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The soldiers in the camp were mobilizing when Saurus returned. Alaric stood awaiting him when he emerged from the treeline.

“You should not venture in the forest alone father,” Alaric said when he drew close. The words had a certain edge to them. He was lightly armored in his own colours of blue and gold as fitting for a Magus, Saurus did not respond but looked into his son’s blazing blue eyes. The eyes glowed with unnatural brightness, common amongst Magus that held high levels of Essence.

“Your words are wasted here father,” Alaric stated surveying the surrounding trees. “This land is barren of any Essence. I did not want to believe the Citadel’s records either, but this land is hollow; its trees mute.”

Saurus watched the soldiers move around the camp, dismantling their tents and preparing to march. Saurus heard the respected Captains bellow their commands, loud and fierce. He then smiled at Alaric who looked at him as if he were going mad.

“These trees are old Alaric, and like them, their magic is old too.”

Alaric gave his father a contemptuous look. Saurus returned the look with a sly grin. Alaric looked as though his father had most certainly lost his mind.

“There is only one form of magic father,” Alaric said giving rise to his voice. “And I sense none of it here just like the records said so. I haven’t sensed any Essence to tether for days now, yet I still allowed you to wander alone to feed your curiosity.”

“Allowed?” Saurus said raising his eyebrows. Alaric reddened and turned to avoid his father’s gaze--attempting to conceal his frustration. There was an extended silence while the two of them watched the camp.

“You remind me of myself when I was young,” Saurus said smiling across at his son. Alaric shot him a glance with a narrowed brow but surrendered a smirk.

“If your supposed magic does not exist here,” Saurus continued smugly. “How do you explain this.” Saurus held up the green bean for a mere second before snatching it back, deliberately giving his son little time to examine the object. Alaric had barely a glance before his father walked away snickering, bean clutched tightly in his closed fist, Alaric gave chase.

“Father, what was that?”

Saurus laughed knowing full well how much his son hated to be teased, but he considered it taught him humility and patience, so forced his son to endure such frustration.

“Proof that my trees listen,” Saurus added over his shoulder to fan the flames.

*

Alaric pretty much begged for the remainder of the morning, demanding his father to show what he had held in his hand, but Saurus tactically avoided his son's plea and upon arriving back in the camp—was rushed away with his duties. He did not see Alaric again till the army was on the march.

The march continued at a crawl, the forest impeding the armies’ pace dramatically. The Lord Commander would have usually cleared at least twenty miles before the day was spent, but today he determined he would be lucky to march a mere seven miles. Despite his scouts finding the best way to navigate the dense forest in this region, it was the supply wagons that slowed them. Saurus had abandoned any hope of continuing with actual Imperial wagons, but even still, the donkeys themselves were slow and troubling, unable to climb the steep elevation while carrying their selected burdens.

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The Commander had attempted to keep his army on the road throughout much of the marching. From the capital they took the Westland road, collecting levies from the many towns and cities they had passed; all of which were subject under legal Imperial decree demanding as such. The Commander had left Leeside a week prior and continued west, their imperial cloaks would have appeared like a slithering red serpent from above, but the road grew perilous and the Commander veered north rather than risk the Dober Cliffs.

The road that snaked its way around the Dober cliffs was narrow and threatening, easily traversed for a lone messenger, perhaps even a small trading wagon, but deadly for a troop of this size. The Commander would not risk any of his men’s lives over something as trifling as a slip. The Dober cliffs clung to the southern edges of land that gave birth to the great southern sea. The land north of the Dober Cliffs known as ‘Westland’ yielded little fertile soil, however, people still lived there—surviving mostly on their summer harvests and tending to their mountain goats. Some folk got to calling the people who lived in Westland: Mountain Folk, respectively.

“Just a few more miles my Lord,” announced Captain Windermere atop his warhorse. “Then its pleasant scrubland from here to Wetbrook.”

Saurus nodded, moving his hips in accordance with his horse’s rhythmic pace. Alaric rode beside him and behind the three of them, they heard the rumbling host march. The forest soil muffled some of the army’s footfalls, but the forest boomed with the sound of war drums and even some singing. Some of the soldiers sang of mighty battles, others sang of fair maidens. Each one as enjoyable as the last Saurus considered.

“Wait!” came a shout from ahead of the column, and the command rippled through the line of men like a wave.

“Hold!” the shout echoed. Some of the men sighed as they halted and Saurus heard one man shout out: “Again!”

Saurus leaned forward in his saddle and waited, this had to be the tenth time or more the column had stopped moving on the account of some obstruction ahead. Alaric stretched in his saddle before standing up in his stirrups. A common strategy to get the blood flowing in the buttocks again.

“Which Captain will we be feasting with tonight father?” Alaric remarked casually; still standing and massaging his thighs.

“Hadwin,” Saurus responded not taking his eyes off the column of men ahead. It gave Alaric pause.

“The Bear?” he answered in distain. “Can it not be someone else father, I don’t know if I could tolerate an evening with the Bear after today’s march.” Captain Windermere was in earshot but remained silent.

“Go see what the problem is Captain,” Saurus ordered, the Captain turned.

“As you command my Lord.”

Alaric and Saurus watched the Captain ride alongside the column of men in silence, his warhorse kicking up dead leaves as he rode.

“You forget your courtesies while in the presence of Captain Windermere, Alaric.” Saurus’s voice was flat and lifeless. Alaric took the time to consider a reply.

“If you’ll permit me, father, the same privilege you issued all your Captain’s when misjudging a situation,” Saurus breathed in as if preparing for to fight or flight.

“I’d like to enlighten you on some troubling news regarding Hadwin.”

Alaric looked him in the eyes with an expression of forced sincerity, accompanied with a dusting of empathy. Saurus awaited for what his son had uncovered and with drawn-out difficulty Alaric said:

“He’s courting one of the camp followers.”

Saurus had already deduced as much and burst out into laughter at the confirmation. Alaric looked alarmed as if he were expecting his father to react the complete opposite to how he was now. Alaric no doubt considered Hadwin’s actions to be punishable, perhaps dismissible. Some of the soldiers around them turned to look at the disturbance causing Alaric to redden like he often did.

“Father,” objected Alaric. “Under Imperial Law a Captain cannot parta—"

“I know the law,” Saurus said. “Just as I know Hadwin. He does not defile the Empire, so I will not defile his honor with this folly.”

Alaric opened his mouth to speak but no words escaped. Saurus signed.

“I will speak to him, but you do not understand wha—”

“My Lord!” came a shrill cry from ahead. Saurus looked up to see Windermere riding towards him in great haste. His warhorse came to a sliding halt.

“You’ll want to see this with your own eyes, my Lord.” Captain Windermere added, and Saurus could see beads of sweat run down his face from beneath his helm. Alaric and Saurus looked at each other before proceeding up the column. What awaited them was a sign of things to come.