, but he did not relent. “Those who cannot press on will be left behind. To rest and to set up a chain of garrisons for our return. We know not where the other houses are. They could be nearing Solaris as we speak and we must not lag behind.”

“Rest mends strength, my lord. And there is strength in numbers. Your brother knew this well.”

Arthur did not dignify that with a response. He knew what the old knight said was true. His brother often preached those very words when Arthur would struggle to stand in their friendly jousts. He had heard it enough times to mirror his brother as the words left his lips. As he recounted his losses, a speck of light, no larger than his fingertip, flew past his eye line. It lingered and pranced around him, testing his patience. Before the thought of squashing the thing came to him, it drifted off towards Lumine. Then, a thousand more followed like tiny stars fading into gray clouds.

“Brightflies. Following them leads to treasures in the mines,” Sir Barmont chuckled at him. “So it was said.”

Walking down the main road, it was clear no outposts were made nor were there signs of the other houses. Weeds and tree roots broke through the paved roads to reclaim their land, the cracked stone walls grew a thick tangled beard of moss and vines. Not a sense of humanity’s touch remained, Arthur thought. Yet they found treasure amongst the ruins. All over the settlement, licht crystals had sprouted like a field of wildflowers, eating through the rotten roofs and tearing through the walls of the once prosperous mining village. Most stood as tall as man, but it was the monstrous one sprouting from the burrow leading to the mining shafts that awed them. A mountain of hardened light. They were in a fortress of gold and his knights wasted no time counting their riches. Arthur, too, could not help but dream how pleased Lord Gwyn would be if he returned with enough minerals to power Tridon for a few hundred years.

“We must be drunk with luck,” Arthur said with a dry smile.

“Or misfortune.” Sir Barmont scratched his beard. “Licht crystals grow not to this size, my lord. Nor do they often grow on the surface. It’s against the order of nature.”

Arthur nodded, but he wasn’t sure if it was as wrong as the old knight claimed. He had only heard tales of licht crystals from the academy; how they were known to only form near the old kingdom of light and were said to suck the sunlight from the roots of great trees. Lumine wasn’t particularly close to Solaris nor does it seem like the great trees had been feeding well.

“Nonetheless, Sir Barmont. The haze had cut off our supply to the mines for half a century and we shall not waste this opportunity to ease Lord Gwyn’s burden.” Arthur wheeled his horse around to face his knights and the remaining slaves and sellswords. “Sir Charles, take your squadron and search the houses. Look for remnants of the previous expedition team and take a look at that crystal monolith and report back to me. Afzal, prove your worth. Set up a perimeter around Lumine. The rest of you follow Sir Barmont’s command and make camp. Have the slaves begin mining.”

With a loud clang to their breastplate, the knights left to fulfill their orders. The slaves and sellswords had a sour look on their faces and grumbled, but left all the same. Arthur paid no mind to the glares from lowlifes. After all, they should be honored for the chance to win their freedom.

Once he was alone, Arthur unsaddled his horse and examined a nearby conglomerate of licht crystals. They emitted a low pale hue, accompanied with the warmth of a small flame and blotched with the clouded wings of a hundred brightflies. He studied the insects feeding off the crystal. A needle-like tendril shot out of its mandibles, piercing the crystal’s surface, then sucked out the orange glow like nectar. The brightflies gleamed brighter as they absorbed more of the crystal’s light. Though the crystal’s brilliance never dwindled. Unlike some of the parasitic insects. Arthur watched a brightfly fail to penetrate the crystal’s hard surface and it dropped to the floor, weak and pathetic. And the strong consumed what was left of the dead.

Arthur scoffed and trampled the insect husk with his boot. The weak are undeserving of the lord’s light. If he were not careful, he and his men may meet a similar end. Though, he wondered if the haze was truly as treacherous as once thought. The Order traversed the Wall with ease with their light-blessed armor, only a few dozen had been separated from the troop. A small loss, but a loss nonetheless. And the strength of his legion dwindled as he stationed a hundred knights, slaves, and sellswords at each outpost. It was vital to establish a supply chain for future expeditions into the haze.

He wondered if he should call for a scout to send word to the last camp about their arrival and their findings. Perhaps request more slaves for mining. He knew he had to write a letter soon. Prince Gwyndel ordered him to send frequent updates of their journey and the prince made it very clear. Do not fail me like your brother.

“Master Arthur,” a shrill voice called out. “I’ve made the adjustments to the map!”

Arthur found the Chartmaster, a small and spirited young woman, unfolding a wooden table before her. Her spectacles were tiny things, no bigger than a circle made from pinched fingers. It made her look sharper but Arthur wondered if they provided any use beyond that. When he had recruited her to join the Order’s journey, she donned the staple colored robes of the scholars of Lichtwerth. Now, she was suited in fitted trousers and a tunic, laced with protective leathers. A dazzling golden pendant, a widened eye with a large ruby as the pupil, laid atop her breasts.

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“Excellent, Luella.” Arthur smiled and approached the table as the Chartmaster unrolled a bare parchment, the map Sir Barmont had in his possession, and a third map on the verge of turning into dust. “What have you found, my dear?”

“Take a look here, my lord.” Eagerly, she circled an empty area just south of the center of Sir Barmont’s map with her finger. “According to this map, past the Northern Front are leveled plains that stretch for a few dozen leagues with occasional curves along the way. Yet, strangely, there were no such plains when we began the journey and the road was more akin to rolling hills!”

Arthur raised a brow. “Changing lands is nothing out of sorts.”

“But my lord!” Luella exhaled. Her youth bled through her smile. “Sir Barmont’s map is the last map charted by the old scholars of Lichtwerth. It can’t be more than half a century old! And that’s not all. . .”

She drew his attention to her hand-drawn map. Her finger traced a curving path of fresh ink.

