《The Fall of Everything [Rewrite]》


 0001 | The Beginning of the End

    The Adler Empire was rapidly fading from its former glory. The once great power that once ruled the four corners of the world was now rotting from within. The vast lands to the north were defenseless against the barbarian attacks that threatened their borders. In the port cities of the south, epidemics raged, the people starved, and the nobles fled the city to live in luxury. As if all this were not enough, hostile kingdoms and empires were gathering forces to reclaim their lost territories.


    Emperor Tiberius sighed deeply as he watched the capital from the large balcony of his palace. The sky was covered in gray clouds, just like the mood he was in. His once shoulder-length golden hair was now gray, and the vigor in his eyes had given way to a dull look. The heavy defeats he had suffered had left deep scars on his body and soul.


    For a long time, a single thought had been gnawing at his mind: How could he save the Empire? The crises all over his lands did not allow him to blink for even a moment. It was not only his enemies who left him with these questions; his allies had become so dangerous that their loyalty was in doubt.


    As he struggled with these thoughts, he heard a voice behind him. ¡°Your Majesty...¡± said General Cassius, bowing deeply. Cassius had long been the Emperor''s most trusted man and the highest ranking man in his army.


    "Tell me, Cassius," Tiberius said without turning back, his voice weak but determined.


    "Your Majesty,¡± Cassius said, despair in his voice. "Our fortress on the northern border has fallen. The barbarians have come deep into the empire. Our army is demoralized. We need more time and resources to regroup."


    The Emperor nodded, his eyes staring into space, his face devoid of emotion. The Barbarians had been a threat the Empire had been unable to deal with for centuries, but now that they had come so close, it showed just how weakened the Empire had become.


    "What else?¡± Tiberius said. He asked as if he already knew the answer.


    "Your Majesty... In the southern port cities, plague continues to spread. The people have begun to revolt. There are no troops left to keep order. There is not enough medicine and doctors are in short supply."


    With each passing day, the news from across the empire got worse and worse. Epidemics, revolts, attacks by barbarians... All these problems were eating away at the empire. ¡°So the light is going out...¡± Tiberius muttered, closing his eyes. Everything was slowly slipping away. For a moment, all the sounds in the world stopped. The Emperor was overwhelmed by the enormity of the disasters he was facing, while despair hung over his mind like a dark cloud.


    "What about the other kingdoms and empires? What is their situation?" Tiberius asked, trying to hide the worry in his voice. There were problems outside as well as inside. The Sizat Empire in particular was a major threat.


    Cassius bowed his head. "Your Majesty, many kingdoms and empires are in as much trouble as we are. But some have already begun to take advantage of the confusion. The Sizat Empire is provoking our enemies and strengthening its armies."


    The Emperor took a deep breath. The Emperor was overwhelmed by the enormity of the disasters he faced, and despair hung over his mind like a dark cloud. But Tiberius could not surrender to this darkness. He opened his eyes, turned to Cassius and spoke decisively:


    "Cassius, declare an immediate mobilization. Also send word to the Rhazgords and tell them we want to hire their mercenaries. You can use whatever is in the treasury! Stopping the advance of the barbarians is our first priority. I will also issue an order to collect doctors and medicines from all over the country. We must regain the trust of the people. "Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Cassius bowed his head at the Emperor''s command. "Yes, Your Majesty. I will begin the necessary preparations immediately."


    After Cassius, Emperor Tiberius remained on the balcony for a while longer. The storm was coming and Tiberius knew he had to weather it. Keeping the Empire afloat was his greatest responsibility.


    Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The mobilization Emperor Tiberius had launched had attracted the attention of other kingdoms and empires. Some worried that the Adler Empire wanted to expand its borders again. Other kingdoms knew the underlying problems behind this mobilization. The continent was slowly descending into chaos.


    While Tiberius was doing everything he could to boost the morale of the army and the people, there was one problem that was not going away: Barbarian raids from the north. The barbarians could no longer penetrate deep into the empire as before, but they were still a major threat. The price for this was the life of General Cassius. General Cassius himself went to the front line to keep the army''s morale high and stop the barbarians, and died after fighting bravely. The large sums paid to the Rhazgord mercenaries also drained the treasury.


    The emperor, who had a very busy day because of the funeral for General Cassius, was walking through the wide corridors of his palace at sunset, seeking some time alone. The old paintings on the walls were reminders of lost glory, but the reality was growing darker by the day. The unrest inside the palace could be felt at every step. Servants whispered to each other with worried looks, a silent panic was clearly taking root among the nobles and diplomats. Tiberius'' mind was far away from this quiet storm in the palace, mourning the loss of his friend who had stood by his side for fifty years.


    As Tiberius stepped into the royal library, he noticed that the dust that covered the magnificent bookshelves had only increased. Where once there had been visitors seeking knowledge and wisdom, now there were only dusty books and silence. In that moment, he thought about how everything that had once shone so brightly had quickly dimmed. After a long search, he found an old book about the founding of his empire. Taking it, he sat down and began to leaf through the pages. Each line reminded him of the power and glory his empire once had.


    When the sun rose, Emperor Tiberius closed his eyes forever. As Emperor Tiberius breathed his last breath, there was a deep peace on his face. All his life he had fought for his empire, he had struggled against adversity. But now, as he answered the silent call of death, he found peace. The death of Tiberius, which came on the heels of Cassius, left a great emptiness in the palace. Everyone wondered what the fate of the empire would be in the absence of these great leaders.


    After Tiberius'' death, his son Octavius took the throne. From the moment Octavius took the throne, he ruled the empire with an iron fist. In his eyes, his father''s peaceful policies of the last two decades had weakened the empire. Octavius believed that the empire could only survive with strong leadership and that anything that did not grow was doomed to fall. He was willing to do anything to expand borders, crush enemies and restore the empire to its glory days. Octavius'' ruthless attitude and warrior spirit made him both a feared and respected leader.


    As soon as Octavius ascended the throne, he set out to solve the barbarian problem once and for all. He forcibly conscripted many men into the army and executed anyone who disobeyed his decision. The army soon doubled in size. Feeding so many soldiers emptied the empire''s treasury. But Octavius'' decision could not be questioned. He led his newly formed army against the barbarians and soon pushed them out of the empire''s borders. While the forcibly conscripted people thought they would finally return home, new orders came. Octavius did not disband the army but sent it to the borders.


    He was creating a climate of fear on the continent with border violations, threatening statements and military moves. Octavius'' attitude was worsening an already tense situation. He was attacking small countries on his borders and trying to keep his country''s economy afloat through plunder.


    A few months after Octavius took the throne, the continent was like a powder barrel. Even the smallest spark was enough to trigger years of war. Those who benefited the most from this turmoil were the merchants. The prospect of war stimulated the arms trade and filled the coffers of merchants. Some greedy merchants fomented tensions between kingdoms to keep the war going. In this dark period, money and power outweighed people''s consciences.


    But not every corner of the continent was full of crisis. In the southernmost part of the continent, in a small peaceful kingdom, a merchant named Salaz Durin was about to change the fate of the continent.

 0002 | Finding the Light

    Salaz Durin was born in a small town in the Kingdom of Daria and wasted his youth roaming the city streets. All he did was wander the city streets and return home at sunrise. His father was one of the richest men in town. He had a nice farm and made good money. No matter how hard he tried, he could not convince his son to work. But the day came when Salaz had to work, even though he didn''t want to. Salaz''s father suddenly passed away one night, leaving all his responsibilities to Salaz, his only child.


    Salaz''s irresponsible youth had not prepared him to face the realities of life. With the death of his father, Salaz was left with a heavy burden of responsibility. Unaware of the workings of the farm, Salaz became more and more bogged down with each passing day. The once rich land was now a barren wasteland due to lack of care. With the death of his mother, things became more complicated and the farm became unviable. Salaz was convinced that he should sell the farm and go into trade. Tired of the farm, Salaz confided this idea to his friend.


    "The farm is not for me. I don''t know how to run a farm anyway! I feel like I need to do something else."


    Seeing Salaz''s depressed state, his friend decided to support him. Salaz''s friend was also in business. He offered Salaz a partnership. Salaz accepted without thinking. Salaz and his friend had years of successes and failures. Salaz was now an experienced merchant, but he was not making much money. One day his friend told him that there was an iron mine for sale and that this might be the opportunity they were looking for. Salaz clung to this last hope and combined all the money he had in his pocket with money from moneylenders to buy the mine that would change his life.


    At first he was full of hope; he thought the mine would bring him great profits. There were wars all over the continent and wars were fueled by iron. But things did not go as planned. The amount of iron ore coming out of the mine decreased day by day, leaving Salaz in a big predicament. Moreover, the mysterious transparent stones that came out of the mine instead of iron ore turned all his plans upside down. These stones seemed too worthless to replace iron ore. Salaz did not know what these stones were, and this uncertainty put him in an even more difficult situation.


    Moreover, the moneylenders he had borrowed money from were after him. Impatient to collect what they owed, the moneylenders began to pressure Salaz and his partner. Unable to withstand the pressure, his friend left Salaz with the moneylenders alone and ran away.


    As the sun came out after the rainy days, Salaz set off for the mine. However, it was not the miners who were waiting for him at the mine, but the loan sharks he had lent money to. He tried to escape, but he was caught. The moneylenders took him to the warehouse where the mysterious stones from the mine were stored. The warehouse was in a secluded place.


    When they arrived, the moneylenders cornered Salaz. "If you can''t pay your debt, we will take your life and then everything else, including these shitty stones!¡± they threatened. As Salaz was in despair, wondering what to do, the door of the warehouse suddenly opened. In walked Zephyr, the kingdom''s chief advisor, and the soldiers assigned to protect him. Salaz could not understand why he was here. Zephyr went straight to the pile of stones as if no one was in the room.


    Zephyr examined the stones and turned to Salaz and said, "King Aldric has ordered me to investigate unusual news from every corner of the kingdom. He has heard rumors of these mysterious stones."If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "It seems he was right." Zephyr was one of King Aldric''s most trusted advisors. His keen intellect and strategic thinking guided Aldric even in the kingdom''s difficult times. When Zephyr examined the stones, he immediately understood the importance of this discovery.


    ¡°These are very precious stones,¡± Zephyr continued. Salaz''s heart began to beat with excitement. "What features do they have?" he asked. He, too, had suddenly forgotten the existence of the moneylenders.


    ¡°These stones seem to be able to transmit light through them,¡± Zephyr said. "They also appear to be incredibly hard and durable. Imagine a mineral that combines these properties! It could make window panes, precious ornaments and who knows what else..."


    As Salaz tried to make sense of Zephyr''s words, the moneylenders interjected impatiently. They were angry at being ignored. "This man owes us a lot of money,¡± said one of the moneylenders. ¡°The stones are ours.¡±


    Zephyr gave the moneylenders a sharp look. ¡°From now on, the king will deal with Salaz''s debts,¡± he said in an authoritative tone. "As for you, you will leave this place immediately. If you disturb this man again, you will face the king''s wrath."


    The moneylenders were uneasy when they heard Zephyr''s words. They did not want to run afoul of the kingdom. "My lord, we were only trying to collect our debts,¡± one of them muttered, stepping forward. With a wave of Zephyr''s hand, the soldiers behind him charged at the moneylenders. The moneylenders surrendered without resistance.


    As the soldiers took the moneylenders away, Salaz looked at Zephyr in astonishment. "My lord, I don''t know how to thank you,¡± he said gratefully. ¡°But why are you helping me?¡± Zephyr smiled. "Because unlike you, I have the vision to understand the value of these stones,¡± he said. "So does King Aldric. And we prefer to cooperate with you rather than the untrustworthy moneylenders. In return, you will not only be free of your debts, but you will have a respected position in the kingdom. Of course, we will share the profits."


    Salaz thought about Zephyr''s offer for a moment. He quickly realized the difficult situation he was in and the opportunity he was facing. Getting rid of his debts and having a respected position in the kingdom was a great opportunity he had been looking for years. Nodding his head, he accepted the offer.


    "Of course, my lord,¡± Salaz said, bowing slightly. "At your service."


    Zephyr smiled with satisfaction. "Excellent. Then let us take a few samples of the stones and make our way to the palace. King Aldric will want to see the stones for himself."


    Although Salaz was confused by this sudden change, he decided not to think too hard. Under Zephyr''s leadership, several samples of the stones were carefully selected and carefully packed.


    It had been a year since Salaz had met Zephyr, and Salaz now had the belly of a great merchant. The stones from his mines, now called Lightstones, had enriched Salaz and the kingdom. Elites all over the continent were ordering jewelry made of Lightstones, and the merchant''s worst fears came true. There were reports of Lightstones being found elsewhere on the continent. Soon there were many merchants selling jewelry made of the Lightstone. Now the Lightstone was ubiquitous, and its value had plummeted. Even people who were much poorer than the elite could afford jewelry made of these stones. Almost everyone, men and women alike, now owned a piece of jewelry made of the Lightstone.


    Salaz had asked Zephyr for help dozens of times, but Zephyr ignored him. As if all this wasn''t enough, the Adler Empire and the Sizat Empire were at war. The war had affected all of Salaz''s investments. But it seemed that the gods had not yet turned their backs on Salaz.

 0003 | Power of Light

    A discovery in the Adler Empire soon made Salaz even richer than before. Tens of thousands of people had been wounded in the war, some of them recovering much faster than others. It wasn''t long before it was discovered that this was due to the Lightstone.


    The Lightstone had a tremendous healing effect. Small wounds took a few seconds to heal, larger wounds took a few days at most. The more Light Stones used, the shorter the process.  This tremendous property had increased the value of Light Stones again. Countries across the continent were at war with each other, and to win their wars they needed to have more Lightstones than their opponents.


    Salaz was once again rolling in money, and it looked like he was going to start making more and more of it, because the Lightstones used to heal the wounded darkened and rotted over time, losing their power. The smaller the size of the Lightstone, the faster it rotted. This ensured the continuity of supply.


    Soldiers who healed quickly made the wars longer and more bloody. Years passed as the wars continued. For ten years the continent had been in flames and the Adler Empire was about to fall apart. This was not only because Octavius had turned the entire continent against him, but also because the army of the Empire''s greatest enemy, the Sizat Empire, had become strangely strong.


    The soldiers of the Sizat Empire had changed a lot in recent years. Sizat soldiers had grown beyond human limits, and no one knew why. Most of the soldiers had the strength of several men, and some were even stronger. There were even soldiers who could fight alone against hundreds of soldiers. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    When the capital of the Adler Empire was under siege by the Sizat army, Emperor Octavius learned why his enemy was so powerful. The Sizati powdered the Lightstone and fed it to their soldiers, making them permanently stronger. In large doses, however, the stone could be fatal.


    Octavius learned this information too late. The Sizatans had already laid siege to the capital of the Adler Empire with the power of the stone. To counter this, Octavius had all the Lightstones collected from the capital, pulverized and given to his best soldiers. Unfortunately, it took time for the stone to take effect and he was too late.


    Soon Octavius surrendered to the Sizat army. But with the fall of the Adler Empire, the whole continent became aware of the new uses and effects of the Lightstone. Soon every kingdom on the continent began to fortify its soldiers with the Lightstone. This led to a renewed stalemate in the wars because no one could dominate anyone. Only those kingdoms that had more Lightstones than their opponents were able to achieve anything.


    Soon all Lightstone reserves on the continent were exhausted. Now the kingdoms had to be more careful with the Lightstones in their reserves. But there was also good news. Even if the Lightstone ran out, its effects were hereditary. The children of those who possessed the powers of the Lightstone were born with that power.


    The Sizat Empire called children born with extraordinary abilities without using the Lightstone ''Blessed ''. By specially training these children, they aimed to create a loyal and powerful army. Over the years, this strategy began to bear fruit. With its superhuman powers, the Sizat army had managed to conquer half of the continent. But the Sizat Emperor wanted to do what Octavius had failed to do: Dominate the entire continent. In a few weeks, the Sizat Empire would set out to achieve this goal.

 0004 | Demons

    The Emperor of Sizat, Karidia, had fallen asleep dreaming of the day when he would conquer the entire continent. A week later he would march with his army of skilled ''Blessed'' soldiers. During the day he held strategy meetings with his generals and as soon as he went to bed he fell asleep.


    "Wake up, your majesty! Wake up! The city is under attack!"


    Karidia''s sleep was interrupted by these words. The sleep-deprived emperor''s mind refused to believe what he was hearing. Who would attack the capital of the Sizat Empire? And how could they have crossed the border and reached the capital? All this was impossible. But if the general did not have a death wish, he would not have told such a lie at this time of night. Wanting to see the state of the city, the emperor got out of bed and went to the balcony. The agitated general followed him.


    "Report, Bolar!" said the emperor, alarmed by the screams he heard as he approached the balcony. "Who is the enemy and how many are there?"


    "Sir... Our enemy is not human..." said the general. He himself could not believe what he was saying. The emperor''s agitated steps suddenly stopped. The general knew the emperor''s anger very well, so he started swearing oaths before the emperor even turned his back.


    "I swear to the gods that I am telling the truth, Your Majesty! I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is true! The attackers are not human! I swear to all the gods, Your Majesty! Spare my life!"


    "Stop begging, Bolar! If they are not humans, then who is attacking my city!" The Emperor was still drowsy and what he was hearing was getting more absurd by the second.


