“Grayson, if you don’t get back to bed I’ll drag you there myself,” Vale said, holding Grayson’s wrist with an iron grip as he moved to the door of his room. Her efforts didn’t amount to much, but Grayson still stopped and sighed. “Vale, I’m better now. I don’t have time to rest, we need to plan,” he reasoned. Vale narrowed her gaze and stared him dead in the eyes.

“Fine. But if that thing shows even the slightest sign of acting up,” Vale said, pointing a finger at Grayson’s chest. “I know. I’m done,” he finished for her. Vale ran a hand through her hair, relenting with a nod. Grayson thanked her with a smile and pushed open the door of his room, walking out with Vale close behind. Huojin was leaning against the stone wall adjacent to the door and gave Grayson a nod before following him down the wide hall, turning left into a stairwell. Their footfalls echoed dully as they made it down the steps to the war room where Grayson had ordered his generals to gather.

“How do you think they’ll react?” Huojin asked, breaking the silence as they came to a stop in front of the stone double door leading into the room. Grayson sighed heavily as he placed his hands on the doors. There was a switch that would activate a mechanism in the walls to open the doors on their own, but Grayson had no idea where it was, and given he was strong enough to push it open on his own, he didn’t care to find it.

“We’ll see.” The doors groaned as they opened slowly, grinding against the stone floor and kicking up puffs of dust that had collected in the years he hadn’t used the room. He stumbled a bit as the doors opened fully, the effort making the wound on his chest pulse, but Vale ducked under his arm and helped him stabilize before he could fall. He looked down at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were filled with concern and annoyance, but she helped him to his end of the table without any protest. In total, there were six people gathered around the table. To Grayson’s left sat Ione and Roland, the two newest appointments to power in Storm’s End. They were skilled, but their lack of proper experience cut into what they could reliably do for Grayson.

To his right sat Davis and Kari, two generals who had been with him for more years than he cared to count. Davis used to be a part of Cinris’ band, so while he was newer to the position of general, he had mountains of experience under his belt; directly across from Grayson stood Vale, who looked exceptionally tired. On the round table in front of them lay a map of the country with stone figures that Grayson had sculpted scattered around it, all placed on locations Storm’s End had divisions or outposts.

“What’s this all about, Grayson? It’s been a long time since we’ve gathered like this,” Roland asked. His almost mirror polished full plate steel armor was inlaid with gold, and a red crest was painted on each shoulder. His short blonde hair was shaved at the sides and slicked back, and his well-trimmed handlebar mustache paired with a goatee only added to the arrogant air he gave off. “And who is this?” he added, pointing to Huojin.

“Maybe if you kept your mouth shut, he could get to why we’re here,” Vale snapped. Roland looked at her incredulously. They had never gotten along well, whether the main reason was because Roland had taken Cinris’ place after he died, or because he was generally overconfident with more bark than bite was up for debate. Nevertheless, Roland listened and closed his mouth, putting a stop to the questions that wanted to pour from his mouth. Albeit begrudgingly.

“We’re laying a siege. I brought you all here to give you the option to back out,” Grayson said, picking up the piece that sat atop the castle they were in now. It was the only one he hadn’t made himself. It had been made by his mother as a gift to his father long before he was born. It resembled a figure surrounded by lighting, their face shrouded by storm clouds. Years of weathering had made its features less distinct; a product of Grayson’s father always keeping it on his person after Grayson’s mother had died.

“Back out? Why would we back out? This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. A chance to really show off,” another general called out, causing a rolling mumble of agreement to pass over the table. This time it was Ione. She was the shortest in the room, standing a little over five-foot-three with messy, light brown hair that almost looked like a mane. She wore partially plated armor similar to Vale’s, the rest being leather. She was eager, and that was respectable, but it could also be dangerous. Especially with what Grayson was here to suggest.

The thud of stone on wood silenced the room as Grayson placed the piece on the city of Yenneth. “This is your last chance,” he said, pulling back and crossing his arms. Davis made eye contact with Grayson before turning away and scoffing, his expression heavy laden with an amused annoyance. His armor was almost the exact same as Ione’s with only a bit more plating, and he brushed his medium-length black hair out of his face as he stood.

