“I still remember those days clearly,” muttered Grimhawk. “The days when I was in Torlick Squad.” He nodded firmly to himself. “We were the first squad under Lady Grulick’s tutelage and the last for Sir Torbin. Aye, the great Tilrey fire ended up getting the better of him.”

After two days of slow travel, the group was finally near Felsend. Grimhawk made the journey easy, regaling them with tales of his youth and victories won by his fellow squires. Veximarl passed his time writing down his stories. The old knight, being blind, never saw the use in keeping a written record. Plus, the oral tradition allowed for the storyteller to add all of the embellishments they wanted.

“The sight of Felsend is enough to overwhelm any squire,” Grimhawk muttered with a nod. “The tradition started in my days, when the city was still being abandoned. By now thousands have planted their hopes here. Still bearing fruit years past when their knight’s legends have ended.”

Alton rolled his eyes. “Now that has to be an exaggeration.”

Sybil peeked her head out the wagon. “... I don’t think it is.”

She had seen forests before, but the thought that all of these trees had been planted by human hands was mind-boggling. Hundreds of them swallowed up the roads ahead. It was only once they had passed the first couple dozen did they begin to see traces of a fallen city.

Roots had dug up foundations, which had led to uneven roads and sinkholes. Any wooden structures had become rotten by time, while stone ones were leaning dangerously. Some stones bore carvings from Braytons squires, pointing in the directions where they had planted their trees.

“All of this in sixty years,” whispered Veximarl. He pulled the wagon to a stop. There was no telling what the integrity of this place was. Falling into a newly formed hole was the last thing they needed.

Alton hopped out of the wagon first. He walked over to the edge of a sinkhole and looked down at it. The water appeared deep and clear.

Sybil was slower to leave. She kept tapping her feet against the ground, fearful that it might disintegrate below her. “Are you sure this place has space for us to plant anything?”

“I’ve brought a collection of fruit and nut seeds,” replied Veximarl. “We should plant several of them. They would be helpful to the local wildlife.”

A chill ran up Sybil’s back. “You don’t think there are wolves, do you?”

“Of course there are wolves,” replied Veximarl with a firm nod. “Felsend is a haven for animals.” He then put a hand to his chin. “Though I wonder… Would it be worth the effort to contact any nymphs and see if they wish to inhabit this territory?”

Alton put his hands on his hips. “... Yeah, should be fine,” he whispered to himself.

Sybil didn’t hear him. “Sir Grimhawk? Is it alright if we take a break here? We want to go a bit on foot first to see if there’s someplace better for us to make camp.”

“Hrm…” Grimhawk tilted his head out the window and listened to the breeze. “Should clear. Don’t wander out far and keep in touch with each other.”

Veximarl pulled out his letter to see if it would work. There was no contact with the barracks, but Sybil and Alton were visible on his contacts. “I would rather scout first and plant seeds either later today or tomorrow. One of us should stay with Sir Grimhawk while-” He quickly spun around. “B-by the god’s graces.”

Alton had completely stripped himself of all clothing and was in the middle of doing stretches.

“What are you doing?!” Sybil exclaimed as she put her hand to her mouth.

“What?” Alton turned around to stare at them. “There’s fish down there. I’m catching dinner.” He then smirked when Sybil scoffed loudly. “Grimhawk is blind and Vex won’t a stare.”

“Someone could attack us at any minute!” Sybil cried back.

“And, hear me out.” Alton held his hands out to his sides, and dark, sharp claws appeared on the tips of his fingers. “I could run straight at them all songbird-like while flailing my arms about.” He pawed at the air as though he were scratching an opponent.

Sybil’s expression became strained. “What if you jump in the water and get impaled by a branch?”

“Then Paladin Vex can heal me.” Alton saluted the pair. “I’ll be alright.” He backflipped off the edge of the sinkhole. After a second that seemed like an eternity to Sybil, a splash resonated through the woods.

Veximarl covered his eyes whilst wishing with all his might that he had the ability to rid himself of the memory of Alton’s bare cheeks. “We should take what opportunities we gain whilst on this trip. Not only to find your hunters, but to tell Alton the truth behind my abilities.”

