As Arden carried the injured man to the doctor, Leon stood alone at the eastern gate, his sword resting on his shoulder. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the village in shades of gold and crimson. Shadows stretched long across the ground, and the once-bustling village square had grown eerily quiet. The weight of solitude bore down on him, but Leon always wore his stoic mask, unwilling to let the isolation bother him. He gazed across the treeline, searching for any signs of danger.
Meanwhile, at the guard barracks, Rodrick sat at his desk, the setting sun casting streaks of amber light through the windows. The faint creak of wood filled the room as he leaned back, reviewing the day's reports. His furrowed brows and the slow tap of his fingers against the desk betrayed his concern—though he wouldn't admit it aloud, the recent increase in forest activity gnawed at him.
A sharp knock broke the silence, and Rodrick straightened.
"Come in," he called, his voice steady.
The door creaked open, revealing a man with a sly grin and a slightly crooked hat. It was Varin, the merchant. He strode in with the confidence of someone who had walked this path many times before. His mismatched attire—a patched cloak, a vibrant sash, and sturdy leather boots—gave him an air of eccentricity. Yet, his shrewd eyes and quick movements hinted at a mind sharper than most.
"Rodrick, my friend!" Varin began, his voice is rich with exaggerated cheer. "The setting sun greets us both, does it not? Perfect time for a little business, wouldn't you agree?"
Rodrick chuckled softly, already used to Varin's theatrics. "What are you selling this time, Varin? And don't tell me it's another 'one-of-a-kind' relic."
Varin placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "You wound me! Always doubting my wares. But this—this is truly special." He pulled out a small pendant from his bag, its obsidian surface gleaming even in the dim light.
Rodrick leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. "And what is it?"
Varin's grin widened. "The Sentinel's Vigil Amulet. Perfect for a man in your line of work. Enhances perception, keeps you alert, and might even save your life one day." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Especially with the whispers of war brewing."
Rodrick raised an eyebrow. "War?"
Varin nodded solemnly. "The alliances—Kyrianda, Dimosia, and Nyktaris—they're at our borders. Word is, there's been a skirmish. Some say Ischyros soldiers started it. Others claim it's a fabrication."
Rodrick frowned. "But we've been on good terms with them. Why would this escalate now?"
Varin shrugged. "Who knows? Power, revenge, misunderstanding—it's always something. But mark my words, my friend, these things don't end quietly."
Rodrick leaned back, digesting the information. "Well, if it comes to war, Ischyros will hold its ground. We're stronger."
Varin tilted his head. "Strength doesn't always win wars, Rodrick. It's the unknown that tilts the scales."
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of hurried footsteps. A young guard burst through the door, his face pale and his breath ragged.
"Leader! There's a problem at the east gate!"
Rodrick was on his feet in an instant. "Calm down and speak clearly."
The guard gulped for air. "An injured man came out of the forest—he's with Arden and the doctor now!"
Rodrick grabbed his sword and armor, his mind racing. "Stay here, Varin. This might get messy."
Varin raised a hand in mock surrender, though a spark of curiosity lit his eyes. "Do what you must. I'll hold down the fort."
Rodrick bolted out of the barracks, his heart pounding. The forest was unpredictable at best, and deadly at worst. As he ran, he barked orders at passing guards. "Alert everyone! Double the watch at the east gate. Off-duty guards to their posts!"
At the gate, Leon remained, his boredom melting into vigilance as he caught the faint sound of clicking and hissing. He drew his sword, his senses sharp. From the forest emerged three small figures, their grotesque forms illuminated by the fading light.
The Grimkin Tribe.
Leon recognized them immediately—small, wiry creatures with pale green skin and jagged teeth. Two of them carried crude weapons, while the third bared claws that gleamed like daggers.
Leon tightened his grip on his sword. He had fought them before, but this was unusual. Grimkin didn't attack in groups of three; they swarmed in hordes, overwhelming their prey with sheer numbers.
"They're testing me," Leon muttered under his breath, scanning the treeline for signs of more.
The Grimkin advanced, their movements erratic, their guttural sounds grating on Leon's nerves. The one with the short sword lunged first, aiming for Leon's midsection. He sidestepped, swinging his blade in a clean arc that severed the creature's arm.
The other two charged, claws and teeth flashing. Leon ducked under a swipe, driving his sword into one's chest. It screeched, collapsing in a heap. The third hesitated, its yellow eyes darting between Leon and its fallen kin.
"Come on," Leon taunted, his voice low and steady.
With a hiss, the creature lunged. Leon parried its attack, spinning to deliver a killing blow to its back. The Grimkin fell, green blood staining the ground.
Breathing heavily, Leon stood amidst the carnage, his sword dripping with viscous green ichor.
Rodrick burst into the doctor's office, his eyes immediately falling on the trembling man sitting on the examination table. Blood covered his clothes, but he appeared unharmed.
"Arden," Rodrick demanded, "what happened?"
Arden glanced up from the man. "He's not injured, but he's shaken to his core. Bram here is from the nearby village. He and a group entered the forest. They thought they could handle it."
Rodrick's stomach sank. "And?"
Arden's face was grim. "They didn't stand a chance. Grimkin. All of them except Bram—dead."
Rodrick's blood ran cold. "And Leon? He's alone at the gate!"
Arden nodded. "I told the guards to secure the area, but we need to move."
Rodrick wasted no time. Grabbing his sword, he raced toward the gate, dread pooling in his chest.
When he arrived, he froze. Leon stood his sword in hand, his armor stained with green. At his feet lay the bodies of three Grimkin.
Rodrick exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him.
"You're late," Leon said, a smirk tugging at his lips.