    "Insects, your majesty... Giant insects," he whispered. "But they are different from insects as we know them. They are gigantic, at least five meters long. As the gods are my witness, I''ve never seen anything like this before."


    "What... Insects? Five meters? What nonsense!" The emperor squinted at the general. "Bolar, if you are lying, you will pay with your life."


    The Emperor ran to the balcony to see for himself what had happened. The insects the general had spoken of were real and had already entered the city. Each step of the insects shattered the stone roads, and the buildings crumbled noisily under their huge feet. People ran around in panic, while soldiers desperately tried to escape the claws piercing their armor.


    As the Emperor stood on the edge of the balcony watching the horror, he felt his heart racing. "The gods are punishing us..." he whispered to himself.


    At first glance, the Emperor realized that the situation was desperate because there were very few soldiers in the capital. Because of the campaign, the army was stationed near the borders of the target states. The defense of the capital was therefore left in the hands of a few hundred of the emperor''s ''Blessed'' bodyguards and a few thousand soldiers responsible for keeping order in the city. The nearest troops were several days away. The Emperor turned to his general and said , "Can we win?" Seeing the general''s desperation and fear, the emperor already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear what his general had to say. He needed a little hope.


    "If we leave now we can get you safely out of the city, Your Majesty." the general whispered. He was so scared he didn''t realize he was whispering. It was as if he was afraid the insects would hear him.


    The emperor wanted to stay and defend the city he could save, but the situation seemed desperate. The Emperor was debating whether to flee or not when the palace shook violently. He would have fallen from the balcony if his general hadn''t held him. A second later, another soldier ran onto the balcony and said, "Sir! They are trying to break into the palace!" he shouted. The tremor was not enough to destroy the emperor''s palace, but it shattered his conviction that he had to protect his city.


    The emperor had the power of the Lightstones, and though he was old, he had the strength of several grown men, but the tremor was enough to make him realize that his enemy was dozens of times stronger than he was. He turned to his general and said , "Evacuate the palace immediately! We will join up with the troops in the south and return!" He took his bodyguards, his general and his family and set off for his troops in the south.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    A week later the Sizat Army in all its might was positioned outside the city walls to clear their capital city of ''''insects'''' . The Emperor waited for a report from the scouts. Meanwhile, his generals were discussing how to destroy the monsters with minimum casualties. Soon the scouts returned. The soldier in charge of the scouts saluted the emperor and then took a few steps forward. "In the city... Your Majesty, there are no enemies in the city and..." The emperor jumped to his feet and interrupted the soldier.


    "What do you mean there are no enemies! You mean there are no monsters that I have seen with my own eyes!" The soldier who wanted to save his life fell at the emperor''s feet and tremblingly repeated his report. "We went all the way... We went all the way to your palace, your majesty! I swear to the gods that we did not encounter a single enemy!"


    The Emperor summoned the other soldiers who had been scouting. All of them confirmed what the soldier, still on his knees, had said.


    "And my people? Are there any survivors?"


    The emperor''s question caused all the soldiers'' faces to darken. None of the soldiers wanted to answer the question, but the emperor grabbed one of them by the collar. The emperor''s anger and the recollection of what he had seen caused the soldier to burst into tears. Not getting an answer, the emperor turned to another soldier and got his answer: Everyone who could not escape the city had been killed.


    It took hours for the Sizat army to enter the city. Every street, every quarter was thoroughly searched. After every corner of the city was checked, the Emperor set foot in the capital. But what he saw left him speechless. Lifeless bodies among the ruins, the once bustling streets now deserted. The Emperor was too shaken to face this terrible reality. For days he did not leave his room or speak to anyone.


    After a few days, the emperor regained consciousness and went to the throne room for reports. There were many things to report to the emperor. Especially economic and political problems, but the emperor did not want to listen to them. All he wanted to know was where the insects were. The soldier who was responsible for gathering information about the insects came forward.


    The soldier bowed to the emperor and began to speak in a shaky voice: "Your Majesty, we have searched the entire empire, but we have not found a single insect. This is all we know: These creatures came from the south of the city.But there is no information about where exactly they came from, where they went after the attack. It''s like an army of ghosts, appearing out of nowhere and then disappearing again."


    Seeing that the Emperor was deep in thought, the soldier interrupted his report. After a few minutes of silence, the Emperor said, "We had a few insect corpses. Did you find out anything from them?" he asked.


    From the moment he appeared before the emperor, the soldier could not hide his excitement. For the last three days he had been busy examining the corpses of two gigantic insects - known among the soldiers as ¡°demons¡± - that had been killed by the emperor''s guards. Exhaustion was evident in his eyes, but the desire to share his discoveries kept him going.


    The soldier began to speak quickly, out of breath: "Your Majesty, these creatures are of incredible size. They are exactly five and a half meters long. Moreover, the two samples we have are identical. Their exoskeletons are extraordinarily strong, and their thickness is about thirty..."


    The Emperor stormed to his feet. "Tell me how to kill these fucking creatures! You can tell me your useless information later!"


    The soldier''s excitement was quickly replaced by fear at the Emperor''s harsh outburst. His voice began to tremble.


    "Sir, their abdomen... or rather the lower part of their body is relatively soft. If a few ''Blessed '' soliders attacked this spot, they could easily eliminate the insects."


    The Emperor was somewhat satisfied with what he heard. The insects were not invincible, but the ''Blessed'' soliders were very valuable. Besides, it was not clear where or how the enemies came from. There were only about thirty thousand soldiers in the empire who could deal with these insects and they formed the core of the imperial army.


    As the Emperor was thinking about all this, he realized that the soldier who had just reported to him about the insects was still standing in front of him. The soldier was obviously scared, but there was something else he wanted to say. The Emperor recognized this desire.


    "Is there anything else you want to say?"


    The soldier began to speak excitedly. This time he knew he had to keep it short.


    "We found a large amount of Lightstone in the bodies of the insects."


    The Emperor froze for a moment. Everyone else in the room was in the same state. No one had expected to hear something like this. This was the most important information the emperor had heard that day. The ''Blessed'' soliders displayed superior powers, but they could never become as strong as those who directly consumed Lightstones. The Lightstone could even strengthen normal soldiers in a very short time.


    In the following decade, the Sizat Empire was attacked by the Demons three more times. In all three of these attacks, the Empire managed to destroy all the demons. This allowed the Empire to acquire a large amount of Lightstones, which it used to strengthen its soldiers. At first, the Empire tried to keep it a secret that they could get Lightstones from demoncorpses, but the ''demons'' were not only attacking the Sizat Empire. Demon attacks were happening all over the continent. Soon other kingdoms and empires also learned that the bodies of ''Demons'' had the Lightstone.

 0005 | Sons of Rhaz

    After the appearance of the demons, it was almost impossible for small countries to protect themselves. And for large countries, it was impossible to protect the whole country. The problem was that it was still unknown when the demons would appear.


    But there was one kingdom that had this knowledge. This kingdom was called Rhazgord. This kingdom had lived for centuries at the foot of Mount Rhaz. This mountain was located in the western part of the continent and was the highest mountain on the continent and was covered with red rocks. That is why it was also known as the Red Peak. Behind the mountain was an impassable mountain range. In short, the people of Rhazgord had built their country on the western border of the continent. What lay beyond the mountains was a mystery to everyone.


    These people were considered barbaric and wild by other countries. This was because of the culture of the Rhazgord. The Rhazgord people were molded by the cruel rules of the wilderness. Power determined the most basic rights. Disputes were settled by dueling under the supervision of arbitrators, often resulting in death or loss of limbs. This bloody tradition formed the basis of the Rhazgords'' sense of justice.


    Naturally, mercenary work was the main source of income for this warlike people. They also used their knowledge of where the demons would attack for this purpose. They traveled to the countries they knew would be attacked and made deals with them.


    All countries were secretly investigating how the Rhazgordians knew where the Demons would attack. But there was one king who openly asked the King of the Rhazgords - the Rhazgords called their king ''Sanguinar'' - for the answer. The king of Rhazgord, who was busy eating the steak in front of him, was surprised by the question of the king of the small country in front of him. "Of course our gods say that," he said, without putting down the big steak in his hand. The king looked at Sanguinar, who continued to eat the leg in his hand in astonishment. He did not expect such a direct answer.


    The shamans of Rhazgord had the ability to learn the next target of the Demons through a mysterious ritual. But this ritual only worked when performed at the top of Mount Rhaz, closest point to the sky. The thin air at the top of the mountain and the proximity to the stars maximized the shamans'' spiritual powers.


    Once again the shamans of Rhazgord had spoken to their gods and learned of the demons'' next target. The next target was Rax, the former capital of the Adler Empire. The Empire was now a kingdom and a vassal state of the Sizat Empire.


    Sanguinar''s eldest son Corvus Tiamat was among the mercenaries who set out to protect the Kingdom of Adler. He soon proved himself and became a ''Sharazir ''. Sharazirs have the right to form their own troops.


    When the Rhazgord mercenaries arrived in the city of Adler, chaos broke out in the city. The arrival of the Rhazgordians signaled the imminent arrival of the Demons. The Rhazgordians set up camp outside the city. They did not even think to ask permission from the city authorities. Soon the king of the city arrived at the Rhazgord camp. The king was a descendant of the former Adler Emperor Tiberius. The emperor and his entourage were dressed so extravagantly that those who didn''t know would have thought the empire was still standing. King Justinianus inspected the camp before dismounting. He was surprised to see such unexpected discipline from the ''barbarians ''. After dismounting, he entered the tent with a young man on a horse behind him and two bodyguards.


    The tent was simply furnished, with only a large table in the center and a few maps on it. The musty smell of canvas and leather filled the air inside the tent, in stark contrast to the perfumes and fragrances often found in the king''s palace. The absence of other smells, such as food or incense, only added to the feeling of emptiness. The lack of furniture and the foul odor surprised and somewhat unsettled King Justinianus. His mouth was dry from the journey, but there was nothing to drink or eat in sight. He felt his tongue covered with dust and dirt.


    He could also see in the eyes of the ten soldiers in the room that he was not respected. All ten of them were Sharazir. Corvus was eighteen years old, but he was in the tent because he was the King''s son and a strong Sharazir.


    One of the commanders in the room stepped forward and said something in Rhazgord language and held out his hand. The king did not understand a word the big man said. Almost all the people on the continent spoke the same language, and this was one of the things the king was proud of - it was the language of the Adler Empire. Different dialects of this language were spoken in certain parts of the continent, and different languages were spoken in some places, but everyone on the continent knew the Adler language. It was disgraceful that the man in front of him - a man who controlled thousands of soldiers - could not speak Adler.


    Corvus saw the king''s surprised expression and stepped forward. "Our leader does not speak your language," he said, smiling slightly. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he added: "He greeted you." His tone was confident, but it was clear that he only knew Adler language roughly. He had a thick accent and mispronounced many words. And he never used respect suffixes.


    King Justinianus began to speak with a proud attitude. "I am the great Justinianus, ruler of the Kingdom of Adler, descendant of Tiberius The Great," he introduced himself, puffing out his chest. He placed his right hand on his son''s shoulder and introduced him as heir to the throne: "Beside me stands my son and successor, Belisarius." His voice carried the weight of his titles and demanded respect from all who would listen. Squinting, he added: "I have come here today to thank you for coming to my aid and to learn of your plans for the defense of our city."Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Some of the soldiers in the room laughed as the emperor spoke, and just as he said ''great Justinianus'' , but the emperor managed to finish without breaking his silence. Young Corvus immediately translated the king''s words into Rhazgord language. Then he turned back to Justinianus.


    "I am Corvus Tiamat, son of the great - he smiled as he said this - Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat and on of his Sharazirs. The man you see beside me is Valerius Tiamat. He is the leader of our army and the brother of our Sanguinar. Our leader is happy for your visit."


    Corvus had just finished when Valerius said something. Corvus immediately translated these words too.


    "But my uncle says the soldiers don''t eat thanks."


    Justinian couldn''t understand most of the young man''s words because of his heavy accent. But the way Corvus pointed and rubbed his stomach made it clear what his requests were.


    "Of course we will not starve you, our friends who have come to support us. I assure you that all your needs will be met as soon as possible. And of course we will also pay you for your services."


    Valerius interrupted impatiently, "Meat, lots of meat!" he thundered. His harsh voice filled the room. Despite his limited vocabulary in the Adler language, he made his demands very clear. The king approved Valerius'' request with a nervous smile.


    Soon after, Valerius went to the head of the table and pulled one of the maps in front of him and began to explain it to Corvus. Corvus then took the map and pulled it in front of Justinianus and began to explain. The map was a very detailed map of the king''s city. The map reminded him of the impending demon threat. That''s why Justinianus was nervous.


    "They will come at us from all directions," Corvus said, his thick accent making his words hard to understand. "We will defend south, east and west. Your walls are tall. Demons cannot climb them." His keen eyes scanned the map in front of them and pointed with precision to each landmark.


    "The north is yours," he continued, addressing the king directly. Despite his young age, he had the bearing of an experienced general. "The walls there are younger and stronger than the old ones in the south. It is easy to defend.The walls are long and thick." Corvus'' confidence was evident as he outlined his strategy. "When their numbers get small, we will open the main gate. They will try to get in. Then we will win." The king could not hide his surprise at Corvus'' last sentence.


    "Open the wall gate? ¡®They will try to get in ¡¯? Do you realize what you are saying! If we open the gate, the walls will be meaningless! They will crush us!"


    Corvus was annoyed by the king''s anger, but he answered without flinching.


    "Yes, that is our goal. If we open the gate, the demons will head for it. The demons are big but stupid. If they all head for the gate at once, they will be stuck!" and he pointed to a spot outside the city. "We will hide a unit here.When the demons jam the gate, they will come from behind and we will have the demons flanked on both sides.We''ve done it before and we won."


    The plan seemed simple, but the king had no choice but to trust the Rhazgordians. Corvus looked directly into the king''s eyes. His gaze demanded trust. "Defending the gate will be simple," Corvus said firmly. "Do not forget those hiding outside. They will attack the demons from behind while we destroy the demons in front of us."


    Corvus'' accent made it hard to understand, but after listening to the plan a few more times, the king understood it clearly. Justinianus only had to protect one front, which made his job easier. Besides, he knew that the Rhazgordians had fought the Demons before and won every time.


    What bothered the king was that the map was too detailed. The ''Barbarians '' had made a very good map of his city in a very short time and knew all its weak points. That the barbarians had learned so much in such a short time was both unexpected and terrifying.


    "The demons are ours."


    Corvus'' voice interrupted the king''s thoughts. He did not understand what he meant.


    "I mean... I mean... The dead demons are ours."


    This news did not sit well with the king. Corvus'' demand for the demon corpses meant that he wanted to obtain the precious Lightstones contained in their bodies. This meant that the kingdom would lose a strategic resource. The king tried to negotiate, but Corvus insisted on the demon corpses. Otherwise, he said, they would leave. The king had to accept this offer. His army was small and it was as uncertain when support from the Sizat Empire would arrive as when the demons would arrive. The king left a few of his soldiers there to learn the details of the defense plan and then left the tent with his son to return to his city. He was about to mount his horse when he heard Corvus'' voice.


    "There is something I forgot to tell you," he said. Justinian turned to Corvus curiously. Corvus stood beside the king and continued, "Let our soldiers enter the city. They will cause no trouble and if they do we will punish them." It was a troubling request for Justinian. The Rhazgordians were known as barbarians and could cause trouble in the city. But they could also be beneficial to the city''s economy. Corvus also seemed eager to enter the city. Even if it was dangerous, opening the city gates to the Rhazgordians could benefit the kingdom.


    After some thought, the king accepted the offer. He turned to his son standing beside him. Although he was the same age as Corvus, he looked much younger than Corvus.


    "Belisarius, I want you to take care of Corvus, he is the son of a king like you. Make sure you show him the beauties of our city."


    Corvus and Belisarius entered the city a few hours later. At first Corvus saw the inhabitants of this city as weak. Not only had they lost their empire, but they had come under the rule of another empire. However, the architecture and layout of the city made Corvus question these thoughts. While his own people lived in a disorganized city of makeshift houses, this powerless country resembled a work of art. Young Corvus spent late hours exploring the city. Belisarius showed his new friend the most beautiful corners of the city. Over time, Corvus'' interest in the city grew. He was especially interested in the city''s infrastructure and laws. He no longer toured the city with Belisarius, but instead tried to learn how it worked.


    While Belisarius was learning to be a warrior, Corvus was learning about ''civilization'', a word he had just learned and liked very much. This went on for three weeks, until the demons appeared out of nowhere one night.

 0006 | Returning to The Mountain

    The demons appeared on the horizon just as the Rhazgordians had said they would. Rhazgord and Adler warriors stood ready on the walls as the giant insects rapidly approached the city. After a few minutes, the demons reached the city walls. Because the city walls were high, the demons had difficulty climbing them. Even those who managed to climb them were met with heavy blows from the Rhazgord warriors.


    Rhazgorians were much stronger than normal humans. Not as strong as a ''blessed'' , but strong enough to hurt the demons. By the first light of day, the number of demons had decreased and it was time to open the city gates. The Rhazgordians'' plan succeeded and the demons were stuck at the city gates, making them easy targets. With the soldiers hiding outside the city joining the battle, the demons were easily destroyed.


    Corvus fought at the front in this battle, proving once again his strength and leadership skills. The battle was hard fought, but the Rhazgordians suffered few casualties. The same was true for the soldiers of the city. Belisarius had also fought in the battle against the enemy, even though his father did not want him to, and he had gained many supporters among the soldiers.


