A heavy and rotten silence lingered in the encampment as Orhadin casually strolled through, sticking the lower end of his peculiar staff deep into the blood soaked ground. His ophidian, gaunt visage of serpentine scales and pallid epidermis of the elevated dead contorted as he sniffed in the fresh air permeated with the malodorous and saccharine – to him – scent of finality.

Frivolous tents that beamed with the signs of struggle stood quite disorganized in the dim glade of the woodland. Some collapsed onto itself, accentuating the various furniture brought along by folk not prepared for the dangers of these blessed wilds. Some stood valiantly, frozen in the moment the legionaries accomplished raising them to an acceptable state per their scrupulous protocol, the soft doors flapping as the cold autumnal wind of the north swept through, yet when it reached Orhadin hunched down, his robes sewn from the night itself remained stiff while swallowing the leftover blood of an auxiliary.

Yet beside the scent of finality, he also felt a frustration of the olden days as his small, slit eyes lit up in a sinister Arkharuine glow, a faint blue mixed with a sinister green and before him, the unseen revealed itself, yet not the one he expected and desired to tame and control. Hints of death floated in the forms akin to falling snow flakes in the calming tones of nekrotic matter, a deep purple with black outlines, yet there were no corpses around the knitted tents, no souls wailing in their torturous, sleepless existence.

For a moment the thought of a nekromancer not pledged to the Host had prevailed the dead before him or may even be the cause of the imperfect footsteps still deepened into the mushy mud covered in melting snow as the mauve and cerulean lights filtered through the gaunt branches bereft of dim leaves. The cold hands of fear caressed his spine as the envious thoughts shifted towards paranoid ones, as he feared being discovered so soon.

Yet as he further walked into the large encampment in the dead center of the blessed Vesgeriath Woodland, this conjecture and the accompanying fear faded in his mind when he noticed the lavish tent lacking in signs of struggle, or even the myriad blood of the people who fought till the end. Not even a small scratch of a wild ghoul, the slice reconstructed undead appeared on the soft, almost silky red and white walls appeared, yet there was no doubt that the leader of this expedition no longer walked amongst the living, but amongst the dead as a heavy cloud of nekrotic matter still whirled around the tent.

The whirlpool of torn out resentment, haphazardly carved love and empathy and mangled humility were proof enough for this fact, as no self-respected nekromancer would not use these ingredients in forging the contract of subservience bringing the dead into their ever growing flock of dead. All these leftovers signaled that whatever reason led them into the heart of Vesgeriath came to them earlier, and now they walked amongst their forces.

Though one thing still deepened his curiosity. Within the whirlpool, within the tent embroidered with the insignia of the draconic insignia of the Empire, Orhadin noticed a faint, translucent disturbance in an outer facet of Elhyrissian’s reality that pulsed and spew forth small tendrils reaching into the ground. The more he tried to correlate it to any of the matters, any of the Umvraothok’s or Aydvroeghek’s mark, he could not find an answer to why the heart that no longer beat in his chest began its fearful rhythm once more.

“There are many things that shall always be beyond the understanding of the mortal races, including the enigmatic aetherkiin who reached the ends of existence centuries before the Age of the Dawn came to an end.” Grimslaukh voice echoed in his mind, as the old memory of his teacher, the greatest of Aydvroeghek imparted a hint on the vastness of the planes, on the vastness of the Almodo’s world. And like then he found it excruciating once more.

“But do not see it as a cruelty of the Deossos, of the Almodo, see it as mercy.” Then he closed his eyes and felt a voidness devour his remaining senses, calming him as he recounted what He told when he voiced his frustration. When his eyes opened, the disturbance was no more, in its place only the expensive carpet remained stretching across the altered space of the tent and the wood beneath his feet softly groaned as he left.

Once more, his gaze surveyed the desolate camp of Legatious Gnaeuth, 133rd son of Terrianis, and left further into the belly of Vesgeriath, to invoke the pledge the Lords of the Woodland took more than seven centuries in the shadow of the Nightscale.

**

Both youths’ eyes glistened softly by wonder as they entered the large palace, the grandest edifice from which the inner fortifications protruded and squared around the courtyard which served also as the training center for the stationed legianoriir and the custodiir at the same time.

The first section they entered served both as the entrance hall but also as the throne room with thick pillars supporting the ceiling garnished with the svelte depiction of Mineirvia, The Sagacious Challenger and Protector of Cities who gifted the arts of battle – both martial and maghieth – upon mortal kind. Further in the vast hall remained mostly empty with the sides lined by the personal praetoriir of Gnaeuth wearing heavy, ivory plates with angular segments and symmetrical curves, and prismatic tunics, kilt and breeches containing enchantments amplifying their well-honed strength built up through the seven decades one has to serve under the banner of the legion to be eligible for the rank.

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Yet they remained devoid of their liege, in his place on the throne facing the ornated gates sat a petite niuvhen maiden whose delicate silvery silhouette was kissed by the lavish clothes sewn from textile chrome or at least close to it regarding sheen and smooth surface in which their reflected form stared right back at them. On the bottom it circled evenly, hiding her feet wrapped in metallic sandals while on the top her neck was lost between curving funnel which rustled as the gentle gust which entered with the group reached her almost divine form capturing the attention of both Azugh and Eadwald who remained standing even as the others got on their knees.

