The gates of Arkhel slowly opened.
The sound of chains echoed through the night.
Rumble.
Rumble.
The iron gates rose as the first riders crossed through the passage.
Torches illuminated the entrance.
Hundreds of them.
Spread along the walls.
Above towers.
Above walkways.
Above observation platforms.
The orange light danced across the dark stone.
Alaric crossed the gate without slowing his pace.
The five knights maintained formation around them.
Behind.
Rows of soldiers returned from the battlefield.
Wounded.
Exhausted.
Covered in mud and blood.
Beyond the gates of the first wall, the space opened up.
Wide.
Military.
Temporary barracks had been erected to receive the men returning.
Wagons carried the wounded.
Healers ran between groups of soldiers.
Broken weapons piled up near the supply depots.
Farther ahead—
the second wall rose above everything.
Much larger.
Much taller.
The enormous towers dominated the darkness.
And above them—
distant.
Raised above the rest of Arkhel.
The central fortress silently overlooked the night.
Alaric dismounted.
His boots touched the stone.
The young woman leading the horse also stepped down from the saddle.
Alaric turned his attention toward her.
Dark hair cut short above the ears, with slight waves at the ends.
Silver-blue eyes.
The silver armor reflected the torchlight in soft golden tones.
Discreet.
Elegant.
Alaric watched her for a few seconds.
"Alina should not have been on the battlefield."
Alina lowered her head slightly.
"Forgive me for the insubordination, Lord Alaric."
Her voice remained calm.
Without any attempt to justify the decision.
"But I considered it necessary."
Alaric looked away.
"That does not change the fact that you disobeyed a direct order."
"I know."
Neither of them added anything else.
Around them, soldiers continued crossing through the gates.
The sound of hooves.
Armor.
Orders being relayed.
Everything blended beneath the torchlight.
Alina breathed slowly.
"We have a problem, Lord Alaric."
"Actually, Lady Alina..."
A new voice emerged.
Polite.
Controlled.
Both turned their eyes.
A man approached accompanied by two guards.
His gray-silver hair was combed back with flawless precision.
His face remained elegant.
But time had left its marks.
Fine lines surrounded his eyes.
Subtle creases crossed the corners of his mouth.
The narrow shoulders and thin figure resembled less a man of war than someone who had survived decades inside political halls.
The long dark cloak moved softly beneath the wind.
Grayish-blue eyes passed over Alina.
Then over Alaric.
Calculating.
Observing.
As though evaluating far more than he revealed.
The man bowed slightly.
Just enough to respect protocol.
"I believe it would be more accurate to say that we have several problems."
Alaric's gaze remained on him.
"Count Oryn."
A brief pause.
"I wonder what a prince's advisor is doing so far from court."
The man maintained his restrained smile.
As though he had already expected that reaction.
"Your Highness has formally assumed administration of Arkhel during your absence."
No reaction appeared on Alaric's face.
He cast a brief glance toward Alina.
Her expression answered everything he needed to know.
When he looked back at Oryn, he did not seem surprised.
He merely confirmed a suspicion.
"I see."
Oryn clasped his hands behind his back.
"His Highness also requested that I begin assisting you in conducting this campaign."
A brief pause.
"Starting tomorrow, certain changes will be implemented."
Alaric watched him for a few seconds.
Then shifted his eyes toward the torchlit walls.
As though the news held far less importance than it should have.
"The unexpected visit was not merely an inspection."
Oryn did not answer.
The silence was answer enough.
Alaric looked at him again.
"Whoever assumes administration of Arkhel is a matter for the Crown."
His voice remained calm.
Firm.
"That does not alter my duties."
Oryn's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Alaric continued.
"However, my personal forces will remain under my command."
Oryn did not retreat.
Still smiling.
Still polite.
"I'm afraid some people may interpret that as insubordination."
"Perhaps."
Alaric walked forward.
Passing by him.
"If that becomes a problem, I will personally assume responsibility."
Oryn remained motionless.
"His Highness will be disappointed."
