It was a foggy morning. The wind howled like a mad leader urging the waves to charge forth as they crashed on the cliff-lined shore, further chipping away at their eternal foe as the everlasting battle between sea and land continued.

No matter how high the waves rose or how hard they collided, the cliffs persisted. They had withstood this onslaught for a thousand years and would withstand it for a thousand more. Such sacrifice was commemorated by the fortress city that lay on top of these cliffs—Kremptus, "The City of the Eroding Cliffs"—that stood at the eastern ends of the kingdom.

Every so often, the wind would get frustrated at the stalemate, and in a fit of rage, would attempt to blow even harder, trying to throw even more things at the cliffs, but it hardly made a dent.

Indeed, it was these very cliffs that allowed the coastal fortress to resist the Aternian armada, becoming a graveyard for dozens of ships that came crashing down following a storm, leaving a stain of dishonor on the league.

Similar to the shores that guarded them, that war also ended in a stalemate. The fleet of the kingdom was destroyed before the siege began, its remnants not daring to leave the inlet that housed the city harbor; it hasn’t recovered to this day.

In that harbor, there were two masked men desperate for a ride to the sea, their pleadings falling on the deaf ears of many boat captains who refused to venture out, no matter how much gold shone in their pouches, as they were not eager to join the legions of the mad leader and be smashed to splinters on the shores.

But the men knew gold would eventually overcome such hesitation, and soon enough, a young captain was ushering them to his boat. While they were wondering whether it was boldness or greed that led him to risk his life in such weather, they saw his crew consisted of a few starved teens, and they got their answers.

They were silent the whole ride, ignoring the struggling of the crew to overcome the violent current and rockiness of the boat. One of them kept sharpening his sword while the other kept staring at the cliffs.

"Amazing, aren’t they?" said a young lad while climbing down from the mast. "They call them the millennium cliffs. I wonder how long a thousand years actually is."

As his attention was drawn away by the sudden remark, the man did not have time to reply as the crew member rushed off to assist his friends, struggling to unfurl the sails.

"Land ahoy!"

After a while, a small island started appearing on the horizon. As the boat got nearer, three figures became visible on its shores. Soon enough, money exchanged hands, and as the passengers descended onto the land, the crew started getting ready to head home, looking forward to filling their bellies for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Suddenly, one of the figures stepped forward and flashed them a pouch of coins for a journey back. Although wary of his silver mask and suspicious clothes, the grumbling of their stomachs soon dispelled any doubts. They were in desperate need of coin.

They accepted his offer and proceeded to disembark, wanting to get some rest on solid land while whatever was happening between their employers unfolded.

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The captain was the oldest of the bunch, and he seemed in his early twenties. Other than him and one other man, who was until now on the lower deck rowing, the rest of the crew were too young to work in such a profession. It seemed that life had forced some hard choices on them from an early age, but they showed no signs of wavering.

They took out pieces of stale bread to nibble on while giggling as the captain approached to collect his down payment for the trip back home. He had the same cheery smile he had back at Kremptus when he resolved to risk his life to ferry these men to their destination as he extended his arm to collect the pouch.

But his smile did not last for long, for instead of a bag of clinking things, he got a dagger jammed into his belly. His cheery smile quickly faded into a confused look and pained grunt as his stabber dragged his knife from his lower stomach all the way to his neck, as if carving through butter.

The rest of the crew watched in horror as he fell to his death, his guts spilling out. Before they could even think of fleeing, two more dropped dead almost instantly, as two crossbow bolts penetrated their skulls. Only the rower and the mast kid remained alive as they desperately tried to reach the ship.

Due to his size, the kid was completely hidden from view as he ran in front. This helped him survive the next volley as the next two bolts hit the rower in the back and neck, and he fell down in the shallow water choking on his blood.

The mast boy successfully reached the boat, but it seemed he didn't think ahead about how to operate it alone. He had no choice but to hide himself in the cabin, still holding on to the piece of stale bread.

As the sound of splashing was replaced with the croaking of the floorboards as his pursuers embarked on the boat, he knew they were closing in.

Looking through the drawers and coffers for something useful to use, all he found was a piece of old cheese.

"He was hiding it all for himself... greedy bastard!" he muttered as the door burst open.

All he could think of was how tasty the cheese was as his blood poured from his wound. Tears started flowing from his eyes; he had known nothing except the taste of stale bread all his life. He had no idea that food could be so delicious, and now it was too late.

He kept sucking on the piece of cheese stuck in his mouth. As his vision grew foggier and his eyelids grew heavier, a smile adorned his face, for he was full for the first time...

As the masked figure made his way back to the island, he found his comrades in a heated discussion.

The passengers revealed their faces; it was Godwin and his subordinate. Godwin said with an annoyed look, "Do you think we're stupid enough to divulge information? Killing them was unnecessary!"

His protest was dismissed: "That is not for you to decide. Now, save us the time and report on your mission," he said as he handed him an empty letter and asked him to write his report.

When this was finished, the three silver-masked figures took the letter and went on their way.

"How are we supposed to get off this island?" exclaimed Godwin's companion as he saw them get into their own boat, which was hidden from view in the branches.

"That is for you to figure out. Try to use that boat," he said mockingly. "It seems you're a few men short, though. I knew this mission was more than a few turncoats could handle!"

"Don't mind those bastards; they'll get what's coming to them," said Godwin, trying to subside his companion's anger. "Let’s get out of this godforsaken place and go back to the division encampment."

From his vantage point, climbed on top of a tree, Joshua started surveying the valley.

His field of view was heavily obstructed by the sheer number of hills that dotted the valley, but he was still able to find what he was looking for.

He had two pressing matters at hand. The first was getting proper treatment for Reynard, as the temporary measures they used to stop the bleeding wouldn’t last much longer.

The entire group kept marching through the night. They were on the verge of collapse due to exhaustion, and they had skipped one too many meals. He needed to find a safe place for them to rest and secure supplies. As the rivulet descended from the forest, it merged with several other streams as they converged into a medium-sized lake, on whose banks a small settlement was erected.

With time being of the essence, they realized that this was their best bet, and so they pressed forward...