Arlan stood on the crest of the hill overlooking the Gal-Auro Plains, a vast, rolling sea of tents, campfires, and banners stretching out under the darkening sky. The glow of firelight blanketed the plains below, each flame a testament to the countless soldiers and adventurers who had gathered here for one purpose.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the encampment, painting the scene in hues of violet and gold. His mind was sharp with anticipation; in two days, they would march toward the Iron Grotto—and toward the darkness awaiting within.

In his thoughts, Sophia’s voice stirred, calm and reverent. “Arlan, majority of the forces have been gathered,” she said, her tone filled with respect for the allies they’d managed to assemble. “The Royal Army that was summoned by Prime Minister Dink Rorschach, only half could be mustered at 50,000.”

Arlan’s gaze swept over the massive gathering below. “Then there’s Duke Lansley’s banner—15,000 strong. Men hardened by the War of the Great Houses.”

His pride swelled as his gaze followed Sophia’s through the ranks and columns set up with disciplined precision. He knew each soldier here was prepared to stand unyielding.

“Countess Katalina’s 1st Galdo Banner is here as well—12,000 from Galdo. Then there’s your Banner of the Claw, 3,000 soldiers,” she continued, her tone lifting with a note of reverence as she turned toward his Banner’s flag, billowing above the campfires.

Arlan’s expression softened at the sight of his own forces.

Sophia’s voice dropped, her reverence shifting to something weightier. “And from the Adventurer’s Guild, Yozac has gathered 1,500 adventurers—each one hardened in their own ways, unbound by Midland’s formalities.”

Even as he took it all in, Arlan felt the weight of the task ahead. “This is a lot less than I had hoped for,” he murmured under his breath.

“We have two days left, my liege. There isn’t enough time to muster anymore. When the rift collapses, every Dark Fiend within will flood out.”

The thought carried him, and he remained silent until Marie stepped beside him. She followed his gaze down over the encampment, her eyes a steady, sapphire blue in the fading light. “So…this is it,” she murmured, her voice calm but edged with tension. “Once that rift collapses, Soketh’s army will come through like a flood.”

Arlan nodded. “The Royal Army will have to be the main force, holding the valley that leads into the Iron Grotto. Everyone else will have to set up a cordon to support the Royal Army.”

Marie turned, searching his face. “And without you here initially… Many will die.”

“Yeah… I know.” He spoke with a hint of steel in his voice. “We’ll do our best to limit casualties but it's inevitable nonetheless.” His expression softened as he looked down at her, a flicker of warmth breaking through his intensity. “Marie, you’re the only other person whose essence and mana can rival that of mine. You have to help me beat Soketh as fast as we can.”

Her hand lingered against his arm, and something vulnerable flickered in her eyes. She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll burn anything that stands in your way… And… About what I told you before.”

Arlan absorbed her words, his gaze steady. “Marie?”

Their eyes met in the quiet, and he felt the pull of something deeper, something he hadn’t allowed himself to fully recognize until now. He saw the fierce loyalty in her, the strength that had carried her through battle after battle at his side, and realized how much her presence meant to him. There was more here than camaraderie, a bond that both of them felt but only Marie had acknowledged it.

Marie’s gaze held Arlan’s a moment longer. Then a boldness that surprised even the Embercaller, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. Arlan’s breath caught, and his heart pounded, but he didn’t pull away. His arms instinctively encircled her, holding her close.

They stood there in silence, finding strength in each other’s embrace, knowing the battle that lay ahead. A voice broke the quiet, and the pair drew apart quickly.

“Arlan,” JD called from behind. “The war council has been assembled. We’re just waiting for you.”

Arlan nodded, his eyes lingering on Marie’s for a final heartbeat before they descended the hill together. They didn’t need words.

Inside the command tent, a map of the Gal-Auro region sprawled across a central table. Prime Minister Dink Rorschach was already deep in discussion with Duke Lansley and Countess Katalina, discussing logistics. Yozac, the adventurers’ leader, watched in contemplative silence. There were also a few other leaders and subordinates from each banner.

Arlan took his place at the head of the table, Marie by his side, as the room fell silent. His voice was calm but charged with conviction as he addressed the gathered commanders. “We have two days to prepare for the inevitable collapse of the Iron Grotto’s rift. And when it does, we’ll be facing a hundred-thousand dark fiends. The plan is for the Royal Army, the Lansley Banners and the Reeve Banners to keep the enemy at bay with defensive tactics while I lead the Banner of the Claw to spearhead towards the Iron Grotto’s entrance-”

“-ARLAN, THAT’S SUICIDE!” protested Dink as he stood up angrily.

