Smoke began to rise from the city of Harran long after the battle had been won. "It appears they're looting. Do you intend to stop them?" Arthur asked Baron Iken as the two watched from within the Ollerinian forward camp.

"In due time, lord Arthur." Baron Iken smiled, looking satisfied. "It's good for morale if the men can have a little fun every now and then."

"I pray Piltash won't suffer the soldiers 'fun' once it falls." Arthur warned. "It'll be difficult enough to control the population with so few men. I don't intend to antagonize the residents further by forcing them to witness their properties stolen and loved ones molested."

"Fret not." Baron Iken dismissively waved his hand. "When the time comes, how Piltash falls will be entirely left to your judgment. Within reason, of course."

Arthur nodded, feeling pleased with his response. If he could help it, Piltash would fall with minimal damage and bloodshed since he'd be the one footing the bill for the repairs. "Speaking of judgments, when might I receive my portion of the Bernish war chest? Surely, you don't intend to claim it hasn't been calculated yet."

Baron Iken laughed and turned to face him. "Lord Arthur, you're as shrewd as your father. It has indeed been counted. Based on the metal value, your portion amounts to just over three hundred thousand Riis."

Arthur took offense to being compared to his father but let it slide. However, the amount Baron Iken claimed was lower than he expected and that he couldn't let be.

"That seems low," Arthur grumbled.

"I assure you it's fair. If the Kingdom of Bern remained after the war, you'd likely get forty thousand Riis more, but Bern will fall. Therefore, the only method of exchange is to calculate each coin's weight and test its metallic contents.

"It's no secret that Bern has debased its currency in recent years, so we had to be careful and divide up the newer coins amongst each portion. That's why it took so long. You're free to check for yourself if you please."

Bern debasing their currency was news to him. It meant the ninety thousand from Arianna's chest may be less than he initially imagined. Still, it was all somewhat ill-begotten gains, so he couldn't feel too upset over it. "When might I receive my share?"

"I can send it over once I return to the main camp." Barron Iken replied.

Arthur nodded and waved goodbye. "Please do. I'll take my leave."

Now that the battle had been won, there was little point in sticking around. Nor did Arthur have the opportunity to gain any more loot, considering the circumstances. The city would be far too dangerous to enter with the Ollerinian troops running wild, drunk off their victory.

Never mind the masses of disgruntled Bernish citizens or the possibility of hidden Bernish soldiers lying in wait. In that sort of chaos, any would-be assassins amongst the Ollerinian troops would find it the perfect opportunity to take their chances against him. It simply wasn't worth the risk, so Arthur let his greed go.

The past month had been quiet for the most part. Arthur only occasionally visited the forward camp to check on the progress while spending most of his days transcribing house Bennet's spells under Rennar's guidance.

The Bennets focused primarily on iron-based magic, and each spell within the series grew progressively more complex with each iteration. Even after a month, Arthur was only two-thirds of the way done transcribing the series' first spell.

It wasn't anything flashy, but the first spell's lethality certainly couldn't be questioned despite its mundane nature. The spell was so unimaginatively named iron ball. Yet it would be more apt to call it cannonball, as Arthur surmised that the damage it could inflict would likely be equivalent to that caused by a sixteenth-century cannon.

It worked in a similar vein as a fireball, first creating a floating ball of iron that grew to the size of a man's fist before being shot out at a high velocity, destroying anything that lay before it. It was simple yet effective and had the added benefit of penetrating through most any target, unlike the fireball, which exploded upon contact.

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As exciting as it was to learn new magic, transcribing the spells was mind-numbingly tedious, and Arthur was at his wit's end after only a month. If he returned to the camp now, he'd have no choice but to continue such work. So, with that in mind, Arthur decided to go exploring.

After climbing up Aithon's back, Arthur rode beside Foster and Jeren. "Is there time enough to visit Elrinth Forest today?"

"You want to visit Elrinth Forest, young master?" Foster asked with a hint of concern.

