“Ven, can we talk in private?” Gabriella asked after her daughter had gone to bed. Currently, Ven was reading by moonlight. A strangely unique activity that wasn’t possible on Earth due to light pollution. “Of course. What is it, Gabriella?” Ven closed her book and turned to her troubled friend. “I’m afraid I’ve been summoned.” “Summoned? Summoned for what?” Gabriella took a deep breath, steeling herself for the answer. Her head was still spinning. “War…” “War? War with who, why are you summoned?” “Come now, Vendelin… You must understand that as the head of the house of Sandor I must lead my men to the battlefield.” “Why must I understand this? No, say no!” “I can’t… The head or heir of the house must join the war, or it will be considered an act of cowardice… I can’t send Violette to war… She’s…” Gabriella failed to finish the sentence as she broke down at the thought, as the memories of her husband and son resurfaced.

The next few days went relatively smoothly. Slowly the group led by Jaune got the hang of this lure and trap tactic. Edvard also became stronger and faster each day.Abigail’s guild had also joined the volunteer mission. Strangely, her magic was not suited for fighting against strong foes such as orcs. The winds she could summon were certainly powerful, but orcs were inhumanly strong.While it could do some damage to them, it was minor. Instead, Edvard found a much different role for her. Wind magic had this very nice attribute when used as a source of healing, it soothed the soul. Or so the explanation went.Edvard didn’t believe in things like the soul, there was and has never been any evidence. The same could be said for magic, so he didn’t outright deny it. But he wasn’t suddenly going to believe everything is magical.Rather, he tried to rationalize it.From what he understood, water magic and the divine magic of the go

‘Well, that worked perfectly.’ Edvard mumbled as he quickly took another arrow from his quiver and let loose. While the orcs were fast, he was proficient. By the time they crossed the two hundred meters (656ft), he had killed another five. Sadly, not all hits had been a kill and there were far too many for him to face directly. Jumping down so he wouldn’t be surrounded while stuck in the three, he used the little time to release one last arrow before abandoning his bow and dashing away. Weaving past all the trees, branches, and plants, Edvard was not slowed in any way. The forest was his home. The orcs roared in anger seeing him run, their determination to get the dishonourable assassin leaking into the air. They did not weave through all the obstacles of the forest, instead they cut through it. It slowed them down a little, but not nearly enough to give Edvard time to breathe. ‘I can keep leading them, but to what end?’ Edvard thought, realizing that this would not work. Looking ar

The rivers going through Erendale had done nothing to slow the orcs. They had not even needed to deviate to the bridges to cross them. The rivers were after all not that deep nor that strong.As a result, all three gates had been assaulted with little difference in timing. Locking everyone inside the town with no way to escape. The orcs ramming the gates protected underneath their shield of fireproof logs.Jaune looked at the charging orcs with a slight smile, they had been truly bothered by the orcs’ patience thus far. The gates would not last long, they needed to thin the orcs on the walls before falling back to the keep. Sadly, the keep could not hold everyone. Some had to die here first, they could only retreat once it was clear that the walls were lost and after enough had died. It was terrible but it was their best bet. The attack had simply come too fast.Luckily, now it appeared that the orcs would indeed scale the walls, all thanks to Edvard. And to top it off he had taken ha

Edvard slowly stirred, fighting the sleepiness that filled his entire body. He fought to simply stay conscious. Sleep was a tempting mistress, but his years in the illusion taught him never to let sleep dull his sense. He needed to confirm the situation. The last thing he recalled was seeing Abigail among the carnage.Abigail was sitting near a fire, her clothes a mess of blood and tears, having used her clothes as bandages for Edvard's wounds. Forcing himself upright, Edvard smiled. She was a beautiful girl, far too young for him, but he could at least enjoy the sight as the fire illuminated her hair. Her hair was no longer a shiny bright green but rather a deep dark green. Yet it was still enchanting as a shine would come through as the flames of the fire played in the wind. Edvard was lying atop some large leaves, close enough for the fire’s heat to reach him. His own clothes were tattered, his toning muscles reflecting the light of the fire. A few more months, and he would be at