“I know.” acknowledged Arlan, “My men are the best ones for the job.”

“Arlan… Are you sure you don’t want the 1st Galdo Banners to assist you?” asked Katalina.

Arlan solemnly shook his head and answered, “We just don’t have enough soldiers to spare. I need you and your banner to assist the Royal Army. If the Royal Army collapses, we lose.”

Duke Lansley’s face remained tense as he studied Arlan. “So you’ll be leading the Banner of the Claw yourself, fighting through to the entrance of the Iron Grotto and holding there? Arlan, that’s going to be a death trap if you can’t finish off Soketh quickly.”

Arlan’s expression was resolute. “The Banner of the Claw will hold. I’ll lead them to the Grotto’s entrance with Erin, Edgar, and Dimitri, and we’ll dig in. Once the entrance is secured, I’ll move in with my strike team—JD, Chrysta, Frej, Yanie, Yuna, Nightingale, Akasha, Savage, Niren, Lucius, and Marie. Together, we’ll locate Soketh, kill him, and return to reinforce the Banner before it’s overrun.”

Prime Minister Dink Rorschach clenched his fists as he leaned over the table. “And while you’re inside, the Royal Army will face Soketh’s forces in the valley. With Katalina’s Galdo Banner, Lansley’s men, and the adventurers, we’ll make our stand, but the Banner of the Claw will be left exposed outside the Grotto, facing relentless waves until you return.”

Countess Katalina nodded, her voice resolute. “My Banner will dig in with everything we have to hold the valley. But… out there, no one can help you. Arlan, if anything goes wrong inside that Grotto…”

Arlan’s gaze swept across the gathered commanders. “If we don’t kill Soketh, this battle is lost before it begins. But the Banner of the Claw will hold. Erin, Edgar, and Dimitri know what’s at stake. They’ll keep the Grotto’s entrance secured until we return, no matter the cost.”

JD, standing beside Arlan, broke in with quiet confidence. “We’ll find Soketh and eliminate him before he has a chance to react. The strike team is strong enough to handle anything Soketh throws at us.”

Arlan met his friend’s gaze, his voice full of resolve. “Then we move forward as planned. In two days, the Banner of the Claw will fight its way to the Iron Grotto and hold the line. And my strike team will make sure we strike down Soketh before the dark fiends overrun us.”

As the firelight cast a flickering glow across the faces around the command table, Arlan took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressed against him. Every detail had been meticulously considered, yet there was an edge of uncertainty—a silent acknowledgment of the stakes, of what victory would demand from each of them.

Duke Lansley, his grizzled face illuminated by a nearby torch, looked up. “We know your men are formidable, Arlan, but what of the strike team? Will you have enough strength within the Grotto to face Soketh? Even a single misstep could give Soketh time to overwhelm you.”

Arlan nodded, his face hardened with resolve. “Duke Lansley, our strike team is our strongest force. Each member—JD, Chrysta, Marie, Niren, Lucius, Yanie, and the rest—is prepared to follow through no matter what Soketh throws at us. I don’t doubt Soketh’s strength, but I know we’ve been training for the last two weeks. I wouldn’t put us through something I know we can’t win.”

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Countess Katalina’s voice cut through the silence. “And the Banner of the Claw is all you’ll need outside?” She looked at him, brows knitted with concern. “If they lose ground at the entrance, even the strength of your strike team might not be enough to fight your way back.”

Arlan considered her words carefully. He understood the risk, the fine line between victory and overwhelming loss. “Erin, Edgar, and Dimitri are prepared to sacrifice everything to hold the line. The Banner of the Claw won’t fall.”

As if sensing the lingering doubt, Yozac leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “The Guild is ready to hit where it hurts, Arlan. We’re flexible, and my adventurers know how to work on the fly. We’ll keep those fiends’ attention on us, buying time for the main forces and keeping the flanks covered.”

Arlan met Yozac’s steady gaze and nodded. “Good. Stay mobile, keep harassing them. We don’t know what surprises Soketh will send our way, but the more of his forces you draw off, the better.”

