Creak, the tavern's door slowly opened as Cedric stepped in. He paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the warm glow of the lantern light. The tavern was lively, filled with the sounds of people talking and drinking, their laughter and conversations blending into a comforting hum. The rich aroma of food cooking wafted from the back room, mingling with the scent of ale and wood smoke, creating an inviting atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the chilly night outside.

Cedric stepped further inside, his boots thudding softly on the worn wooden floor. The tavern's interior was rustic, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and sturdy oak tables and chairs scattered about.

Patrons were engaged in animated discussions, their faces illuminated by the flickering candlelight. The walls were adorned with various trinkets and decorations, including hunting trophies, faded maps, and old weapons that hinted at the tavern's long history.

Cedric weaved through the crowded tables, his keen eyes scanning the room for any sign of the thief. As he moved, snippets of conversations reached his ears, blending into the background noise. An old woodcutter, his face weathered and lined with age, was speaking to a younger man with wide eyes and an eager expression.

"They say deep in the heart of the Enverin Forest, there's a spirit, a light that dances between the trees..." the old woodcutter said, his voice low and mysterious, drawing the young man's full attention.

The young woodcutter laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, come off it, Hal! That’s just tales to scare off the kids."

The old man, Hal, leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and earnestness. "You laugh now, lad, but truth be told. A shimmering light, like a will-o'-the-wisp, leading travelers astray. Mark my words, there's something in that forest."

Cedric continued past them, their voices fading into the background as he approached the bar. The bartender, a stout man with a friendly face and a thick beard, was meticulously arranging bottles of various drinks on the shelves behind him.

The shelves were lined with an impressive array of spirits, from dark, aged whiskeys to brightly colored liqueurs. The bartender turned around as Cedric took a seat at the bar, wiping his hands on a rag that hung from his belt.

"What can I get for you, stranger?" the bartender asked with a welcoming smile. His eyes twinkled with the practiced hospitality of someone who had spent years tending to the needs of weary travelers. "We've got warm food, hearty soup, or you could just drink until dawn. We've also got rooms if you're looking to stay the night."

Cedric ordered a mug of rum, the weight of the day's events pressing on him. As the bartender placed the mug in front of him, Cedric leaned forward and asked, "Have you seen anyone with a tattoo that looks like a flame around here?"

The bartender's demeanor shifted immediately, his expression turning more serious. He looked intently at Cedric, and the lively chatter in the tavern began to die down. The warmth of the room seemed to dim as curious eyes turned towards Cedric, the atmosphere growing tense and wary.

"Why are you asking about that tattoo?" the bartender asked calmly, though there was a noticeable edge to his voice.

Cedric took a measured sip of his rum, feeling the burn of the alcohol down his throat. "I just want to talk to the man who has that tattoo. We have some unfinished business."

The bartender held his gaze for a moment longer, his eyes searching Cedric's for any sign of deceit. Then he nodded slowly and turned back to his work, rearranging bottles with deliberate slowness. The tension in the room didn't abate, and Cedric could feel the weight of numerous gazes on him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cedric noticed a large, muscular figure making his way through the crowd. The man sat down heavily on the stool next to him. His presence was immediately intimidating, with a rugged, battle-hardened appearance. Scars crisscrossed his exposed skin, and his armor was worn but well-maintained. A thick beard framed his face, and his eyes held a fierce, almost predatory gleam.

"Why do you want to find the man with that tattoo?" the man asked, his tone deceptively friendly. "Are you working right now?"

Cedric kept his expression neutral, meeting the man's gaze. "I just want something from him."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, and without warning, his hand shot out, gripping Cedric by the neck. The suddenness and strength of the move took Cedric by surprise. The man lifted him off the stool effortlessly, and Cedric's hands instinctively went to his throat, trying to pry the fingers away. As the man's sleeve loosened, Cedric saw the flame tattoo on his wrist.

