A few days after the Goblin King's assassination, Vitald was already approaching the capital of Lidanium — Ekdengork.
"Oh, wow!" Vitald exclaimed in admiration, gazing at the city. "It's been a while since I was here. This city never ceases to amaze me."
Ekdengork stood on an island surrounded by water, connected by four bridges leading from the cardinal directions. The island itself resembled a pyramid. From afar, five tall towers were visible, with the tallest standing at the center. It was said that a guardian dragon occasionally circled the tower, flying from the mountains, which was why it was depicted on Lidanium's flag. The sound of bells echoed from the city, while numerous carts and people streamed across the bridges toward it. Beyond the city, in the north, massive snow-capped mountains shimmered under the first rays of the rising sun.
Vitald lingered for a moment, admiring Ekdengork from afar, and then headed toward the bridge leading to the city. Riding across it, he looked up at the majestic towers, once again marveling at their architectural splendor.
As he approached the city's entrance, a queue caught his attention. It wasn't particularly long, but neither was it short. Dismounting, Vitald decided to see what was happening. At the end of the line stood a few men in chainmail and one in red-and-blue armor, which Vitald instantly recognized as officer attire.
Finally, after waiting in line, Vitald approached the men in military uniforms. Dismounting, he pulled his hood over his head and stepped toward them. One of the guards, a young, short man with dark skin uncommon in these parts and hazel-green eyes, spoke in a calm voice:
"Your pass, please."
"A pass?!" Vitald asked in confusion. "What pass?"
"A pass to enter the city," replied the second guard harshly. This one had gray hair, a prominent, sharp nose, and a large scar cutting across his grim face.
"I've been to Ekdengork many times and never needed a pass," Vitald replied, scratching his head. "Granted, it's been a while, but still…"
"The city is currently on high alert due to the advancing forces from Tleria," the young guard explained. "The council has decided that entry into the city is only allowed with passes to reduce the likelihood of spies infiltrating."
"Why are you coddling him, Edgar?" barked the gray-haired guard. "No pass? Let him take his business elsewhere!"
"Oh, come on, why so harsh? No need to stress yourself. At your age, your heart might not take it," Vitald teased with a smirk.
The guard's eyes filled with fury, and he nearly shouted, "How dare you mock me, you insolent wretch?!"
The younger guard looked nervously between his commander and the grinning traveler, who seemed to enjoy provoking the veteran. The gray-haired guard was already reaching for the sword at his side.
"Stop!" Edgar quickly intervened, stepping between them and spreading his arms. "Gentlemen, let's calm down. Surely, there's been a misunderstanding."
"Stay out of this, Edgar," the gray-haired man snapped. "Look at his face: a suspicious type, no doubt."
"What's going on here?" came a sharp voice.
Everyone turned to see a red-and-blue-armored officer approaching.
"Nothing serious, Captain Olgerd," the young guard began. "We were just explaining to this gentleman why a pass is required."
"Can you do it faster? The people in line are already annoyed!" Olgerd demanded sternly. "Odenberg, if you don't speed up, I'll send you to clean the stables. Understood?"
Odenberg scowled but nodded. "Understood, Captain. No objections."
Turning to Vitald, Olgerd looked him over carefully.
"And who are you?" he asked.
Vitald removed his hood, smiled, and said, "Olgerd, have you already forgotten your old friends?"
Olgerd's eyes widened in recognition.
"The Mage Slayer! Is it really you?!"
"I don't like that nickname," Vitald replied with a wave of his hand.
"Hah, of course, I remember!" Olgerd laughed heartily. "Let him through immediately! He's an old friend of mine. We've fought both alongside and against each other. Hahaha!"
The guards stepped aside without hesitation. Vitald took his horse by the reins, smiled at Edgar, winked at Odenberg, and entered the city.
"What brings you here, Vitald, my friend?" Olgerd asked as he caught up with him. "This isn't the best time for a visit, you know. We're on the brink of war with Tleria. King Arthur's forces are already moving toward our borders. And our king, Rudeger… he does nothing. I simply don't understand him."
"Troubled times are approaching, my friend," Vitald replied, leading his horse alongside. "I came to offer my help to Lidanium's army. Perhaps you'll hire me?"
"Well, then!" Olgerd grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Of course, any help is welcome now, especially from a skilled warrior like you. Welcome to the ranks of Lidanium's defenders."
"I'll be glad to fight alongside you, like in the old days."
