Enzo Gastone didn’t waste a second after the delivery of my grim news. He immediately put two fingers to his lips and loosed a shrill, warbling whistle that pierced through the air, echoing off the trees on either side of the path.

  The number of Rangers around us instantly tripled. They leapt from branches, popped from the bushes, and in some cases, simply faded into view with a sparkle of dissipating illusory Mana. With a wave of Captain Gastone’s hand, Sylvia was proven right when the entire ‘barricade’ wisped out of existence as well.

  Things moved rapidly after that. In no uncertain terms, Enzo ‘informed’ me that this news needed to reach the city now, not later, and preferably from the source. He tried to convince me that I should run ahead with a few of his men, on foot, to deliver the news to Elysael personally.

  I flatly refused to do so, arguing that by our guess, the Principality forces were likely at least a week away from the city. This only frustrated him more until I dug in my heels and told him in no uncertain terms.

  “My duty is to my people,” I said evenly. “I cannot abandon them. I suggest that you send a runner ahead to Rhoscara, letting them know we’re coming. My forces will need a place within your walls if we hope to assist you in the battle to come.”

  That seemed to get through to Enzo, though I could tell he didn’t care for it. He cursed quietly under his breath before digging out a scrap of parchment and a stick of charcoal from within his robe. Without even needing to be asked, one of his men turned his back, allowing the Captain to rapidly scribble out a message upon it. When Enzo was done, he grabbed the Ranger’s shoulder, spun him around, shoved the parchment into his chest, and met his eyes through the gloom of their cloak. “Go.”

  Without another word, the Ranger immediately dashed down the road away from us. As he did, I could see the beginnings of a physical enhancement Skill activate on the Ranger. The disturbed wind around his feet thickened, and what seemed to be tiny wings formed on his heels.

  The Ranger abruptly accelerated, the wind audibly snapping from the speed of his passing. In moments, he had disappeared out of sight.

  I blinked.

  Impressive. I could see just why the Rangers were so well-regarded, with both their Illusionary Spells and high-quality Skills like that.

  I returned my attention to Enzo, to find the Ranger Captain already looking at me with a frown on his tired features. “We’ll escort you to the city. You’re about three days away from it at your current pace, but if you push, you can make it in one and a half.”

  I nodded at him. “That, we can do.”

  …………………………………..

  And so we did.

  The news that we were so close to our goal emboldened the soldiers of the expedition, and I ordered a temporary rescission of our rest period. Professional soldiers and Classers with a high enough level could operate for up to a week without sleep. That would leave them extremely exhausted and essentially tapped out, however. We had been trying to pace ourselves on our journey by making sure that the soldiers had enough rest and relaxation, even in the rigors of the Skyfall, so that they could leap to battle at a moment's notice. It had worked out well for us.

  This was a marathon, not a sprint.

  But the time had come for the sprint, and everyone knew it. We abruptly increased our pace, snapping both the figurative and literal reins on the expedition, all the while Enzo Gastone’s Ranger ‘creche’ kept pace with us on foot.

  Racing…for the Red City.

  Enzo didn’t lie to us.

  We finally reached Rhoscara one and a half days later. And it looked like that Ranger had been able to make it before we did.

  They were waiting for us.

  ………………………………………….

  As the expedition crested the very same hill I had first sighted the city the year previous, escorted by Azarus and Gren, I couldn’t help but make an observation.

  Rhoscara looked…different.

  Partly, I think, that had to do with the Skyfall itself. The Red City had always struck me as specifically constructed to catch the rays of the sun and reflect them in a specific manner. When the light of Tarus struck the crimson and gold roofs of the city, it had always cast it back in a way that resembled the dying of it. It had been like Rhoscara was caught in an endless sunset, and it had been all the more beautiful for it.

  Not now, though. The dim grey light of the Skyfall wasn’t enough to evoke the light of evening. Instead, the endless roofs of Rhoscara now looked as if they were painted in the color of spilled lifesblood.

  Dark and foreboding, it wasn’t helped by the visible strain that the wards of the city seemed to be under. A common visual phenomenon I had noticed on our travels was that the constant pressure against wards tended to bring them into the visual spectrum. Up to now, this had been something I had only noticed on settlements whose wards visibly felt older, less advanced than modern schemata.

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  But Rhoscara’s very much were not old. They weren’t quite on the level of, say, Blutstein, but they were still very strong. It was easy enough for me to measure the relative strength of a certain set of wards, just from my long exposure in working with them. The fact that they were now in the visible spectrum like this didn’t bode well.

  Alveron’s warning about the progression of the Skyfall rang through my mind, as we began our descent into the river valley that Rhoscara called home.

  As we grew closer, it was easy to see that the city had visibly been built up in a militaristic fashion. The once unadorned walls of Rhoscara now possessed a number of new additions. Spikes along the top rim to deter invaders, all kinds of siege weapons placed in strategic locations, aimed outwards, and soldiers.

  Lots and lots and lots of soldiers.

  Not only along the walls…

  But in front of the city, as well.

  Arranged before the strangely wide open gates of Rhoscara was…a very large military force. Intellectually, I had understood that the Red City possessed a substantial private army. From the Rangers, to their naval forces, to their guards, to the standard soldiery that I knew them to possess. But knowing something exists was very different from seeing it arrayed before you.

