The city of Murgan was ahead of them, coming into view just as the road curved. In this part of the country, surrounded on all sides by the Scarred Lands, they were surprised at just how hilly it was. Large rises in the ground, not tall enough to be mountains but high enough to obscure their vision, combined with unexpected dips in the ground all combined to hide many features of the topography from them. Only Tyrant’s Peak, the solitary mountain that dominated this area, could be seen, as it loomed over them, an intimidating crag of dark rock that rose into the clouds.

“Do you think this weather will also reach Milagre?” Leonov asked, glancing up at the thick, dark clouds. They looked full to bursting, and it was clear that rain would soon come. Not just rain, he thought, a deluge. Clouds of that size wouldn’t settle for a light sprinkle or a fine mist.

Falynn, who was positioned towards the back and breathing heavily towards the end of their trip, glanced up. Not at the sky, but at her companion. “Those aren’t natural clouds.”

“What?” The warrior said, more than a little shocked. “What do you mean they aren’t natural?”

“They have mana in them,” Taiki commented. “I’m surprised you can’t feel it, even though you’re not a mage.”

Leonov could only shrug at that. He wasn’t the type to use magic. Sure, he could sense it to a degree if it was close, but that far into the sky? It was impossible. Even if he’d thought to, the power of the man leading them was too dense. He was painfully aware of that and hadn’t taken the time to consider that such a mundane thing as thunderclouds could be induced magically.

Eric glanced over his shoulder to look at the party. “Along the coast, there are many powerful storm mages. This is their preparations.”

“Preparations?” Falynn asked her face paling by a shade or two. “What on earth are they preparing for?”

“The same thing we are,” he said, returning his gaze to the front. “War.”

He would have liked to go into more detail, but they were drawing close to the gates of Murgan now. With the party, the men under Dennis’ command, now his, and Jerik and Johan, they were a party of nearly twenty. The guards stationed at the entrance to the city were stirred into a defensive position at their approach. They were as yet unknown, and he could make out the columns of men rushing forward and taking up their positions, ready just in case of attack.

He shook his head slightly, making sure to keep the motion small. If he’d wanted to attack them, he wouldn’t have approached so casually on the open road. But they wouldn’t know that, of course. This far from the center of the country, Murgan had been able to enjoy a peaceful, untroubled lifestyle until news of recent events reached them. The leaders of the city were in a constant state of anxiety since worried about the possibility of the enemy spreading outward from the heart of the nation.

The guards maintained their ready stances as Eric gestured for the others to stop and advanced alone. Even Jerik and Johan held back, used to letting him negotiate alone by now. The fewer people the guards had to deal with, the better. And even if it went horribly wrong and they attacked, Eric could handle himself well enough to get away unharmed.

“Good afternoon,” Eric called, addressing the group of armed men at large. “I am Chevalier Eric Breeden, a Master of Issho-Ni. I bring my compatriots and men under my command to your aid.”

None of them stirred at the name, but that hardly surprised him. He’d only been to Murgan once before, and that had been nearly three years ago. He’d been working and hadn’t left much of a footprint. But he knew that the title of Chevalier and the mention of Issho-Ni would lend credence to his trustworthiness. He just needed one point, one reaction from the men, to convince them that he wasn’t a threat. Well, not a threat to them, he thought.

“How can we trust that you are who you say you are?” One of the guards called. The voice had an unmistakable ring of authority to it, as though he was used to issuing orders and seeing them followed. Not haughty or blustering, but calm and confident. The sign of an experienced leader. “You could’ve killed a member of Issho-Ni, and taken his garments.”

Comforting to hear that he thought so little of Issho-Ni, Eric thought. The idea that someone could do what he described wasn’t entirely implausible, but it shouldn’t be the first thought on his mind. He let the comment go, assuming correctly that it was born from nerves and anxiety. Instead, he spread his arms wide, hoping the relaxed gesture would tell its own tale.

“That may be true,” he said. “But if you’ll allow me to approach, I can prove my identity and my rank as a Chevalier.”

That would have more impact on a common Captain of the Town Guard, he thought. Issho-Ni, while a good organization, wasn’t tied directly to the crown. He was more likely to respond to the noble position that Chevaliers would have. After a lengthy pause, he answered, “Very well. But leave your weapons where you are before you approach.”

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He did as he was asked, seeing no point in arguing the matter. In any event, if he was in any danger, Hunter would strike faster than any sword or arrow. He drew both of his swords with a quick flick of the wrists, and stuck them, point-first, into the ground. He also took off his pack for good measure and approached at a calm, relaxed pace, his arms still held out to either side, showing that he had no other weapons.

“What’s the purpose of your visit again?” The man asked, scanning his identification scroll. “And how do we know you’re not possessed?”

