Corvus and his men should have already begun preparations for their return, but instead they were ordered to rest. This caught the attention of everyone in the camp. There was an uneasy silence among the warriors, no one daring to question Corvus' decisions. Many were relieved, because rest and time away from training sounded good. But this joy was overshadowed by the prohibition to leave the camp. While dozens of eyes wondered what lay beyond the gates, the inactivity inside the camp made them even more uneasy.
Tanar suspected there was something underlying this silence. During the night the bandit issue had been resolved, but Corvus did not seem to be retreating in any way. Corvus's movements began to unsettle the masked men around Tanar. They were growing impatient, putting pressure on Tanar and forcing him to act. He could not leave the situation in limbo any longer, so Tanar had to leave for the camp with a few of his men. He had to find out when Corvus would make his move.
At the camp, Tanar received a different welcome than on previous occasions. When they approached the entrance gate as usual, they thought they would be let in freely, but the soldiers at the gate stopped them. From now on, no one could enter the camp without Corvus' approval. Tanar's nerves were on edge. He glanced at his men, each of them watching carefully, the tension written all over their faces. After a few minutes, permission to enter was granted, but on one condition: They had to surrender their weapons.
This condition hit Tanar like a punch in the stomach. Being disarmed only deepened his distrust of Corvus. But turning back or protesting would have put him and his men in a more difficult position. Without hesitation, he surrendered his weapons and they went inside.
As they made their way towards Corvus' tent, the silence around them grew more intense. The calm of the camp was like the calm before a storm. When they reached Corvus' tent, a faint candlelight and whispers from inside greeted them. When Tanar stepped into the tent's entrance, he was greeted by Corvus' warm and friendly face, in contrast to the cold welcome he had expected.
Corvus greeted Tanar with a broad smile and held out his arm as if seeing an old friend. “Welcome, Tanar,” he said in a soft voice. But this friendly greeting did not match the atmosphere inside the tent. Tanar's eyes shifted to Kragan; unlike Corvus, Kragan stood cold and menacing. There was not the slightest trace of warmth on his face, and he did not even look at Tanar. The other soldiers inside the tent stood the same way, tension cutting through the air.
Tanar was aware that the smile on Corvus' face was fake. An invisible danger lurked inside the tent. Everyone was on high alert, as if something could break out at any moment. Tanar took a deep breath and tried to return Corvus's smile, but the dark suspicion was visible in his eyes. The tension in the room grew more intense with each passing second before the words came out.
Tanar spoke with a sycophantic smile, trying to hide the nervous tension on his face. “I wanted to see you one last time before you left, Corvus,” he said, his voice filled with false warmth. Corvus greeted these words with a smile, as if it was a lie he had been waiting for for a long time. There was a twinkle in his eyes, but it was far deeper than mere contentment.
“Tanar,” Corvus said, a soft but distinct tone of superiority in his voice. “First of all, I want to apologize to you. I was quite nervous when I first arrived and I was too hard on you.” Tanar waved his hands quickly in mock alarm at this unexpected apology, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Never, never!” he said hurriedly, his face a mask of false humility. "I cannot accept an apology from someone as great as you. A young leader sometimes does such things, but believe me, I am not offended, but thank you for your thoughts.” As he finished, Tanar leaned back in his chair as if he were not a Rhazgord warrior, but a merchant, sucking up to sell his wares. It was a reflection of the fear in his soul; he felt that the more respect he showed, the less trouble Corvus would cause.
As Corvus sat down opposite him with a slight bow, he ordered Tanar to bring something to eat. Tanar tried to say he was not hungry, but Corvus' insistence was as hard as iron. “Don't worry, Tanar,” Corvus said as he gestured to the food placed on the table. ”I'll be here until tomorrow and I'll have plenty of time to spend with you.”
The fake smile on Tanar's face froze for a moment. The news sent him into a deep uneasiness. He had expected Corvus to leave tonight at the latest, but when Corvus said tomorrow, Tanar's uneasiness began to flare. “Oh, what a nice surprise,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. But his voice was weak and hoarse. He cleared his throat and put that fake smile back on his face before continuing. “But I thought you were going to take out the other bandit groups. Won't you be wasting time?”
Corvus's hand went to the back of his neck, as if he felt a great weight on his back. The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a troubled expression. For a brief moment his eyes were fixed on a point in the emptiness of the room, as if he was trying to slow down time to answer Tanar's question. The momentary silence stretched the tension inside the tent like a tightrope. Tanar felt his breathing quicken; he felt uneasy, as if at any moment Corvus's mask might slip and reveal the true face lurking beneath.
Corvus continued, his voice calm but mocking. “Unfortunately we have a few wounded and I don't want to leave until they are healed,” he said, fixing his gaze on Tanar. “And I haven't had a chance to have a proper conversation with you either!” he said with a slight smile, his eyes fixed on Tanar's face. But then his voice suddenly changed and he asked with cold seriousness: “What, do you want me to leave or are you hiding something from me?”
The question cut the air in the room like a knife. A cold shiver ran down Tanar's spine. Corvus' voice was so menacing that for a moment Tanar's world stopped. His breath caught, his thoughts scrambled. The words were about to come out of his mouth, but his mind was completely frozen. Just as he was about to drown in the silence, Corvus' laughter filled the room, like thunder after a heavy storm.
