To say that Amelia hadn’t been amused when he told her he would be leaving for a few days would be an understatement. His friend had tried to reason with him, explaining calmly that he had responsibilities now, and once it became clear he wouldn’t be swayed, not so calmly that if the enemy pulled their heads out of their asses for a moment and realized their only chance of squashing the revolution was now that they had yet to get going, they’d gather as many forces as they could for a decisive strike.
Leonard had replied that since he intended to go north, he’d be the first to know if Count Pollus started moving, which Amelia had shot down by saying her biggest worry was what Garva, the western province and a military stronghold, would do.
He had conceded that a naval strike force from Garva could obliterate the nascent revolutionary army before it could truly come into its own. But then he also reminded her that while he’d be gone for a few days, she would stay and that he trusted her to hold off any attack long enough for him to return.
That, and the firmness with which he said it, had been enough to halt her protests. Amelia had insisted he take a [Nightstalker] in his shadow along so that they could keep in contact no matter the distance, and he had acquiesced, knowing when to concede.
Thus, Leonard escaped Thelma in the middle of the night, having only alerted Oliver and Gerard at the last second before making off into the Darkwood.
Just at the edge of the forest, where the army had made camp before the assault on Thelma, Leonard shed his armor and the trappings of leadership. He took out a shoddy leather armor from his travel pack that wouldn’t be out of place on an adventurer down on his luck. Some dirt on his face and through his hair lessened the impact of his features, making him look more forgettable. Or as forgettable as a six-foot-five mountain of muscle could look.
He didn’t intend to stay anywhere for long, it was just a way to prevent fellow travelers from identifying him as the Hero too quickly.
The air was cool and thick with the scent of resin and damp earth as Leonard sprinted through the forest, his steps swift and silent. The Darkwood was a place of deep shadows and tangled underbrush, but he moved through it with the ease of someone intimately familiar with its secrets.
He had spent years fighting here, regaining at times miles and at times feet of territory from every clash with the Void. He had been more naive then, content with his task and ready to sacrifice himself if needed. He had allowed the glory of being a Hero and his surprising talent for Holy Magic to blind him.
The forest had changed in the months since then. The marks of devastation left by the Void's presence were slowly fading as nature reclaimed its domain. The undergrowth was lush and vibrant, dotted with delicate ferns and vibrant mosses that thrived in the dim light filtering through the dense canopy overhead.
The fauna, too, was returning. Leonard spotted a family of Owlbears lumbering through the trees, the massive creatures seemingly at peace. Yet, as soon as they sensed his presence, they froze, their instincts warning them of immense danger, before retreating into the shadows, leaving him to pass unchallenged.
Further along, a pack of Shadow Wolves, their dark fur blending seamlessly into the twilight gloom of the forest, watched him with wary eyes. Leonard noticed how they instinctively avoided his path, a primal fear overriding any thought of attack.
As he ran, the atmosphere of the Darkwood seemed to shift around him, the dense forest alive with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds and animals.
I missed this. Not that what I’m doing now is unimportant, but things were easier then. Or at least they looked easier. I just didn’t know the truth. But ignorance can be a shield. For a while, at least.
He moved swiftly, maintaining his pace effortlessly as he covered mile after mile. The terrain shifted beneath him, from dense thickets to clearings bathed in dappled sunlight, where deep craters that had once seen battles were reclaimed by vibrant grass. Leonard navigated it all with the agility and grace of someone deeply connected to the natural world. He marveled at how the forest was healing, the scars of battle slowly fading as life returned in abundance.
The deeper he went, the denser the forest became. The light that filtered through the thick canopy overhead was sparse, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. The ancient trees, towering and intertwined, created a labyrinth of shadows and hidden paths, but Leonard moved with ease, guided by an almost preternatural sixth sense. He could feel his quarry in the distance.
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He slowed his pace, his steps becoming more deliberate as he entered a part of the forest where the air felt heavier, charged with a mystical energy that tingled against his skin. This part of the Darkwood was older, and Leonard’s heightened senses picked up on the subtle signs of powerful magic at play.
He eventually emerged into a vast clearing where a single ebony-black tree stood. It was massive, with gnarled leafy branches reaching out like twisted arms toward the sky. The ground around it was covered in red moss, and the air was thick with the hum of mana currents swirling around and below the tree. It was a place of ancient power, and Leonard felt a familiar comfort in its presence.
He had taken shelter here after his squad had been ambushed and was protected while he recovered. He has been in debt ever since and came expressly to repay a fraction of that debt.
Stepping forward, he announced his presence with a clear, resonant voice. "Guardian of the Darkwood, I, Leonard Weiss, come to seek an audience.”
image [https://i.postimg.cc/Y0F9XpTW/persimmon0-female-dryad-with-black-skin-and-emerald-eyes-beauti-a6ce5d01-85cb-47b1-945b-7a2c4fb4d237.png]
There was a moment of absolute silence, and then, from the tree trunk, a figure emerged. The dryad was stunning, her dark skin gleaming with a hint of green, her eyes like startling emeralds that seemed to glow with inner light. Twin branched horns sprouted from her head. She moved with ethereal grace, her form shifting slightly as if she were part of the tree itself, her hair flowing like a cascade of leaves. She was beautiful in the inhuman way all fey were. Just alien enough to prod at a forgotten instinct in the back of the mind that screamed something wasn’t right.