"Looking for this?" the man growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Cedric's heart raced. He tried to reach for his sword, but the man's grip tightened, cutting off his air. With a powerful heave, the man threw Cedric through the window. The glass shattered around him, and Cedric felt a sharp pain as he crashed through, the world spinning as he was hurled outside.

Cedric landed heavily on the cobblestone street, shards of glass scattering around him. He gasped for breath, his vision momentarily blurred by the impact. Slowly, he pushed himself up, wincing at the bruises forming on his body.

The muscular man climbed out of the window to follow Cedric outside, the bartender's voice yelling from inside, "You broke it, you pay for it! Magnus!"

Magnus grinned, his teeth gleaming in the dim light, as he looked at Cedric before bursting into laughter. "Took you long enough to find me, bounty hunter," he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Cedric struggled to get up, his breathing labored as he gripped his sword. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, trying to steady himself.

Magnus continued laughing, a deep, menacing sound. "It's no use trying to fool me," he said, still chuckling. "You need to focus and give me a proper fight."

With a determined glare, Cedric drew his sword and charged at Magnus. He struck several times, his blade flashing in the lantern light. Magnus, wielding his large battle axe, managed to block most of the strikes, though some hits landed, they weren't deep enough to cause significant damage.

Cedric decided to change his approach, aiming a low blow to catch Magnus off guard. He swung at a different angle, but Magnus was quick, pushing him back with a powerful shove.

Realizing that a head-on fight wasn't going to work, Cedric stepped back, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He noticed sand scattered on the cracked cobblestone road behind him. Acting quickly, he kicked up the sand into Magnus's face. As Magnus raised his hands to shield his eyes, Cedric disappeared from sight.

Magnus, momentarily disoriented, rushed to where Cedric had been standing, only to feel a sharp pain as Cedric struck him from behind. Unable to block in time with his axe, Magnus tapped on a metal bracer on his wrist. Instantly, a large shield appeared, blocking Cedric's attack and sending him flying with its knockback force.

Cedric landed hard but quickly got to his feet, analyzing his opponent. "An artifact," he muttered, formulating a new plan. As Magnus blinked, Cedric disappeared again.

Magnus looked around, trying to locate Cedric.

Suddenly, a coat was thrown in front of him. Magnus swept it away with a growl, but it was a distraction. Cedric was already behind him, landing a punch squarely on Magnus's face. Magnus tapped his wrist again, the shield reappearing, but this time Cedric's fist went right through it, connecting with Magnus's jaw.

The impact staggered Magnus. He swung his axe sideways in a desperate attempt to hit Cedric, but Cedric ducked under the blow and moved behind him. With a swift kick to the back of Magnus's knee, he brought the giant man down to the ground.

Cedric drew his sword again, ready to end the fight. Magnus, on his knees, reached for his fallen axe, preparing for one last strike. But before either could make their move, a female voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"STOP!"

Both men froze, their eyes turning towards the source of the voice.

Right there at the source of the voice was Elysia, standing with a firm grip on the thief who had stolen Cedric's pouch. The thief appeared unconscious, his head lolling to the side as Elysia held him by the collar.

"I tried to follow you," Elysia explained, her voice steady but concerned. "I found this man bumping into me, and I managed to catch him." She looked between Cedric and Magnus. "Cedric was just trying to catch this thief. I don't know why the two of you are fighting, but I'm here to clear any misunderstanding."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Magnus, still on his knees, seemed confused at first, but quickly grasped the situation. He crawled away from Cedric, then burst into laughter. "I haven't had a fight this entertaining in a while," he said, standing up and extending his hand to Cedric. "I apologize for the misunderstanding earlier. I'm Magnus Bertrand, leader of a former mercenary group called 'The Flame.'"

Cedric shook his head, dusting off his clothes. He briefly shook Magnus's hand before pulling away and walking toward Elysia. "Cedric," he said simply.

