The darkness of night set on the land, only the lights of the Castle Fenn shone brightly.
The rough grey cracked stone of the high walls held the sound of heavy metallic footsteps, a clear sign that they were about to make a move. The mountain attached to the castle was oppressive in both it's size and in terms of actual strategy, leaving now room for a rear assault. The only way through was the dark oak double gateway connected to a drawbridge, creating the perfect defensive structure.
In the distance, around 1. 5 Kilometres away, a large encampment filled with armoured soldiers sat in wait. The ashen ground filled with the imprints of boots and boxes where supplies had been placed and removed.
The sound of clashing swords could be heard, with some of soldiers dueling out of stress. Occasionally, an arrow whizzed through the air, landing on target boards
Meanwhile sitting on an empty supply box, a soldier in light mail armour and a steel silver helmet that partly covered his head sat. He held a soft white rag with a heavy crossbow on his knees. As gently as he could with the shaking in his hands, the rag moved up and down the string wiping clean any dirt.
Beside his, lying on the ground with his hands behind his head in a relaxed position , another taller man with full plate armour smoked on a homemade cigarette. The smoke wafted through the air around his face as his calm eyes looked towards a the largest white tent in the front of the camp. Ontop of it, the Flagged symbol of the empire hung high with the typical golden eye attached to angel wings.
Inside the tent, the black outlines of two figures could be seen discussing. Ofcourse, it was most likely the general and Saint.
"Heh... York, it looks like your going to have to use your baby soon." Taking a drag of the cigarette, the armoured man spoke to his friend beside him. Despite the situation, he still smiled and joked. What else could they do?
The slightly purple fingers around the rag stopped. As a crossbowman, York treasured the weapon with his life, "Ofcourse Kale, I'll treasure it. It belonged to a noble at one point."
"Haha, if that junk belonged to a noble that my sword was used by Endo himself!" Despite his laugh, when he turned to look at his own partly rusted and uncleaned steel blade his laugh fizzles out ,"Ahem! Anyways, I heard Duke Torren still hasn't been seen in the capital. Apparently, he's still holding up on his room after a whole year!" Kale quickly changed the topic.
"He's a scholar right? it's normal for them to pull that stuff." York thought for a moment. Being a veteran, he knew slightly more about the nobles than the average peasant from quiet whispers and such. Searching in his memory, he recalled a brief conversation between a general and Dreamweaver that occurred a year ago, though it was hazy about best. He set aside the crossbow and rested his hand on his chin in a position that obscured his eyes in darkness.
"I heard..." Taking a deep breath, he continued ,"He's never been the same after coming back from Ralor."
For a moment, a long stretch of silence overtook the two. The air seemed to turn even colder despite the sweat forming on the back of Kales neck. It was like the armour he was wearing suddenly felt to thin and unable to protect him.
A few seconds passed in this silence, until York finally lifted his eyes to look at his friends reaction and let out an amused laugh, "haha, you should see the look on your face!"
The tension dissapeared, allowing Kale to relax and a vein to bulge on his forehead.
"You! Don't joke about things like that."
Wiping the sweat from his forehead head, he took a heavy breath through the cigarette and let out a nervous sigh.
His mother used to tell him stories about that place, the kind that would keep a child up at night. Wether about the lost souls that still haunt it's ruins or the whispers of another explorer mysteriously vanishing, it was clear to him that it wasn't a paradise.
Sitting back up and twirling a crossbow bolt around his fingers, York breathed in the cold air, "But seriously, that's what I've heard. But what do I know?"
The two chatted for a little longer, with York aiming at a random Kingdom soldier holding a fire torch on the castle wall and pretending to get a medal worthy shot from the empire. However, soon a Commotion reverberated through the camp.
Out of the treeline to the east of the camp, Four figures emerged. Both had distinctive appearence with the signature white robes of the church, with one being noticibly more dishevelled than the other.
The crowd saluted them as they entered the camp, a clear sign of respect and authority common in the military. Though the soldiers eyes instinctively avoided direct contact when looked at directly, this was the least they could do.
Soon, as the two walked through a makeshift passageway formed by saluting soldiers, another white robed figure walked forward and whispered into the taller ones ears. In return he recieved a polite nod and swiftly made his exit.
The two Dreamweavers looked towards the large tent at the end of the camp, also leaving soon after.
Breathing a collective breath of air they had been holding in, the crowd of soldiers went back to their activities. Some sparred, some simply played small games to pass the time and ease nervousness. At least they wouldn't have to be around Dreamweavers, as it was an incredibly uncomfortable ordeal.
Meanwhile, Cypher and Orion moved towards the outskirts of the camp, towards the command tent. Despite the fact that they hadn't long finished a mission, they still had to tell Clementine the results as stated by the Dreamweaver they encountered earlier upon their arrival.
"Should I file a complaint?" Orion took a step ahead of Orion and pulled up the sheet covering of the Command tents entrance, letting the warm air inside flow and carriess his skin. The Candlelight inside illuminated his scared and healing face slightly as he spoke up again ," They might be trying to work us to death?"
Before Cypher responded, a golden clawed reached through the doorway and pulled him inside, nearly pulling him off his feet.
One moment he was there, and then he was gone.
With a sigh, Cypher looked at Rain who was perched on his shoulder. He didn't know if it was his imagination, but he felt the crow was changing. Visually, it looked like he had gotten slightly bigger, however he felt there connection was growing stronger.
'Close to ascension? He's quite talented for an animal.' Regardless of his thoughts, Cypher pulled out a chunk of questionable meat and threw it over. With a thick squelch, Rain caught it and started chewing hungrily with his jagged beak ," Go sit and rest somewhere for a moment." He held out his arm, signalling to the bird to fly away ," I'll call you once we're finished."
Caw!
With a final gulp, Rain spread his massive wing span and flew upwards. The draft caused by his wings blew ash away from the ground as he made his way to the top of the circular command tent, perching ontop of the flag as if vigilantly watching for any threats.
"Now then..." Cypher pulled open the tent covering, revealing the cozy interior. In a space to the side, a small fire burned with heat rare for the deadlands. Unlike soldiers who usually had only the communal fires, Generals and saints got there own personal fire in there tents. It wasn't luxery, but it was enough.
The centre of the room hosted a round short wooden table. It's size was enough to accommodate around six adults easily, more than enough for them. It even had can lights resting on it for easier sights when looking at documents or writing. On closer inspection, the only thing on the table was a cutlass blade that must have belonged to the generally and a generously sized map displaying the Mountain fortress and it's sorroundings in as much detail as they could gather in the short amount of time they were here.
Unfortunately, their wasn't much time to look around as the sound of an arguement caught his ear near the chairs around the table at the centre.
"He coul have died if you failed!" A distinct woman's voice made itself known.