The royal army was approaching the capital of the kingdom, the city of Ran, unhindered. A long path flowed through the forest from where a warlike symphony could be heard. The march of thousands of pairs of legs that trampled the ground with their boots, raising clouds of dust. In addition to the clatter of feet, one could hear the clatter of hooves, as well as the wooden crash of hundreds of loaded carts galloping over bumps. Separately from this army, in luxurious carriages decorated with golden patterns, noblemen rode at ease, as if on an idle hunt, peering into the distance with a bored look.

Among these carriages, one stood out, where a boy and a girl of about ten with black hair did not take their eyes off the forest passing by. Seeing new places for an adult might not be so exciting and could lead to boredom, but for children such sights were just right. The young mind was always delighted to observe new things and not only new things, but also something very surprising and painfully familiar.

“And what did you see so interesting there?”

An adult girl, dressed in a brown dress and a silver necklace around her neck, said with a theatrical yawn. She is the mother of these children, who, at the same time, slowly waved her fan in front of her face, slightly fogged up from the heat of the day.

The boy, hearing his mother’s voice, turned in her direction and pointed his finger outward and exclaimed enthusiastically:

"Father is so powerful!"

"Is it true?"

The girl couldn’t believe her ears and, looking outside, saw next to the carriage a young handsome man, clad in steel plate armor, galloping on an armored horse.

Unnoticed by the children, the mother smiled seductively when she saw the sparkling gaze of the blue-eyed man heading in her direction, as if inviting her on a date, even though she knew that she could not leave her children alone, even with her servant. This man was her gentleman, her dearest husband and, of course, the father of these blossoming flowers of life. This man is known as Count Fion le Moykraff, lord of Tsaruz and its environs.

"Mighty indeed."

The woman said, caressing the children in a tight hug, making them giggle.

“And you will become the same if you listen to us. You want to grow up strong and beautiful?”

"Yes, mom!"

The boy answered her joyfully.

"I will be the most, most beautiful!"

The girl answered, which is why the mother could not help but hug them again and stroke them on the top of their heads.

"I love you so much."

The count was prevented from observing such a pleasant family idyll by another man who galloped closer to him and who was dressed in almost the same armor and, following the carriage with his eyes, said with contentment:

"It's jealous to see you have such a beautiful lady, brother."

“If you are jealous, then keep quiet and look for your betrothed yourself.”

The count said with a smug grin, looking at the marching army.

“Better make sure that messages are delivered to the Duke on time. After all, we are at war and we need to remain vigilant.”

"Yes, brother, it will be so."

"I really hope so, Rayek."

Fion commanded a force of a hundred men, mostly trained spearmen, whoever he could muster from his humble holdings. Despite this, of all the vassals of the royal family loyal to the prince, Monrid brought much more into the army than anyone else. This made other vassals of his overlord look askance at him, whisper disgustingly behind their backs, and from time to time the count was informed about rumors spreading among the commanders of the army.

Obviously it was unpleasant for him to listen to this, but he did not show his displeasure and instead maintained a confident look on his face as if nothing was happening. To himself, however, he knew the reason for these bad rumors.

Envy.

A thought flashed through the count’s head, knowing full well what everyone was whispering about.

Fion received his title for his services to the kingdom. The people loved him and were ready to go to the ends of the earth to fight demons and vile non-humans. He is an excellent manager despite his such a young age, and is also handsome and strong. Other aristocrats were much older, with wrinkles on their faces, far past the peak of their strength, and they brought with them not only their much matured wives and sons, but also their mistresses, with whom they were in a hurry to have fun during night rests.

A rather strange atmosphere reigned among the army, as if a certain aroma, quite pleasant and at the same time so sweetly poisonous, permeated the bone of each person. This aroma was felt not by the nose, but by the body, and therefore not everyone was able to smell it as Count Moykraff could do. You can call it a kind of premonition that is beyond the control of anyone other than him.

Fion tried to maintain self-control by observing his surroundings. He constantly saw how from time to time quarrels arose among the soldiers, mainly from detachments subordinate to different vassals, and the reasons for these quarrels were quite stupid: they looked askance at each other, they sat in someone’s place, they woke them up in the middle of the night, or by accident. pushed, someone did not share common water, and so on and so forth. This may have happened in the army, but only if they were exhausted, but this army was assembled quite recently and it does not seem that the soldiers were very exhausted, rather their feelings were replaced.

The aristocrats themselves were no better, arrogant, greedy, evil, lustful, cynical and sickeningly deceitful. The Count looked at the faces of these noble people, but saw only maxis hidden behind gloomy expressions and strained smiles. Fion wanted to think that he was just imagining it, but no. Every day his paranoia about this strange unnaturalness only increased until finally the army reached the meeting place with the royal militia.