“Great, good to know you’ve gone full crazy,” he said, his gruff voice adding to the dismissive tone of his words. “What the hell is even the point, eh? You contract some sort of incurable disease and wanna go out on a high note? Grief finally gotten the better of you? Or maybe you just want to know what the full might of the Royal Army is after your little misadventure in Ashbourn? Whatever it is, you can count me out,” he finished bitterly, walking to the wooden doors that sat opposite the stone one Grayson had pushed through.

“They have Cinris,” Vale said, Keeping her eyes locked onto the stone figure atop Yenneth. Davis stopped before he reached the door. He turned sharply on his heel, looking at Vale angrily. “The hell is that supposed to mean? They got his corpse or something?” Davis spat. He took a step back as Vale glared at him, her withering gaze dousing the fire building in Davis’ core.

“It means he’s alive. But it won’t stay that way for very long if we don’t do something,” She responded. Davis stood silently, stunned. His eyes locked with Grayson’s. Grayson nodded. Davis clicked his tongue, walking back to his seat and dropping into it. His leg bounced as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands.

“Grayson, this is more than likely a suicide mission, you know that right?” Kari spoke up, her low, smooth voice ringing with a combination of apprehension and intrigue. Her long, wavy black hair draped over her shoulders like a curtain or waterfall, and her light brown skin almost glowed in the low torchlight. Two pointed ears poked out from the sides of her long hair.

Kari was the only member of Storm’s End who had been around since Grayson’s father was in charge, although back then it went under a different name. After his disappearance, she and a few others stayed loyal to the group despite the lack of a leader, but their numbers dwindled as more and more time went past. By the time Grayson was old enough to lead, the group had crumbled, leaving only her. She was the only one still loyal to Graynor, and her being an elf, she was likely the only one still able to fight given her age.

Kari drummed her fingers on the table as she looked toward Grayson. “And even if we don’t all die in the siege, high treason isn’t something that gets dismissed after the fact. That’s a lifelong, possibly generation-spanning crime. This will be the end of us no matter how this siege plays out.” Kari leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“That’s why they won’t know it’s us,” Vale said matter-of-factly. Davis scoffed. “Right, because there’s oh-so-many seven-foot behemoths just walking around. Unless of course you count the Orcs, but I doubt Grayson would be willing to shift blame to them for this. They’ve got it bad enough as is. Doesn’t matter what kind of coverings we put on him, you’d be able to spot the commander a mile away,” he said, looking towards Grayson.

“I won’t be with you, at least not at first,” Grayson said. Davis raised a brow, but didn’t speak. “Right here,” Grayson pointed at a small lake near Yenneth, “Is where I’ll be. I’m going to work on evaporating as much water from this lake as I can and settling it over the city. Fog that thick should keep us more or less only visible by our silhouettes for the duration of the siege. And that's if we get close enough to anyone for them to see us; In case that isn’t enough, however, I’ve had cloaks and masks made for us.”

“For the soldiers as well?” Roland asked. Grayson nodded in confirmation. Roland leaned back in his chair and stroked his goatee, nodding in contemplation. “The plan sounds great and all, but how will we be able to see?” Ione chimed. Kari nodded in concurrence.

“No plan is perfect, and this one has a pretty major flaw,” Vale conceded. “Visibility will be slim to none for a large part of the attack. I’ve had scouts sent to Yenneth to figure out the patrol the guards operate on. We’ve commissioned a mage to enchant the masks with a mild precognition spell. If someone is swinging at you, you should be able to at least see that coming. Other than that, our best bet is to memorize maps of the city and whatever guard patrols our scouts get back to us,” she said, jaw clenched.

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“So we’re not making it out of this unscathed, then,” Davis said as he wrung his hands together. “Well if you wanna be a cynic about it,” Huojin mumbled. Davis’ eyes shot over to him instantly, making Huojin jump. “What was that?” Davis said menacingly.

Huojin sighed and walked over. “If the guards stay on schedule and everyone is capable of doing what they need to do, this’ll be a memory game with a bit of guesswork. The mission here isn’t taking out or killing the guards, it’s getting past them and saving a life. Fighting puts us at an immediate disadvantage as much as it does them, so avoiding it is the smartest thing to do. Weave past the patrols, slip through the gates, get to the dungeons, get Cinris out,” Huojin said, stumbling over the name Cinris. He wasn’t used to saying it.