    The first day after the battle was a sad one. The city had been defended, but there were casualties. The next day was filled with the joy of victory. The Rhazgordians celebrated the victory and the loot they had obtained. While the soldiers celebrated, Corvus, who had learned the Adler language quite well, sat on the city walls with Belisarius, watching the celebrations in the city.


    Corvus sighed heavily as he leaned against the cold stone walls of the city. His shoulders slumped and a look of deep sadness appeared on his face, casting shadows under his tired eyes. "Your empire may have fallen, but your city and its laws still bear the glory of an empire,¡± he murmured, his voice was full of admiration. He took a deep breath before continuing, "But look at us. Every empire on this continent trembles when they hear the name of the Rhazgord.Our warriors, feared by all, defeat the demons that plague our world as easily as if they were nothing." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "And what about our capital? Nothing but a few mud huts!" He clenched his fists as he spoke, his voice growing louder and more passionate.


    Belisarius listened to his friend''s words, nodding his head in agreement, but also with a hint of concern on his face. ¡°Though I have never seen your capital, I can imagine," he said. "We have all the qualities you desire for your people, but look at us. We are nothing more than a small city crushed under the Sizat Empire." A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but never quite reached his tired eyes. "But you Rhazgordians are free! Do not take this blessing for granted." He put his hand on Corvus'' shoulder, wanting to reassure his friend. His voice was soft.


    "These things must change!" Corvus said in a loud voice. "We must stop living like barbarians. And the kingdom of Adler must return to its former glory!"


    "And how will that happen?" asked Belisarius. Unlike his friend, he was not confident.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "I don''t know about you, but for us Rhazgordians, the only measure of superiority is power. We live by two things:Killing each other or killing our enemies. If I succeed in becoming the strongest, I will build an empire to rival the best of your ancestors! After the city of Rhazgord is even more magnificent than this city, I will help you to drive out the Sizat bastards!" said Corvus and laughed a laugh that made the walls tremble.


    ''Drive out the Sizat bastards!'' It was something Belisarius would not have dared even think of. But when he saw how simply Corvus had said it, he couldn''t help but laugh.


    Then Belisarius sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I think you should be satisfied with what you have, but I know I can''t change your mind no matter what I say," he admitted in a low voice, avoiding Corvus'' sharp gaze. ¡°But I promise to stand by you and support you in any way I can.¡± This time a genuine smile appeared on his face and reached his tired eyes.


    By morning the Rhazgord army had finished all their preparations. The demons had been defeated and it was time to turn back. But Corvus was nowhere to be seen. Valerius was about to send some men to Rax to find out where his nephew was when Corvus appeared at the city gates. He was accompanied by a few men and two carts filled to the brim with goods.


    When Corvus arrived, he was greeted by Valerius'' angry glare. They should have been on their way already, but without Corvus they could not return. This angered Valerius, who wanted to get back to Rhazgord as soon as possible. Valerius was as curious as he was angry. He was as curious about the two carts with his nephew as he was about the men with him.


    "Who are they?" he asked. His voice was harsh and rude. When Corvus saw that his uncle had forgotten his anger and succumbed to his curiosity, he seized the opportunity. Pointing to the old man, he began to explain who he was.


    "This man is Neratius. He is a famous sculptor. I am taking him with me to build a great statue in a Rhazgord city to honor my father. The other men you see are his assistants."


    Corvus said the word ''sculptor '' in Adler Language because there was no word for ''sculptor '' in Rhazgord language. Valerius, too, showed with his gaze that he did not know what a ''sculptor '' was.


    ¡°Do you remember the big stone people in the city? The men who made them are called ¡®sculptors'' " Corvus said.


    For Valerius, statues had no value. He had seen many statues in his life as a mercenary, but he had never felt the need to take a second look at any of them. But he had no intention of interfering with his nephew.


    "And what''s in the carriages?"


    Corvus was a little alarmed by this question. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Just the things the sculptor needs, uncle. Nothing important."


    Valerius noticed his nephew''s panic, but did not question it. They had to go now. Without asking any more questions, he gave the order to set off. Neratius the sculptor and his companions did not understand a word of the conversation, but there seemed to be no problem.


    Corvus had indeed hired Neratius to sculpt a statue of his father, but the cargo in the carriages was not just what the sculptor needed, as he had said. There were books, paintings and tools not found in the city of Rhazgord. Corvus had sold his share of the Lightstones to buy all this.


    The reason he wanted a statue of his father was to impress his father. He hoped to gain his father''s support to change the Rhazgord and its people.


    The journey to Rhazgord took two weeks and Corvus spent the whole time with Neratius and his men. He was constantly asking them questions, asking them to explain parts of the books he had read that he did not understand. The men, each of them well educated, diligently answered Corvus'' every question in return for good pay.

 0007 | Whispers

    The army had finally reached the city of Sorbaj at the foot of the Rhaz mountain. Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat was not in the city. He had recently left the city to prevent another demon attack. All the work he had to do was left to Carvus and his uncle Valerius. So as soon as Corvus entered the city, he headed for the big building in the center of the city. The only thing special about this building was that it was bigger than the other buildings in the city and made of red rock. This building was called the Red Mansion. This was where Sanguinar ruled his country and lived with his family. The sculptors Corvus had brought with him were horrified by the ugliness of the building. How could a king live in such a ugly place?


    The first order of business was to take Sanguinar''s share of the spoils of the last war. It was not obligatory to pay tribute to Sanguinar, but it was disrespectful not to. Valerius disliked this sort of thing, so he left it to his nephew and fled. After Corvus had settled the sculptors in their quarters, he went to the throne room. Several Sharazir had already arrived to pay their tribute. They were the leaders of the soldiers who were with Corvus in the city of Rax.


    There were three Sharazirs in the room. One of them was a woman and each of them had more than three thousand soldiers under their command. All three were relatives of Corvus. Each of them shared the surname Tiamat. They came here as soon as they entered the city because they wanted to show their loyalty to Sakhaar.


    The first to come forward was the only woman in the room. Kaelyra Tiamat, cousin of Corvus and daughter of Valerius. She was also the second most powerful woman in the city. Kaelyra, who had to bring with her the share that her father Valerius was supposed to pay, was holding a large, beautifully inlaid axe. She gave it to Corvus.


    "This axe is a gift from me to our Sanguinar. It was made by the best blacksmiths in the City of Rax. "Kaelyra could not take her eyes off her gift. "I also offer a third of my own loot as tribute, as always." Kaelyra rolled her eyes and continued. This caused Corvus to laugh slightly. "And of course I bring the tribute of my father Valerius."


    Following Kaelyra, the other Sharazirs presented their tribute and left the room. Within a few hours, all but two of the ten Sharazirs who had traveled to the city of Rax had paid their tribute. There were only two who did not pay tribute. One of them was Torin Ogon, who had lost many soldiers in the war with the demons. The Ogon family was one of the leading families in the city of Sorbaj, though not as prominent as the Tiamates. The decades-long rivalry between Torin Ogon and Valerius Tiamat had caused tension between the two families. This was why Valerius had placed Torin and his soldiers in the most dangerous position in the last war. Torin used this as an excuse and refused to pay tribute.


    The other person who refused to pay tribute was Varek Nabuk. Varek Nabuk had no excuse. The only reason he didn''t pay tribute was that he had no respect for the Tiamat family. The Nabuk family was one of the three most powerful families in the city and they had been fighting the Tiamat family for the position of Sanguinar for centuries.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    It took Corvus hours to report and approve all the tributes, but he had a lot to do. A lot had happened in his and his father''s absence, and he had to find out about it and solve the problems. And of course the Tiamat elders would help him.


    It took Corvus two weeks to finish all the work and it was time to start his own plans. Neratius had sketched some statues and was waiting for Corvus'' opinion. They had never seen the king of Rhazgord before, so they had to rely on their imagination and what they had heard. They had just entered the room to tell Corvus their ideas when Kaelyra entered the room and called Corvus with a wave of her hand. Corvus knew from Kaelyra''s look that the situation was serious. Knowing his cousin''s anger, Corvus quickly followed her. They left the Red Mansion and headed towards Mount Rhaz.


    Along the way, Kaelyra did not say a word. This was because Kaelyra knew herself so well. Kaelyra didn''t know how to keep quiet when she was angry. Whatever it was, she didn''t want to talk about it in the Red Mansion. They stopped on a hill where they had often gone as children and could see the whole city.


    Kaelyra was swollen and could not stand it any longer. She held Corvus tightly by both shoulders and gazed into his eyes. "You will be Sanguinar, Corvus! Stop fooling around and get back to your warriors!" she thundered. She was angry because Corvus had spent time with Neratius and his men on his way back from the city of Rax instead of taking care of his soldiers. And now, as soon as they had finished, he had gone back to Neratius instead of going back to his soldiers. Corvus remained silent. "Everyone is talking about you!" her voice softened a little. "Not only did you talk meaningless things to men called sculptors instead of taking care of your soldiers along the way, but you were learning Adler language instead of training!" Corvus'' stare did not change in the slightest. Kaelyra''s anger gave way to compassion. "I''m speaking for you, Corvus. At this rate, the family will stop supporting you. Even my father says you''ve gone soft."


    Corvus knew what Kaelyra meant and was grateful for it. Corvus was about to say something but he stopped. He hesitated for a second and then started walking quickly towards Sorbaj. Kaleyra was running after him, asking him where he was going, telling him to stop. But Corvus did not listen to Kaelyra. He went to the most crowded part of the city and started shouting with all his might.


    "I am Corvus Tiamat! I didn''t know you Rhazgordians were cowards talking behind my back!"


    Corvus stared for a moment at the people gathered around him. "There are those who whisper that I am not a true warrior, that I have turned from the way of the warrior, that I have gone soft!" the people began to grumble. "If anyone has the courage to speak to my face, they can find me on the outskirts of Rhaz at sunset!" There were many in the crowd who would have attacked Corvus had it not been for Kaelyra, who was standing right behind Corvus, and the other Tiamats who heard the noise and came over. The whole city was talking about Corvus and Corvus had challenged them all. As Corvus made his way to Mount Rhaz, the chaos he created spread through the city like wildfire. All the while a large convoy led by a young man was approaching the city.

 0008 | The Streets of Sorbaj

    The city of Sorbaj was protected by walls made of makeshift logs. The city had three entrances. They were to the east, north and south of the city. The convoy approaching the city arrived at the southern gate. The young man at the front of the convoy and another man with him approached the guards guarding the entrance. The young man was saying something in Adler language and the man next to him was translating it to the guards. The guards understood only the words ''Corvus '' and ''Tiamat'' .


    "The young man with me is Belisarius, crown prince of the Kingdom of Adler. He has brought some materials requested by Corvus Tiamat."


    The guards worked for the Tiamat family and they didn''t feel the need to check the convoy after hearing Corvus'' name. They also didn''t ask for the ''tax'' they charge the merchants entering the city.


    "Go straight ahead. When you approach the mountain, you will see a big house made of red rocks. You will find Corvus there."


    The guards made no difficulty, so the interpreter handed the money Belisarius had handed him to the guards and made a signal for the convoy to move off.


    As Belisarius entered the city, he agreed with Corvus'' description. He had entered the city with a large convoy without even being checked. It seemed easy enough to sneak into the city, given the city''s lopsided walls, but to enter so easily through the front gate made him question the city''s security. The roads of the city were as crooked as the houses in the city. At some points in the city, the roads were so bad that the convoy could not move forward. There was no order in the city at all.


    Another thing that caught Belisarius'' attention was the merchants in the city. Most of the merchants were not from Rhazgord. They were immediately recognizable by their appearance. Moreover, the goods they sold were of very poor quality and expensive. Nevertheless, there were long queues in front of each of them.


    As Belisarius rode through the city, an old man holding several swords approached his horse. Belisarius'' bodyguards had been on edge since the moment they entered the city and they gripped their swords at the unexpected event. Belisarius'' interpreter immediately turned around to calm the soldiers who were reaching for their swords. Then he turned to the man who was trying to show Belisarius his swords and listened to what he wanted to say.


    "The old man wants to sell his swords, Your Majesty. The Rhazgordians are very skilled blacksmiths. Are you interested?"


    The old man''s gaze was not that of a warrior, as Belisarius had expected. The only thing in the old man''s eyes was helplessness. The old man''s gaze caused Belisarius to feel a deep, strange sadness. Belisarius dismounted to take a closer look at the swords the old man was selling. He examined all three swords at length. The swords were too heavy for Belisarius, but they were of a quality that the best blacksmiths in the Kingdom of Adler could never dream of making.


    "All three are very fine swords. I would like to buy all three. Would you ask the price for me, Perze?"


    Belisarius'' translator spoke briefly to the old man.


    "My lord, they are worth 200 Rhazgord coins. That is almost five silver Adler coins. You can pay in Adler coins."


    Belisarius was stunned by the price. "Five silvers? Are you sure it''s not gold?"


    Belisarius'' astonishment alarmed the old man. He looked at Belisarius with pleading eyes and made the sign of four with his hands.


    "I''m sure I translated it correctly, my lord. In fact, he says you can have it for four silver coins if it''s too expensive for you."


    Belisarius was surprised not because the price was high, but because it was so low. Four pieces of silver was less than the daily income of the most menial laborers in the Kingdom of Adler. These swords could easily have been sold for several Adler gold coins each. One Adler gold coin was worth a hundred Adler silver coins. The price the old man quoted was dozens of times cheaper than it should have been.


    Belisarius took five gold coins out of his money pouch and handed them to the old man. When the old man saw the gold coins, he didn''t want to take them. He looked a little angry.


    "Your Majesty, the man says the money is too much and that he is not a beggar. He has sold swords for that price before."This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Belisarius knew how proud the Rhazgords were. "Perze, I want you to translate exactly what I say."


    "I know you are not a beggar. I gave you what your swords were worth. Whoever it was who bought them from you at that price before has cheated you. If you have other swords of this quality, I would like to buy them too."


    Belisarius'' statement shook the old man. He said something in anger and then quickly calmed down. He took only three gold coins from Belisarius and said something else.


    "Your Majesty agreed to take only three gold coins because you told him the true value of the weapons he made.Unfortunately, he said that he had run out of the ore needed to make weapons and that he only had these three swords..." The old man intervened and said something. "As I was trying to tell you, he only has three swords left, but if you wait a week or so, he can get the materials and make some more weapons."


    Unfortunately, Belisarius had no time. After telling the old man that he would definitely buy the swords the next time he came to Sorbaj, they continued on their way. Along the way many people, like the old man, approached the convoy and tried to sell something. Almost everyone who came offered a much lower price than they should have. Belisarius tried to buy everything he could use, but he had no intention of spending money on useless things.


    Belisarius wanted to see the city, but he couldn''t leave the convoy. They had wasted a lot of time with the sellers they met on the way, so they decided to speed up. As they approached the Rhaz mountain and the ''palace'' of Sanguinar, they noticed a crowd gathering at the foot of the mountain, but they did not dwell on it and headed towards the palace. It was getting dark and everyone in the convoy was tired.


    They were close to the palace when five warriors blocked their way. These warriors were big men, very well equipped. Even the shortest of them was two meters tall. The biggest warrior stepped forward and began to speak in a booming voice. The interpreter translated what was being said instantly.


    "No outsiders are allowed to approach the Red Mansion or Mount Rhaz from here without Sanguinar''spermission! If you try to cross from here, we will use force! Turn back!"


    The interpreter became alarmed. For a moment he even considered turning back. When he remembered that the cargo they were carrying belonged to Sanguinar''s son, he was a little less alarmed.


    "The man with me is Belisarius, crown prince of the Kingdom of Adler. He is a friend of Corvus Tiamat. The cargo we are carrying consists of goods belonging to Corvus Tiamat and gifts for the Great Sanguinar Sakhaar."


    After the warriors had spoken among themselves, one of them left and started to hurry towards the Red Mansion. The interpreter leaned into the prince''s ear and said , "They have gone to summon someone named Kaelyra. Even if they don''t let us pass, I know a place to stay." Belisarius nodded to the interpreter.


    It seemed strange to Belisarius that Kaelyra had been summoned instead of Corvus, but he didn''t poke around. He remembered Kaelyra and knew she was an important figure. While waiting for Kaelyra, small talk passed between the interpreter and the warriors, but the interpreter did not translate it.


    Soon Kaelyra and the man who had gone to summon her emerged from the Red Mansion and headed for the convoy. Kaelyra was tall, but not a large woman. She wore her black hair in a single braid down to her waist and her green eyes shone. She was a woman any man would want to get close to, but the big axe on her back and the leather armor she wore made men think twice. Kaelyra''s anger was evident in every part of her body. She was a walking fireball. Soon she was in front of Belisarius. She began to speak in Adler language. She had a thick accent, but it was clear that she knew some Adler language.


    "What brings you all the way here, prince of Adler?"


    The interpreter interrupted and tried to speak, but Kaelyra''s booming voice shut him up.


    "First of all! I am not talking to you, I am talking to the prince!" She grabbed the reins of the interpreter''s horse and pulled him down. Both the interpreter and his horse fell to the ground. "Second! You will get off your horse when you talk to me! I don''t like to raise my head when talking to my inferiors!" These words were directed at the interpreter, but everyone in the convoy, including Belisarius, dismounted. The Razgord warriors laughed, but their amusement was interrupted by Kaelyra''s sharp gaze.


