I parted ways with Arngard as we passed the perimeter guards of the camp. He set out to quietly ramp up security while I headed for Gash'zur's field forge. She had even gotten herself an apprentice before we departed Caer'rath. Even with the young man's help she was more than a little busy though. The same was true for the other crafters as well who had flocked to her position to set up their tools as if it were the most natural thing. Well, maybe it was. She was hard to miss after all. Anyway, they were pretty busy. There was always something that needed fixing.

There was always something that needed fixing. Sandals needed new nails. Draft animals needed to be shod. A wagon needed a new axle or a wheel had to be repaired. Some weapons had to be sharpened and of course tools had to be cleaned and oiled up again after building our field fortifications. I didn't like the idea of disrupting their workflow but got the giantess' attention anyway. “Do you have a spare knife or dagger I can borrow? I'm one short.” I patted the empty spot on my belt for emphasis.

She raised an eyebrow but did not ask any questions as she handed her tools to her apprentice to let him continue making nails for shoes. Nails weren't exactly hard work, not usually anyway, but these were for shoes and thus a lot more delicate than nails one might use for horseshoes. You had to be careful not to burn the iron in the coals. The giantess wiped her hands on a rag and picked up a hunting knife from a makeshift shelf. She pulled it from its sheath to examine it in the light of the forge before handing it to me. “This one should be pretty close to the one you are used to.”

I undid my belt and she helped me fasten the sheath to it. After drawing and sheathing it a few times and some adjustments I was ready to go again. It really was pretty similar to the one I gave away regarding weight and balance. Its edge was just as sharp as well. I didn't head out again right away though. Instead I put a hand on Gash'zur's shoulder, pulling her away from the others. “Don't sleep to tight tonight. Keep your armor on and your weapon at hand. Have everyone prepare for an enemy sneak attack but be quiet about it. You'll lead my banner. Understood?”

She let out a long sigh before looking me in the eyes. “You are, to borrow your sister's words, planning something reckless again, aren't you? And why should I lead your banner? Wouldn't your sister be a better pick? The people know her.”

I grinned apologetically and shrugged. “Maybe. I'm not quite sure yet. And yes, under other circumstances I would name my sister as my second in command. In the dark of night you are a lot harder to miss if the men and women need a rallying point.”

She sighed again but nodded anyway. “Just don't get yourself killed, yes?”

I winced, as she held me at arm's length with a hand on my shoulder. “I would promise but to be honest the best I can say is, that I will try.”

It didn't look like that is what she had wanted to hear but she knew I was right. Making empty promises would not make anyone feel better. She nodded one last time and let go of me. “I'll make the rounds and have the banner prepare quietly. Should I spread word to the others as well?”

I thought about that for a moment before answering. “Arngard should be spreading the word already but do it anyway, just in case. Just make sure everyone keeps quiet about it. I don't want to tip our hand.” With those words I left.

My steps led me towards the fortified edge of the camp again as the sun sank and darkness descended. I started enhancing my steps with Cat's Grace well before I reached the perimeter to make sure I did not leave any tracks that would give me away. Well, I tried to minimize the traces of my passage at least. I raised my hand in greeting to catch the attention of a nearby patrol along the palisade. They obviously recognized me but before any of the four could speak up I hushed them, gesturing for them to keep going.

As I slipped away I triggered the next spell, cloaking myself with the Chameleon Skin spell. At the same time I slowed down a little to make sure the spell's camouflage effect could actually blend in with the background. I made sure to avoid the open fields and meadows as well, keeping to the strips of trees and underbrush separating them instead.

I didn't have to go far. The fields and meadows of the farms extend only so far after all. Clearing more wood would have been a wast of time and effort if there was no one to work the additional fields after all. My target was the densest spot of forest near our camp and the few scattered human farmsteads. As I reached it I slowed to a crawl, every step, every move made with great care to hide my passage as well as my presence.

Finally I found what I was looking for. A spot mostly clear of undergrowth under the interlocking canopies of several particularly old trees. Hardly any light penetrated to the ground here. There was not much light to begin with anyway as only the barest crescent of the moon was still visible as the next new moon, only a few hours away by now, approached. That more than anything else might be at fault why I was convinced that whatever was going to happen would happen tonight.

Yes, this spot was just right. Hidden from any moonlight and out of view of the camp guards there was just enough space for a group of headhunters to gather here. I didn't enter the open space though. Instead I melted back in between two particularly dense bushes, their thorns scraping across the scales of my armor until I settled down low to the ground to wait.

I let go of the Cat's Grace spell as well to not give myself away by the considerable drain on the ambient Mana. I did my best to minimize the amount of energy the Chameleon Skin spell had to draw as well by minimizing my movements. I barely even dared to breath as I settled in for a long wait with all my weapons ready.

And I did indeed have to wait quite some time. The middle of the night passed and I started doubting myself when something caught my attention when it was two hours to sunrise at most. I frowned as a slight mist crept across the ground not far from me. That one sliver of mist was soon followed by others, growing more dense with every passing moment.

That wasn't right. It wasn't the right time for the morning mists. Those would only rise from the wet land as the sun rose into the sky. This was an entirely unnatural phenomenon. It was just the kind of spell someone might use to hide the passage of a large group. The mist even swallowed most sounds! I tightened my grip on the bone shaft of my glaive. It wouldn't be long now.

I didn't even dare swallow as I kept an eye out for disturbances in the mist. There! Not on the ground but up in the trees! A pale, pointy eared figure with its hair in a few ugly, matted braids. It was wearing nothing but a crude belt with a few old trophies tied to it. It stopped up there, crouched on the lowest branches of the tree, testing the air.

My heart almost skipped a beat. Could my smell give me away? No, probably not. The smell of the army and its campfires was still heavy in the air, even here.

The first headhunter didn't stay alone for long. As it kept crouched up there without raising an alarm others started to move into the clear space under the trees, their movements disturbing the mist. Most were young and most were women. The vast majority wore only a few trophies or none at all.

Could this be some kind of ritual for these cursed cannibals? A ritual to blood their young hunters? Well, I would happily spill their blood. All of it.

Then something changed. Most of the young ones moved to the edge of the open space, as if to make room for someone else. One even stopped just two steps from my hiding spot, well within range of my glaive. There was no sign that any of them might have noticed me. Their attention was on the figures which stepped out of the mist last anyway.

My eyes were on those as well though. First came two women in the prime of their live. Decorative scars adorned their bodies from the tops of their heads to the very tips of their toes in a dense pattern. Both were spellcasters of some sort. The mist oozing off their skin gave testament to that. What really caught my attention though were the trophies on their belts. Those were fresh heads. Blood still dripping down on their bare legs. I couldn't make out all of them but one of them had belonged to a darkelf and another to a harpy. I hadn't known her personally but I was sure that I had seen her around. My blood ran cold.

And then, at long last the pale king arrived. None of the headhunters were pretty sights but this one was worse. He was old and he was fat. Dozens of heads lined his belt. Some were old, skulls only held together by twine made from their own hair, others though were fresh. In between these gruesome trophies rested others. Daggers and knives of all shapes, some were old and rusty while others were shiny and new.

He held a mighty cleaver in one hand while dragging half a decapitated harpy along with the other. As he came to a stop amidst the others he lifted the mauled corpse to take a bite out of it. Only then did my gaze settle upon the wreath of metallic leaves and thorns that wrapped around his wrinkled head, like a crown. Oh, Maidens! Devourer be damned! Of course that accursed pale king was a ghoul king!