However, what they all saw was a little shocking.

"Oh Sod …"

Fion whispered.

Prince Monrid's camp was destroyed or may have been plundered by someone or even abandoned in retreat. There was no one here, just extinct fires and shit pits. In the bushes far from the tents lay corpses dressed in some rags.

One soldier turned one of the corpses onto his back and saw instead of a face a skull soaked through with rot and insects, which quickly ran away in all directions. The stench of a corpse forced the soldier to cover his nose and mouth, unable to bear being near the dead man. From the terrible sight, the soldier hastened to step back and quietly pray to Sod.

This person, whoever he was, had been dead for several months, but it was simply impossible! Prince Monrid was only able to gather his militia a couple of weeks ago, so why is there someone's corpse lying here for months? This is simply impossible!

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

That's what everyone thought until the soldier stated the following:

"There are no injuries. This one died of exhaustion."

"What?"

Fion exclaimed, not believing his ears.

"How is this possible?"

"I don't know, my lord. It's as if the life had been drained out of him."

Life had been drained out.

These two words were well imprinted in the Count's mind.

All the most wonderful and at the same time terrible things are capable of doing only one thing and its name is magic. To create and destroy living things is one of the sides of this multifaceted force, beyond the control of most of those living today. No one knows for sure whether it is a gift from God or a stolen power of heaven. One thing is certain, this force is capable of doing many things, including what the Count saw before him.

And it’s not to say that those who were born with the gift of commanding magic were lucky in life, far from it. They are afraid of them, they are wary of them, they are trying to control them and even trying to exterminate them. The magicians themselves are like dangerous criminals, hiding from human eyes or trying not to show their powers, and only a few of them go on adventures.

Far in the south there is even an entire country ruled by magicians, but in other countries they try to beware and avoid magicians. If this poor fellow was killed by a magician, then it was certainly not without reason. He is either from the army of that vile traitor, Draun Rudrin, or this soldier is the victim of a magician serving Prince Monrid.

In any case, it is too early to draw hasty conclusions, so the count went to the rest of the commanders of the royal army to discuss further issues.

"Fion, what happened?"

Said an old man dressed in black armor.

The sight of this elderly man was awe-inspiring, but if the soldiers had known that under his armor was hiding a skinny old man who could barely swing a sword, it is unlikely that anyone would have addressed him with the due respect that he receives. Even so, this man is none other than the Duke of Athen le Doursven, lord of the western lands of Lakuus and the one who assembled this army to come to the aid of the royal family.

Fion, meanwhile, approached the Duke and answered with all respect:

“My lord, forgive me for bothering you. My people found a corpse, most likely dried out by magic. We don’t know who the body belongs to, enemy or friend.”

"No need, Count."

Athen said with a wheeze and cough.

"Even if the prince decided to launch an assault on the capital without us, then Ran has already been liberated and the time has come to fight Duke Fellrick."

"I understand you, my lord."

Fion frowned somewhat at the Duke's smug face. Just a few days earlier he had been much more serious and cautious, but now he acted so relaxed or even lazy that he was ready to engage in battle with the first enemy he came across. It seemed that he was not at all surprised by the position of the royal camp near the walls of the city, he did not care, and therefore the count harbored new suspicions about what could be happening with the army.

After some time, the Duke gathered all the commanders around and voiced his main order:

"Let's not stand still and wait for night to come. Let's go to the city. Pack your things and move out."

Before the Duke could turn away, Fion stepped forward and made a bold proposal:

"Maybe first of all we should find out for sure if Ran is under the control of the prince? Otherwise we risk getting ambushed, right under the arrows of the Draunian degenerates."

Athen looked at the count and grinned, as if Fion had just uttered some nonsense that was difficult to take seriously:

“Don’t be afraid, Fion. I’m sure Monrid is already in a hurry to crown himself, which means he’s waiting for us in the palace. In the end, he won’t become king if he doesn’t wait for his friends... oh, that is, his loyal subjects. And before that, I want to bring him a gift the head of his stupid uncle who came here to meet his death."

The count, however, still could not agree with this decision, but he did not object strongly, otherwise he would have risked falling out of favor with his overlord, and therefore he, bowing his head and knee, humbly replied:

"I understand you, my lord. I will hasten to gather the warriors and move to the vanguard."

"Okay. Go ahead, Count Fion."

Clenching his fists, the count went to give orders. The army did not wait for sunset in this abandoned camp and hurried to Ran to get there before dark. Soon the army began to move again, but after some time the count sensed the smell of blood around and someone’s invisible glances, hiding either behind the trees or above.