Alaric did not slow his pace.
"Then he will have to learn how to deal with disappointment."
Oryn watched the commander's back grow distant.
Then the smile returned.
Small.
Calculated.
"Curiously..."
Alaric did not stop.
"The prince said you would respond exactly like that."
Alina quickened her pace.
Reaching him moments later.
"Lord Alaric..."
He did not answer.
He kept walking.
His eyes remained on the movements of the soldiers.
Alina studied him for a moment.
"Do you believe His Highness will send them at dawn?"
For a few moments, neither of them said anything.
"Probably."
The answer came simply.
Without emotion.
Alina lowered her eyes slightly.
"If that happens..."
A brief pause.
"Everything we planned will become meaningless."
No reaction appeared on Alaric's face.
He continued walking.
"We will fulfill the duty entrusted to us."
His voice remained calm.
Unshakable.
"What comes afterward will be the responsibility of those who made that decision."
Silence remained between them.
Above the walls, the torches continued burning against the darkness.
And far beyond the Wall of Arkhel—
Darkness had taken the plains.
Hiding beneath its mantle the scars of war.
Inside the Northern camp.
Hundreds of bonfires spread across the plains occupied by the army.
Soldiers returned to their positions.
Healers moved between improvised tents.
Messengers crossed the tent corridors carrying reports from the day.
The movement remained intense even after nightfall.
And at the center of the entire camp—
the main white dragon banner remained raised above the largest war tent.
Torches burned around it.
Knights of the White Order maintained constant watch between the rows of tents.
Recognizing the approaching figure, they stepped aside.
White disheveled hair moved beneath the night wind.
The light-gray armor remained immaculate.
As though he had never left the camp.
Reinhardt merely gave a slight nod.
Then continued forward.
His hand moved.
The tent flap was pulled aside.
The interior of the tent remained silent.
Oil lamps cast soft shadows across the reinforced fabric walls.
Maps covered the large central table.
Markers.
Reports.
Military movement pieces scattered among the lines drawn across the leather.
Cassian stood before the table.
Black hair fell over his shoulders.
His eyes analyzed the reports spread before him.
Reinhardt stopped before the table.
Cassian abandoned the reports for a moment.
"How was the battlefield?"
Reinhardt examined the maps spread across the table.
"Nothing outside expectations."
A brief pause.
"I heard Alaric appeared on the western flank."
Cassian nodded.
"I received the reports."
His fingers moved through several documents.
"The latest ones stated that Kaizer had engaged him."
Cassian kept his attention on the papers.
"After that, the messages stopped arriving."
Reinhardt looked back toward the map.
"I see."
Cassian's hand tightened slightly around one of the reports.
"Do you think something happened?"
Reinhardt did not answer immediately.
He kept his gaze on the map of the western flank.
"Roven has always been a man of his own priorities."
Silence took the tent.
Only the crackling of the oil lamps broke the stillness.
Then—
FWOOOSH.
The entrance flap was pulled aside.
A soldier entered quickly.
He knelt.
"Commander Cassian."
"Marshal Reinhardt."
Cassian raised his eyes.
"Speak."
"Lord Roven has returned to camp."
Reinhardt did not react.
Cassian merely nodded.
"And Kaizer?"
The soldier hesitated.
Only for an instant.
"Lord Roven requested your presence immediately."
Cassian's eyes narrowed.
"Requested?"
"Yes, sir."
The soldier lowered his head.
"He asked that I guide you to a tent near the northern sector."
Cassian exchanged a glance with Reinhardt.
Reinhardt shook his head once.
The soldier lowered his head even further.
"There is one more message."
Cassian remained silent.
"Lord Roven requested that Lady Selvaria not be informed of the return."
For an instant.
Cassian studied the messenger.
Then turned his attention back to Reinhardt.
"Lady Selvaria is probably still praying for the dead."
Reinhardt nodded slightly.
"I'll take care of it."
Cassian turned toward the soldier.
"Take me to him."
"Yes, sir."
The messenger bowed his head.
