“How are things looking?”

Valentin and Maeve, having completed their grisly deeds, met with the remaining warriors at the overlook to the road.

Dacin quickly reunited with Maeve, a look of concern molded to his face in response to the girl’s outward distress. Valentin could feel an accusatory stare shoot his way but some incomprehensible murmurs from Maeve seemed to dissuade him from speaking.

“They have long since left the impact point. Whatever is left of the fighting is further down the road,” Coralie remarked from her vantage point.

Valentin joined the warrior at her position and gazed down at the road below. The charge was brutally effective. Corpses of dead warriors littered the impact point at the bottom of the bridge. Passing travelers flocked to the wounded to see if there was anything that could be done to save them. The wagon was nowhere to be seen, likely driven further up the road in the hopes of meeting with reinforcements.

“I recommend that we leave here quickly,” Henriette offered. “It won’t be long before word reaches Galleat and the Boars. Warriors will be covering this place within the hour.”

Valentin turned behind him. Their camp was obscured from the hillside. However, it was not so deftly hidden that an investigation party wouldn’t find it quickly. Despite his desire to get back at Barth, he had calmed enough for his better judgment to prevail.

“We need to ensure that there is nothing in the camp that can connect it to the Armée du Corbeaux. If it is discovered we are the culprits…”

Without any further discussion, the warriors listened to Valentin’s decision and made their way to the camp. They spent some time meticulously going through the remains of camp. They removed banners, regalia, personal effects, and even written materials. When they were finished with their work, there was not so much as a scrap of cloth or letter with their corvid symbol placed upon it.

Abandoning the rest of the camp for Barth to deal with upon his return, Valentin’s group departed with all of their belongings. They left Renne and Coralie to follow near the road while the rest turned away from the road and slowly traveled eastwards under a more hidden route to obscure the two remaining horses that the group shared.

Only around half an hour had elapsed before Renne came rustling out of the bushes to reunite with the others.

“We found the wagon,” Renne informed Valentin. “It’s swarming with warriors. They’re hitching horses to it to move it again.”

“And Barth?”

“No sight of him,” Renne replied. “I’m not sure if they were able to break into it before reinforcements arrived.

“We need to follow that wagon,” Valentin announced. “It’s likely returning to Gladaghol Castle.”

“Easier said than done,” Renne replied, scratching his head. “They are closely watching the roads and it may prove difficult to find a crossing point if necessary.”

“Do you propose something else?” Valentin asked.

“I do not. But our group as it is now is far too noticeable.”

“Then we break apart here,” Valentin responded in a continued attempt to be decisive. “Renne, Henriette, you both will join me in pursuing the wagon. The rest will take the horses back towards Ferron. We need to inform him of what has happened so they are not arriving blind.”

Renne and Henriette nodded in agreement to Valentin’s plan. Splintering the group was the only sensible course of action that did not involve abandoning the plan altogether.

“I would like to stay,” Maeve said.

“There’s no reason for you to remain,” Valentin responded. “I cannot guarantee your safety if you push further.”

“I have begun to hear spirits,” she asserted. “North of here, I hear them in low tones calling out in words I cannot yet decipher.”

“You think it’s in the direction of the castle?” Valentin asked.

If Maeve could lead them to the castle without sticking closely to the Boars, it would lower the risk of being discovered. However, Valentin still felt responsibility for the girl’s well-being. To knowingly expose her to further danger that he was not confident in protecting her from could easily spell disaster.

“I could not say for certain,” Maeve admitted.

“You must know two things if you are to travel with me,” Valentin began, ignoring the look of betrayal from Dacin. “I cannot guarantee your safety from here on out. If the whispers are not related to the castle, I cannot abandon my task to help you search for it.”

“That is fine,” Maeve replied dismissively.

The druid walked towards the road with Dacin following quickly behind. Henriette and Renne offered Valentin looks of concern but their leader’s apparent disinterest in arguing things further made them drop their comments.

With a quick change of posts with Coralie, the five remaining warriors watched the wagon from a safe distance away and hidden in the foliage. The warriors of the Boar had not finished their comprehensive search of the wagon and the immediate areas surrounding it.

After some time, warriors carrying the colors of Galleat joined the Boars from the west. The leaders of the respective groups were engaged in an intense conversation that bled with combative emotion.

Things came to a head when the representative of the Boars threw his arms up and turned away from the warriors from Galleat. The dispatched warriors possessed a body language that implied an eagerness to fight to avenge whatever words left the mercenary’s lips. However, their deggan brushed aside their aggression and withdrew from the area.

It was not long after that the wagon began to roll along the road again. Valentin’s warriors that trailed behind them made sure that the soldiers of Galleat were fully out of sight before following at a distance. They hung towards the edge of the road always ready to obscure themselves from sight during any slows or stops the wagon might take.