“Champion’s Road is now serpentine and surrounded by withered trees with harrowing faces branded on its bodies. Now, watch carefully as I overlap my map with the one from the Grand Archives. This ancient map is said to be from an era long past when the Gods had only just begun to rebuild. A time when record-keeping was as new as a virgin.” She flipped her map back and forth as if it were the pages of a book. Her drawings were near identical to the old map. She turned to her lord with a wondrous smile. “It’s the same, Master Arthur! Well, close to it! A forest of such scale only grows if given a few centuries. Yet, here it is. Full-grown within a fraction of that time!”

Puzzled, Arthur rubbed his chin. He thought on it for a long while then asked, “What does this mean?”

“In truth, I have yet to come up with an answer, my lord. . . But on my pride as a scholar, I plan on finding it!” The smile of a fair lady was a welcomed reprieve from the constant unsightly fog.

Arthur returned her favor with a kiss to her gentle hand and gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, Luella. Your service is a cherished one. The old bears at Lichtwerth could learn a thing or two about valor from your actions.”

“You think of me too highly, my lord,” she said, pulling her hand away, then brushing her hair behind her ear. “I should be thanking you, my lord. . . Only with your blessing would I be able to search for my great grandfather’s lost research.” She fiddled with the golden eye around her neck. “I’m certain the key to unlocking the mysteries of the haze lies within his work.”

“Praise the lords, it'd be true.” And praise the lords I find the other Pillars.

Sir Charles came trotting forth, his horse neighing as he pulled on its reins. He vaulted off his horse and into a kneel. Arthur sighed as he faced him. Never a moment of peace.

“Master Arthur, pardon my intrusion. There’s something you need to see.” His eyes wandered, observing Luella and for possible unwanted ears, then he leaned in for a whisper. “My lord, it’s best this news remains amongst the high ranks.”

Arthur studied Sir Charles. Sweat beaded his now ghostly skin and there was a hidden tremor in his voice, only heard if one strained themselves to notice. It was a strange sight to see. As he knew him, Sir Charles was only fearful of those much more powerful than he was. What could have spooked him so?

“Very well. Lead the way.” Arthur said as he mounted his steed, gave a Luella parting grin, and said, “Pardon me, my dear. We can carry on this chat at supper” before riding off.

The camp was lively with sluggish movement. Blacksmiths hammered away at the makeshift forge without a sense of rhythm; the cooks lazily glazed the remaining meat over the feeble open flame. The slaves dragged themselves as they unloaded the caravans, tended the horses, built the pavilions, and cleared the rotting houses of the entangled vines and overgrown roots, all while his men sat silent and slumped over fallen trees and rubble. Sir Charles and Arthur paced through. It did not take much effort to conceal their urgent matters. Arthur sighed. He had enough of trekking for the day and only wished to return to Luella’s company. Perhaps a day's rest would not hurt.

His horse reeled and shied as they approached the downslope to the mining burrow. Sir Barmont had already arrived, grooming his steed as he waited.

“The horses fear what lies ahead,” Sir Charles said, dismounting. “They have a keen sense for danger, it would seem.”

When his boots touched the ground, they made a splash. The burrow was overgrown with patches of reeds and was flooded with clear waters reflecting the pale glow of the crystal monolith, its reflection rippling as they waded closer. Even from afar, the crystal exerted the heat of Lichtwerth’s summer days. It brought him slight relief. . . until he saw what Sir Charles had kept a secret. There, hidden from plain view and nailed to the monolith’s surface, was a row of four knights of the Order. Their limbs were staked by rusting longswords. Swords of the Order, no doubt by the engraved sigil of their house on the crossguards. Their pruned flesh was a bilious color of death. Their chest gnawed and hollowed clean of meat, all but the woman’s, whose stomach was torn out instead. The wall behind them splattered and dripped with a waterfall of dried blood.

“Sir Armond, Gunther, Reichner, and Dame Sandra. . .” named Sir Charles, his voice filled with horror. He swallowed loud. “The four were —

“ — renowned knights of Lord Gabriel’s troop,” Sir Barmont said. His eyes sunk low well beneath the shade of his brow. “The poor souls. . .”

A fire rose to his throat, but Arthur did his best to temper the flame. “What monster would have done this!? Sir Charles, why have you left them hung and defiled!?”

“M-my lord, I thought it was b-best for you to see how I found them!” Sir Charles fell onto all fours and quivered like a guilty child.

“I have seen enough. Take them down and give them a proper burial.”

“Y-yes, at once, but there’s something else, my lord.” Sir Charles scrambled to his feet and took a moment to search through his pockets. Stored in the slit of his breastplate was a crisply folded parchment. “A note. Pinned to the dame.”

Arthur snatched the paper and read aloud, “Fort Glintwater”.

There was a moment of silence before Sir Barmont chimed in. “A challenge or a cry for help?” The old knight watched Arthur’s face and answered the questions written in his eyes. “The fort lies near the coastline opposite of Solaris, my lord. If your brother passed through —”

“ — he would have made it his mission to seek justice for his fallen comrades,” Arthur finished for him as he considered marching for the distant fort. He gave the old knight a steeled look. “But we cannot sway from our duty. The trials come first. Sir Barmont, gather a host of our best knights and sellswords. We march for Solaris early morn.”

“My lord, the knights. They need rest.” The old knight’s voice rose a slight harsher than Arthur had ever heard.

“They will earn their rest once we reach Solaris.”

“My lord, please reconsider! Your brother —”

“Sir Barmont!” snapped Arthur. He gave the old knight a disgruntled glower. “I am not my brother. He has put you under my command and you shall do as I order. If I seek your counsel, I will ask for it. Do I make myself clear?”

The old knight lowered his head and knelt. “As you will it, Master Arthur.”