“You clearly haven’t seen an infernal bond yet,” he replied. “I was sent here by the Shaso family of the Dagorra Forest.”

“Druids?” The guard guessed. “What do they want with our city?”

So clearly, it wasn’t a plan shared with the people that ran the city, Eric thought. Or maybe it was, and he was just explaining himself badly. Letting out a sigh and making no effort to hide it, he added, “It's on the order of Grimr Longfang, the God of Nature.”

That finally got a reply. The mention of Grimr’s name didn’t immediately make him agree, but it did take a lot of the tension out of his spine, and he looked doubtful of his own resolve. But he still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know that I should let so many armed people into the city at a moment like this.”

“Well then,” a new voice said, surprising both Eric and the guard, “Then you’ll have to explain to the next King or Queen why you refused one of her best fighters access to the plan to retake his or her city.”

The guard let out an unintentional yelp of surprise, his nerves finally breaking too far to recover, but Eric felt a broad grin stretch across his face, and a leap of pleasure erupted inside his chest. “Master Ehran!”

“Good to see you again, Eric,” The Grandmaster of Issho-Ni stepped forward swiftly and embraced his former apprentice. The guard took a step to the side. “It was hard getting word to you, you’ve been bouncing around so much. Good work converting that Kieran lad to our side.”

“It wasn’t hard,” Eric said affably, though it had been extremely difficult. “I’m just glad I remembered what you told me about The Scarred Lands. It helped me remember that I could recruit him.”

The guard frowned, more than a little thrown. It had just occurred to him that, in fact, he had heard of the only apprentice that Grandmaster Ehran Tokugawa had ever taken on. The fierce warrior that had inherited his family’s fighting techniques, and had been a minor noble in Milagre. He felt the blood rush to his face at the memory. Ehran had even told him to keep an eye out for his former apprentice, and to let him into the city without question. He began to drop to a knee.

“Please forgive my rudeness, Master Breeden,” he said, more nervous than ever. “It’s no excuse, but I was nervous at the sight of the large force you had mustered.”

Eric leaned over quickly and caught the man by his upper arm before he could kneel properly. With an easy tug, he lifted him to his feet. “Nothing to apologize for, Captain. You had the right response, considering you didn’t know who I was. Good work.”

The man straightened at his praise and offered him a salute. Ehran grinned, nodding his approval at Eric’s reply. “Well then, that’s settled. Get your men in here, and join me for a cup of coffee. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

It took no time at all to get the others settled, at which point Eric left Johan in charge and went off with his mentor to talk privately. He still viewed Ehran as his mentor, even years after he’d been given the title of Master. Despite only having ten or so years on him, Ehran had a wealth of life and battle experience to share, and he suspected he’d never stop learning from the man. Plus, there was still that lingering sense of comfort he always felt in Ehran’s presence, that nothing could go wrong with him around.

“So,” Ehran began, once they’d slid into a booth in the corner of the largest tavern. “I’m sure you’re wondering what the purpose of the attack on Milagre will be.”

“Not really,” Eric replied, after taking a sip of his coffee. “We’re retaking it, right?”

“That is the eventual plan,” Eric nodded. “But first, there are two things that have to happen. This strike is to accomplish the first task.”

Eric was bursting with curiosity, but feigned patience, knowing that his mentor would reveal it in due time. Sure enough, “Simply put, there are wards and runes all throughout Milagre that need to be taken down. They provide early warning of any teleportation into the city, and they stop certain magicks from being launched.”

Eric had heard mention of these protection systems before. Samuel had put them in place, to ensure that no enemy force could simply teleport into the middle of the palace and attack straight at the heart. They’d been down for that first invasion attempt, but Samuel had made sure never to take them down again since. Of course, they still existed, he thought bitterly. Samuel was a prodigious mage, and would obviously ensure that they outlasted him.

“As you can imagine, they make Milagre a nearly impenetrable fortress in terms of magic,” Ehran said, guessing what was running through his mind. “Otherwise, we could simply teleport in a few elite fighters, and the problem would be solved.”

Eric nodded his understanding, then, as a thought occurred to him, he frowned. “So we’ll have to get in through one of the gates and fight our way in.”

The thought of facing so many different infernals was not one he enjoyed. Sure, the great majority wouldn’t be as strong as Kieran and the one he was bonded to, but they were still Infernals. And there were hundreds of them. But Ehran surprised him. “No, you’ll be teleporting straight into the palace.”

“But you can’t accomplish that by magic,” Eric said.

“You can with Ancient Magic,” Ehran replied, staring at him pointedly. “And luckily for us, we have an Ancient on our side.”

“Grimr? But he won’t act unless it falls under his purpose.”

Ehran let out a sigh and shook his head. “No, not Grimr. You.”