“My friends, how are you all?” Count Daston asked, joining Hump’s party at the edge of the room.

A sense of dread came over Hump at what would inevitably follow, but he stood out of respect for the man, along with the rest of his party. Nisha seemed to notice his attitude, stirring awake from her nap to glare at the count. If the man noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Very well, sir. Thank you,” Bud said. “A little tired I’ll admit, but I’m sure that goes for everyone here.”

Count Daston chuckled. “It has been so very many years since I have pushed myself to such extremes. In a way, it’s almost nostalgic. Reminds me of my days adventuring. In fact, I do believe I met your mother during those times.”

Bud grinned. “It’s quite possible. She often spoke of her time with the countess.”

“Indeed. Once the battle is done and we’re well rested, I would thoroughly enjoy a chat with you, my boy,” the count said. “Elenvine is home to some of the finest wineries in all the world, you must all come. It shall be my treat.”

“I would love that!” Emilia said with more enthusiasm than Hump had expected.

“Then I shall ensure it is done. But until then, I have a request.”

Hump internally sighed but kept his face stoic.

“Your skill and reputation outshines even many of our twenty-year veterans, and I would ask that you join my assault squad for the coming battle. Anara, Owen, Marcela, and their parties are already lined up, and you already know how to work well together so this would be an excellent fit.”

“It would be an honour,” Hump said, though inside, his stomach twisted. This would not be pleasant, he thought grimly, already envisioning the onslaught that awaited them. “One thing, though. Is there someone you trust that I could leave Nisha with? She is too vulnerable to be part of the initial assault.”

“Of course. I’ll arrange a solution.”

Hump and his party were invited over to where the other members of the assault squad were gathered, Anara, Owen, and Marcela’s parties, of course, but also the members of General Korteg and Count Daston’s retinues.

“I didn’t know you were so into wine,” Celaine said quietly as they approached.

Emilia smiled. “I do like a good bottle, but this is an entirely different opportunity. The wine you have tried before is vastly different to the kind of treat Count Daston has in mind.”

“How different?” Hump asked.

Emilia thought for a moment. “What’s the most you’ve ever spent on a bottle of wine?”

“Bud tried to make me fork over four coppers for a glass once,” Hump said. “I was having none of it.”

“He even denied me cheese!” Bud said. “Stingiest wizard I’d ever met.”

“Says the brokest knight I’d ever met,” Hump snapped. “You didn’t have a copper to your name! You’re lucky I bought you dinner at all.”

“I did pay you back.”

“On my insistence!”

“Anyway,” Emilia said, interrupting their playful bickering and turning to Celaine. “The kind of wine Count Daston is speaking of is likely upward of fifty gold. Perhaps more.”

Hump and Celaine both looked at her with wide eyes.

“Does it have some special effect?” Celaine asked.

Emilia paused. “It tastes… fancy. And that is just the surface reward of being feted by a Count. Think of all the people we can meet!”

Celaine raised an eyebrow. “Fancy?”

Emilia nodded. “You’ll understand when you try it.” Emilia rubbed her hands together. “Now I really hope we live through this.”

“Me too, Emilia,” Hump said. “Me too.”

There was little complexity to General Korteg’s plan. They had one way in—the rift. No doubt warlocks would be on the other side, alert and aware of their approach, ready to counterattack. To ensure the least number of casualties, the most powerful members of their force would be the first to advance, securing the other side of the rift and providing space and safety for the rest of the force to follow. They would be the first to face whatever lay in wait—enemy forces entrenched, ready to defend their stronghold.

The worst part was that it was impossible to know what they would face. There could be hundreds of powerful warlocks on the other side for all they knew, or a similarly weak defence as the ones they had encountered so far in the Remnant Realm. They could be deep underground, underwater, or in a disguised building right in the middle of Elenvine. Anything was possible, and that made it the kind of job Hump hated.

The only silver lining was that Hump would be following behind a seventh circle Chosen of Avaroth, and one of the most skilled users of defensive blessings in all of Alveron. If there was anyone that could keep him and his party alive, it would be him. Not to mention General Korteg would be with them with his own party of powerful Chosen. Hump would really only be there to provide support.

Much to Nisha’s protests, she would remain behind until the second wave, watched over by a fourth circle Chosen that was one of Count Daston’s assistants. It was far from an ideal solution, but Hump would rather she temporarily remain in the Remnant Realm than follow them into what might very well be a trap.