Looking at the twilight sky, he noticed a bird or maybe some strange reflections. They moved so fast and strangely that it really seemed like he was starting to go crazy.

"A ray."

The count turned to his brother.

"What is it, Fion?"

"Do you see this?"

Rayek looked up at the sky, following his brother's gaze, and after a few moments, he answered with a smile:

"Yes, brother. The cloud is shaped like a shield. That's a sign."

"No, not that! About that weird... bird. Tsk~! It's gone."

Even though it was just a dot in the sky, it was truly strange. As soon as Fion looked away once, the sky became free of all living creatures that had been there just a moment ago.

"Brother, you know me. My eyesight is not as good as yours to see birds above the clouds."

"I thought I saw something."

The count said with a bit of shock.

Rayek, however, did not share his fear or his amazing discovery at all.

"Even if it's a bird, so what?"

"It was a bird...flying strangely."

Rayek, according to his brother, sighed dissatisfiedly and shook his head and said the following:

“You need to sleep, you’re tired. I’ll give you time before arriving in Ran, so that by this time you’ll be as alert as a bull.”

Although Fion was indeed tired, he did not want to lose sight of this strange... bird. She was not just some kind of sign, she inspired fear in him, as if these were someone’s eyes that were watching her only for him, but also for everyone else. It seemed to him that these were the eyes of a powerful mind that was driving them into a trap.

The Count did not want to be right in his terrible guesses, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to fall into a woman’s arms.

What's the matter with me?

Fion thought shaking his head and again smelling this strange aroma passing through his body, he succumbed to the persuasion of his younger brother.

"You're right, Rayek, I guess... I guess I'll rest a little."

"Sweet dreams."

Having handed over the horse to his squire, Fion moved into the carriage, where a boy and a girl were snoring sweetly in the arms of a dazzlingly beautiful woman, whose name was Tuleya. The sight of his own relatives, his love, his blood and his inheritance, resting from a hard day, made the count fall asleep. Everything Fion has ever done, everything he does and everything he will do is for the sake of them and his loyal subjects.

When I deal with the Draunian bastards I will return home celebrated for my feat, having restored the royal family's power in our kingdom and dealt with the rebellious duchy at the same time. I am sure that throughout the kingdom there will be feasts, celebrations, fights... orgies...

The count blinked from strange thoughts, seeing something unknown, or rather incomprehensible, in front of him.

What the?!

Fion shook his head, taking deep breaths. The Count continued to smell this aroma, too late he finally realized what kind of aroma it was. The aroma of lust, the aroma of pride, the aroma of rage, the aroma of greed, the aroma of gluttony and many more of its poisonous shades permeate the very fabric of reality and tempt all mortals of this vast world.

It was a sin, the worst of all known to him.

It was:

Heresy.

Tuleya's eyes opened, but instead of green irises, Fion saw the glow of scarlet ones, and the color of her hair instantly turned a different color, lighter. The Count looked with fascination and fear at what had once been his wife and at how she hugged his children and with one movement slightly pulled them closer to her. A little more and she will begin to choke them with her elbows.

"W-who are you?"

Fion stammered, holding his palm over the hilt of the dagger.

The red-eyed woman grinned seductively and, just as enchanted, as if lulling, sweetly said:

"You will do what I want, otherwise..."

A crunch was heard, she clamped her elbows on the necks of the count's children, they quickly woke up, leaving the world of dreams, feeling severe pain. A small squeak was heard. At first they began to move a little, wheezed, could barely utter the words “mom”, only a moment later they realized that this woman was not their mother and they began to squirm wildly, trying to escape from the grip of this stranger.

Fion tried to throw himself forward in fear, but the next moment he seemed to hit something, something invisible. No matter how he tried to stretch his arms forward, there was an invisible wall ahead that could not be broken through, and the children were in the hands of this creature. With despair on his face, the count realized that he was absolutely powerless.

The red-eyed witch looked predatorily at the count and, opening her mouth full of sharp teeth, stuck out her long tongue, licking the boy, leaving several scratches on his cheek from which a trickle of blood flowed, and then she finished:

"...otherwise your children will die."

She played with his family and the count knew that he was powerless to fix this in any way. Fion didn’t know what to do, what to do, but he knew for sure that if he did something wrong, something wrong, she would definitely kill them, and he didn’t want that. Therefore, out of his own powerlessness, with horror in his eyes, clenching his fists, he forcefully uttered just one word, which put an end to his life. All this was for the sake of his family, which he put above his own honor.

"Order."