“I'm joking! Joking!” Corvus said, shaking with laughter. Tanar's heart relaxed for a moment, but the laughter did little to ease his uneasiness. Something inside him told him that everything was wrong, that something had gone terribly wrong. Still, he forced a smile to suppress his nervousness, parted his lips in a trembling sound, and joined Corvus' laughter. Glancing down at the food on the table in front of him, he began to think of ways to finish it quickly and get out of here. As he tried to formulate an escape plan in his mind, the sound of horses echoed outside. Tanar's heart sped up for a moment, and his thoughts, filled with fear, became even more complicated, as if to betray him.
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Before he knew what was happening, a soldier entered, his face full of alarm, and approached Corvus, whispering in his ear. Corvus nodded and stood up quickly to leave. Tanar fidgeted in his seat, unable to resist the wave of anxiety that washed over him. His eyes filled with a flickering unease as Corvus stepped out. There was silence outside the tent for a few seconds, then suddenly there was a loud crash. A small but unsettling echo, as if something was being torn apart by thunder.
Tanar wanted to get up, but at that moment Kragan's huge hand landed on his shoulder like an iron vice. “Eat your food!” Kragan growled, his voice ice cold. Tanar was crushed under Kragan's strong grip, his body petrified for a moment. It was as if even the blood in his veins could find no escape from the pressure. Kragan's shadow loomed over Tanar like a giant fear, a threat that could prevent him from making even the slightest movement. As Tanar looked around, his eyes wide with confusion, the sounds from outside grew louder and louder. The uneasiness that had been gnawing at him grew deeper.
After a while Corvus came back inside with silent steps. At that moment, Tanar's whole body froze. Corvus' hands were covered in blood up to his fingertips. He still had the same cold smile on his face, but now his silhouette looked even more frightening because of the light coming from the entrance to the tent behind him. Corvus looked like a demon from hell as he stared into Tanar's eyes. At that moment, Tanar thought that the man before him might not be a human being but a demon. He gasped, his pupils dilated and his heart pounded in his ears.
As Corvus moved silently towards Tanar, Tanar tried to understand what had happened. But before he could open his mouth to say a word, Kragan's huge fist landed on his face. The blow came with lightning-like speed and threw Tanar out of the tent. The world stopped spinning for a moment and Tanar experienced the most painful moment of his life as he flew through the air. When he hit the ground, his body seemed to shatter. It was as if all his bones had broken one by one and half his body had been destroyed. As his face hit the ground, he sank into a deep darkness, only one thought echoed in his mind: Corvus was a monster and he had fallen into his hands.
When Tanar opened his eyes, he could not make sense of what he saw. He saw his men lying motionless on the ground in front of Corvus' tent. Their bloody bodies were shrouded in a horrifying silence. Beside them, leaning on their tired horses, were a few messengers. Tanar was in a fog; he could not comprehend what was happening. The world seemed to be spinning in slow motion, as if everything was a blurry nightmare. He tried to get up, but his body would not obey him. The pain had seeped into his bones. Catching his breath, he began to crawl, he could only crawl. He would have given anything to escape the camp, but his hopes were fading fast. He was already surrounded by soldiers; there was no way out.
When he heard Corvus' footsteps, an indescribable fear rose in him. Panic-stricken, he began to plead, the words pouring from his lips but ineffective. Sometimes he threatened the soldiers, sometimes he promised great rewards. Then, as if there was no other option, he shouted again and again that he was a Rhazgorian, that he was innocent. But every word hung in the air. The soldiers around him did not look at him or say a word, they all stood indifferent to him. Tanar's fear deepened in this silence.
The eyes of the soldiers seemed to be locked on a single point. Corvus was standing where they were looking, and the messenger was kneeling beside him, holding out a black cloth. This black cloth was a sacred flag. It was the legendary battle flag of the Rhazgord, un unfurled for years, a flag that many of the warriors would see for the first time in their lives. The flag was only unfurled in war. Corvus looked respectfully at the messenger and took the flag, then carefully tied it to the spear that had been brought. The flag was old and unassuming in appearance. It was embroidered only with a simple red triangle symbolizing Mount Rhaz. But this simplicity only emphasized the weight and might of the flag. This flag, the greatest symbol of the Rhazgord, proclaimed that war was inevitable.
Corvus filled his chest with a deep breath and raised his voice as if he commanded the entire universe: “We have learned that enemy forces have infiltrated the city of Bahoz!” As his voice echoed through the camp, all the warriors paid attention. “The enemy is secretly piling logistics into Bahoz! Enemies are in the city even now!”
The warriors' eyes widened, their brows furrowed, but none of them moved. The flag in Corvus' hand did not yet allow them to move. Under the weight of the flag, time seemed to freeze. Corvus stood tall, making the silent call of battle. There was a glint of death and victory in his eyes, a silent but mighty aura emanating from his every breath, as if swearing to fight.
Meanwhile, Tanar was desperately trying to escape, hoping to save his life. But the soldiers were like a wall of flesh. It was impossible to break through their disciplined ranks. Crawling in sweat, he grew more desperate with every step. The world around him was closing in on him like a closing circle.
Corvus shouted a final order, raising the flag even higher: “Be here in five minutes with your gear on!”
His words, like an arrow shot into the sky, went straight into the hearts of the warriors. The spirit of Rhazgord was awakened by this command. At that moment the whole camp was set in motion, like a gigantic machine that would be driven into battle. Tanar straightened up and tried to run away, but he felt a huge hand on the back of his neck. The owner of the hand was Kragan.
“You haven't even finished your meal! Where are you going, Tanar!”