As the final discussions were taking place, a new voice called out from nearby. “Count Daston, I would volunteer myself in service.”

All eyes turned to Randall Ferrand, who was on one knee, his expression firm with determination but eyes firmly lowed to the ground. With him, Madeleine and Skander knelt just behind him, that same resolve on their faces. Even Marcela looked stunned at his arrival. The count’s face, however, remained unreadable.

Randall took a breath. “Take me with you, my lord. I know it means little when compared to the failings of my father, but let me lend you my strength.”

Count Daston’s gaze hardened. He stepped forward and glared down at Randall. “And what place would the sone of a traitor have at my side? The only reason you fight in General Korteg’s army is because the sins of the father don’t condemn the son. I understand your desire for redemption, but I must have men I trust to face what we may find beyond the rift.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Randall’s eyes darkened. He shook his head. “The man who raised me is gone, my lord. A warlock wears his face now—walks in his skin.” His tone was marred with disgust. “If he is there, I am ready to cleanse the shame from my family. Allow me to fight at your side, for while I cannot undo the damage he has done, I will do all I can to make amends.”

The count gave a nod, helping Randall to his feet. “I would be honoured to have you fight at my side, and your party’s skills will be well suited to the coming battle.”

Randall straightened his shoulders. “You’ll have us?”

There was a long, awkward silence Count Daston contemplated Randall’s words, before finally, he nodded. “If an honourable fight is what you seek, follow me now. We shall see if there is yet worth to the Ferrand name.”

“Thank you, Count. You will not regret it, upon my life, my honour, and my faith, I swear it.”

As Randall followed the count back to the squad, Hump gave him a smile, while Bud approached and clasped Randall’s arm.

“That was a bold and honourable choice,” Bud said. “We brothers under Kelisia shall fight at each other’s side once more and purge our kingdom of these warlocks.”

Randall drew in a deep, shaky breath, a smile pushing back the tension on his face. “We shall indeed. Live or die, I know this is the path I was meant for.”

It was time. The rift artifact and control of the array were handed over to a Chosen of Loften, who began to shape the enchantment that would carve their way back to Elenvine. The mechanism was surprisingly simple, so long as one possessed the correct artifact. Soon, the array’s carvings shone with gathered essence, humming with power.

“On your command, general,” the Chosen said.

General Korteg took up his position just in front of where the rift would open, alongside the assault squad’s sturdiest fighters. He stood tall, greatsword hefted onto his shoulder, a red aura rising from him. He was flanked by many Hump recognised: Theron, the blood Sorcerer from Anara’s party stood out in his crimson, lavish robes against the armoured warriors around him; Owen, a towering figure with his massive hammer ready; Bud, encased in glistening ice from Kelisia’s blessings; and Madeleine, the shield maiden of Byzantius. There were others in the line too, taken from squads Hump was less familiar with. Last was Count Daston, bare-chested, his physique and blessings were his armour. He exuded a silver aura.

Behind him, more warriors took position—Marcela stood with her party members, Kendric and the berserker, Tamsin, who hefted her twin-axes. Dylan was positioned there, along with other melee fighters that took on more of a support role.

At the centre of the force, Hump gathered with fellow wizards, Sorcerers, and healers, each prepared to manage defensive barriers and offensive support. Hump’s role was to work with Len to support Count Daston’s defences and protect their rear and flanks, blocking off pathways with Stone Wall and utilising barrier blessings. Archers and ranged fighters stood behind them, tasked with neutralising any threats that threatened Count Daston’s protections. And then Emilia and Skander stood with the rogues, ready to react to more immediate foes that required a firmer hand.

Everyone knew their role, and their goal was clear: make a path, establish a foothold, and hold the entry long enough for the rest of their force to follow.

“Open the rift,” General Korteg commanded.

Essence surged in the room, filling the air until Hump felt a tingle on his skin. To his Spirit Sight, the world was awash with colour, a mist of essence spreading across his vision. Reality split before them—a dark rift like a wound, essence flickering at its edges like flame. The portal expanded, revealing vague dark shapes beyond.

Blessings erupted from Chosen all around Hump, forming a cloud of supportive blessings over the group. He felt strong, awake, and ready for battle. All fear and doubt left him.

“For Elenvine!” General Korteg roared. “For the gods!”

“For the gods!” echoed the Chosen.