“Pushing aside the conundrum that’s Cinris’ survival, why does the Royal Army even have him captive? There’s gotta be a good reason,” Davis asked, changing the subject. Grayson, Vale, and Huojin all looked at each other. “We don’t exactly know ourselves. The only reason we know he’s with them is because they asked about him at Ashbourn,” Grayson said. Davis seemed to accept that.

The room fell silent for a moment before Roland spoke up. “So when do we head out,” he asked, cracking his knuckles and standing. The rest followed suit, looking at Grayson expectantly.

“He’s supposed to see trial two days from now, according to what the scouts have reported. Whatever his sentencing is will determine when we set out,” Grayson said. Davis looked over to him, taking note of his mention of a trial. “Whatever Cinris’ crime might’ve been, going off what the new guy said it seems it was enough for Royalty to want him dead. Have you considered the possibility his sentencing is immediate execution? What would we do then?” Davis asked, his question stopping the group in their tracks.

“Then we’ll figure it out from there, I suppose,” Grayson said bitterly. Silence fell over the room as everyone looked between themselves. “You remind me of your father more and more every day,” Kari said with a dry laugh. “Reckless missions like these were always his favorite. At least until you came along,” she added. Grayson scoffed, a wry smile settling on his face. Steadily, the tension eased out of the room and everyone filed out, leaving only Grayson and Huojin.

A beat of silence passed before Grayson turned to the monk. “You said you needed to talk to me,” Grayson addressed, crossing his arms behind his back. Huojin took a deep breath, seemingly trying to find a place to start.

“There’s a chance that my sister is in Yenneth. She was sold to a prince by slavers. If I see her, I won’t, I-I mean, I can’t promise-” Huojin stuttered, looking for the right words as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Grayson tilted his head sideways for a moment before nodding.

“That explains why you were so desperate to pursue the slavers from before. I’m sorry to hear what happened, and unfortunately the only members of the Royal Family that will be present in Yenneth at the time of the trial will be the Elven king and Human queen. Both of the princes are traveling at the moment,” Grayson said solemnly. “After this raid is over I’ll do everything in my power to track her down, you have my word,” he added with a slight bow. Huojin sighed, but nodded.

“Oh, and head over to the armory. There are a few staffs in there you can use, and while I don’t know how they’ll compare to your old one, they’re still better than nothing.” He added. With that, Grayson walked out of the room, wincing as his chest throbbed once more. Huojin followed suit, going in the opposite direction of Grayson and taking a left turn down another corridor. Just before Grayson disappeared from view he saw Vale, who had been leaning against the wall waiting for them to leave the room, begin accosting Grayson as she dragged the commander up the stairs. Houjin laughed at the sight.

He wandered the halls aimlessly for a while until he realized that Grayson had never given him directions to the Armory. There was a path to his right that undoubtedly led deeper into the castle, one directly ahead that ended in a boarded-up door, the path behind him that would eventually lead back to the war room, and an archway to his left that opened up into a yard where he could hear others speaking.

He went left, seeing as it was the option that would most likely get him directions to where he wanted to go. The courtyard was wide and, to Huojin’s surprise, seemed to be a training ground. Gravel pathways led from the archway he had walked through to another directly opposite him. Tents lined the wall to his right, and in the middle of the courtyard sat a raised stone platform where two mercenaries were currently sparring. To his left, there was a line of trees sat neatly in front of a breezeway.

He took a deep breath. The hair was heavy with humidity and the smell of leather from the tents. The sky was only partially cloudy, but the sun was blocked by one of the turrets that jutted up from the castle providing a comfortable shade. Huojin had hardly taken five steps into the courtyard before he was intercepted by a somewhat familiar face.

Ione squinted her eyes as she looked Huojin up and down, a strange expression on her face. “You, uh… You good?” Huojin called out, waving at the general. Ione looked up at Huojin’s face, meeting his gaze and staying silent for a few seconds. Huojin could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he tried to work out what she could want. “The commander put a lot of trust in you, you know? Inviting you to the war room like that,” Ione said.

Huojin cleared his throat before responding “Yeah, I guess he did. Hey, really quick, do you know where the armor-”

“Must be pretty strong, then,” Ione said, cutting him off.

“I mean, sure. Was the best at my temple when it came to fighting with a staff. Don’t really like to brag though,” Huojin responded, tacking a wry grin to the last part of his sentence. Ione seemed to contemplate this for a moment before walking in a circle around Huojin, mumbling something to herself. She came to a stop in front of him once again before nodding, eyes closed in contemplation.