He took his pouch from the unconscious thief's hand and secured it back on his belt. Magnus followed closely behind, his demeanor now more friendly and curious. "And you, miss? What's your name?" he asked Elysia.

"Elysia Veritas," she replied, giving Magnus a polite nod.

Magnus grinned. "Well, Cedric, Elysia, how about I buy you both an apology drink? I'd like to talk some more."

Cedric shook his head, glancing at the darkening sky. "It's fine, but it's getting late. We should be heading back."

Elysia gave Magnus a friendly wave. "Thank you for the offer, but we really must be going."

As they walked towards the train station, Magnus called after them, "Can we meet up again sometime?"

Cedric didn't respond, focused on their destination. He had no reason to interact with Magnus again. They reached the train station and boarded the train, heading back to the temple. The gentle rocking of the train and the rhythmic clatter of the wheels provided a soothing backdrop as they settled into their seats, both reflecting on the day's unexpected events.

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The next morning, Cedric and Elysia arrived at the palace, the early sunlight casting long shadows across the grand entrance. The absence of visible troops or expedition teams was immediately noticeable, adding a sense of foreboding to the air. As they walked through the towering gates, the echo of their footsteps reverberated through the grand halls, their sounds bouncing off the high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes.

A soldier approached them with a respectful nod. His polished armor gleamed in the light filtering through the tall windows, each pane showcasing vibrant stained glass depicting scenes of the kingdom's storied past. "Follow me," he said, his voice respectful yet urgent.

They followed the soldier deeper into the palace, passing through ornate corridors lined with rich tapestries and statues that told the tales of heroic deeds and legendary battles. The soft murmurs of palace staff and the distant clang of metal were the only sounds accompanying their journey.

They were led to a drawing room, the heart of the palace’s strategic operations. Inside, Prince Tristan and Duke Killian were bent over a large map spread out on a heavy wooden table, deep in discussion. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the morning light streaming through the tall windows, casting an ethereal glow that seemed to highlight the seriousness of the situation.

Tristan looked up as Cedric and Elysia entered, his expression serious and thoughtful. Killian straightened up, acknowledging them with a nod. "Good," Killian said, his voice steady. "I was just about to inform His Highness about the details."

Cedric and Elysia moved closer to the table, the gravity of the situation clear on their faces. The map on the table was detailed, showing the various regions of the kingdom, with markers indicating key locations and recent movements.

Killian began to explain, his tone grave. "I've yet to receive a response from the high priest regarding the situation in the east. Furthermore, the soldiers I sent to the port city weeks ago have not returned."

Tristan's brow furrowed, a look of deep concern crossing his features. "What about the trading ships? Surely the merchants would know something."

Killian shook his head, the worry evident in his eyes. "That's the problem. Before I sent the soldiers, I received a letter from the marquis of the port city asking for help. The letter was vague, lacking any specific details. I sent the soldiers to investigate and offer assistance if needed."

He pointed to a section of the map, indicating the port city and the routes leading to it. "For the past few days, the waterway that leads directly to the port has been closed off, as well as the train station outside the capital. Communication has gone silent."

Tristan looked troubled, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "Do you think the port has been overtaken by demons?"

Killian sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache. "I don't want to believe it, but it's a possibility we can't ignore. The port city has always been able to handle its defenses, but with the sudden silence and the recent appearance of Archmage Marius, also known as Argoth, nothing is certain anymore."

Tristan then asked about gathering a search party to accompany him on the expedition, but Killian shook his head, stopping him. "With the current situation, we need soldiers at the east and stationed here in the capital," he said gravely. "I'm afraid that with the marquis gone, we can't risk using more people."

Tristan's brow furrowed in frustration. "Then what can I use for the expedition?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Killian sighed deeply. "I'm afraid you'll have to go with this small crew," he admitted. "The soldiers are not capable enough to deal with demons on their own without risking their lives. But you, your highness, that man and the priestess should be able to handle the situation."