“I still don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sybil hung her head off to the side. “Though I wish he’d take this a bit more seriously.”

Grimhawk had eased himself out of the wagon and was now feeling around with his staff. “It’s good to be relaxed during a time like this.” He tapped his staff against a short boulder a few times before sitting on it. “But a mission is gonna suffer if you find yourself carrying extra weight. The pressure does nothing but builds each day, and one’s mind will end up cracking… That’s how you end up with mistakes.”

Still feeling short on words, Veximarl could only shrug. “If he is planning on fishing, I will get started on a fire. Sybil?” He flashed her a weak smile. “For once, you’ll be able to fulfill your role as a scout.”

“And it only took a year,” replied Sybil sarcastically. “I’ll see if there are any good branches to burn.”

A fire pit was prepared and Sybil and Veximarl set to work setting up their tent. Sybil didn’t find any better points to camp. This was still near the main road, making them somewhat easy to find, but it also gave them a route of escape if they needed to run.

“There.” Veximarl had finished constructing a barrier so that none of the fire’s smoke would blow towards Grimhawk. He was worried that it would be bad for the knight’s heart. “I can start steaming rice if- And he is still naked,” he spat out as he was forced to avert his eyes again.

Alton had caught three large fish. They were dangling from his claws, already cleaned and gutted. “And no one bothered to pull out a towel for me?”

“We didn’t pack any,” replied Veximarl in an annoyed tone.

“... Why?” Asked Alton.

“Because in the limited time I had to prepare for this mission, not once did it cross my mind that you would find the time to flaunt your sopping wet nethers about!” Veximarl cried back. He then began to rub his temples. His headaches were growing worse.

Alton shook his head. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It was my mistake for thinking highly of you, yes,” muttered Veximarl.

Sybil began to sharpen a stick with her utility knife. “Let’s start cooking the fish first and we’ll figure out how to dry you off afterward.”

She was fortunate to have put aside sticks long enough to pierce the fish. They were hung over the fire and Alton used his spare change of clothes to dry himself off. None of them had brought casual wear. They each wore the minimum they needed for combat and while their heavier armor packed away in the wagon.

Hours had been spent coming up with a plan. Alton was to take care of the mind mage and any other slavers with his song. Veximarl’s summons should be more than enough to fight the elementalist. He doubted that she had the experience needed to fight a necromancer. In theory, they still had that card hidden in their deck.

In the worst-case scenario, Sybil was captured and the rest of them died. She was confident that she wouldn’t be controlled and turned against them. They tried to use the ring on her before, and all it did was give her a great deal of pain.

As terrible as this plan was without Chickadee or Zaniyah to help them, she was grateful that they wouldn’t end up injured because of her. It looks like everything was going to work out for them.

“Ah, Vex.” She said quietly as she gestured to Grimhawk. Their aging mentor was bobbing his head up and down, struggling to stay awake.

“I’ll help him,” he replied.

After a bit of coaxing, they managed to get Grimhawk to rest inside the wagon. Veximarl knew that the knight meant well, but it was unlikely that he would be able to do much in a fight. They had hidden their trail earlier, hoping to avoid a fight at night… Still, this would be the best time to attack.

“I will take first watch,” said Veximarl to the others. “Alton, you should take the second.” Sybil had assured him multiple times that the ring wouldn’t be a problem, but he didn’t wish to risk having Sybil by herself. It was best that they coordinate in order to keep her guarded.

Alton nodded. The closer they got to a possible fight, the tenser he was beginning to feel. “Got it,” he muttered. He went into his and Sybil’s tent without a word of complaint, leaving the other two to spend some time alone together.

“He’s surprisingly less clingy as of late,” whispered Veximarl.

Sybil shook her head. “I think he feels guilty about what happened to me. He’s rarely left my side since he returned from Carapace, but sometimes it feels like he isn’t actually with me.” Sybil tapped her temple. “He’s not mentally here.”

“Out of all of our troubles, yours have been the most difficult, but I’ve needed time to adjust to the recent events. No doubt that it’s the same for him.” Veximarl stared into the flames. “... Get some rest, Sybil. We know not what tomorrow will bring.”