No hesitation. No delay. Every second now was just another moment for the warlocks to react. The rift was a two-way portal, to fail was to leave their force vulnerable. To wait was to give the warlocks a chance to gather their forces and prepare a counterattack. Hump’s heart raced as he approached the rift, gripping his staff tightly as essence boiled in its focus, ready to be unleashed. The frontline disappeared beyond the portal. His pulse thundered in his ears as he drew nearer. His mind went to the River and Waves, and intense focus overcame him. More of the squad stepped through, dark shapes on the other side that vanished almost immediately. Hump kept walking, and then it was his turn.

Nisha’s focus was on him. He sensed it through his soul. Emotions came to him, and then a clear thought. Good hunting.

Hump stepped through the portal, feeling the chill of foreign essence wash over him like cool water. There was a moment of darkness, and then blinding chaos. Essence lit up the world beyond, magic flaring all around him in an eruption of colour and sound, so loud and bright it was like a storm contained within a room. Vibrant spells arched through the air, explosions cracked like thunder, and piercing light and clouds of dust obscured his vision. Instinctively, Hump raised an arm, but Count Daston’s protective blessings rippled around the squad, absorbing the assault.

Through the chaotic veil of essence and light, Hump caught glimpses of their surroundings. The chamber was enormous, its walls carved out with magic. Tall, utilitarian pillars lined the hall, providing support to the ceiling. Tunnels branched off the main room, and warlock reinforcements were flooding in from them, ducking behind the pillars and using them as cover. Looking over his shoulder, Hump was pleased to find that their rear was protected by a solid wall. He recognised familiar carvings of an array similar to their entry point upon it—so they were in another temple of the Three Eyes, or at least, what was left of one. It seemed the warlocks had dug it out to turn it into a stronghold.

“Take down the wizard on the left, archers!” General Korteg roared.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hump saw Celaine focusing her attention there.

Hump levelled his staff, but his attention was on the tunnel beside them. Warlocks were approached from it, and Hump wanted to block them off.

“Stone Wall,” he commanded. Bronze essence surged through the earth, erupting to form a sturdy wall that blocked the pathway. It wouldn’t hold forever but it didn’t need to.

“They’re holding back,” Count Daston said over the din of battle. “They must fear damaging the array. It is to our advantage.”

“Then let’s make the most of it,” General Korteg replied. “Advance five paces. Hold the ground there and lock down the field. Marian!” he called, turning to the small woman in Owen’s party. “Try to locate where we are and call for reinforcements. If this is Elenvine, Chosen will be near!”

“Yes, sir,” Marian replied. A portal opened beneath her feet, and she hopped into it, disappearing out of sight.

As Hump advanced, he felt exposed. He knew he should be afraid, but he was so pumped up on blessings it was the last thing on his mind. He continued his line of Stone Walls, expanding the earth barriers to block of spaces between the pillars and concentrate the enemy into the centre of the chamber. Where they broke his wall, he launched the rubble into them with Rockshot. When he had a moment to breathe, he checked that Len was managing and then focused on a larger spell. Bronze light gathered before him, an obsidian spike forming within it.

“Titan’s Wrath,” he said. The air shuddered as the spike shot forward, piercing the ground ahead where a number of warlock wizards were gathered. Bronze pulses of essence radiated outward, filled with his disruptive intent, ruining their spells and spreading confusion amongst the warlocks. Already, bodies were building up, but there was no end to the warlocks in sight.

Their own reinforcements arrived through the rift, spreading out within Count Daston’s blessings.

“We won’t win if this turns into a battle of attrition,” Count Daston said. “These warlocks are strong.”

A portal shimmered into existence beside Hump and Marian reappeared. “General, we’re far beneath Elenvine, but we’re in the city. Reinforcements are on their way but they can’t reach us quickly.”

Hump glanced up at the ceiling. “Marian, how far down are we?”

“Hard to say,” she said. “Far.”

“Is there anything above us?”

She shrugged. “It’s a city. There are some buildings. Looked like they’d been damaged through—there’s been a battle above.”

“If you can clear the area, I might be able to give the army of Elenvine a way to reach us,” Hump said. He turned to General Korteg. “I think I can create a passage for them, or at the very least, show them where we are. I’ll need to reach a location away from our force, but I have a spell for the job.”

“How far?” the general asked.

Hump considered it. “Down one of these tunnels.”

The general nodded. “Take your party and go. Marian, get back on the surface and explain the plan, then make sure the area above us is clear of civilians.”

“Owen, go with him,” Count Daston said. “Support where you can. We will hold the warlocks here.”