  There had to be three times the number of soldiers that the expedition possessed, arranged in neat ranks before the gates. Ranks up ranks of plate and chain-mailed warriors, Dwarves upon stoutly bred warhorses appropriate for their size, more Rangers than I had expected to even exist, those strangely intimidating avian-themed knights had I had briefly encountered…

  Thousands and thousands of them, standing at attention before the wide-open gates of Rhoscara, were there to greet us. Somehow, I doubted this was all of Rhoscara’s forces, as well.

  And astride a pure white stallion of her own, there was a single, female Dwarven figure at the forefront of the ranks. One with long, crimson red hair dancing in the slight wind, wearing what seemed to be armor of her own.

  Elysael.

  This was…not quite what I had been expecting, to a reception for people who were ostensibly coming to help them. I tensed up, there among the rest of the Captains, standing at the bow of the Ashen Bride. I could tell I wasn’t the only one unnerved by the unexpectedly unfriendly welcome, either. Marcel’s fur was literally standing on end as he bristled in place, looking like he was expecting a blow that could fall at any time. Gustave, despite his Army training, was allowing his emotions to show through in his tightly clenched fists.

  To their credit, neither Bella nor Nyx had especially telling reactions, despite the apparent setback. The pirate Captain had a small frown on her face, while it was always hard to tell what Nyx was thinking, much less feeling. The onyx Sculpted woman was notoriously stone-faced.

  Alveron, of course, was by definition inscrutable behind his mask and cloak. But I could swear I could feel an accusing stare on the side of my face coming from his direction.

  Not just him, either. I could feel it as not only the soldiers at our back tensed, but my friends as well.

  Sylvia, in particular, stood at my back, and through long exposure to her, I could sense her tenseness.

  Had we completely misread the situation? Was it possible that Rhoscara was completely unwilling to accept foreign aid in the face of aggression from the Principality? Had they…already reached a deal with them, and chosen to rejoin their native country?

  Was Elysael about to neatly try and decapitate an enemy of her state?

  Strangely, though…Olag seemed perfectly fine. More than that…

  I blinked out of the strange, dread-inducing state I had somehow fallen into.

  Olag seemed happy. The mercenary Captain had an outright smile on his face as he shook his head in seeming appreciation. “As always, cousin,” He said aloud. “You understand the game well. I’d tip my hat to you, but it’s currently in my home. Well, all that’s left-” Olag turned to face the rest of the Captains, only to draw up short in surprise. I saw his golden eyes flicker across the faces of everyone gathered in a flash, and a confused frown overtook his face. “What the devil is the matter with all of you? There’s nothing to be concerned with here. Haven’t you ever heard of a military welcome?”

  That seemed to be enough to snap everyone out of the shock we had fallen into. I could almost watch as realization spread across the ranks, first to those on deck, and then rippling outward into the rest of the expedition like a wave. Confusion and a tinge of embarrassment read on everyone’s faces then, and not dread.

  I furrowed my brow. “What…just happened?”

  Olag narrowed his eyes, his frown deepening. “I should be asking all of you that. All of you look as if you were moments away from death.”

  I looked around, and somehow, my gaze met Alveron’s. It turns out, he had been looking at me. Only, it wasn’t a stare of accusation he was fixing me with.

  Instead, there was an almost analytical look of suspicion in his eyes. Not towards me, I could tell, nor to anyone gathered. I couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking…

  Only that it didn’t bode well.

  “Enough of this foolishness,” Olag continued irritably. “The Prince has gathered our forces as a show of appreciation for your aid. As well, the gates are open to signal your welcome into our fair city. Really, this is all very easy to understand. Why-”

  I held up a hand to stop him, shaking my head. “Not…not now, Olag. This isn’t the time for it.”

  “Indeed,” Alveron broke in, inclining his head towards the ‘welcome force’. “Look now. The Ranger has gone to greet its master.”

  I followed his nod to see that Enzo, who had been riding a horse on the ground before the expedition, had spurred it forward. He raced down the hill, making a beeline for Elysael. When he reached her, he swung himself down off his steed, and even from here, I could see him bow at the waist before speaking rapidly. When he was finished, I could swear that the Prince looked up and somehow met my gaze.

  I refrained from shivering, shaking it off as the caravan slowly came to a rumbling, creaking halt some few hundred yards away from the gathered Rhoscaran forces.

  Instead, I looked around at my fellow leaders and exchanged nods with them. “Let’s go. It looks like we have an appointment.”

  As we all began to make our way for the off-boarding ramp of the ship, I couldn’t help but wonder…

  What had just happened?

  ……………………………………

  It only took us a few minutes to link up with the expedition honor guard that had been prepared for just this occasion. They were waiting patiently for us, dressing in our best and shiniest armor, bearing the various flags and banners of the Herztalian expedition. The banner of the Polaris Reach, the Eclipsed Dawn, Bella’s pirate flag, the flag of Herztal, the flag of the Gnollish Throng…even the banner of the Raven’s Beak was present among them.

  It was important to present a united front. And that’s just what we did, as the Captainry and our guard marched from the hold of the Ashen Bride to meet with Elysael.

  No pressure.

  It’s not like the fate of the world just might hang on us allying with Rhoscara, or anything.