As the army marched through Verdania territory, the landscape was dominated by rolling hills and dense forests that stretched as far as the eye could see. The road they followed, rugged and uneven, bore the scars of countless boots that had trodden upon it over the centuries.

Amidst this rustic setting, they encountered patrolling units of the occupying royal army. These soldiers, dressed in their unmistakable red uniforms, stood out in sharp contrast to Ameth's forces. Initially, the patrolling soldiers chatted amongst themselves, their voices carrying through the air. However, as Ameth's army drew nearer, some of them fell silent, their attention captured by the unusual procession that approached.

Ameth's armor, a stunning shade of vivid purple, gleamed like a rare jewel amid the sea of red banners that fluttered in the wind. His company comprised men from diverse regions and backgrounds, each bearing banners that reflected this diversity with various shades of red.

In the land of roses, where lavender dared not bloom and eggplants refused to take root, the sight of Ameth's purple attire was often nothing short of a revelation for the common soldiery. These warriors, who had spent their entire lives amidst the muted tones of the forest and earthy greens of their fields, gazed upon this new and unprecedented hue with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"What in the name of the gods is this?" one soldier muttered to another, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Have you ever seen armor so vibrant? It's like the hue of a rare sunset."

His comrade, equally intrigued, shook his head. "I've traveled these roads all my life, and I've never seen such a color. It's as if the gods themselves dipped his armor in the blood of a dragon."

Beyond the road, in the fields, peasants dressed in simple green attire toiled under the scorching sun. Their villages, set against the backdrop of the verdant countryside, seemed to exude a gloomy atmosphere. Ameth couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for these hardworking souls. He knew that the path to victory would be fraught with challenges, but he remained resolute in his mission to bring peace to this war-torn land.

As the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue across the landscape, Auburn found himself riding with the esteemed Lord Rufous and his loyal squire, Sir Russet. These three seasoned veterans had seen the passing of many years and countless battles, their faces etched with the wisdom that comes from a lifetime of experience.

Lord Garnet, a nobleman known for his shrewd insights, rode alongside them at close range, his keen ears catching snippets of their conversation. From time to time, he would interject with knowing remarks, his comments adding depth and nuance to the ongoing discussion.

Rose and his companions rode together, their horses moved in unison, creating a harmonious rhythm that seemed to echo the bonds of their friendship. The squire and minstrel, ever eager to entertain their leader, regaled him with tales of enchanting songs and mysterious fairytales that had drifted to these lands from faraway places. Their voices wove a tapestry of whimsical stories, each more captivating than the last, in an effort to keep Rose's spirits high.

Under the open sky, with the golden sunlight dappling the landscape, Rose's fine mood and the atmosphere surrounding him took on an almost ethereal quality. He reveled in the enchanting tales, feeling a sense of wonder and escapism as he listened to the minstrel's melodies and the squire's vivid storytelling.

However, this idyllic ambiance was abruptly shattered by the sharp, swift galloping of hooves and the trail of dust kicked up by Madder's horse. The mighty steed surged ahead, crossing Rose's path with an undeniable urgency as it made its way toward the front of the column.

Madder slowed his pace as he approached Ameth and Carmine at the head of the group. With a playful glint in his eye, he addressed Ameth, "Well, well, noble Captain. Have we lost our way amidst this endless march?"

Ameth turned to Madder, his expression a mix of amusement and patience. "Not at all," he replied, matching Madder's playful tone. "We know our path well. We've just lost track of time."

Madder chuckled and got to the point. "Any estimation for our arrival, Captain? I'm in dire need of a moment's respite."

Carmine, always the pragmatic one, chimed in, "Madder, you may take a brief pause and rejoin the company afterwards. Others have done so."

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Madder, however, seemed less convinced by the suggestion, his expression growing more serious. "Nay, dear Carmine," he replied, his voice tinged with concern. "I require a rest of the long kind. I feel uneasy about stopping alone in these lands. There have been troubling rumors regarding the local population and their treatment of solitary travelers who happen upon their domain, particularly those who show disrespect for their land and soil."

He leaned closer to Carmine and lowered his voice, sharing the most ominous rumor he had heard, "Whispers abound that the green folk are known to conduct rituals to their gods, and in these rituals, they have been said to sacrifice... well, parts that no man should part with willingly."