"I still hope it won't come to unnecessary bloodshed," Olgerd said, frowning. "Maybe our king will finally come to his senses and realize this war will lead to nothing good. Anyway, glad to see you, but I need to go to a council meeting. We'll discuss the current situation and our next steps. Do you have a place to stay? If not, you're welcome to stay at my home. My wife won't mind, I think."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'll rent a room at a tavern. I have enough money. On my way here, I cleared out a village infested with goblins." Vitald pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from his saddlebag and unwrapped it. "Here, the head of their king. I'll turn it in to the Monster Hunters' Guild. Maybe they'll throw in some coins for clearing the village too."
"You never cease to amaze me, Vitald," Olgerd laughed. "I'll be at the 'Cliffside Tavern' after the council meeting. Come by, and we'll catch up."
Olgerd gave his friend a strong embrace, then strode briskly toward the central tower. Vitald watched him until he disappeared into the crowd.
"First, the guild for the reward. Then, I need to restock my potions—I used nearly all of them in that cave. And I need to find a room. There was a good tavern in the western part of the city. Hopefully, it's still open," Vitald thought to himself.
Olgerd entered the chamber, where a large rectangular table stood in the center. Seated around it were the kingdom's vassals, representatives of the Church of the Crimson Sun, and the captains of the armed forces, among whom Olgerd was counted. Among the assembly, one figure stood out: a burly man in his middle years. A cross-shaped scar adorned his bald head, and a patch covered his left eye. His thick russet beard lent him a jovial appearance, but a powerful and intimidating aura radiated from him. This was none other than the army's commander-in-chief, Gerdman Fridger.
"Olgerd, sit here, next to me. I've saved you a spot," said a man at the table in a hushed voice.
"Hello, Pol. Thanks for the seat," Olgerd replied, settling beside the man dressed in a uniform similar to his own.
"You're almost late," Pol remarked.
"I ran into an old friend. We got caught up in conversation, and, well, here I am."
"An old friend, huh? What kind of friend would make you risk being late for the king's council?"
"Remember the Battle of Grundve? We were outnumbered, the enemy's mage battalions were closing in, and one guy single-handedly took them all down. That's him."
"Oh, yes, I remember. Back then, I thought we were doomed. His name was Vitald, wasn't it?"
"Exactly. He even offered to join our army afterward. Quite the stroke of luck. But don't get any ideas—he's going to be in my unit."
"No arguments here."
Suddenly, the room fell silent as everyone rose from their seats. Two guards entered, followed by a tall, slender man with a neatly trimmed black goatee and slicked-back hair. Around his neck hung an amulet, and his fox-like grin was hard to miss. He walked calmly, his hands clasped behind his back, acknowledging the respectful nods of those he passed. Reaching the end of the table, he took his seat at the head.
"Well, you may all be seated," the man said, lightly touching the amulet around his neck. "Let's begin our council. As you all know, our dear monarch is currently unwell and unable to attend this meeting. Therefore, by the order of Lord Rudeger III, I will preside over this council. I am Azrael, the king's chief advisor and the kingdom of Lidanium's high mage."
The assembled council members exchanged uneasy glances. Commander Gerdman's smile faded into a stern expression, and the head of the Church of the Crimson Sun dabbed his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief, his face reflecting his dissatisfaction. Olgerd exchanged a quick look with Pol before turning his attention back to Azrael.
"I see not everyone is pleased with me taking the king's place," Azrael continued after a brief pause. "But what can we do? His Majesty personally asked me to step in, so I suggest you keep your grievances to yourselves. Now then, do any of you have proposals for handling the approaching forces of Tleria?"
"What's there to discuss?" one of the councilors exclaimed, abruptly rising from his chair. "We need to send our troops and crush them! Show them where they don't belong! If we continue to delay, things will only get worse."
"Perhaps we shouldn't act so rashly," another man suggested. "Why not send an envoy to negotiate with them?"
"We already tried that," Azrael interjected, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers with a faint smile. "They politely refused, sending back our envoy's head."
"Then we have no choice but to attack!" the first councilor roared.
"Let's ask our commander-in-chief for his thoughts on the matter," Azrael said, gesturing toward Gerdman.
Gerdman, who had been sitting with his arms crossed and staring out the window, turned his head toward the grinning Azrael. Placing his hands on the table, he spoke in a confident, gravelly voice:
"I wouldn't deploy all our troops right away. We should start by sending scouts to gather precise intelligence about the enemy. Maybe sabotage their supplies. Then we'll decide on our next move."
"Hmm, I tend to agree with you," Azrael said with a nod. "I think that's how we should proceed. What does the church think about this, Bishop?" he asked, turning to a portly man in crimson robes.
The bishop stood up, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief once more, and replied:
"Killing in the name of defense is not a sin and will not incur the wrath of Saint Gyash."
"Excellent. Then it's settled. We'll dispatch several scouting parties. Commander Gerdman, I trust you to oversee their selection. That concludes this matter. Let us now discuss the situation within the kingdom."