In the pause that followed, Arlan felt the attention shift to him. His gaze swept over each face, catching the glint of loyalty and the mix of fear and determination. “Finally… Be prepared to face down a lesser Naraka Lord. We met with one in battle yesterday. They’re not to be taken lightly and can cause casualties, have your best fighters keep them at bay until we’re done.”

At this, the council fell silent, and Arlan let his voice soften as he addressed them one last time. “So… In two days, the Iron Grotto’s rift will collapse, and Soketh’s army will come pouring through. But we’ll be ready.”

Each commander and officer gave a solemn nod. Prime Minister Dink Rorschach’s gaze met Arlan’s with a fierceness that signaled both respect and belief. “For Midland.”

Arlan’s own voice echoed back with steely conviction. “For Midland.”

As night settled over the Gal-Auro Plains, Arlan took a final walk through the encampment, his eyes scanning the lines of soldiers, each one focused, preparing in quiet anticipation for the battle that would dawn with the sun. The flickering campfires cast long shadows, illuminating faces marked by scars and stories, both familiar and new.

The rustle of armor, the quiet murmurs, and the occasional clink of weapons created a harmony that was both calming and tense—a reminder of the unity that had grown within the Banner of the Claw.

As he moved between rows of tents, Arlan noticed JD and Chrysta standing close together, their heads bent in low conversation. The warmth between them was evident, a rare moment of intimacy amid the looming threat. They looked up as he approached, their expressions brightening momentarily.

JD straightened up and offered a reassuring nod. “Arlan, I’ve spoken with Erin; everyone’s prepared.”

Arlan chuckled softly, reaching out to clap JD on the shoulder. “I know I can count on you, JD.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Grand Marshal.” JD grinned.

Chrysta, her eyes bright with the firelight, stepped forward and placed a hand on Arlan’s arm. “We’re ready, Arlan,” she said, her voice steady with conviction. “We all know what this means. We’ll follow you, wherever this road takes us.”

“That’s all I could ever ask for.” Arlan lingered for a moment, feeling the weight of his gratitude before he nodded and moved on, leaving JD and Chrysta to their final preparations.

Further down the path, he spotted Marie standing beside the Banner of the Claw’s standard, her gaze focused on the embroidered edges of the flag she held. The torchlight caught the sapphire hue in her eyes as she looked up, her expression a mixture of determination and something softer, more vulnerable.

“Hey there,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arlan stopped beside her, his gaze meeting hers, sensing the weight of unspoken words in her eyes. In that brief, fragile moment, he could see the strength she carried but also the quiet vulnerability she seldom allowed others to see. “Hey,” he replied softly, his tone carrying an unspoken reassurance.

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, the barriers between them seemed to fall away. She hesitated, her hand brushing the edge of the banner. “Ar… About earlier…” Her voice was a mere whisper, but it held a thousand unspoken thoughts and feelings.

They stood in silence, each drawing strength from the other, bound by a connection forged in countless battles and quiet moments like these. The intimacy of the moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and they quickly pulled apart as Erin appeared, his face set in focused resolve.

“Grand Marshal,” Erin said, saluting. “The stone plates you requested have arrived. The mages are preparing them, and the first units are being outfitted.”

Arlan nodded, turning back to Marie. “We’ll speak of this after our battle with Soketh,” he promised, his voice filled with a quiet certainty.

She managed a slight smile, her gaze lingering on him. “I’ll hold you to that,” she replied, her tone both a challenge and a reassurance.

“By the way, I’ll need you to enchant those stone plates for tomorrow.” instructed Arlan as he handed Marie a scroll with instructions.

“Anything for you, Grand Marshal.”

As Arlan followed Erin, he glanced back, catching a final glimpse of Marie’s silhouette against the flickering torchlight, her figure framed by the standard she held proudly.

As the last flames of the evening fires faded to embers across the encampment, Arlan slipped away to the royal tent where he and Emmeline would share their final quiet hours before dawn’s inevitable call to battle.

Inside, a soft glow from the lanterns cast a warm radiance over the rich fabrics and sparse comforts that made up their temporary quarters. It was a reprieve from the harshness outside, a small sanctuary in a world overshadowed by war.

Emmeline sat near the center of the tent, wrapped in a robe of midnight blue that deepened the shadows of her auburn hair and softened the light in her eyes. Her gaze flickered up as he entered, filled with an understanding that transcended words. The subtle curve of her smile and the quiet strength in her gaze stirred something in him that he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying all day.