“Excuse them, Lady Isoshira! No doubt they were enchanted by your beauty!” Then the familiar voice rang through the hall and Eadwald turned to Hevaeck appearing from one of the doors leading up to the upper floors.

“Oh I am aware my friend. And I don’t mind the Chosen of His to bow before me.” Isoshira said with the smile of a sly fox on her mesmerizing face with striking blue eyes gleaming with luster of chiseled sapphires whilst gesturing to the two to stop as they were about to get down on their knees. “Next time at least, refrain from sudden meetings if possible.”

“I will do so my dear. But for now let’s talk somewhere private.” The few custodiir ranked lower than Saugh bowed before leaving then the whole group headed up to the Regent’s chambers.

**

On the highest level of the palace, only two rooms occupied the altered space not counting the long corridor connecting them. The counselors chambers where most decisions regarding the order and daily comings of the city came to be, which Regent Isoshira tended to even before Gnaeuth set out to reclaim his lost honor and prestige. Most of the counselors of Vhoragos were made up of the representatives of the various guilds, be it of the commerce kind or of the local adventurers guild, the wealthiest of the patricii and the common folk who tended the fields within the walls engulfed by a barrier allowing the seeds of various vegetables and fruits to grow in the harsh northern climate.

The other were his chambers now used by Isoshira who moved in there, though left most of the military decorations like the three different armors, several blades and spears hung onto the walls, and trophies of the various beasts and monsters stalking the north including even the grisly head of an developed Drekavac – a nekros with a distinct and deformed canine traits including a stretched head with unnatural contours, sunken deathly eyes and small horns numbering at four with a half spiraling curve – staring right at the bed as its severed head was welted to the gloomy stone between two rhombus windows.

Whilst Azugh stared envious at the weapons lining the walls, Eadwald pushed away his childish curiosity and stood at the front of their little group facing Hevaeck and Isoshira. “I know it may be hard and sudden but I beseech you young Eadwald, stay in the city. I promise to notify lady Mirdbruil that no harm has come upon you.”

“I thank you for that, but I already accepted my fate.” He lied knowing it was not the time to devise clever words of convincement. “What I truly want to ask is to let me aid the city’s protectors in apprehending whoever is behind the attack.”

“What attack?” Surprised, Isoshira asked turning to Saugh who stood silent before the windows.

“An hour ago, three undead possibly raised crawled forth the sewers killing at least six of the merchants of our city and the visitors.” He stopped for a moment as his throat dried feeling shame at his own failure. “One of those undead was the Chosen has cut down was one of my investigators who disappeared months ago as he believed the culprits hid in the tunnels below the sewers.”

Eadwald turned inquisitively towards the old orkh. “Tunnels?” He blurted out. “The Host has employed many tricks to thaw away the peace of the northern colonies. One such endeavor of theirs was expanding the Veinways of the Dhaugruz Range which now extend below this very city.” Isoshira explained smiling as she saw an opportunity for herself and possibly for Gnaeuth.

“Though with the aid of Hevaeck and his associates, we managed to seal them off barring the accursed inhabitants from slipping into the city anymore. Though it may seem like they found a way through.”

Hevaeck nodded grimly. “Shouldn’t this barrier be the same that alerts us if their bands pass through the forts?” Gna asked whilst he stroked his chin gently.

“That much is true, but the thing is the last time they also took a few people. It is possible, the descendants of those who were taken were sent to infiltrate the city.” Eadwald curled his hands into fists upon hearing those words and the thought of leaving faded, replaced by the deep desire to free the city from this menace.

“Now regarding your wish, I personally wouldn’t advise you to go out, these enemies are more capable than the revenants of the woodlands.” Hevaeck said as silence settled on the room as they felt Eadwald’s anger manifesting mildly.

“I believe so too. But regardless holding him back now could be a grave mistake. Though the people is unaware of his existence, what will they say once the news are out that we held back one of the Chosen from restoring order. You yourself should believe that this is not simply our good fortune that he stepped into the city, but it is the work of the Deossos who decreed his first test – liberating the people of Vhoragos from the menacing shadow looming in the corners.” Isoshira interjected calmly.

“Though at least I’d like Saugh to join your group Chosen Eadwald. And if you worry about his wellbeing, I’d recommend you stay by his side Hevaeck.” Then she added as Hevaeck sighed with folded arms and looking down at the floor pondering. “You and your azure tongue is right. Though I want Aelfsigior and Priernuss to be by his side at all times, they proven their mettle many times, though I don’t want to throw mud at the capabilities of the others.”

“None landed.” Gna said with a light cackle. “Same, this way we could skulk around easier. But I wonder, won’t he stand out to the enemy?” Ashnan added.

“Well I could do a bit of sculpture.” Priernuss said as he seemingly measured their faces. “Though I can’t promise it will be painless. I am a bit lacking when it comes to flesh maghia.”

Isoshira clapped her hands and assumed an affable expression upon hearing the faint growl of their stomachs. “That can wait. For now let’s plan things out at repast. You all must be starving by now.”