    "Now for you, prince! I have a lot on my plate because of Corvus. I have no time for you. Tell me what you want."


    For the first time in his life, the prince was being treated like this, but his fear overcame his pride. The woman in front of him was breathing fire.


    "We bring the goods Corvus bought from us and ..."


    His words were interrupted by the screams of several men coming down from Mount Rhaz. Everyone turned to the man carrying a badly wounded youth on his back and a few others with him. Kaelyra''s face turned pale at the sight. "Bastard! He has sworn to turn the whole city against him!" she said in Rhazgord. Belisarius understood that Kaelyra was swearing. It was one of the first words Corvus had taught him.


    Kaelyra looked worried. Belisarius was about to ask what had happened when Kaelyra turned to him. Immediately she turned to the largest of the warriors.


    "The prince has an important message for Corvus. I need to take him to Corvus immediately, brother."


    It was her eldest brother Kaelyra was talking to. He was the head of the soldiers responsible for protecting Mount Rhaz and the Red Mansion. He understood his sister''s intentions and nodded. Before Belisarius knew what was happening, Kaelyra was dragging him towards Mount Rhaz. Belisarius'' bodyguards did not make a single sound, they just watched as Belisarius was dragged away.

 0009 | The Lion of Rhaz

    As they were moving rapidly through the huge red rocks, suddenly a huge plateau appeared behind the rocks. In the center of the plateau was a circle of hundreds, perhaps thousands of people. It was this crowd of people that was the source of the sounds Belisarius heard along the way that made him nervous. As soon as they saw the crowd, a small group broke away from it. Like the group they had seen before they started climbing the mountain, this group was carrying a wounded man. As Belisarius and Kaelyra passed, a woman in the group said something angrily to Kaelyra, but Belisarius did not understand. Kaelyra''s footsteps quickened and her expression worsened, indicating that the woman was not saying good things.


    Soon they broke into the crowd. If Kaelyra had not been clearing the way, Belisarius would not have been able to advance. After some effort, they broke through the crowd and reached the center of the circle where they could see what was happening. What Belisarius saw shocked him.


    Corvus had knocked down a man much larger than himself and was punching him with all his might. Neither Corvus nor the man on the ground desperately trying to defend himself had a single piece of clothing covering their upper bodies. The only difference between them was that Corvus'' arms and elbows in particular were covered in blood and wounds.


    The man on the ground was desperately trying to defend himself against Corvus'' hammer-like blows. He didn''t even have the slightest chance to make a counter move because there was not even the slightest gap between Corvus'' punches. While his opponent''s arms threatened to break under the weight of the blows, there was no change in the weight of Corvus'' blows. The inevitable happened and the man''s defenses broke along with his arms. Corvus'' punches gave way to elbow strikes. His opponent was already unconscious after the second blow. Nevertheless, Corvus had no intention of stopping until the referee separated them.


    As the referee declared the winner, his family entered the arena to tend to the defeated man''s wounds.


    "The winner of the fight is Corvus Tiamat! Anyone who wants to question my decision, come to me!" Referees'' decisions could be questioned, but not in this fight. Corvus'' victory could not be questioned. Moreover, his opponent was much older and a member of one of the most powerful families in the city of Rhazgord. After making sure that no one challenged his decision, the referee continued: ¡°From this day forward, everything that belongs to Varek Nabuk belongs to Corvus Tiamat!¡±


    The fight between Corvus and Varek was not a simple fight. Varek had more than three thousand soldiers at his disposal and was much older than Corvus. He was one of the most powerful men in the city. According to the laws of Rhazgord, Varek could not challenge Corvus. The only reason the fight took place was because Corvus challenged Varek.


    Varek was the fifth and strongest man Corvus fought that day. Corvus had been challenged in the previous four fights. It was unexpected for everyone that a tired and wounded Corvus would challenge Varek. Four fights in a row was enough to quell the rumors about Corvus. But his fights were not enough for Corvus. He stood in the center of the crowd looking for his next opponent. He had almost no strength left, but he had no intention of backing down. As he surveyed the crowd, he met Belisarius'' terrified gaze.


    Corvus felt a shame he could not understand. The cheers of the crowd around him, his half-naked body and the blood covering his fists. Corvus felt unbearable shame towards all of them. Before he knew it, the words came out of his lips in a whisper; "I... I am not a barbarian..." The deep shame he felt drained the last remaining energy from his body. The last thing Corvus saw as he collapsed was Kaelyra running towards him. Stolen novel; please report.


    Both Belisarius and Corvus had just turned eighteen, but they came from completely different worlds. Belisarius was fourteen when he first picked up a sword. Corvus had been training and fighting with his peers since he was seven. Yes, Belisarius had learned a little about Rhazgord culture, but what he experienced at that moment was different. The redness of Mount Rhaz, the cries of the people and the brutality of Corvus were as fascinating to Belisarius as they were terrifying. If he had a little more faith in himself, he might even have tried to jump into the center of the circle and challenge someone.


    Kaelyra had long since forgotten Belisarius. She had grabbed Corvus before he could hit the ground. She and the other members of the Tiamat family had gathered around Corvus. Even if it was seen as a great disrespect, there might have been those who wanted to avenge the losers. This was especially likely given that each of the opponents Corvus had defeated came from great families. A few in the crowd were preparing to challenge the other Tiamats, if not Corvus, when the cheers from the crowd stopped them. It was the soldiers of the division Corvus was in charge of who started the chants. They were chanting Corvus'' name and blessing his victory. Suddenly the whole crowd was chanting in unison, with members of the Timat family joining in the cheers.


    "Corvus, the Lion of Rhaz!"


    When Belisarius came to, Kaelyra had already left with Corvus. The crowd was still there. They were watching the fights of the young people, energized by Corvus'' effect. Belisarius was all alone in an unfamiliar country among unfamiliar people. He thought of returning on his own, but he was afraid. Strangers were forbidden on Mount Rhaz and he couldn''t explain why he was there without Kaelyra with him. As Belisarius looked for a solution, a large hand touched his shoulder. Belisarius turned around and saw one of the Tiamat who had stepped forward to protect Corvus a few minutes before. This was Zarqa, one of Corvus'' soldiers. The two had met before in the Kingdom of Adler.


    "You follow me."  he said with a terrible accent. Desperate, Belisarius followed the man he barely knew and they took the path between the red rocks again, heading towards the Red Mansion. Although the two did not speak the whole way, Belisarius could tell that Zarqa was happy.


    As they approached the mansion, they saw Kaelyra talking to her father Valerius and an old but very strong-looking man. Kaelyra looked as troubled as the old man and Valerius looked happy. At one point the old man laughed so loudly that Belisarius stepped back a few steps against his will. The old man put his hand on Kaelyra''s shoulder, said something and then he and Valerius headed towards the city.


    As Kaelyra rubbed her forehead anxiously and muttered, she noticed Belisarius and Zarqa walking towards her. She moved closer to the pair, who were also coming towards her. Kaelyra ignored Belisarius and began to order Zarqa to do something. Zarqa listened and then left. Kealyra turned and shouted orders to the surrounding warriors and finally it was Belisarius'' turn.


    "I have just sent your men to an inn and we have put what you brought in storage." She called one of the warriors over to her. "This man will take you to your men."


    Belisarius had recovered a little from the day''s events and now he had to show he was a prince.


    "I understand that things are complicated, but I am here as the prince of the Kingdom of Adler and I would like to pay my respects and offer my gifts to the great Sanguinar."


    Kaelyra expected the prince, who she thought was timid, to leave quickly, but he did not. The prince stood before her, his eyes locked on hers. She leaned down a little to make eye contact with him and put her hand on his right shoulder. She made this gesture a little harsh, so the prince leaned slightly to the right.


    "Look, Belisarius, little prince of a little kingdom. You are one of the biggest reasons for what I am dealing with right now, and yet I am trying to be kind to you. Besides, I cannot take you to see Sanguinar, even if I wanted to, because he is not in the city. Now go and rest. When Corvus wakes up, I will tell him you have arrived." She said something to the warrior who would take Belisarius to the inn where his men would be staying and entered the Red Mansion.


    Alone with the warrior, Belisarius followed the soldier, taking with him all the humiliations, confusions and terrifying moments of the day.

 0010 | Unapproachable

    As soon as Belisarius woke up in the morning, he went downstairs to the inn to have breakfast. His mind had been so full the night before that he hadn''t eaten a single bite. The inn they were in was one of the few in the city. Compared to the rest of the city, it looked like an architectural masterpiece and catered to foreigners visiting the city. The owner was a foreigner and had to pay Sanguinar a lot of money to build his inn. He was also a merchant, so his business was booming.


    A breakfast was prepared for Belisarius, mostly dairy products. Most of these products came from animals raised in Rhazgord and were tasty but expensive. Belisarius was enjoying his meal when the doors of the inn opened. Belisarius did not bother to look back at the entrance door behind him. He preferred to savor the slightly sour cheese in front of him. He had just popped a piece of cheese into his mouth when he heard the innkeeper bustling about and saying something in Rhazgord language. He turned around and saw the innkeeper talking to Corvus, who was waiting outside the door. Behind Corvus were two Rhazgord warriors, one of whom was Zarqa.


    Corvus was obviously asking where Belisarius was. Belisarius stood up, glad that his friend, who had been wounded the last time he had seen him, was all right. This gesture made Corvus notice him too. He interrupted his conversation with the innkeeper and greeted his long-lost friend.


    "If I had known you were coming, I would have come to greet you."


    "You know I couldn''t entrust the things you need to anyone else. Besides, I couldn''t miss the chance to escape Adler."


    The two laughed and sat down at the table at Belisarius'' invitation. Corvus'' face fell when he saw the food on the table. This did not go unnoticed by Belisarius. "I didn''t know you didn''t like cheese, if you want something else I can order it for you" he said jokingly.


    Not wanting to break the mood, Corvus immediately changed his expression, but he had to express his discomfort. "I like cheese and the other food on the table." He pointed at the innkeeper and said with an angry expression on his face, "But I don''t like these bastards buying it cheap from us and selling it on fancy plates at high prices." The innkeeper was too far away to hear what Corvus was saying, but he knew from his gestures that he was not saying anything good.


    Corvus'' words reminded Belisarius of the old man he had seen the day before. Corvus saw him drop the bacon he had dipped his fork in and to cheer his friend up, Corvus put a piece of cheese in his mouth. "These things happen, Belisarius. This is our reality. Enjoy the food you are eating." Corvus paused for a moment and then said in a slightly worried tone , "I saw you yesterday in Rhaz. What did you think of my fight? Barbaric , wasn''t it?" Belisarius recognized the concern in Corvus'' voice.


    "I don''t know if it was barbaric or not, but one thing I do know is that I feel sorry for the next person who faces you!" He continued without stopping to change the subject and distract his friend from his worries. "I saw what you said... I mean, I saw the dirty tricks of those merchants yesterday. An old man tried to sell his precious swords for next to nothing. Why don''t you intervene?"


    Corvus bowed his head. He knew the situation and felt ashamed. "Because we cannot intervene. No one comes to Rhazgord to trade except these bastards. The roads are dangerous. There are too many merchants who think we''ll eat them if they come at us." Pointing to the milk on the table, he said, "If these crooks don''t come, we won''t have anything to eat except that milk and the cheese next to it."


    Belisarius was silent for a few seconds. He was thinking about something. He took a bite of the butter he had spread on the bread and turned to his friend.


    "If you can provide security, we can establish a trade route between here and Adler. It would be profitable for both sides and you would get rid of the rogue traders." Belisarius said in a very serious tone, something Corvus had already thought of. Corvus''s hand went to his forehead. It was something he always did when he was thinking about something important. After a few moments of silence, he gathered his thoughts.


    "The problem is that no one wants the job. No warriors want to patrol the roads. Mercenary work is more profitable. If we don''t provide a good salary, they won''t come. My father is the only one who can pay enough, but his head is like a rock. The merchants already in the city keep sending him gifts. My father won''t give it up easily."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Belisarius did not personally know Sanguinar Saakhar, but he was sure he could persuade him. Still, remembering Corvus''s anger last night, he couldn''t help thinking that if his son was like this, what must his father be like? He was looking for a solution when his thoughts were interrupted by Corvus'' sigh.


    "Long time no see and look what we''re talking about!" he looked at the innkeeper and continued, raising his voice so he could be heard. "We can''t have guests of the Tiamats in a shithole like this, can we? The Red Pavilion is ready for you and your men! Call your men and we''ll put you in a proper place. Then I''ll take you on a tour of the city." As Corvus said this, Belisarius, who was not yet full, quickly stuffed something into his mouth. As he chewed, he went upstairs to prepare his men.


    When Belisarius came down, he reached into his pouch to pay for lodging and food, but the innkeeper stopped him in his haste. "If you think I would ask for payment from the guest of the future leader of the beautiful kingdom of Rhazgord, I am sorry, but you are sorely mistaken, my lord" he said, Corvus''s cruel gaze clawing at the back of his neck. Belisarius insisted on paying, but Corvus would not allow it. "Let him count the cost of our goods he buys cheaply and sells expensively, Belisarius," he said. The merchant only responded with a fake smile. Corvus'' words convinced Belisarius and he and his men headed for the door. As the group left the inn, Zarqa made sure to spit in the innkeeper''s face.


    Corvus and Belisarius decided to continue on foot. Zarqa led the horses, taking Belisarius'' men with him. Corvus, Belisarius and a few warriors made their way through the city streets.


    "I didn''t expectthe Lion of Rhaz to be traveling with bodyguards," Belisarius said with a mischievous smile, gesturing to the warriors who followed two paces behind them. Corvus didn''t seem happy about it either. "You''ve met Kaelyra, haven''t you?" he said. All Belisarius remembered about Kaelyra was her anger. "Yes. I saw her in Adler City, but yesterday was the first time we spoke. She was as frightening as she was beautiful."


    "I can imagine what happened, Kaelyra''s anger would scare even my father," Corvus said after a short laugh. "She''s actually a good and intelligent person as well as beautiful, but I made a bit of a mess yesterday." he looked a little embarrassed. "Kaelyra is like a big sister to me and worries a bit too much about me. And these friends -he pointed with his head at the warriors following a few paces behind them -  she put them on my tail. I pissed off a lot of people yesterday."


    Belisarius knew some of the details of yesterday''s events. The innkeepers had talked about it all night long. ¡°It''s not hard to realize that you made a lot of people angry.¡± From the first moment they had left the inn, they had been met with threatening looks from many people. But not everyone hated Corvus. A few meters in front of them were two seven or eight year old boys, excited to see Corvus and whispering to each other. Belisarius pointed to them.


    "But you have also earned the respect of many people."


    All along the way, they were watched by eyes full of anger, respect and admiration. They were approached by many people who wanted to talk to Corvus, however briefly. Most of them were young and beautiful women. Corvus, however, responded to them coldly and sternly. Belisarius found his reaction strange, even though he was obviously flattered by every praise he heard.


    "You should be nicer to people. After all, they will serve you in the future."


    Belisarius'' words caused Corvus to slow his pace and become a little demoralized. "Remember where we are, Belisarius. This is Rhazgord, and if I am nice to them, if I bend down to talk to the children or shake everyone''s hand, they will believe that I am on their level, that I am flesh and blood like them." He looked as if he could hardly believe his words. "I have to be unapproachable. If I am not unapproachable, they will be emboldened. They will come to me and challenge me and my rule."


    Belisarius understood his friend, but he didn''t agree. Most rulers cared little for the people, but they did not compete with them. That was not the case in Rhazgord. The ruler of Rhazgord had to be the strongest. Stronger than anyone else in the land. The rulers of Rhazgord did not want to fight people every day. They didn''t need to be rulers to fight every day anyway. So they drew a very clear line between themselves and their people. Proving that you were superior to them was not enough to guarantee a reign. They had to be unapproachable. Like a god, unreachable even if one climbed to the highest point of Mount Rhaz.


    As much as Belisarius wanted to say something, he restrained himself. It was clear that his friend did not like to talk about it. They were getting close to the Red Pavilion. They would have plenty of time to talk about this and similar matters.


    One of the Mansion''s guards approached Corvus in a hurry. Belisarius only understood the word ''Kaelyra ''. This word caused his face to turn yellow, as did Corvus''. Corvus turned to his friend and said , "We''ll get you settled tonight. I think we should go to the army camp. I have some things to do there too." Corvus made this offer precisely because Kaelyra''s name had been mentioned. Belisarius, afraid of Kaelyra, nodded without thinking. The two were walking back to the mansion with their backs to each other when a woman''s voice shouted out, causing the two friends to freeze in their tracks.


    "Can we escape?" Belisarius whispered. The words came out of Corvus'' mouth helplessly; "No one can escape."

 0011 | Army of the Rhazgord

    "You know how dirty the Nabuks play! They''ll send their hired dogs on you if you walk around the city so freely before your wounds are fully healed! At least don''t walk around without four or five warriors with you!"


    Kaelyra had been scolding Corvus for ten minutes straight. Corvus, knowing that whatever he said would be useless, kept silent and waited for Kaelyra''s scolding to end. "And why didn''t you go to the army camp? You need to organize and take care of Varek Nabuk''s men. And be here before sunset. Grandfather wants to talk to you," she finished her scolding. Not once during his speech did he turn to look at Belisarius.


