I arrived in the area where the sacred villages of Phaladine are located, with their nondescript poverty and horse manure level of culture, when I observed a whole regiment of Paladins, hardened warriors, fanatics who in other times would have been called zealots, but today represent the justice of a myopic god, iron armor, shields bigger than a man, big swords or maces, carrying the eyes of those who believe they are doing good to society by fulfilling their sacred mission, before coming I decided to meet the wizards of the area, what a disappointment.

The magic of a people cannot be annihilated just because the inhabitants are uncomfortable with its use, the mages who died before they could learn enough were the least, most did not warn his family and simply went into the woods, so that became part of the statistics of people attacked by some magical-demonic entity, their settlements are within the area of the Black Forest, the version of forest in this area is less, The wild deforestation for the cultivation in slash and burn mode had wiped out whole hectares of forest around the settlements, very similar to what the elves did, with the difference that here it was done for food, there to monopolize the resources of the area, the wizards of the area living in the forests adopted a state of abandonment to their person in a crude attempt to conceive their union with nature.

I found them in a camp, traveling on the back of one of the wolves that begin to populate the forest of the dark elves, being magical environment makes many of the animals inseparable from magic began to seek refuge from a world that hunted them for trophies and rewards of alchemists or pharmacists who pay exorbitant sums looking for materials that restore virility to the rich of the coastal cities, Some brought gifts, some magical items that with a little adaptation could use the magical field of the forest, so when the wolves came I asked for their help to get here, from the pack the largest broke free, a giant wolf even by the terms of enchanted animals, gray fur that smelled of blood from many of their food, but strong and big enough to travel on his back, he growled a little but allowed me to ride him.

We ran quite fast, he as a leader hated having a human with him, but the prospect of safety in a world where the gnarled wolf pelt was highly prized for making hunters' armor had a refuge, they hunted outdoors, they would sleep indoors, under the protection of the dark elves who welcomed all animals seeking shelter, could it be their wood elf blood? When I have time, I will ask them.

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When I began to see the villages in the distance, I asked him to leave me at the edge of the forest, when I got off he left without saying goodbye, typical of animals that live one day at a time. I expanded my aura a bit and discovered with some astonishment that there were hundreds of auras of magical origin less than twenty kilometers from the place, I even found about thirty inside the village, but they are not magical auras, almost solidified on their bodies, useless for most spells, conditioned to a trigger that releases its use, these were not magicians and their imagination was non-existent, these were priests.

I left them for a moment, these beings make me sick, it is not necessary to be a priest to heal, but those who focus on it spend their own vitality, it is a double wear and tear of the healings, most of them are skinny, few reach an advanced age, that and the stupid tendency to believe that cloth clothes are ideal for practicing their activities makes them easy prey for an arrow that will always be faster than a shield enchantment, They are useful in battle, but they can't heal forever, and even if they try they will die of exhaustion, these people are no good to me, they are just that, people who believe with unhealthy devotion in someone who expects them to suffer in order to be happy, instead I look for other fields, I find them about 20km south, towards the plains, and there I go.

I can smell the aromas of a cave exactly 18km south of the Puritan sites, the smell of compost, rancid food and bodies that probably need a bath invade my senses, but they are not the only ones, some weak fields, I cautiously approach a moss-covered cave, at the entrance a mud floor and a few torches, around it sit about 15 figures, eating fruit, drinking something with a high alcohol content and smoking weed.

Some drank coffee, others smoked or chewed tobacco, but those who were more imaginative distorted their minds with five-cornered grass, seeing the state of their attention, I advance without precautions, when I am two meters from touching their auras, one of them lets out a soft burp and makes a sign, the inert vines of the forest move, a second later they attack me from all directions, A few minutes later one of them gets up, ties up his bearskin coat and walks to where I am, staggering is the right expression, for he is not well, and as he comes closer I realize that he is more drugged than someone who wants to concentrate and does not have an air of evil, which is unusual in these places, he takes a drink from his bamboo canteen and then asks

-who are you?

-I am Garraverde and I demand answers.

- Is Garraverde someone important? -I ask mockingly as my field begins to concentrate in case a battle is necessary.

- Sure,-he replies with eyes too hard for a simple addict. -You will not find peace in these lands, your duty is already done in the Alcazar, a great danger is approaching, Garraverde, the chief of the druids, guarantees it to you.