The trees and underbrush that lined the road dissipated to be replaced by large open fields of wild grass. Forced to descend from the road to maintain their cover, the group continued to tail the wagon from between the tall stalks of wild grass. Fortunately, the road bisected a hill whose peak was on the south side. The added elevation did much to hide themselves further from their target.

Miles of road passed in this slow pursuit. Ortus’ low position in the sky threatened the imminent darkness that would follow. The wagon’s escorts, unperturbed by the incoming sightless night, readied their torches.

Waning light of their sleeping god gave way to the all-encompassing darkness that robbed all of their vision. Unable to light their own torches without being immediately spotted by the warriors before them, the group had little choice but to follow the small lights that illuminated the tiniest pocket of the world.

They delicately moved from the field onto the road in pursuit of surer footing now that hiding themselves was no longer a concern. Each step upon the hard packed dirt of the road reassured Valentin that he was not going to fall into the endless void that surrounded him.

“One,” Renne broke the silence with a quieted voice.

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“One?” Valentin asked with puzzlement.

“Two,” Dacin responded.

“Three,” Henriette sounded off.

“Four,” Maeve responded in her usual low voice, figuring out the purpose of the count.

“Five?” Valentin rounded out the numbering.

Every few seconds, Renne would restart the counting cycle. Valentin was surprised to find how quickly they had spread apart every several seconds. He would quickly try to correct himself only to find at the next call that the arrangement already became radically different.

Calls from bugs and the blind creatures of the world gave Valentin a feeling of unease; their chitters and squeaks made the world feel far more foreign. Each noise drew Valentin’s attention into the indistinguishable blackness that surrounded him. However, it was the creatures that made no noise that occupied the concern within Valentin’s mind.

“You would be able to hear if we were to be ambushed by a spirit, wouldn’t you?” Valentin nervously asked in the direction he last heard the druid’s voice.

“I would,” the girl confirmed from behind him. “Whatever is out in the fields is all concentrated in the same place. They seem hungry but people clad in metal are not high on their lists.”

“That’s…not quite as reassuring as I pictured it would be,” Renne commented, vocalizing the concerns shared by the rest. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five. Please let us know if it ever changes its mind,” Valentin requested. He instinctively shuffled closely to the center of the road, or at least what he believed to be the center of the road.

Ahead of them, the wagon turned left to travel northwards. The group had to struggle minutes later to find the intersection without misplacing their steps. Fortunately, the northbound road seemed to follow an initially straight trajectory, allowing them to find their bearings more quickly.

Onwards they trudged following the smoky lights that acted as their navigational stars. The shrill calls of the waking creatures only escalated as they got further and further into the night. Without Ortus’ loving light, the air grew considerably colder. The air bit wherever he had exposed skin and seeped through the cloth that covered him.

In the distance, a line of torches lit up the horizon. The wagon slowly took a wide bend that better lined them up to approach the flames. Their own lights had dimmed considerably over the course of their travel, forcing Valentin and the rest of his group to strain their eyes and force themselves closer to the wagon.

Their numbered calling had to quiet as well until it was almost indistinguishable from the calls of the insect that filled the fields. Valentin would sometimes just say his assigned number just in case he had not heard the calls properly.

The wagon came to a stop in front of them and Renne issued another numbered round to ensure that everyone had stopped. Now that they had reached the torches, Valentin saw that the lights were elevated a short distance above them. He could make out the silhouettes of the warriors that stood behind them.

Sounds of rattling chains obliterated all of the sounds around it as whatever gate on the other side of the wagon opened to allow passage inside. Slowly, the light that Valentin had been following for untold amounts of time slipped into the inky maw of the structure before being abruptly swallowed by it. The lights atop the wall, now escorting in what it had been waiting for, also descended down the invisible ladder on the other side and left the uninvited guests outside in complete darkness.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three. We should really find a place off the road to rest until dawn.”

A silence stretched over the group. There was now something deeply incorrect with their numbering.

“Five,” Valentin spoke, hoping that he simply missed her voice.

“Maeve?” Dacin’s voice came from behind Valentin, confirming that his initial suspicions were correct. “Are you here?”

No response still from the fourth member in the count. Only the cacophony of the creatures of the night called out, serving as the chilling ambience for the group.

“When was the last time she called out? One.”

“Maeve? Are you nearby? Two.” Dacin’s voice strained to be as loud as possible without shouting. He no longer bothered to conceal how concerned he was.

“If we’ve lost her, it will be difficult to locate her now that we have no light whatsoever. Three.”

Nothing.

“Five.”

“Shit, this is bad,” Renne commented. “Don’t spread out to look for her. It will only make things worse for all of us.”

“We should move back up the road and call for her,” Dacin suggested, ready to do anything to relocate the druid.

“No. It would be smarter to wait for morning,” Henriette suggested.