    The two set off for the camp with a few warriors in tow. "I didn''t know a human being could scold another human being for so long. I felt your pain, even if I didn''t understand anything," Belisarius said. He seemed to be joking, but he was truly amazed. "What makes you think she''s human? She''s a devil! ¡° these words made the two laugh. "You just said you had business in the camp. What business?" asked Belisarius.


    ¡°Do you remember the fight I had last night? The winner of that kind of fight takes everything that belongs to his opponent. And by everything, we don''t mean taking their children or anything like that. Weapons, armor, money and most importantly, warriors." Realizing that Belisarius was genuinely interested, Corvus continued. "Of course, unless you really hate your opponent, you don''t go and take his house. But it is important to have a claim on the warriors. Not everyone in Rhazgord has the right to join the mercenaries. You have to be chosen by someone who has the right to be a commander, a Sharazir as we call them."


    What Corvus was about to say made him proud, so he puffed out his chest. Making a fist and pointing at himself with the thumb of his left hand, he said, "Being a Sharazir like me is not easy. The only person who became a Sharazir at my age was my grandfather, Magnor Tiamat, the most powerful of all Sanguinars." Corvus seemed quite happy about this. He continued.


    "The shamans of Mount Rhaz carve in the rocks the names of the city''s most powerful. Those who get on that list get the right to take soldiers under their command. Those who make the list but are at the bottom are called Sharazir. Sanguinar, the man at the top of the list, decides how many people can enter the list. As you can imagine, having hundreds of commanders can disrupt the order and organization of the army. So Sanguinar can reduce or expand the list if he has the approval of the second and third on the list."


    "But what if someone who is strong but has no understanding of battle tactics gets on the list? Wouldn''t that reduce the army''s ability to fight?" asked Belisarius. It was the first time he had encountered such a military system and it was interesting. He wanted to know more.


    "Beinga Sharazir doesn''t mean you can act independently. As you move up the list, you can command not only simple soldiers but also lower ranked Sharazirs. If they make mistakes, their superiors have the authority to punish them. You can''t even imagine how cruel the punishments are. So in short, even if a stupid person gets on the list, as long as he is not Sanguinar, it is not a problem. If he''s stupid, he''s dead."Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "And what about you? As I remember, you had few soldiers under your command, but you didn''t seem to be taking orders from anyone."


    "I was under Kaelyra until two days ago, but my situation is a little different. Because I was one of the Sanguinarcandidates... or rather, because I was the only one for now, I could be a bit independent. Besides, being a Sharazirdoesn''t mean that you can immediately recruit soldiers under your command. No soldier wants to be under a Sharazir who hasn''t proven his abilities or a Sharazir with no backing. I am Tiamat, so things are different. Now that I have defeated Varek Nabuk, I am a Sharazir equal to Kaelyra and directly under my uncle Valerius."


    "And how many soldiers can you put at your command?"


    "A little over three thousand now."


    "Won''t it be difficult to control that many men on your own?" Belisarius was not convinced that a young man of eighteen could manage three thousand men on his own.


    "You have to appoint a supervisor for every thousand men under your command. That''s where the Sharazirs, who are on the list but can''t get men under their command, usually come in. Just because you put a person who is not a Sharazir in charge doesn''t mean that he automatically becomes one."


    Belisarius was thoroughly confused, but his curiosity was not satisfied. It was a system that seemed as simple as it was complicated. As Belisarius understood it, the army was organized like a pyramid. The higher up you went, the more you controlled the Sharazir, not the soldiers. The Sharazirs were responsible for the training, salaries and income of the soldiers below them. The higher up you went, the less labor you had to do, but the more decision-making and control you had over a larger part of the army.


    "And what happened to Varek Nabuk? Was he crossed off the list?"


    "No, he hasn''t. Because I defeated him, I moved up his ranking and he moved down mine. On top of that, all the soldiers under his command are now under my command. Of course they don''t have to stay under my command.They can go under other Sharazirs or under Varek if they want. Since Varek''s ranking has fallen, he can naturally have fewer soldiers under his command."


    "So, in effect, the soldiers you won by defeating Varek yesterday could leave you today?"


    Corvus answered without thinking, as if he had been waiting for this question to come. "Yes, they have that right, but it doesn''t usually happen. The more powerful a man you are under, the more likely you are to survive the battle. I proved by defeating Varek that he was weaker than me. Only those who have a problem with me or my family will leave me. Unless, of course, they are sure they can be under another Sharazir."


    In the city of Rhazgord, soldiers made the most money. Soldiers who could get under a good Sharizar could earn a lot of money and honor at the same time. The poor poverty in the city and the fact that the Rhazgordians considered war to be a holy act of worship made it logical that people would go to such lengths to be under a Sharazir''s command.


    "The Nabuk family is unfortunately one of the largest families in the city. That is why today many men will leave me and follow the Sharazir from the Nabuks. They don''t want to be under a Tiamat. Of course, that''s not a problem for me. Even if my family is a bit annoyed with me at the moment, they will support me."


    For the Rhazgord, a warrior culture, of course, the political arena was not the parliament but the army camps. The more Sharazir and soldiers Corvus could control until the day when he rose through the ranks and became first, the more powerful he would be politically.


    They had already reached the city walls when Belisarius asked about the Rhazgord army structure. The encampment was a few kilometers outside the city. The two had already reached the camp without interrupting their conversation.

 0012 | Volmir Tiamat and Camp

    Set in the shadow of the Red Mountain, this massive camp reflected the legendary fighting skills of the Rhazgordians. From the outside, it was a war machine, born in the midst of chaos; and inside, strict discipline and absolute order reigned.


    Everything was built in perfect symmetry. The stone barracks were made of red rocks brought from the mountains and almost the entire camp was covered with them. The barracks were arranged in long thin rows, each the same size, the same distance apart and in the same order. Even the smallest details were calculated. There was an air of discipline about the camp. Only the experienced eye could see that every move here was pre-planned and organized.


    In the center, there were huge training fields. These large, dirt-floored fields were a sacred place where the young men of Rhazgord learned the martial arts. Older warriors lined up early in the morning to train the youngsters. The young disciples ranged in age from 7 to 14, and everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, was trained with the same discipline and determination. Barefoot children lunged at each other with wooden swords and axes, then waited for a command from their instructors. Training was the cornerstone of the Rhazgord warriors'' struggle for survival.


    Their every move was carefully watched. An unbalanced movement or an incorrect sword swing was corrected instantly. These boys learned not only how to fight, but also patience and obedience. They were brought up as part of the warrior tradition of the people. The instructors were harsh; those who made mistakes were punished mercilessly, while those who succeeded were quietly honored.


    Next to the training ground were the tall towers where guards patrolled. Their gaze traveled from the mountainside to the horizon. They were strong and disciplined warriors, each one moving silently from place to place. Their eyes kept an eye on what was happening outside the encampment, while inside, order was never disturbed. At night, these towers were lit by huge torches and every corner of the camp was carefully watched. Silence symbolized security and discipline.


    Everyday life here was based entirely on war. In the mornings the children trained, while in the afternoons the youth and adult warriors engaged in more rigorous drills. Each of them wore their armor and weapons with great care. The symbols on their armor reflected their rank and prestige. From the youngest children to the most experienced warriors, everyone had symbols, symbols that showed they were part of this warrior society.


    The days were full of training and discipline. Everything went according to a set plan; it was clear when to eat and when to rest. The most basic principle of the encampment was that order could not be broken under any circumstances. Discipline was the Rhazgord warriors'' greatest weapon.


    Rhazgordians were not trained to fight; they lived for the fight. They wanted to be warriors because of their faith, to die on the battlefield. Every step, every breath was a preparation for the battles to come.


    Belisarius could not believe what he was seeing. He had seen the discipline of the Rhazgord warriors before, but what he was facing here was on a whole new level. As he looked back at the city, he couldn''t help but think how much more orderly and beautiful it could have been if half the care had been given to this place. Corvus saw his friend''s admiring eyes and couldn''t help feeling proud. He raised his head and looked up at the sun, which was just overhead. It was noon and the children''s training was almost over. He nudged Belisarius, who was trying to observe everything, trying not to miss a single detail.


    "If you''re done observing, stop admiring and let''s go. I''ll introduce you to my brother, his training is almost over."


    Belisarius knew almost nothing about Corvus'' family. He had never asked, nor had Corvus ever told him. He wanted to guess for himself which of the children in the training grounds was Corvus'' brother. As much as he wanted to watch more closely, Corvus wouldn''t let him. Whoever he was, he could not disturb the order in the camp.


    Belisarius spotted the boy standing in the front row, engaged in a sparring match with a boy a little bigger than himself. Although the boy''s movements were full of inexperience, he was dominating his opponent. He had to be the best fighter in the group. Belisarius thought this young warrior was Corvus'' brother. He looked at Corvus to confirm whether he had guessed correctly, but Corvus was looking elsewhere, a little angry, a little sad.


    Corvus was looking at an instructor and a boy he was scolding. This boy looked much smaller than the other children in the training area and was quite frail. He was being scolded by his trainer because he had lost to his opponent, a girl, in a sparring match as soon as the fight started.


    The boy kept averting his eyes, but the instructor noticed it every time and beat him mercilessly with an iron bar. Knowing there was no point in crying or avoiding, the boy stood still, praying for the instructor to leave him alone.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    After a few minutes, it was time for the adults'' training and the children had to vacate the field. As soon as the training was over, the children lined up again and loudly greeted their instructors. The children were excited to see Corvus and ran towards him as if the discipline they had just practiced had never existed. They formed a circle around him and started asking him questions, showing him again some of the movements they had done a few minutes before, asking Corvus to evaluate their movements.


    Corvus paid attention to some of the children and ignored most of them. Most of the children Corvus was interested in were from the Tiamat Family and were very talented. Corvus was giving some advice when the loud voice of the instructor caused the children to run away quickly. Three old instructors approached with big smiles on their faces.


    As soon as Corvus saw his old instructors, he greeted them with respect. Corvus respected these men very much. He had learned everything he knew from these men and if it wasn''t for them he wouldn''t be considered a candidate for the next Sanguinar. The instructors'' gaze shifted to Belisarius. "Corvus, the young man standing beside you seems to have had a good training, but I am not sure if he is worthy to fight beside you, though with a little Rhazgord training he might make a good warrior," the oldest looking instructor said in Adler Language. Both Belisarius and Corvus were a little uncomfortable with these words, but Corvus put his hand on his friend''s shoulder.


    "Belisarius is my guest and crown prince of the Kingdom of Adler. I brought him here with me today to see the skills of our warriors. And although he only started using a sword a few years ago, from what I saw on my last mission, he fights very well."


    Hearing the name of the Kingdom of Adler made the old man curious. He had realized that Belisarius was a foreigner, but he had not guessed that he came from the Kingdom of Adler. He took a closer look at the young Belisarius in front of him. "So you are the prince of Adler. I came to your country when it was not yet so weak, and your ruler then, if not a true warrior, certainly had the eyes of one."


    Belisarius was both honored and a little saddened by the old man''s words.


    "I am grateful for your kind words, sir. In fact, one of my purposes in coming here is to learn a few things from great warriors like you and use them to restore my country to its former greatness."


    The old man liked Belisarius'' respectful and confident manner. After a moment''s thought, he looked at Corvus, his eyes fixed on the frail boy still training in a corner of the training ground. "If you don''t mind, I would like to see Belisarius'' skills." Corvus looked thoughtful. When he saw Belisarius nod, he said , "As long as you don''t kill him, sir, I don''t mind," and his gaze shifted back to his brother.


    The old instructor said , "When the training is over, you can come and get your friend. I can guarantee that he won''t die, but I can''t guarantee that he won''t get hurt." he said, and then nudged Corvus. "Go take care of your brother."


    By the time all this was said, the soldiers had already entered the training grounds and started their training. Belisarius took his place among men much larger than himself. The old instructor took a special interest in him.


    Corvus stood a few steps behind his brother, who was attacking the training dummy with all his fury, and watched him silently. There were mistakes in his brother''s every move. He was aware of his mistakes, and the more mistakes he made, the angrier he got, and the angrier he got, the more mistakes he made. Finally, the wooden sword in his hand could no longer withstand the boy''s mistakes and flew out of his hand. As the sword escaped from his hands, the boy fell face down on the ground. He injured his eyebrow with the effect of falling.


    He was checking the wound on his eyebrow when his brother''s shadow fell on him. The boy did not expect this at all, but he reacted quickly. He jumped up and saluted his brother like a soldier. " I''m sorry I didn''t notice you coming, sir!" he said.


    Corvus'' sad look never changed. "How many times have I warned you not to call me sir, Volmir. You have not yet had the honor of becoming a warrior and I am your brother. Not your superior." he said as he wiped the blood from Volmir''s eyebrow. He was also examining the bruises on Volmir''s body. When he touched the bruise on Volmir''s arm, Volmir groaned in pain.


    "You''ve been badly beaten, go take care of your wounds."


    "Sir... Brother, if you don''t mind, I''d like to show you my moves..." suddenly his eyes widened and he looked a little scared "If you have time of course... I wanted to show Kaelyra but she didn''t have time."


    Corvus knew very well why Kaelyra was not paying attention to Volmir. Kaelyra was busy calming down the big families that Corvus had angered. Corvus felt a little guilty, but the young man needed to go and tend to his wounds. A serious expression appeared on his face.


    "I told you to go and take care of your wounds!"


    Volmir''s hopes were dashed. He headed for the infirmary without disobeying his brother. He hadn''t gone far when his brother''s voice cheered him up again.


    "Make sure you''re well treated! Tell them to use Lightstones. Tell them to use my share of Lightstones! Then come and find me. I''ll show you some moves. Maybe we can even have a little competition!"


    Corvus sighed deeply as he watched his cheered younger brother''s back. He was sad, but he had no time for that. He had to go right away and organize the soldiers that would be at his disposal when he defeated Varek. Of course, he also had to go and see his uncle Valerius.

 0013 | Unproven Loyalty

    When Corvus entered Valerius'' barrack with heavy footsteps, the silence inside was suddenly replaced by exuberant movement. His uncle''s eyes lit up when he recognized him, jumped to his feet with joy and threw his strong arms around his nephew. His embrace was so fierce that Corvus felt his bones almost crushed.


    "Well done, Corvus! Well done!" roared Valerius, pride and joy dripping from his voice. "I never liked that Nabek dog anyway! He can''t even step outside because of fear, did you hear? Once again everyone knows what it means to mess with us! No games with the Tiamats!" Valerius crowned his words with a hoarse, coarse laugh. Then he beckoned Corvus over to him, gesturing to the feast-like food on his table.


    "Thank you, Uncle, but I must leave immediately. I have to take care of Varek''s men. I came to ask if there is anything you want from me," Corvus replied in a polite but firm manner.


    Valerius would have liked to spend more time with his nephew, but duty came first. He sat down slowly, a serious expression settling on his face. "There will be those among Varek''s soldiers who will leave you. Let me know what you need and I will take care of it. Don''t worry about the salary! Our family will support you. You must take care of your warriors," he said, fixing his eyes on Corvus''. "But remember that you are now under my command! I don''t want any slack! You will come to me when I call you. Keep your soldiers well trained, choose the best. Let me know who among them has the potential to become Sharazir. You may leave now."


    Corvus felt the weight of the order. Kaelyra wasn''t too hard on Corvus, but Valerius seemed to be tightening his grip. "Yes, sir," he replied in an obedient voice and walked out of the barrack and into the silence of the camp. After a few minutes of walking, he reached the place reserved for him and his soldiers. Here he was met by Zarqa and two warriors. They had been taking care of Corvus'' unit since morning.


    Zarqa, in his early twenties, had earned the title of Sharazir, which was not an easy achievement. Although he was not a Tiamat, his family had been swinging swords for generations for the Tiamat Family. That tradition had led him here, to the center of the camp. Zarqa had been under Corvus since he became Sharazir, he could have strengthened his own position and formed his own unit, but he had chosen to follow Corvus. The two young warriors with him, Kragan and Baldrek, were only a few years older than Corvus. The military training they had received together had made them both strong warriors and bonded them closely together. They were both friends and comrades they could count on each other on the battlefield.


    "The soldiers under Varek''s command and your own soldiers are waiting for you," Zarqa said, his voice controlled but with a hint of worry. Corvus, with Kragan, Baldrek and Zarqa at his side, walked towards the area where the warriors were gathered. Each step was like a slap that echoed through the silent camp. He stared ahead, his face resolute. Before him stood three thousand five hundred warriors, all waiting for him. When Corvus stepped onto the field, the warriors were instantly disciplined and lined up. But Corvus was only authorized to have three thousand men under his command, and here were three thousand five hundred. Three thousand of this crowd were Varek Nabuk''s men. The other five hundred were warriors who had been loyal to Corvus from the beginning, who had fought alongside him.


    Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek quickly stood at attention and lined up in front of the warriors. All three carefully scanned the faces of the soldiers, trying to guess which men would stay and which would go. Corvus stepped forward, taking a deep breath. His eyes were cold and determined. The power in his voice seemed to cut through the air.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "I am Corvus Tiamat!" he began. His voice drowned out all the voices in the camp. "I have defeated Varek Nabuk and the gods have given me everything that was his!" He ran his eyes over the soldiers, one by one, looking at each of them defiantly. "If anyone wants to be under another Sharazir, leave now! I swear on my name that I will hold no grudge against those who leave! But those who stay, I guarantee you that you will no longer be soldiers of a loser like Varek, but of a true Rhazgord warrior!"