Her eyes opened and Ione suddenly grabbed Huojin by the arm, pulling him towards the platform. “C’mon, we’re fighting,” she said as Huojin attempted to pull away, finding it more difficult than he expected. “I’d really rather not,” he said, relenting in his physical resistance and instead attempting to talk his way out of it. “Plus, I don’t even have a weapon on me,” he added. The prospect of a fight with one of Grayson’s generals was intriguing to Huojin to say the least, but he wasn't equipped for the job at the moment.

“I’ve got you covered, just gimme a sec,” Ione responded. She barked a command at the two mercenaries sparring and they dropped down from the platform begrudgingly. She pointed at one of them, then over to a distant tent. “Grab a staff for the new guy, will you?” The mercenary raised a brow at Huojin before complying. He ducked into the tent and came out a little while later holding two staffs.

“Take your pick,” the mercenary said, holding them out one above the other to Huojin. Huojin took the top staff: a simple, undecorated staff made of a reddish wood. It wasn’t something Huojin would like to take into battle, but it would do for a quick sparring session. He turned back to the platform, noticing Ione had pulled herself atop it, already having finished with stretches. Huojin followed suit, standing at the opposite end of the platform.

“You look a bit worked up. Something on your mind?” Huojin asked, noting her crossed arms and bouncing foot. Ione scoffed. “Just wondering why Grayson is letting someone like you into meetings. Nobody else even knows your name, not to mention your connection to the commander and that old general, Cinris.” Ione lowered herself, her hands placed defensively in front of her. “I’m hoping to get a better feel for why you’re invited after I beat your head into the dirt,” Ione taunted, a confident grin spreading across her face.

“Well someone’s overconfident,” Huojin snarked, settling into a ready stance as well. “I have no reason not to be,” Ione retorted. Huojin noted she held no weapon, and he spotted the metal studs on her leather gloves. He hadn’t gone against someone who fought barehanded in a while.

“Let’s fix that,” Huojin said, a smile spreading across his face.

“How the hell did I lose track of someone like him?!” The Attendant cried out as they frantically jumped between trees, scouring every inch of the Sanguine Garden for a timeline that involved Svarog suddenly going missing.

They ran a hand through their constantly shifting hair as their breathing got more and more frantic until finally, they found the right tree. Their face paled even more as they inspected the branches.

“S-Svarog… defeated? No. No, no, no. That can’t be right. Not yet. Besides, who could-” their words caught in their throat as they read on. “The Pyromancer?! That cursed anomaly just can’t stop ruining everything! But that doesn’t make any sense, why would Svarog have even fought him?” The Attendant backtracked across the branch.

“Cinris and the Pyromancer used communion to…” The Attendant looked at the tree, baffled, before falling back with a groan, landing spread-eagle on the ground with a dull thud. “This can’t be happening!” They shouted, hands covering their face as they looked up at the endless void above. Their voice echoed around them, being the only sound penetrating the eerie silence that shrouded the Sanguine Garden in Svarog’s absence.

The Attendant looked towards the platform where Vishan had arrived as a thought crossed their mind. Svarog had forbidden them from leaving the Garden, but in such a dire situation? There had to be exceptions, they thought. They pulled themselves from the ground and walked up to the platform, their fingers weaving intricate runes in the air as they did.

The platform was the only place in the Sanguine Garden you could safely make a portal, and that was exactly what the Attendant did. The space in front of them distorted and rippled before being torn open, revealing the overhead of a city in smoldering ruins. They sighed heavily as they looked down at their hands. Once they landed in the mortal world, they would have to settle on an appearance until they left. Their constantly-shifting visage would be too much for the fragile constitution of most humans.

They could figure that out once they discovered who had taken Svarog. It was important for them to blend in, and knowing who they’d be surrounding themself with was the first step. With one final deep breath, they stepped through the portal, and promptly began tumbling towards the Earth at a rapidly increasing pace.

The Sanguine Garden was unbound by the traditional rules of matter. The concept of weight had no room to exist, and as such, the Attendant had forgotten to account for gravity when opening a portal to the mortal world. As the ground neared, they didn’t harbor any fear that they would die, but there was one thing they knew.

They would already be drawing far too much attention to themselves.

🜎