A hand grasped out for Valentin. The sudden sensation made him jump with a small yelp. His armor clanked and his breathing quickened. He lost contact with the hand and quickly reached out to relocate it.

His wide sweeping motions eventually brought him back in contact with the rogue limb. He held it in his gloved hand. It shook terribly with fear.

“Valentin, was that you?” Renne asked.

“Are any of you holding my hand right now?” Valentin answered with a question of his own.

“No.”

“No.”

“No.”

“Maeve, is that you? What’s wrong?” Valentin asked through the arm to the person behind it.

Gasping, shuddering breaths echoed from the darkness just past the hand. He squeezed the hand a bit harder in an attempt to reassure whoever it was that he was holding onto. With his thumb, he made small circles along the webbing between the thumb and index finger.

“Breathe, Maeve. What’s wrong?” Valentin pleaded.

“The spirits,” her familiar voice finally broke through the silence, lowering the anxiety of the other four.

“What about the spirits?”

“They’re through there,” she answered. “There’s so many.”

“Come on,” Valentin said, pulling the girl closer to him. “We need to get out of here.”

Continuing their numbering loops, the group took to the tall grasses of the field to hide themselves for the night. Without their cots or bedrolls, the group took to sleeping in close proximity to each other to keep warm and not lose each other.

Without any light, Valentin elected to keep his armor on as he nestled near the group. He felt the ringlets press into his back and his side with even the smallest movements. The cold air of the night lapped at his skin and the insects that surrounded him were near deafening.

He stayed on his back in the complete darkness with only the soft sounds of breathing to reassure him that there were people around him. Sometime during the pursuit, Zalavo’s concoction wore off and his body and face ached terribly from the injuries that he sustained during the duel. Each sharp pain and dull ache served to remind him of his failures.

If the throbbing pain all over his body didn’t keep him up, his own thoughts certainly would. He went over the fight over and over again in his mind. Was there something that he still could have done differently that would have changed the outcome of the fight? Should he have gone for the kill from the beginning to show everyone that he wasn’t someone that they could easily step on? Should he have killed the warrior that tripped him and focused on winning the duel?

In the end, Valentin could only envision luck carrying him to victory. An error that Barth never displayed would have to be the catalyst to Valentin’s victory. He was too small. He wasn’t skilled enough with his weapons. He wasn’t loved by those that he led.

Barth’s words were true. He was only tolerated by those around him. His reputation had not grown since his introduction. All he was to them was a weak, bumbling coward. Renne’s words were true. He didn’t care for the warriors and his attitude easily bled through. He didn’t want to be friends with these people. He found them to be cruel and avaricious and violent. However, now that he was sprawled on the grass, breathing through gritted teeth over his numerous welts and cuts and bruises, he felt alone. That, in some way, he needed those people to like him.

Just like how he didn’t feel understood by them, he felt that he only understood the most superficial things about them as well. He had made little effort to endear himself towards them or, at the very least, interact with them regularly enough to develop any relationships with them.

This must have been the charisma that Ferron talked about. If he had a personality that was attractive to those around him, he would find loyal allies that would help him in his time of need. Maybe if he had done a better job understanding that, those crucial moments of the duel would be altered. In a different world, the circle opened further, allowing him to sap Barth’s strength into submission. No, bigger than that, the fight may have never happened at all.

Was there anyone that would be loyal to him that had attributes that would help him expand that influence?

A beautiful woman’s face entered Valentin’s mind, causing his stomach to turn. Morna is the final of final resorts. To run to her could spell a fate worse than death in Valentin’s mind. However, he could not ignore that she was well loved amongst warriors in and outside of her deg. He was not ignorant to the idle chatter that carried through the camp about the “Light of the Armée.” After all, their rumored relationship caused additional hostility towards him.

The rustling sound of someone turning over near him made his mind table thoughts of the dazzling vice deggan back into the suppressed recesses of his mind. To immediately rely upon the woman would be to admit he was incapable of commanding without using her grotesque smile to placate the warriors.

Before he made such drastic moves, he needed to find people on his own first. There was one person that came to mind before all others.

Renne.

Valentin knew nothing about the man. Up until recently, he hated Valentin for the death of Killihan. Yet, he gave Valentin advice and he chose to stick around when there was no benefit to. He could understand Henriette and Dacin’s motivations, they had nothing to do with Valentin.

But what about Renne? What was his motivation?

Valentin decided he would try to learn more about the man soon. If the warrior turned out to be someone that Valentin could respect, maybe one day he could have an army of Renne’s.

The boy’s thoughts were becoming less coherent. The powerful urges to bring him to sleep were in a struggle with the pain and discomfort that would rip the sensation of imminent sleep away from him.

He hung in this limbo with neither his body nor his mind fully resting until the Ortus’ welcome light brought the sensation of sight back to the world. He quickly rose from his resting position.