She rose, moving toward him with a grace that felt almost unhurried, as if savoring the weight of each step in this rare, private moment. “Arlan,” she murmured, her voice almost swallowed by the quiet, “all finished?”

He exhaled, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “Yes… the final preparations are made.”

Emmeline nodded, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his cheek, grounding him with her touch. “I know you’ve always carried so much on your shoulders, but remember—you’re not alone in this.” Her thumb brushed lightly against his skin, her voice filled with a tenderness that eased the tension woven deep within him. “Everyone here believes in you, and so do I.”

He closed his eyes, letting her words sink in like a balm against the armor of resolve he wore. “It’s strange,” he admitted softly, “how at times I feel so alone with my responsibilities. But then I remember… you’re here. You understand these burdens.”

They stood there, their shared silence filled with a quiet strength. Emmeline’s hand lingered on his cheek, and he found himself drawn into her gaze, her calm presence dissolving the weight of the day’s demands. She seemed to see past his titles, past the armor, to the man underneath.

“I know exactly how you feel, Arlan,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I only wish you could see yourself as everyone else does—not just as a leader, but as the future king they love.” Her words settled deeply in him, stirring a quiet ache he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

He reached up, his hand covering hers, his grip both firm and tender. “Emme, ever since you came into my life, you’ve been my strength. I’ve fought so many of these battles alone, but this time… this time, we’ll go through it together.”

A soft smile graced her lips, and her hand slipped from his cheek, drifting down to rest over his heart. “When it’s just us two like this… I see the real you. Beneath the armor, beneath the duties. I see your heart.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her words delicate yet powerful, reaching the core of him.

They held each other in silence, her hand warm against his chest as he pulled her close, his forehead resting gently against hers. The moment stretched, each of them drawing strength from the other, bound not only by loyalty but by something deeper, something undeniable.

After a long pause, she helped him remove his armor, piece by piece, her hands lingering on each part as if she were releasing him from his burdens one by one. When the final piece was set aside, they lay down together on the plush bedding within the large tent. Emmeline leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers entwined with his, and the quiet warmth of her presence began to ease the steady thrum of anticipation that filled his veins.

For a time, they lay in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the camp fading into the distance. Arlan felt his pulse begin to slow, his mind settling, finding a rare peace in the presence of the woman he loved. No words were needed; each of them understood the other’s fears, each of them shared the unspoken hope that somehow they would see another dawn together.

After a while, she shifted beside him, her gaze lifting to his. There was a quiet vulnerability in her eyes, an emotion rarely shown beyond their private moments. “I know you can do it,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “but… please, remember to come back to me.”

He tightened his hold on her hand, his expression fierce and resolute. “It will go as planned, Emme. I promise you that I’ll come back.” His voice was steady, each word carrying the weight of his resolve.

A small, tender smile softened her lips as she looked at him. “Then I’ll hold you to that promise.” Her fingers brushed gently over the space where the Aven’s essence had once burned within her, her own pulse thrumming with a strange, residual power she hadn’t fully come to terms with.

Though the Aven’s power had departed, Emmeline could still feel its faint presence—a lingering echo from the days when its strength had been hers. It wasn’t constant, but at times it surged unexpectedly within her, filling her with a strange blend of warmth and unease.

Arlan noticed her hand drifting absently to her heart, her fingers pressing lightly as if searching for something hidden there. Sensing the conflict in her gaze, he spoke softly, his voice filled with gentle concern. “Does the Aven’s power still linger, Emme?”

She hesitated, her eyes lowering as she nodded slowly. “It does… somehow. It’s strange. Even after all this time, it feels like there’s a part of it still here.” Her hand pressed a little more firmly to her chest, as though trying to grasp the ungraspable. “Sometimes it feels comforting, like a strength I can call on. But other times… it feels like something waiting, like there’s something more I’m meant to understand. I don’t know what it could mean.”

Arlan’s eyes softened with understanding, and he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch reassuring. “Strange… I wish there was more to the Avens power that we could learn.”

“Maybe we’ll find out soon enough,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

They remained close, his words lingering in her heart as the night deepened around them. The strange power within her pulsed faintly, as if responding to his presence, settling into something she could almost understand. And as they lay together, their breaths falling into a quiet rhythm, the weight of the world slipped away, leaving only the enduring bond between them—a love that transcended both their duties and doubts, grounding them in an unspoken promise and a shared hope for the dawn.