    These words created a conflict among the soldiers. Some of them were filled with dreams of victory, while others gritted their teeth in anger. Especially those close to Varek Nabuk or loyal to the Nabuk family did not like Corvus'' challenge. Some lowered their gaze to the ground, others stared angrily at Corvus. Finally, step by step, those who were not satisfied with Corvus'' words began to leave the area. But it was not only Varek''s men who left, but also those who refused to be under the command of a young Sharazir. For several minutes they watched in silence as everyone left.


    Corvus looked around and realized that nearly a thousand soldiers had quietly left the camp. Now he had to move to reorganize with those who remained in front of him. He now had just over two thousand men at his disposal. It was a force many lower-ranking Sharazir dreamed of, but it was still too much for Corvus. He made up his mind to reduce the number even further, to put only the best soldiers under his command.


    "I thank those of you who stayed and believed in me!" he exclaimed, taking another step forward. "But most of you will join those who have just left!" His words were not unexpected for some of the warriors, who looked at each other in surprise. "There are warriors among you with whom I have fought shoulder to shoulder. I know how good fighters they are, but the rest of you have something to prove to me!"


    These words fell like a weight on the shoulders of even the most confident warriors. They would have to prove their own abilities. Corvus gave the order as he scanned the area with his stern gaze: "All men, except those who were with me before, take up your training positions!"


    Five hundred loyal soldiers lined up around the perimeter of the field, while the rest split into pairs. Corvus, Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek quietly moved among the soldiers who took up their training positions. Each of them stared intently at the warriors preparing for battle. Suddenly Corvus'' voice echoed through the tense air.


    "It doesn''t matter if you win or lose!" he said, sweeping his gaze over the soldiers. "Just prove your skills!"


    This order created a silent tension in the square. The soldiers were no longer just preparing to fight, but to prove their existence and worth. Their eyes were filled not only with the ambition to win the trust of a Sharazir , but also with the desire to defend their own honor.


    In two separate corners of the camp, two commands echoed simultaneously, drawing all attention: "Fight!" That single word brought tension as heavy as Mount Rhaz. On one side, Corvus had given the order to his warriors to prove their skill, while on the other, an old instructor had given the same command to start the fight between Belisarius and his opponent. The two scenes were filled with different moods, one a test of military discipline, the other an arena of personal challenge.


    As Corvus passed through his warriors, his eyes watched their every move. Every sword stroke, every defensive maneuver was important enough to decide a warrior''s fate. The training ground had become a battlefield, echoing with clashing swords and heavy breathing. Each warrior was trying with all his might to showcase his skills, to prove himself with every move. Corvus was determined not to miss even the slightest mistake, moving with a cool head. At eighteen years old, he was more skilled than his peers, even warriors much older than himself.


    On the other side, Belisarius was completely focused, his eyes locked on his opponent. As soon as the fight began, the old instructor''s eyes narrowed as he watched the two struggle. The battle here was not only a physical clash, but also a test of pride and ambition. Swords clashed in the air, each blow testing the strength and determination of the opponent. The instructor''s face was solemn, full of deep lines, evaluating every move, weighing the skill of each fighter.

 0014 | Eyes of a Warrior

    The golden rays of the sun illuminated the vast training grounds of Rhazgord. The sky was clear blue, free of clouds and sparkling. The air was warm and comfortable with a gentle breeze. Young people between the ages of 7 and 14, who had just finished their training, were lined up around the training ground, watching the fight taking place. Each of them was attentive, not wanting to miss this moment. They were intrigued that the old instructor had trained someone specially. And this person was not even from Rhazgord. This meant that this was no ordinary fight of an ordinary day; this was a clash of two different worlds.


    Belisarius, in his borrowed, thin armor, stared down at his massive opponent. His opponent towered over him like a mountain, with his massive muscles and powerful stance. The sun shone on the broad surface of his opponent''s sword, making him look even more menacing. Belisarius'' sword was sleeker and lighter, an expertly crafted weapon, sharp on both sides. His opponent''s sword was heavy, broad and an instrument of death designed for brute force.


    Belisarius had learned the art of the sword late in life. His musculature seemed to pale in comparison to his opponent. But he had one advantage: The Lightstone. Since childhood he had been able to consume the power of this rare stone. The energy of the stone permeated his body, giving him extraordinary strength and endurance. His opponent, on the other hand, had only used a very small amount of Lightstone once in his life. No matter how impressive his muscles and size, he was no match for the power within Belisarius.


    The first move began with the clash of two swords. The metallic sound of steel rubbing against steel echoed throughout the training grounds. Belisarius'' seemingly weak arms struggled against the massive muscles of his opponent. His opponent could not understand how this scrawny man could display such strength, and his eyes widened in amazement. But this surprise did not dampen his determination to fight, on the contrary, it made him even more ambitious.


    Sword after sword was swung, one blow after another. Belisarius danced around his opponent with swift and sharp attacks, never giving him a moment to catch his breath. His opponent, on the other hand, deftly kept his sword in a defensive position, meeting each attack in time. Both warriors understood each other''s strength and skill, but the fight had reached a stalemate. Each was trying to find the other''s opening, but neither could gain the upper hand.


    Belisarius was too fast and agile to give his opponent any chance. His opponent, however, was an experienced warrior and his defense was excellent. As the fight dragged on, it attracted the attention of the surrounding soldiers. The sound of clashing swords echoed in the open air, creating an atmosphere where everyone held their breath.


    Belisarius lost his balance for a moment. Perhaps from fatigue, perhaps from a moment of carelessness. His opponent seized the opportunity. He swung his sword at Belisarius with all his might. The blow, which Belisarius defended at the last moment, knocked Belisarius down hard. The earth welcomed Belisarius'' body with a warm embrace. The soldiers around the field looked at each other in silence. The old instructor had already predicted the outcome of the fight and nodded his head slowly as he saw it come true. The sun shone brightly on Belisarius'' body lying on the ground, but that did not mean that he had won the battle.


    Belisarius struggled to his feet, slowly recovering his slumped body. His breathing quickened, exhaustion weighed heavily on his body. As the little warriors gathered around him watched his efforts in silence, the old instructor approached the Rhazgord warrior with heavy steps. The instructor had a wise expression on his face, his eyes fixed on the warrior''s eyes. He spoke in a low voice in the Rhazgord language, his voice full of experience, but at the same time firm and full of determination. The warrior listened attentively to the instructor''s words, then began to walk towards Belisarius.


    His opponent''s footsteps echoed on the dirt floor. As Belisarius shook off the dust, his opponent came up to him and looked at him briefly. The sunlight shone on the warrior''s sweat-soaked face, revealing the depth of expression in his eyes. "Good," his opponent said in Adler language. The word was simple and short, but the meaning was deep. The warrior clearly did not know Adler language well enough, but that one word was enough to express his intentions. From the expression on his opponent''s face, Belisarius knew exactly what he meant. It was a sign of respectful acceptance. They shook hands in silence, then the warrior saluted the old instructor and returned to the soldiers who had been reprimanded for interrupting their training and distracting them from the fight.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    When Belisarius came to the old instructor, the old man looked at him intently. As his eyes swept over Belisarius'' tired but determined face, he sighed deeply. "How many times have you used the Lightstone so far?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity but not judgment.


    Belisarius lowered his eyes to the ground as he answered this question. He knew that if he had not consumed so many Lightstones, he would not have been able to withstand his opponent for even a few seconds. Embarrassed, he said in a low voice, "More than twenty times." he said. This was an amount that even the heirs of free kingdoms had difficulty reaching. Given the economic situation in the Kingdom of Adler, it was clear that Belisarius'' father had spent a considerable amount of money on him.


    The old instructor looked at his embarrassed state and shook his head slightly. "There is no need to be ashamed of using the Lightstone," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Maybe you wouldn''t have lasted this long without consuming the Lightstone, but you are certainly capable. The Lightstone increases your strength, but the real skill is in controlling that strength. It is respectable that in just a few years you have mastered your fighting techniques so well, and that you are able to use the power of the Lightstone so effectively."


    Belisarius felt a warmth in his heart when he heard these words. The instructor''s praise was a great source of morale for him. But the old man did not stop there. "I''m afraid I can''t comment on your techniques," he added. "If I try to correct your movements, I might damage the basis of your techniques. Do you remember I told you that I have met your ancestors before?"


    "Yes, sir, ¡± Belisarius replied, standing straight, like a soldier impressed by the seriousness of the occasion. He wondered where the instructor was going.


    The old instructor took a deep breath and continued. "There is an important difference between you and Emperor Tiberius. Tiberius was not a warrior, but he had the eyes of a warrior. You, on the other hand, can become a real warrior with a little more training, but you don''t yet have the eyes of a warrior. If you are truly of Tiberius'' blood, you can achieve that power."


    Belisarius felt the weight of the old instructor''s words on his shoulders. The words "eyes of a warrior " kept running through his mind. He could not fully grasp the meaning behind these words, but he sensed that it was more than just physical strength and technique. The instructor''s words had taken him on a journey deep into his inner world. This was not only a matter of fighting, but also of inner growth.


    The old instructor noticed that Belisarius was lost in thought and gave him some time. Then he came closer to him and continued to speak, lowering his voice. "The eyes of the warrior, ¡± he said. "Eyes that are clear not only when looking at the enemy, but also when looking at themselves. Tiberius used not only his sword to rule, but also his soul. A fire of battle burned in his heart, but it was not an uncontrolled rage, but a focused will. You need to gain that will, Belisarius."


    Belisarius listened carefully to the instructor''s words. He was trying to understand; this will, perhaps, was not just for fighting, but for standing up to all the challenges of life. The instructor was trying to mold him not only into a warrior, but also into a leader.


    "You have consumed the Lightstone twenty times," the old man continued. "It may have strengthened your body, but did it strengthen your spirit? Did it make you believe in yourself? You have to ask yourself that question. The Lightstone gives you physical strength, but the real power comes from the will within you. You must find the warrior spirit within you. It is not only about defeating your enemy, but also about defeating yourself."


    Belisarius paused for a moment at the profundity of these words. The instructor was right; so far he owed much of his strength to the Lightstone. But being a true warrior and leader was not only about physical strength, but also about inner strength. This was a new level of awareness for him.


    Belisarius nodded, strengthened by the instructor''s words. A new determination had sprouted in him. He would not only improve his techniques; he would also create the spirit of a warrior. Taking the instructor''s words as a guide, he was determined to follow this path. That day was not only the end of a fight for Belisarius, but also the beginning of a journey.


    Belisarius thought his training was over, but it was not. He saluted the instructor and turned to leave the training grounds when the voice of the old instructor was heard. "I''m sure I told Corvus when the training was over." he raised his head and looked up at the sun. "There is still time, I see," he said.


    While Belisarius was searching with his eyes for Corvus to save him, the old trainer was choosing Belisarius'' new opponent.

 0015 | the Rage of Despair

    Corvus now had only about two hundred men left in front of him. All the rest of the warriors had shown their skill and sealed their fate. These two hundred men had just used their last chance. Those who had won the first round of fights had risen straight into Corvus'' favor. As the defeated men writhed in despair, Corvus gave them another chance. Some were unable to participate in this second round of fights because of severe injuries. Others, even in defeat, managed to prove their skills.


    In total, three fights were fought and in the end there were two hundred people left. These two hundred people had lost all their fights, but they were neither unable to fight nor had they given up. They had not left the field because they were still looking for one last chance.


    One of them was a man named Varick. Varick was a father of three children, a fighter who had been unemployed for a long time. His father, although a good warrior, had one day challenged a Sharizar from a big family. Varick''s father won the fight, but the members of the losing family could not take the defeat and provoked others to challenge Varick''s father at every opportunity. Eventually, Varicke''s father was permanently disabled. Varick suffered great hardship in his youth because of this. The father''s inability to work and the mother''s barely earning enough money to support eight children taught him deeply what it meant to be poor. As his hatred for the unjust system of big families grew, his dream of becoming a warrior never faded.


    After years of effort, Varick finally entered Varek''s service a few months ago; now he was under Corvus. However, he was likely to be out of a job, having lost all three fights before he could make a single move. Unfortunately, all of Varick''s opponents were among the strongest in the group. The moment Corvus stood before them, a desperate hope flashed inside Varick: ¡°One more chance... Please, just one more chance..." he muttered. He stood in the front row, a few feet away from Corvus. But things did not go as he thought. Corvus'' words shattered Varick''s hopes.


    "I gave you three chances! Three chances, and not even once have you been able to defeat your opponent. Some of you, though defeated, managed to show their skills, but you! You couldn''t do anything! I don''t need losers like you!"


    Corvus'' harsh words pierced Varick''s heart like a dagger. Another dream, perhaps his last hope, shattered under the weight of those words. He felt wronged, just as his father had once been. Perhaps if he had faced a different opponent, he might have won. And why was Corvus being so cruel? There were countless Sharizars out there with no soldiers at their disposal, and he was wasting what he had. But the answer was obvious, Corvus belonged to a great family, like those who had injured his father. Finding unworthy warriors like himself should have been no problem for him.


    These thoughts boiled inside Varick like a volcano. His anger reflected in his face, his veins bulged and defined, a dark fire flashed in his eyes. This anger, mixed with despair, gave Varick''s face a hard, menacing expression. Corvus, standing before him, recognized this rage and the bloodlust directed at him. Almost all of the two hundred men were thinking and raging like Varick, but there was something different about Varick''s expression. This anger was not pure aggression, but a challenge from the heart. For a moment Corvus felt a small fear stirring inside him. The darkness in Varick''s eyes showed that the courage to stand up to him had been born.


    As if to crush this challenge, Corvus stepped towards Varick. The distance between them was now only a few feet. He fixed his eyes on Varick, trying to pierce him with his gaze. Then, as if to suppress the small fear inside him, he exclaimed in a loud voice: "This is my decision! If anyone wants to challenge it, here I am!"


    These words were not a challenge, not a threat, but a provocation that only fueled Varick''s anger even more. Corvus had put his full weight on Varick to crush him. The flames in Varick''s eyes signaled the beginning of a path of no return. He drew his sword and roared as if to prove he was a true Rhazgord warrior. "I am Varick Oran! I challenge you, Corvus of the Tiamats!". Both his roar and his words shocked everyone. Even the soldiers nearby could not believe what they were hearing. Those in other training areas were coming slowly to find the source of the loud noise.


    The anger inside Varick was like a volcano, ready to explode. Corvus'' silence was like wood thrown on the fire in Varick''s soul. It had all started at the moment of the challenge. Corvus was trying to drive Varick into the ground with his gaze. But Varick was too proud a warrior to be defeated by his gaze. Rhazgord''s honor was as real as the blood that ran through his veins and he needed to be a soldier to feed his children. So he was determined to give everything he had.


    In the center of the circle of soldiers, two fighters stood facing each other. The axe in Varick''s hand reflected the light of the sun and struck fear with its gigantic form. On the other side stood Corvus, unarmed, as if this fight was an ordinary event for him. There was no emotion on his face - no fear, no anger, no compassion. Just a cold, calculating expression. This humiliation of Varick''s pride fueled his anger even more.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Zarqa gave the order and the fight began. Varick made the first move. He swung his axe with great fury, as if he wanted to knock the man in front of him down in one blow. Corvus, however, showed not the slightest flinch in the face of this attack. Sliding slightly to the side, he skillfully dodged the axe''s deadly crescent. Varick, suppressing his disappointment at this failure, immediately attacked once more. This time, he attacked at a wider angle with his axe, but Corvus dodged this attack with the same calmness. Varick''s anger was growing; this man was playing games with him, trying to humiliate him.


    Varick was preparing to lunge once more when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. In the blink of an eye, everything had happened. Corvus, silent as a ghost, lunged forward and landed a punch that struck Varick squarely in the ribs. Varick fell to his knees in pain, struggling to breathe. His eyes glazed over for a moment, but he was desperate, he had to defeat Corvus. This forced him to stand up again. He realized Corvus was watching him. Instead of knocking him down and finishing him off, his opponent preferred to humiliate him further. It was a blow to Varick''s pride, but it was also an extra push to get back on his feet.


    Varick was more careful this time. He could no longer underestimate Corvus'' speed and agility. Instead of attacking his opponent, he decided to wait for his move. For a few seconds the two stared at each other, as if searching for each other''s weaknesses in the eternity of this moment. Varick''s heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. Every moment, he was trying to predict what Corvus would do. And at that very moment, Corvus lunged forward unexpectedly. This move to close the distance and prevent Varick from using his axe was like a death sentence in Varick''s eyes.


    Corvus swung a punch towards Varick''s jaw. Varick, relying on the speed of his reflexes, narrowly dodged this deadly attack. If he had been a split second too late, he would have been knocked down. His heart began to beat even faster. The man in front of him possessed not only speed and power, but also a deadly intelligence. Varick realized that this fight was not only a test of brute strength, but also of his intellect.


    Corvus'' attacks came not with the brute force as Varick was used to, but with a graceful but deadly precision. Every move seemed to be part of a pre-planned strategy. For a moment Varick''s anger seemed to give way to fear, but he quickly recovered.


    Corvus had noticed Varick''s hesitation. The coldness in his eyes provoked the other man even more. Unable to stand the silent taunt any longer, Varick struck again. This time he swung his axe from the bottom up, aiming to catch Corvus off guard. But Corvus, as if anticipating this attack, took a step back and missed the wind created by the axe by only a few inches.