Cassian was already walking when the tent flap was pulled aside.
The cold night wind swept through the interior of headquarters.
Without saying anything else, he followed the messenger through the camp.
The cold wind crossed the corridors formed by the rows of tents.
Around them, the life of the army continued.
Soldiers sat beside bonfires.
Some ate in silence.
Others cleaned dried blood from their armor.
Healers passed among the wounded carrying supply crates.
The smell of smoke mixed with iron and medicinal herbs.
Farther ahead, a group of men tried to sleep leaning against stacked shields.
None of them looked truly at rest.
Only gathering strength for dawn.
Cassian cast a glance toward them as he passed.
The messenger walked several steps ahead.
As they advanced toward the northern side of the camp, the movement began to diminish.
The bonfires became less numerous.
The voices disappeared.
The rows of tents grew farther apart.
Few soldiers remained in that area.
And the ones who did kept their distance.
As though avoiding approaching something.
Cassian noticed.
But did not comment.
He kept moving forward.
Soon the final main row of tents was left behind.
The terrain opened up.
Silent.
Only the wind crossed the darkness.
In the distance, a single bonfire remained lit.
And near it stood a tent isolated from the others.
No banners.
No movement.
No sign of activity around it.
Two guards stood before the entrance.
Motionless.
Hands resting over their weapons.
The messenger slowed down.
Stopping several steps before them.
The guards recognized Cassian immediately.
No words were spoken.
They merely stepped aside.
Opening a path.
The messenger bowed his head.
"Lord Roven is waiting."
Cassian assessed the tent for a moment.
Then advanced.
His hand pulled aside the entrance flap.
The interior of the tent was silent.
Only a few scattered oil lamps illuminated the room.
Cassian entered.
The flap closed behind him.
Cassian immediately examined the inside of the tent.
To the right of the bed, Garrick stood motionless.
Arms crossed before his chest.
On the other side, Roven observed Kaizer's body.
Cassian's eyes stopped.
Kaizer lay upon an improvised bed.
Motionless.
Eyes closed.
Black lines pulsed beneath the skin.
Slow.
Constant.
Spreading across the neck.
Across the jaw.
Disappearing beneath the collar of his clothing.
Like living roots writhing beneath the flesh.
For an instant, Cassian remained silent.
"This..."
Roven raised his eyes.
Meeting Cassian's.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Only the sound of the wind outside filled the tent.
"I prepared this place before departing for the battlefield."
Roven's voice remained calm.
His gaze shifted briefly toward Kaizer.
"War is an unpleasant activity."
A brief pause.
"Sometimes it demands preparations for outcomes we would rather not consider."
Cassian continued observing the black lines beneath Kaizer's skin.
They continued pulsing.
"Who else knows about this?"
"Only the men who were present."
Roven answered without taking his eyes off Kaizer.
"All of them received orders to remain silent."
A brief pause.
"The fall of one of the Five during a campaign usually creates unnecessary consequences."
Garrick remained motionless.
Like a steel statue observing the scene.
Cassian turned his attention back toward Roven.
"What happened?"
Silence remained for an instant.
"Alaric happened."
"I believe he struck his Cordis."
Cassian frowned slightly.
"The second heart..."
Roven nodded.
"I can see the traces."
His hand moved discreetly toward the black lines pulsing beneath Kaizer's skin.
"Divine energy."
Cassian looked back at Kaizer.
The lines continued spreading slowly.
"If Alaric introduced divine energy inside the Cordis..."
A brief pause.
"It is in conflict with chaos energy."
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
Roven's dull brown eyes remained fixed on the motionless body.
"At this moment, the two are trying to subjugate one another."
Garrick raised his eyes for the first time.
"He's only alive because of the king's blood."
"Anyone else would already be dead."
Roven nodded.
"But that won't last forever."
His fingers lightly touched the edge of the bed.
"The divine energy is winning."
A brief pause.
"And it continues devouring everything it finds inside his Cordis."
Silence took the tent.
Only the sound of the lamps burning filled the space.