She patted his shoulder and entered the tent. All of them got up early the next day and used the leftover fish to make breakfast. The three squires then went out to explore, leaving Grimhawk to watch the camp. Grimhawk encouraged them to have some fun while they were here, and they would discuss any further plans when they returned.

They found a clearing that had been created by a fallen tower and figured it was as good of a place as any to plant their seeds. Veximarl did so with a heavy heart. If only Gwyn were at the barracks. She would’ve been able to give them saplings to bring. As it was, there was no telling if the seeds they planted would grow or not.

“Do we have any way to carve into stone?” Alton looked to the other two. “Chi and Zan will want to come here to plant trees too. We should mark this spot so we can find it again.”

Veximarl pointed to a tall tree. “We will carve our squad’s insignia on that tree.”

“Chickadee can create a stone monument here later,” added Sybil. She might have a dagger sharp enough to carve stone, but Chickadee would no doubt be furious if she damaged her weapon.

“That will be a nice sentiment.” Veximarl nodded. “But for now, a tree is all we have.”

Alton and Veximarl went about digging little holes while Sybil carved Grimstone’s coat of arms in a tree. She joined the two and planted a walnut in the center of the clearing. Veximarl then bowed his head and said a brief prayer to Eatha, wishing that the seeds would prosper and grow into mighty trees.

“Ugh,” muttered Alton. “I don’t think I could ever say a prayer again.” Not after meeting many of the gods himself.

Sybil closed her eyes and nodded in pity. She held similar sentiments.

“Despite the way you two feel about it, there are still harmless traditions that we can abide,” scolded Veximarl.

Sybil was about to say something when she heard a sharp ringing through the air. As though someone had struck a high pitched note. Birds began to flock through the air, scattering from where they were settled on the trees.

“It’s Grimhawk,” muttered Alton as another clang was heard. “He’s trying to find us.”

Veximarl held out the top half of his spear. “Ale-”

He let out a faint gag as a sharp pain pierced his torso. Veximarl looked to his side, where Sybil was standing. She had slipped a dagger between his ribs and punctured his heart.

“Sybil!” Alton grabbed onto her arm and yanked her away. He then clasped onto her shoulders and spun her towards him. “... Sybil?” Her eyes had faded to a pale blue. They were vacant, staring at nothing in particular. She didn’t make eye contact with Alton, even as he tried to get her attention by shaking her.

The dagger was still deeply embedded in Veximarl’s side. It was taking every ounce of his strength just to remain standing. “... Ah, I-I see,” he whispered. “Sybil… It’s quite alright.”

A whizzing, and Veximarl’s hand flicked up with impressive speed. His shield appeared next to him, but its usual appearance had shifted into an aberration. The cat emblem upon it was snarling, its edges were flaring with bright red light, and the whole of it was letting out a guttering growl.

The arrow struck, and both it and the shield exploded. Veximarl stumbled to the side but remained standing. His hunch was right. An arrow of true faith. He would’ve been struck by it had he not channeled his divine heritage.

Alton let go of Sybil and his shield unfurled from his bracer. He drew his sword from his belt and kept low, prepared to defend against other archers. “Vex, are you-”

The sky suddenly crossed Alton’s line of sight as Sybil tripped him up and hurled him to the ground. She mounted his stomach and Alton was forced to drop his sword so that he could use both hands to catch Sybil’s forearms. Another of her daggers grazed his throat. If he fought harder, maybe he could overpower her, but the thought of harming her in the process was paralyzing him.

“Why do we let you carry so many knives?!” Alton growled out. “Vex!”

He could barely catch a glimpse of Veximarl out of the corner of his eye. His captain was struggling to breathe. A step was taken towards the pair, and the ground rumbled below them. Alton’s eyes widened in horror as three thin pillars of granite erupted from the ground, piercing into Veximarl’s chest from all angles.

Veximarl’s body went limp, supported by the pillars for a moment before they crumbled under his weight. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, eyes open and mouth agape. Blood quickly pulled around him from the open holes in his body. It didn’t matter if any one of them could stop the bleeding now, for the life within him had already been extinguished.