Ameth, growing impatient with the discussion, looked ahead. "According to the last scout report, Molybloom should be just beyond that hill we're approaching. Madder, I suggest you rejoin the rest of the lords as we agreed upon. We need to maintain order."

Madder, of course, couldn't resist himself and voiced his doubts, "I have little trust in the scouts of the royal army," he grumbled, his brow furrowing. "Very well then. I shall ascertain matters myself." With that, he began signaling his horse with the reins, urging the steed to gallop forward toward the crest of the hill, determined to get a firsthand view of what lay beyond.

Amidst the lords' convoy, Rhodon rode in solitude, finding solace in a bottle of fine red wine. With one hand, he held the reins of his horse, guiding it along the rugged path, and with the other, he clutched the bottle from which he occasionally took measured sips.

Emerging from behind, a rider approached with quickening strides, narrowing the distance between them. This newcomer was none other than Lord Scarlet, a mischievous grin crept across his face, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. His diminutive squire, hustling to match his lord's urgency, struggled to keep pace. With a playful tone, Lord Scarlet hailed Rhodon.

"Well met, Rhodonite, riding alone, I see?"

Rhodon turned his gaze toward Lord Scarlet, his expression one of casual indifference. He raised the bottle to his lips for another sip, the wine's aroma wafting through the air.

"Aye, Lord Scarlet. I prefer solitude on my rides. Unlike some, I've no wish to force company upon another."

Rhodon's tone was measured, his voice carrying the weight of experience. He drank again from the bottle, as if the conversation held little interest for him.

Lord Scarlet, with his deep and resonant voice that seemed to echo from the very depths of his chest, leaned in closer, his presence intimidating. His mighty warhorse grunted beneath him, clearly feeling the burden.

"Do you truly believe I compel my squire to accompany me, Rhodon?"

He challenged Rhodon with a raised brow, his tone carrying a note of conviction.

"Nay, it is an honor for him to serve beneath the banner of House Scarlet, as do all the fortunate subjects of my land," Lord Scarlet proclaimed with a hint of pride swelling in his voice. He continued, "Why, even the Red Princess herself bears our house's name, a testament to our valor and strength, proven when we emerged victorious in the competition among all houses."

Rhodon's gaze turned slightly colder as he contemplated the implications of Lord Scarlet's words, his response carrying a touch of reproach.

"Perhaps, Lord Scarlet, but I find it dishonorable to revel solely in the achievements of one's forebears."

"True enough, Rhodon," Lord Scarlet replied, his tone carrying a touch of humility. "Alas, the King's cousin has but two daughters, and I hope to prove my worth by my own merits one day. House Vermilion, too, once stood proud. Perhaps, in time, we shall both demonstrate our value and rise to the challenges that await us."

In the midst of their spirited exchange of taunts and mockery, the air was suddenly pierced by the fervent cries of Madder. He had reached the crest of the hill, arriving there ahead of Ameth and the others. With breathless urgency, he delivered his report.

"Captain Ameth!" he called, his voice carrying both respect and a touch of mischievous tease, "Would you believe it, Captain? Those lads got something right for once! Yonder lies Molybloom!"

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As the expedition finally reached its designated intermediate stop, the company arrived at the village of Molybloom. The small garrison stationed there, serving as the occupying force, seemed to have offered no resistance, allowing the army to advance unchallenged.

First to enter were the vanguard troops, a group of hardened soldiers with eyes sharp as hawks. Their mission was to secure the entire area, ensuring it was safe for the rest of the army. Outside the village, the cavalry formed a protective ring, encircling it and standing vigilant.

With the village taken and confirmed secure, Ameth and the lords followed suit, their horses moving at a slow and measured pace through the narrow alleys and between the tightly packed houses. The once-thriving settlement appeared strangely empty of inhabitants, as if its heart had been drained of life.

As they reached the town's center, Ameth's keen eyes caught sight of two familiar horsemen patiently waiting for their expected arrival. The scene unfolded with an air of quiet anticipation, the horses standing perfectly still as if frozen in time, their tails swaying gently in the breeze. The silence hung heavy, broken only by the soft shuffle of hooves against the cobblestone streets and the faint whisper of the wind rustling through the empty market stalls.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, and Ameth couldn't help but voice his concern, his words carrying the weight of uncertainty.

"Out of three, only two have returned..."