    This time he kept his cool and stepped back. He realized that Corvus was expecting the attack, so he decided to disrupt his strategy. Instead of swinging his axe, he suddenly threw a punch with his left hand. This unexpected move distracted Corvus and allowed Varick to deliver a hard kick with his right foot. The kick knocked Corvus off balance and he was forced to step back for a moment. Nevertheless, he was unable to inflict the slightest damage on Corvus.


    Not wanting to miss this opportunity, Varick pounced on Corvus. He brought his axe down with great force over his head, but Corvus used his speed to move to the side. With the axe lodged in the ground, Varick was momentarily exposed. Corvus seized the opportunity and delivered a swift kick to Varick''s arm. Varick''s arm went numb and he dropped his axe. Corvus immediately stepped back, giving Varick a moment to catch his breath, but the look in his eyes told him that this fight was far from over.


    Varick stared at his fallen axe, trying to predict what Corvus would do. His opponent had clearly outmaneuvered Varick with this move. But Varick had no intention of giving up. As a Rhazgord warrior, he would fight to the end, even die with honor if necessary. Whether Corvus would give him that chance remained to be seen. Varick took a deep breath and looked up at Corvus. Corvus gestured for him to pick up his axe. Varick swallowed the insult and picked up his axe. His eyes were full of determination and conviction. ¡°It''s not over yet,¡± he growled. He was going to win this fight at the cost of his pride. He had to win.


    Corvus'' expressionless face changed like a sudden flash of lightning through the gloomy gray clouds. His red eyes, typical of the Tiamat, flashed for a moment. Corvus, who had kept his composure until that moment, began to move in the circle of humans like an angel of death. Varick had sensed Corvus'' intentions; Corvus had finally decided to end the fight. But Corvus'' next move was far beyond Varick''s expectations.


    Corvus began to walk towards his opponent with calm, calculated steps. Each step was like the sound of death bells echoing across a battlefield. Varick''s heartbeat quickened and his hands began to sweat. The cold-blooded approach of his opponent was driving Varick mad inside. But this anger was crushed under the heavy shadow of fear. He wanted to run away, maybe even attack, but he felt as if his feet were crashing to the ground. The darkness that burned in Corvus'' eyes had taken Varick completely captive.


    When Corvus came within range of Varick''s axe, an alarm went off in Varick''s mind; there was no turning back. His instincts kicked in and he swung his axe with all his might. This was his last chance, this blow was all he could hope for. However, time seemed to almost stand still. As the sharp edge of the axe moved towards Corvus, for a moment everything became clear in Varick''s mind. This attack would bring victory or defeat.


    Then came the terrifying moment. With his bare hands, Corvus easily grasped the axe that Varick had put all his hope and energy into. Where steel and flesh met, there was no scar, no blood. Time slowed even more for Varick, everything became a blur. His eyes widened and his heart pounded in his chest. This moment would be forever etched in his mind.


    Corvus''s fist came at Varick with a force faster and more devastating than thunder. The fist completely obscured Varick''s vision. As his eyes widened helplessly in the shadow of the oncoming blow, only one word echoed in his mind: "Lightstone." As this word echoed in his mind, as if from the depths of the past, Varick''s body drifted into darkness. As his eyes slowly closed, in that last moment, the dark silhouette of Corvus was etched in his mind. And then, there was only silence.

 0016 | The Burden of a Sharazir

    As Corvus stood on the battlefield, even the shadows seemed to shy away from his presence. Standing close to two metres tall, he resembled a god of war with his muscular but not bulky, agile body. His short, coal-black hair fell across his forehead, and his Tiamatian red eyes reflected fire itself. The flame in his eyes displayed not only power, but also the cold, calculating rage that had been building up inside him. His face was as hard and expressionless as a statue bearing the marks of blood spilt and victories won on the battlefields. His jaw was tight, his shoulders broad and confident.


    There were two reasons why the fight lasted so long. The first was that Corvus wanted to show his new warriors his skills. Even though his opponent was at least ten years older than him, the difference in skill between them was immeasurable. The second was a face he saw in the surrounding crowd. His brother Volmir had completed his treatment and had come to see his brother. The only reason for Corvus'' moves at the beginning of the fight was because he wanted his brother to see and learn the moves.


    After Zarqa was declared the winner, cheers from the crowd filled the arena. Corvus heard the sounds around him, but paid no attention to any of them. His red eyes hovered dully over the crowd, as if he were swallowing each cheer and then sending it into nothingness, while he stood firm with all his willpower not to give away his weakness, his pained palm.


    Meanwhile, in the crowd, Volmir Tiamat joined in the cheers, his eyes shining with the excitement of witnessing his brother''s victory. Volmir could not hide his admiration for his brother. With his short black hair and red eyes, he was like a small reflection of Corvus. But next to his brother, he was as delicate as a sapling. Nevertheless, the fire in his eyes burned just like Corvus; it reflected his desire to be like him one day.


    Zarqa approached Corvus, ignoring the enthusiasm of the crowd. To an observer on the outside, Corvus looked invincible, but Zarqa knew that Varick''s last blow had forced him to fight. "Is your hand okay?" he asked in a low voice.


    Corvus'' face remained expressionless, without the slightest sign of pain. Varick''s blow had numbed his entire arm, although it was not noticeable from the outside. But he could not show his weakness to anyone. "I''ll be all right until tomorrow," he replied, keeping his voice calm. He had fought hard the night before and had taken a hard blow with his bare hands to show his strength. But this was neither the first nor the last time he would suffer; he had chosen to change this world, and change came at a price.


    "What shall we do with Varick?" said Zarqa as he looked at Varick lying unconscious on the ground. He didn''t feel sorry for him or pity him. There was no point in feeling sorry or pity for someone who had been defeated in a fair fight, no matter how desperate. It was the usual thing in Rhazgord.


    "A brave man..."  said Corvus. Unlike Zarqa, there was pity in his voice. But he could not keep under his command one who rebelled against him. "Send him to Kaelyra. If Kaelyra doesn''t accept Varick, make him one of the Red Pavilion guards." It was unexpected for Zarqa, but he did not question the order.


    At Zarqa''s command, the crowd dispersed and the nearly fifteen hundred men who had managed to remain under Corvus'' command lined up in front of him. Corvus stood before them like a rock. His presence radiated not only courage but also authority and absolute power. The quickly assembled soldiers looked at him with silent reverence. There were traces of fatigue and admiration in their eyes, but above all, a new loyalty shone in their eyes that came from having accepted Corvus'' leadership. Every soldier had fallen under the shadow of this man, who at that moment seemed so much more than a mortal.


    Sensing the presence of Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek behind him, Corvus felt the weight on his shoulders even deeper. He was sure of their trustworthiness, but leading the men before him required a leader to put his heart, not just his intellect, on the line.


    After a short silence, Corvus slowly released the breath that had built up in his chest. His thick and resolute voice filled every corner of the field. "I know you have friends who are leaving you," he said. His voice carried no emotion. "But you have proven your skills to me and have earned the right to stay here. From today, you will fight shoulder to shoulder with me! Until the day we die on the battlefield and honour our gods!"


    His voice echoed like a war drum. As each word was engraved in the minds of the soldiers, Corvus saw the fire burning in their eyes. These men had found meaning, a purpose behind his words. They needed a guide to encourage or strengthen them, and Corvus was ready to fulfil that role.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He gestured to the three men behind him. Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek stood silent as shadows, but each was a giant in his own right. "You will follow the orders of these three men as if they were my orders! You will tell them of your every need!" he thundered. His voice was like the last words of a commander echoing through the red smoke of battle. "Whoever disobeys their orders, I consider him to be disobeying me! Is that clear?"


    "Understood, sir!" shouted the men in one voice, with a force that almost shook the earth. A slight curl of Corvus'' lips reflected his realisation that he would shape both victory and the fate of these people.


    "You are free for two days!" he continued. "Two days later, you will be here before sunrise and you will begin your new training routine! Dismissed!"


    When he finished, the crowd quickly dispersed, but Corvus was still standing where he had been. Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek, lined up behind him, remained with him like shadows. Corvus'' mind was already on the plans ahead, the changes to be made, the decisions to be made. He was already planning the steps that would make these men, his army, even stronger.


    Corvus told Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek at length what needed to be done and then sent them away. Each of them would now be in charge of a thousand soldiers, but Zarqa had no one under his command yet. Valerius, Corvus''s uncle, would soon fill the gap. The soldiers that Zarqa would be entrusted with would be the new forces sent by Valerius.


    When Corvus sent his friends away and was left alone, his eyes fell on the horizon. Solitude and silence were old friends that accompanied his thoughts, but the peace did not last long. Light footsteps broke the silence. Turning round, he saw it was Volmir. His younger brother had waited for the crowd to disperse completely and waited patiently to ask his brother to keep his promise. The look of admiration on Volmir''s face eased the weight of responsibility on Corvus'' shoulders for a moment. His love for his brother softened his hard exterior.


    ¡®You took proper care of your wounds, didn''t you?¡¯ Corvus asked, a slight tone of compassion in his voice. Volmir responded with a quick nod of his head up and down, his energy and enthusiasm evident in his eyes. Corvus was tempted to smile for a moment, but it quickly gave way to a serious expression. "Shall we begin training then? ¡¯ he asked. He knew what a tough road lay ahead for his brother, and his face reflected it in a stern expression. Volmir winced at the look on his brother''s face, but there was no turning back now.


    Volmir attempted to begin with the movements he had learnt from his instructors. Before he had moved even an inch, Corvus'' stern voice echoed. ¡®Your stance is wrong! Your right leg is too far forward! Do as I did in the fight just now!¡¯ With only a moment''s observation, Corvus could see Volmir''s slightest mistake. Volmir obeyed his brother''s warning and corrected his stance, but before he could take another step, another warning came. ¡®Your elbows are too low! Raise your guard! You must not give your opponent an opening!¡¯


    With each movement Corvus made a correction. Volmir had wanted everything to be perfect in this training, but his brother''s eyes were like sharp eagles, spotting every single mistake. "Your steps are too wide! You''re off-balance!" Your opponent will knock you down if he gets the chance!¡¯ Corvus continued with every mistake his brother made. Volmir tried to pay more attention with each correction, but this training was far more demanding and exhausting than he realised. Not even a few minutes had passed, but Corvus had warned Volmir dozens of times. Every word Corvus spoke echoed in Volmir''s head, weighing on his shoulders like a weight.


    Volmir began to think that this training would last forever. He had not expected his brother to be so stern. The sun was about to set and Volmir''s mind was consumed with nothing but training. His muscles ached, he was out of breath, but he did not want to show weakness in front of his brother.


    When Corvus finally realised the sun was setting, he thought of his friend Belisarius. He had left Belisarius in the hands of the old instructor Montis, famous for his endless and arduous training. For a brief moment he felt guilty at the thought.


    He looked at Volmir, lying on his back on the floor, panting for breath. His little brother was completely exhausted. His muscles were trembling, his breathing irregular, but there was still the will to fight in his eyes. Seeing the fire burning in this little boy, Corvus sighed lightly.


    ¡®Get up, we have to go,¡¯ Corvus said. Realising that the training was over, Volmir was suddenly filled with energy despite his fatigue. Corvus was a little disturbed by his younger brother''s sudden energetic state, but he said nothing. Volmir looked at his brother curiously. ¡®Are we going home?¡¯ he asked with childish innocence.


    Corvus answered his brother''s question with a slight smile. ¡®First I''ll introduce you to a friend of mine,¡¯ he said.


    The two made their way to the training grounds where Belisarius was, exhausted under Montis'' harsh training. Corvus'' steps were heavy but determined, and Volmir walked excitedly beside his brother, but he couldn''t help but wonder what he was in for. He had seen Belisarius with Corvus before. He also remembered that Kaelyra had been swearing at Belisarius for the last few days when she was angry with Corvus.


    He knew what a formidable instructor Montis was, and the thought sparked a spark of fear in him. After all, Belisarius was a weak-looking stranger and Corvus had left him alone with Montis. "I hope he''s not dead" he thought as he and his brother arrived at the training ground where Belisarius was.

 0017 | Master Montis

    Montis was known as the legendary instructor of the Rhazgordians, but the hard knocks of time had changed this old warrior both physically and mentally. The man who once struck fear into the hearts of his enemies on the battlefield now looked old, frail and gaunt. Despite his tall stature, his shoulders were slumped and his muscles were not as strong as before. But these physical changes had never weakened his warrior spirit and skills. He had put aside his axe years ago and replaced it with a thin rod made of iron. This rod was not a weapon for him, but a teaching tool.


    Montis used this thin iron rod like a commander''s pen. He would not only identify the mistakes of his warriors immediately and show them, but sometimes he would punish them for their mistakes with a stern touch. This rod was a warning for young warriors and at the same time a teaching tool. Each touch of the stick signalled a mistake and reminded them not to repeat it. At first, Montis treated every warrior with the same care and attention, but as the years passed, he began to train only the most talented. He no longer spent time with the ordinary warrior, but with those whose eyes shone with potential.


    Montis was able to recognise a talented warrior with a single glance. He didn''t spend much time with them, giving them only a few sentences of advice and then leaving them to their own devices. These few sentences of advice were filled with years of battle wisdom, and only the most skilful could appreciate their value. Corvus, however, was the one who changed this cycle. The day Montis first stepped onto the training grounds, the fire that had been extinguished in the old man''s eyes was rekindled.


    Corvus had caught Montis'' attention at first glance. His talent and potential impressed the old warrior deeply. Unlike the others, instead of giving Corvus only a few sentences of advice, he spent hours one-on-one with him. There was a light in Montis''s eyes that no other warrior could see; a light that signalled the raw talent Corvus possessed. For days he stayed with Corvus at the training ground, carefully watching his every move, correcting his every mistake. He had in-depth conversations with him, teaching him the intricacies of the martial arts down to the smallest detail. Corvus absorbed each and every one of these lessons.


    But what really shocked everyone was Montis'' training fights with Corvus. Montis, who had not sword fought with anyone for years, started to fight again in the face of Corvus'' talent. Every day, he would test the young warrior in training fights, watching his progress closely. Despite Montis'' weakened body and age, he was still able to display frightening speed and sharpness on the sparring field. Corvus, on the other hand, was tested every day in these tough fights, growing stronger as he learnt from Montis'' experiences.


    Each time Montis fought Corvus, he wanted more and taught him more. This was no ordinary teacher-student relationship; the bond between these two warriors had reached the highest level of mastery and learning. Montis was doing everything in his power to bring out the warrior in Corvus, and Corvus was growing stronger every day to be worthy of Montis'' teachings.


    When Corvus left the training grounds, as a true Rhazgord warrior, the fire in Montis''s eyes calmed again. He was even quieter than before. He was just giving some warnings to the instructors, that''s all. That''s why everyone was surprised by what was happening now. Belisarius and Montis were having a sparring match.


    Montis'' training fight had created a deep silence in the crowd surrounding the training ground. Everyone was watching Montis fight a warrior for the first time in years and savouring this rare moment without taking their eyes off him for a moment. Belisarius, who had proved himself to be very skilful in his fights throughout the day, could not move under the gaze of the old man before him. Montis, despite his age, was calm and cool, his hands behind his back as always, his grip on his iron bar tight. There was no anger or excitement in his eyes, only a cold stillness.


    Montis did not even put himself on the defensive. His guard was low, as if inviting Belisarius'' first move. But Belisarius could not accept the invitation. There was a weight on him, as if some invisible force was preventing him from moving forward. A few minutes had passed, but Belisarius was still at the starting point. Everything around him blurred, Montis''s dull eyes and stoic stance restricted all his mobility. Sweat poured down his forehead as his mind searched for a way out, but every thought seemed to end with a fatal blow from Montis'' rod.


    The experienced fighters in the audience knew how Montis could be so intimidating. His teaching was not just about physical fighting techniques; it was a mental battle. He magnified the hesitation in Belisarius, defeating him even before he made a move. He was doing all this in order for Belisarius to reach the ¡®Eyes of the Warrior ¡¯. Corvus knew these techniques of Montis very well and therefore understood the reason for Belisarius'' hesitation. Volmir turned to his brother as he watched in amazement. "Is he your friend?" he asked, his eyes on Belisarius.


    Corvus nodded. Volmir was even more confused. "And why doesn''t your friend attack? Isn''t he wasting the opportunity to be trained by master Montis?" he asked curiously. Corvus looked at his brother''s innocence with a small smile and replied calmly, "It''s not that he doesn''t attack, Volmir. He can''t." Volmir did not fully understand what Corvus had said, but he began to look more carefully at the fight in front of him. Corvus muttered in a low voice: "Cruel old geezer."


    The reason for Corvus'' words was that Montis had given him a moment''s clarity. Montis''s almost faultless posture showed a small weakness for a moment. It was so small that only a few people other than Corvus noticed it. Belisarius was one of them. This was a small test that Montis had made. It was an opportunity for Belisarius, who had been waiting for such a moment throughout the fight. Putting his hesitation aside, he suddenly lunged forward and swung his sword at Montis. It was a moment of opportunity, and for a moment Belisarius felt victory as he saw his sword approaching his opponent. However, that moment of triumph was shattered almost instantly.