Tristan sighed deeply, realizing the gravity of their predicament. "The situation is less than ideal," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "But we have to work with what we have. What can you tell me about my uncle's whereabouts?"

Killian leaned over the map, pointing to a small, isolated island. "During yesterday's discussions, while you were clearing paperwork, I was also researching and investigating. I found out that the old island, once considered no man's land, has reported unusual activities–"

Elysia interjected, her voice clear and firm. "Archmage Marius made a pact with the previous demon lord Morgath. He is certainly there on the island."

Both Killian and Tristan looked at her in surprise. Tristan's eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you know this, Elysia?"

Elysia hesitated for a moment before responding. "I overheard the high priest discussing this possibility," she said, trying to sound casual.

Killian's concern deepened. "If the high priest knew about this but hasn't informed me, something could have happened to him."

They fell silent, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Finally, Tristan spoke, his voice resolute. "We need a new plan. I'll take back control of the port city while you manage everything here in the capital and keep an eye on the situation with the high priest."

Killian nodded. "Once you're at the port city, send a letter back to the capital. I'll try to gather any reinforcements to assist you, but until then, no support is available."

The group continued to discuss their strategy, finalizing their plans. Tristan's determination was evident, despite the challenges ahead. Cedric and Elysia stood ready, knowing the critical role they would play in the mission.

As they prepared to leave, Tristan looked at Cedric and Elysia, his expression serious. "We'll depart in a few hours. Make sure you're ready."

Cedric and Elysia nodded, understanding the urgency. They left the drawing room, heading to prepare for the perilous journey ahead.

Cedric and Elysia went to gather whatever they needed—supplies, medicine, and food—using Tristan's imperial funds. The market was bustling with early morning activity, vendors shouting their wares and townsfolk going about their business. The aroma of freshly baked bread and the sounds of haggling filled the air. They moved quickly through the stalls, picking up essential items and ensuring they had everything for the journey ahead.

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When they returned to the meeting point, they found a familiar figure waiting for them. The man was leaning against a post, his broad shoulders and muscular frame unmistakable.

"Cedric! Elysia!" the man greeted them with a wide smile, waving enthusiastically. It was Magnus Bertrand, the mercenary leader they had encountered the previous night.

Cedric's eyes narrowed as he approached. "What are you doing here, Magnus? And how did you know we'd be here?"

Magnus didn't answer immediately, instead maintaining his easy smile. "After interrogating the thief from yesterday, I found out some valuable information. But I need your help to act on it."

Cedric crossed his arms, skeptical. "If you were the leader of a mercenary group, why can't you just take your men and do it yourself?"

Magnus's expression turned a bit somber. "It's 'former mercenary group.' My group disbanded a while ago after... an incident. I just need your help this once. In return, I'll assist you on this expedition."

Elysia glanced at Cedric, then back at Magnus. "What kind of help are you looking for?"

Magnus explained, "There's a small village that I want to visit. I can't go alone; it's too risky. I need backup."

Before Cedric could respond, Tristan arrived at the meeting point with a wagon full of supplies. The wagon creaked under the weight of the goods, and the horses snorted, eager to get moving.

Tristan looked at the trio, sensing the tension. "What's going on here?"

Magnus quickly explained his situation, asking Tristan for help. Cedric tried to intervene, "Your Highness, this might not be—"

Tristan raised a hand, cutting him off. "The village he mentioned isn't too far from our path. If he needs our help, we should give it. It won't delay us much."

Magnus stepped forward, extending his hand. "Prince Tristan, I presume? I’m Magnus Bertrand."

Tristan shook his hand firmly. "I know you, Magnus. Your reputation precedes you. Let's hope this alliance proves beneficial."

Magnus grinned. "I'm sure it will, Your Highness. Thank you for agreeing to help."

Cedric frowned, still wary. "But Your Highness—"

Tristan shook his head. "No arguments, Cedric. We'll help him and then continue on our way. Magnus, lead the way."

Magnus nodded gratefully, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Thank you, Your Highness. I promise this won't take long."