Arthur laughed. "I obviously don't intend to go in. I'm rather partial to this mortal plane, so you can rest easy. I just want to take a look for a bit."

He had been curious about the mystical forest since first learning of it. The only thing hindering his visit to the forest of the gods was the threat of a surprise attack from Harran or Bernish reinforcements showing up unannounced. But now that Harran had fallen, he had no more reasons to delay.

"It may not be far, but it would be safer to return to the main camp first and retrieve the rest of your guards, lord." Jeren announced.

"Very well. Let's go!" Arthur shouted excitedly.

It didn't take long for them to return to the main camp, and once Arthur's guards were ready, they headed south, passing by the smoky city of Harran.

"Do you know much about Elrinth Forest, lord?" Jeren suddenly asked after riding for a while.

Arthur shook his head and slowed Aithon to match Jeren's speed. "Only that it's the forest where the gods live, and nothing returns after entering it. The Revans aren't all that devout. I was only taught the most basic information an Ollerinian noble is expected to know about the gods."

"It is said that all the races living today descended from those who once lived alongside the gods inside. Even the lesser races like the dwarves and helrians aren't an exception." Jeren explained sincerely.

Arthur was intrigued. "Surely something must've gone wrong, else we'd all still live with the gods, no?"

He had heard plenty of myths on Earth about mankind angering the gods and being cast out of paradise. Atlantis was one such example, while the story of Adam and Eve was another. So Arthur assumed a similar account would soon follow.

"That's right. Though few still speak of it, Elrinth Forest was attacked thousands of years ago by fiends called skaen. The skaen are said to be many times more powerful than the mortal races. Even the gods, with their supreme magic, struggled against their physical prowess and unending numbers.

"Yet, worst of all was their ability to propagate. Skaen feed by ingesting the blood of their prey until even the victim's spirit is consumed. Once the last drop of blood has been taken, a new skaen is born, replacing the victim's spirit and taking control of their body to search for more prey.

"Even the gods weren't immune once bitten, and no matter how many skaen were killed, more would be born as long as the countless mortals lived within Elrinth Forest.

"Faced with no other choice, they ordered our ancestors to flee to the far corners of the continent. At that time, dozens of distinct mortal races lived in the forest, yet most were driven to extinction as the skaen chased them across Nithe.

"Those who survived did so by remaining hidden from the skaen until the fiends disappeared entirely after many generations. When some returned to Elrinth Forest and attempted to retake their place amongst the gods, they found that anyone who entered the forest remained there forever.

"In time, it became clear that mortals were no longer welcome within the forest, so the remaining mortals settled many lands and awaited the day the gods would reopen the forest to us."

Arthur's jaw went slack as he listened to Jeren explain what sounded like a vampiric apocalypse presented through the lens of someone unfamiliar with the concept.

"How come I've never heard such a story?" Foster asked disbelievingly.

"I've never heard of it either." Saria chimed in.

Jeren shrugged. "As I said, few still speak of it. Most people would rather not remember such a harrowing tale. My family just so happens to be one of the few bearing the responsibility of keeping our collective origin story alive."

Despite Jeren's lackluster attempt at convincing his doubters, Arthur grew ever more curious. He subtly glanced at Kyren and Rennar for confirmation, believing that one of the two mages would undoubtedly have the details of such a story given their combined age and rank.

"What house does that boy belong to?" Rennar suddenly asked while staring at Jeren. "Why is he serving as a guard?"

Kyren chuckled. "He can't respond to you, old man. There's people around."

"...This damned existence!" Rennar raged before subduing his emotions and explaining further. "It's a story passed down by the ancient houses of Aellyr.

"Like the Bennets, the Revans can trace their lineage all the way back to the first kingdom. So even if he disinherited you, your blood is undeniably Aellyrian, and your father should have passed our history onto you as is tradition.

"But forget about that for now. Whether the skaen are real or not doesn't matter. No more than a handful of families can claim Aellyrian lineage in Ollerin, and they're all prestigious houses that have no need for their sons to serve as a house guard. That boy is suspicious."