"Leonard," she greeted warmly, her voice like a soft melody in the quiet clearing. "Have you come to take your place with me at last?" She smiled teasingly, a playful light in her eyes.
Leonard chuckled, shaking his head. "I fear my duties still keep me from accepting your generous offer, dear Nemas.”
The dryad pouted, a touch of mischief in her expression. "You always have an excuse, Leonard. But I suppose I must wait yet again. Soon enough, you’ll tire of the mortals.”
He smiled apologetically before his expression grew serious. "I've come to inform you, and through you, the residents of the Darkwood, that a war has broken out in Hetnia. The nobles have overstepped, and this time, it was too far. We might see fighting in the forest.” He didn’t add anything about Belinda. However much his heart still ached for her, he knew Nemas well enough to understand the dryad wouldn’t care about her death. She operated on a different wavelength.
The dryad's playful demeanor faded as she listened, her eyes narrowing with concern. "You always bring trouble with you, dear Leonard.”
As always, Nemas emphasized his name, which he had foolishly given to her after being saved. They had both been surprised to learn that whatever fey magic managed to bind mortals to her will when they freely gave her their name didn’t work on him. Leonard suspected that the nature of his first class - Hero of the Light - didn’t allow such weakness. From then on, the dryad had treated him as an equal, much to the surprise of his men. She had even avoided stealing their names as a sign of respect, which was unheard of.
"I know," Leonard replied softly. "But it is important that you're aware. I will try to keep the fighting away from the woods, but some spillover is inevitable. I don’t intend to stop until everyone guilty is out of power, and they won’t go quietly.”
Nemas hummed, leaves shifting with the musical sound, “Very well, I appreciate the warning, unneeded though it might be. The Darkwood has stood here for thousands of years and has survived demonic breaches, Void Incursions, and more mortal wars than can be counted. This won’t be the last.”
Leonard nodded, knowing she spoke the truth. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could bring eternal peace to Haylich, but he’d do his best to make it last as long as possible.
Without saying goodbye, as was her custom, the dryad slipped back into the tree, her form merging seamlessly with the ebony bark. The clearing seemed to shimmer momentarily as if the air was responding to her departure, and then the forest was silent once more.
Leonard took a deep breath, savoring the ancient magic of the place, before turning and continuing on his journey. The forest seemed to part before him, guiding him with an unseen hand as he ran through the Darkwood. He had one last stop before he could leave the forest.
The miles passed swiftly under his feet, the familiar terrain of the Darkwood blurring as he moved with the agility and speed of a Master ranger. The forest was dense, the light barely penetrating the thick canopy above, casting a shadowy gloom over everything.
Still, Leonard was attuned to the rhythms of the forest, noticing how the birds quieted as he passed. The only sounds were the whispers of the leaves and the occasional distant howl of a wolf.
Eventually, Leonard slowed as he sensed a nearby presence, a familiar one. He focused on it, following a creek upstream until he reached a small lake. There, a group of orcs rested after a successful hunt, busily cleaning the carcass of a massive owlbear.
The green-skinned warriors skillfully prepared the animal, dressing the carcass in less than five minutes. Leonard observed from a distance, not wanting to startle them. He recognized the eldest among them, an orc chieftain named Grakkor, whom he had fought alongside during the Void Incursion. He was taller than the others by a half foot, and his enchanted leather armor barely contained his bulging muscles. Carved bones of various animals decorated his braided beard in the fashion of his people.
To announce his presence, Leonard pulsed the Light in an almost imperceptible pattern, known only to those who had served with him. Luckily, Grakkor seemed to notice. He paused, his brow furrowed as if trying to recall a distant memory. Then, recognition dawned on his face, and he murmured to the others that he needed to relieve himself.
Grakkor left the lake, walking towards Leonard, who erected a subtle barrier to contain their conversation as he came closer. Emerging from the forest, Leonard smiled broadly as the eight-foot-tall warrior approached.
“Leonard!” Grakkor boomed, his deep voice resonating with genuine delight. The two clasped forearms and smacked each other on the back with brotherly affection. The orc’s smile was wide, his tusks gleaming as he looked at his old comrade.
“Grakkor,” Leonard replied warmly, grinning at the imposing figure before him. “I see you’re still in fighting shape.”
The orc laughed, his voice a deep rumble that echoed against the barrier. “And you’re still wandering the woods like a lost puppy,” he teased. The two warriors exchanged another friendly smack on the shoulder before Leonard's expression grew more serious.
“Unfortunately, I’m here on business.” He said, and Grakkor’s expression furrowed.