As they prepared to depart, Cedric couldn't shake his unease. He hoped this detour wouldn't lead to more trouble than it was worth. With the wagon loaded and everyone ready, they set off towards the village, the early morning sun casting long shadows on the road ahead.

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The journey began with the wagon trundling down a rocky road that cut through dense forest. The pathway was narrow, flanked by towering trees whose branches interlocked overhead, creating a canopy that dappled the sunlight. The early morning mist clung to the underbrush, and the air was filled with the earthy scent of damp leaves and pine.

Cedric and Magnus sat in the driver's seat, guiding the horses, while Tristan and Elysia sat inside the wagon, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels providing a steady backdrop to their thoughts. The road was uneven, with occasional bumps and potholes that made the wagon jostle and sway.

Magnus glanced sideways at Cedric, breaking the silence. "You seem like a skilled fighter. Where are you from?"

Cedric paused, his quill hovering over the open pages of his diary. He closed the book and looked ahead, hesitating for a moment. "I have experience," he said finally. "I've traveled to many places. As for where I'm from..." Cedric's voice trailed off, his gaze distant. "I can't give you an answer to that."

Magnus raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Come on. Don't be shy about your past," he said, trying to coax more out of Cedric.

Cedric shook his head. "It's not about being shy. I can't actually remember my past. It was... too long ago." His voice carried a note of melancholy, hinting at a history lost to time.

Magnus sensed the gravity in Cedric's words and decided to lighten the mood. "I've done my fair share of traveling too," he said with a grin. "During my time as a mercenary, I've seen all sorts of places."

Cedric, appreciating the attempt to steer the conversation to lighter topics, turned to Magnus. "What about your situation now? What is it you're trying to do?"

Magnus's expression grew serious. "I once had friends in my mercenary group, but after some events that I'd rather not talk about, we disbanded. I've been looking for a man named Garrick ever since. The thief told me he spotted Garrick in the village we're heading to."

Cedric nodded, understanding the weight of Magnus's quest. "So finding Garrick is your goal?"

Magnus sighed. "Yes. He was... a friend, and I need to find out what happened to him. It’s been a long search."

Cedric glanced back at the road, the trees thinning out as they approached a rocky incline. The pathway ahead was challenging, with large stones jutting out from the ground, requiring careful navigation.

After a moment of silence, Cedric asked, "What about your tattoo? And the thief's tattoo? They look similar, but not quite the same."

Magnus looked at his wrist, where the flame tattoo marked his skin. "The thief's tattoo is just an amateur replication of my former group's symbol. It's nothing like the real thing." He traced the lines of his tattoo thoughtfully. "My group, 'The Flame,' had a distinct emblem. The thief's version was a poor imitation, likely used to try and capitalize on our reputation."

Cedric nodded, understanding the significance of the mark. "Your tattoo represents something important, then."

Magnus smiled slightly. "It did. It was a symbol of our unity and strength. Even though the group is no more, the tattoo remains as a reminder of those times."

Inside the wagon, Tristan and Elysia discussed their upcoming mission in low tones, strategizing and sharing their concerns. The sun climbed higher, casting a warm glow over the landscape, and the road stretched out before them, winding its way through the varied terrain.

The forest gave way to a more open terrain, the rocky road now bordered by rolling hills and the occasional outcropping of jagged rocks. The horses adjusted their pace, and the wagon continued its steady progress towards the distant village.

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As the wagon crested a small hill, the village came into view, nestled in a valley surrounded by lush greenery. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the sounds of a bustling community drifted up to them.

Magnus pointed ahead. "There it is. Let's find Garrick and get some answers."

Cedric nodded, feeling the weight of the task ahead. They guided the wagon down the hill, the village growing larger with each passing moment. The road smoothed out as they neared their destination, the trees giving way to fields and cottages.

The journey, filled with both silence and conversation, had brought them to the threshold of new challenges and revelations.