    His sword flew from his hand in an instant, as if drawn by some invisible force. The next moment, he felt excruciating pain in his calf and arm. Montis had moved so swiftly with his iron bar that before Belisarius realised what had happened, he had been struck hard in both arm and leg. As Belisarius fell to the ground, the pain of the blows pierced through him. The blow to his calf hurt as if it were ripping flesh from the bone. The blows were so severe that Belisarius'' knees trembled and his eyes went black. He tried to suppress the pain and stand up again. Montis calmly picked up Belisarius'' sword from the ground with his iron bar and threw it in front of Belisarius, as if he did not care about him at all.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Take your sword," Montis said in a cold, authoritative voice. "It is important to recognise even the smallest openings, but it is more important to keep your weapon."


    By the third time Belisarius had fallen before Montis, he was already beyond his limits. His body trembled with exhaustion, pain permeating every muscle. Each time he tried to rise again, each time he was met with the brutal blows of Montis'' iron bar. Finally, he no longer had the strength to stand. Breathless, he collapsed on the ground, staring up at the clouds floating in the sky. Everything was foggy and blurry. As he summoned all his willpower to stand up again, Montis'' calm and cold voice echoed in his ears once more.


    "The sun has set. I told Corvus we would continue until sunset."


    These words put an end to Belisarius'' efforts. Although he had the will to continue, his body no longer obeyed. He had no choice but to accept his pain and defeat. He lay on his back on the ground, taking deep breaths, filling his lungs. In his mind he weighed Montis'' lesson with each blow, remembering the old man''s cruel but wise moves.


    A few moments later, a familiar shadow fell over him. Corvus was standing over his friend. He bowed slightly and spoke with a familiar mockery in his eyes. "What''s the matter, too much real warrior training?"


    Belisarius made an effort to rise, but Corvus stopped him, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "Hold on, rest a while. You''ve had enough beatings for one day," he laughed. Then he turned to Volmir and whispered a few words in Rhazgord language. At Corvus''s words, his younger brother hurried away, his footsteps quick in their haste.


    Corvus then turned to Montis. Montis was still standing silently, the look of a tired sage on his face. Before Corvus could say anything, Montis began to speak with the habit of years. "The boy is very talented, though not as talented as you," he said, nodding slightly. "He learns very fast and has a good eye."


    Corvus smiled slightly at his instructor''s words. "I am sorry, master," he said respectfully, "but I cannot entrust him to you. Belisarius is a citizen of another country."


    Montis smiled back. "Unfortunately, I don''t have much left to teach him. He uses a different martial art. But he is skilful! Really talented."


    The two chatted for a while longer. Montis complained about the pain in his back as he rubbed his old shoulder. He said that he was feeling more and more pain every day, that he was getting old and how precious these days were. Finally, Montis straightened his back, tapped his stick on the ground and slowly walked away.


    As Montis left, Volmir returned with a small box. He opened the lid of the box and revealed a shimmering, light-coloured ointment. Made from the Lightsone, this special ointment was known among the people of Rhazgord for its legendary healing powers. Corvus handed the ointment to Belisarius. "This is an ointment made from the Lightstone," he said. "Rub it on your wounds and you''ll be as good as new in ten minutes."


    Belisarius took the ointment, moving painfully. As his eyes looked gratefully at Corvus, he felt the friendship and support underlying this small act of help. Corvus¡® helping hand was a compassionate touch that followed Montis¡¯ cruel lessons. As he applied the ointment to his wounds, he felt a renewed strength within him. This battle had strengthened his spirit more than his body.


    As soon as Belisarius applied the ointment made from the Lightstone to his wounds, he felt the pain in his body ease. The ointment first left a cooling sensation on his skin, then absorbed the pain and fatigue. In a few minutes, he felt almost as if he had not been injured at all. He took a deep breath, and slowly stood up. When he felt his strength returning, he looked around. His eyes fell on Volmir. He noticed the young boy''s attention to him. There was a curiosity in his eyes, and at the same time some shyness.


    Belisarius smiled slightly and spoke in a gentle tone. "You must be Corvus'' brother. May I know your name, young man?"


    Volmir bowed his head, dragging his feet a little shyly. "Volmir... Volmir Tiamat," he replied, his voice low but clear. Apparently, he had some understanding of the Adler Language.


    "And I am Belisarius. Flavius Belisarius," he said with a friendly smile. "Like you, I am the son of a king." He said these words with pride, but Volmir''s face changed for a moment. It was as if the boy''s joy had suddenly vanished, replaced by a sad expression. The words ''son of a king¡¯ weighed on Volmir''s heart like a burden.


    Seeing this reaction, Belisarius dropped the subject. He was both tired and realised he had no time to think about Volmir''s sensitivity. Corvus, meanwhile, had noticed the sudden change in his brother''s mood out of the corner of his eye and realised that Belisarius was also exhausted.


    Corvus intervened to diffuse the stress without prolonging the situation. "You can continue your conversation on the road," he said, with a slight cheerfulness in his voice. Then he rubbed his stomach, a friendly gleam in his eyes as he hinted that he was hungry. "Let''s go, I''m hungry!"


    Corvus'' words lightened the mood and Belisarius nodded in return with a slight smile. Volmir relaxed a little at his brother''s cheerful demeanour. The trio made their way to the mess hall inside the camp.


    The mess hall was the heart of the camp, filled with a constant hum. It was here that the soldiers relieved the fatigue of their training and cheered themselves up with friendly conversations. The smell of smoked meat wafted through the air, and steaming drinks were piled high on the tables. Many people approached Corvus to greet him, showing friendly behaviour. Even though he was a prince, he was eating and drinking what an ordinary warrior would eat and drink. This was a behaviour Belisarius had never encountered. Everyone who saw him in the Kingdom of Adler bowed to the ground and only complimented him.


    Soon all three were warmed by a hot meal, rested for a while, and ready to set off again. Corvus needed to get to the Red Pavilion. During the journey, Belisarius and Volmir were slowly closing the distance between them. Belisarius asked young Volmir a few friendly questions, but he was careful, careful not to touch Volmir''s sensitive feelings too much. Slowly, Volmir began to relax. Corvus stepped in where Volmir did not understand, translating Belisarius'' words. Corvus was pleased to see the two of them warming up to each other in this way, but he had bigger things on his mind. His grandfather, the former Sanguinar, Drakar Tiamat, or ''Drakar the Slayer of Thousands'' as he was known across the continent, was waiting for him.

 0018 | Drakar Tiamat

    When Belisarius heard that Corvus was to meet his grandfather, respect and curiosity made him want to go too. This man was known as one of the mightiest leaders of the people of Rhazgord; it was his shadow that was behind Corvus'' strong stance. However, Corvus refused his friend''s request.


    "Go and rest," Corvus said. His tone was more formal than his usual warm friendly tone, as if they were speaking as diplomats, not as friends. "There are things I need to discuss with you tomorrow. Not as two friends. As representatives of two countries."


    These words cast a shadow over Belisarius'' face. Representatives of two countries... Those were heavy words. Corvus touched the back of his neck with his hand, clearly showing his uncertainty. "If my grandfather permits..." he added, his voice sounding weak for a moment.


    Belisarius, a little startled by his friend''s sudden formality, said nothing.


    Corvus escorted him to the prepared room. When he opened the door and entered, the comforting warmth and simplicity of the room made him feel the tiredness of the day in an instant. The soft bed, the wooden furniture glowing in the flickering candlelight... Belisarius took a deep breath. His eyes grew heavy and in a few minutes he lay down on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.


    Meanwhile, Volmir had retired to his own room. His small body was too weak to bear the fatigue of the day. He wrapped himself in the bedclothes and closed his eyes tightly. While he dreamed fearlessly with the innocence of childhood, the world outside was becoming increasingly chaotic.


    As Corvus walked along, his footsteps echoing in the dark stone corridors, he noticed a shadow looming in front of him. Kaelyra was waiting for him. Her hard gaze was as cold as the stone walls. "Did Grandfather summon you too?" Corvus asked, a familiar ease in his voice. But Kaelyra''s answer was very different from what he had expected.


    "No!" Kaelyra said, her voice sharp and cold, like the stroke of a sword. "But I''ll come too, just in case you''re being ridiculous!"


    Corvus was stunned by this reaction from his cousin. Kaelyra was always cold and hard, but this... This was crossing the line. Somewhere deep down, beneath the anger, there was fear and worry, but it was almost impossible to see. Kaelyra was the most supportive person in Corvus'' life. Since the day he lost his mother, she had been both big sister and protector. But tonight, she was only an obstacle for Corvus.


    Corvus took a step forward in the face of this unexpected challenge. His brow furrowed and his eyes flashed with menacing determination. His tone became sharp and cold, just like Kaelyra''s. "Enough, Kaelyra!" he raged, his words like a declaration of war. "I have set my path, and I am determined to crush anyone who stands in my way!"


    The surprise in Kaelyra''s eyes overshadowed her anger for a moment, but Corvus did not hesitate. Swallowing, he took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. Looking hard into Kaelyra''s eyes, he emphasised each word with care: "Even you, Kaelyra! Even you."


    These words stabbed Kaelyra like a knife. For a moment her eyes widened, then the anger returned, this time more intense and burning. But underneath that anger was something else: disappointment. He had never expected to see Corvus like this. Kaelyra''s throat tightened as Corvus'' footsteps echoed down the corridor. Her lips formed a thin line and she suppressed the tears that flashed in her eyes for a moment. She clenched her fists and pulled herself together. It was an anger Corvus would never see, but it burned inside her.


    Kaelyra had a deep hatred for the word ''change ¡° that came out of Corvus'' mouth at every opportunity. This change was not a passing fancy of Corvus, but a dangerous obsession. Kaelyra had done everything to protect her cousin; she was the only one who tried to keep him alive, to tie him to life. But now, when she looked at Corvus, what she saw was not the Corvus she had known. This was a stranger in her eyes. A brother gone astray, chasing a dream. Kaelyra withdrew silently, but the storm inside her had not subsided. The fact that Corvus was willing to break everything to fulfil his dream had turned into a deep wound inside her. But Kaelyra was never one to show it. She was a woman who kept her anger and pain inside and wore it like armour.


    When Corvus pushed open the massive doors of the throne room, he was not thinking about the silent rage he had left behind. He had only one thing on his mind: To confront his grandfather, Drakar Tiamat, and share his plans with him. As the doors opened, the shadow of Drakar sitting on the throne filled the room. Corvus took a few steps and bowed respectfully.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    It was his grandfather who had summoned him, so he waited in silence. Drakar was very old, but his body was the equal of any young warrior''s. Time had taken away his hair, but that was the only thing time could take from Drakar. Drakar''s bushy, braided beard combined with his red eyes inspired fear. Every part of his body was covered in scars that carried the memories of old battles. While he was still standing despite all the wounds he had received, the wounds he had caused had all resulted in death.


    "You defeated Varek" he said. There was not the slightest emotion in his voice, nor was it loud, but even the sound waves echoed against the walls of the throne room, as if they were running away from him in fear. Corvus answered without taking his eyes off his grandfather. "Yes. He was disrespecting our family, so I punished him."


    After a moment of silence, Drakar''s loud laughter vibrated all the furniture in the room. As soon as he finished laughing, he got up from the throne and came in front of Corvus. Drakar stood before him like the Rhaz mountain in flesh and blood. His face seemed to be covered with a shadow as the moonlight hit him from behind. All that could be seen on his face were two red eyes burning like embers.


    "Don''t play games with me, Corvus! Why did you challenge the child of the Nabuks! Answer me!"


    There was a deep fear in Corvus'' heart that wanted to escape, but Corvus would not let it pass. He knew that if he took even one step back, he would not have his grandfather''s support. He raised his head and locked with his own red eyes to his grandfather''s. It was as if he was trying to extinguish the fire in his grandfather''s eyes with the fire burning in his own eyes.


    "Because I want to change our country... No! They saw it as weakness that I wanted to make our country better.They talked about me not being a warrior. So I showed them that I am a Rhazgordian, a Tiamat."


    Corvus was nervously waiting to see what his grandfather would say when a curious smile appeared on his grandfather''s face. Gone was the monster that had stood before him, and in its place was a sweet man. He put his large hand on his grandson''s shoulder and leaned a little to make eye contact with him.


    "Look Corvus... You are the most talented son the Tiamats have ever had. In a few years you could even be Sanguinar. You can be the youngest Sanguinar ever." Drakar took a deep breath. "If you want to change things, just wait. Follow the warrior''s path and become the strongest. Then you will do what you want."


    Corvus could not hide his surprise at this understanding he had never expected from his grandfather. His grandfather was a firm believer in tradition. Since the day Corvus was born, he had told him hundreds of times what it meant to be a warrior. Corvus thought like his grandfather when he was in the city of Rax, but when he returned to Sorbaj, he threw that thought away. He couldn''t wait any longer. The change had to happen now, or now.


    Realising his grandson was lost in thought, Drakar returned to his old throne. He waited for Corvus to gather his thoughts. Corvus put all his words together and his expression turned serious.


    "No!" he said, very sharply. "Why should I wait for something so simple!" His excitement made him take a few steps forward. "The merchants are taking advantage of us! Why don''t we solve the problem with a simple trade agreement? Why do we get muddy when we walk on the street! Why don''t we pave our roads with stones that we can find in our mountain full of beautiful rocks? Our people live in houses that are crooked, but every structure in our army camp is built with stones, worked and constructed to the finest detail!" he paused for a moment. "You, grandfather! Great Drakar Tiamat! Look where you and your family live, while the leaders of even tiny kingdoms live in great palaces of prosperity! Look at the throne that is mine in the future, my father''s now, and once yours!There are men in the city of Rax who would not take that throne as a chair for their home!"


    Corvus'' words had a grain of truth, but Drakar was unwilling to accept it. Everything that Corvus denigrated was part of Drakar''s soul and life. The Rhazgord he knew was everything Corvus spoke of with disgust. His soul screamed with all its might to oppose Corvus, but his mind would not allow the slightest sound to leave his mouth.


    He took a deep breath. There was something knotting in his throat. His head, which was bent forward after Corvus''s words, slowly lifted. His grandson, Corvus, stood before him like a giant of stone. A giant who would crush whoever stood in his way. Drakar nodded.


    "Are you sure you can do what he says?" he asked. If he felt the slightest doubt, he would be the first to stand in Corvus'' way. He was looking at Corvus with all his might. Corvus felt the weight of his grandfather''s gaze in every cell. He was confident and answered without a second thought.


    "If you let me, I can solve the trade problem before my father, Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat, arrives!" It would take three months for Sakhaar Tiamat to return. He had gone to prevent a demon attack in a faraway kingdom. "All I need is your support and authorisation. First thing tomorrow I will begin work on signing a trade agreement that I will make sure is fair."


    Drakar nodded to his grandson. Corvus was as happy as a child at this small approval. But even his life could be at risk if he failed to keep his promise to his grandfather. By paving the way for Corvus, Drakar was risking his own honour and position. But his mind told him to trust his grandson. "What do you need?" the old Drakar asked. This question was the beginning of a conversation that would last until dawn.

 0019 | Trade Agreement (1)

    The Red Pavilion was buzzing with the arrival of the Tiamat family elders. Gathered at the call of Drakar Tiamat, the family elders gathered in the vast halls of the manor. Drakar was no longer the leader of the people of Rhazgord, but he was the undisputed leader of the Tiamat family. His authority had grown with his age. In Sanguinar''s absence, he was the only one who could make decisions for Rhazgord. So, during the hours of the day spent discussing Corvus'' plans and enlisting the family''s support, Drakar''s shadow hung over everyone.


    Corvus tried to persuade the family elders until the sun went down. He had won over some of them quickly; the elders liked the idea of securing the trade routes and were supportive of Corvus'' vision. But not everything was so easy. Some elders were sceptical and resistant. For them, Drakar stepped in. Drakar''s voice was like the roar of an old lion, drowning out even the slightest murmuring in the room. There was no other way but to be persuaded.


    As the discussions in the depths of the hall dragged on, Corvus'' determination became more and more apparent. Every sentence, every word, revealed his plans for the future step by step. While Drakar''s open support strengthened Corvus'' position, at the end of the day the Tiamat family elders finally gave in. These elders, who held important positions in the city and the army, had to give Corvus what he wanted. A trade agreement that would last until Sanguinar returned, and Corvus was allowed to mobilise his own troops to secure the trade routes.


    The Red Pavilion was so full of people because of this confusion that Belisarius slipped quietly out of the manor. He did not want to remain in the midst of the chaos. He needed to familiarise himself with the city of Sorbaj and its culture. He had to prepare for Corvus'' diplomatic negotiations with him. With his interpreter Perze by his side, he decided to step into the muddy streets of the city and take the pulse of the people.


    As Perze explained the complex culture of the Rhazgord to Belisarius, shadows fell across the city streets. This gloomy city, founded at the foot of Mount Rhaz, harboured a peculiar savagery in the shadow of the red cliffs. Crooked buildings, narrow streets and mud that stained their shoes with every step reflected the warrior spirit of the people of Rhazgord. As Belisarius digested this bleak but mesmerising atmosphere, Corvus ordered his men to find him and bring him back. As the sky turned red, Belisarius enjoyed exploring the city and learning new things about this wild culture. But the peaceful moments ended when Corvus'' men found Belisarius and brought him to him.


    Corvus'' determined and serious demeanour signalled the importance of the upcoming meeting. His eyes bore the marks of the heavy responsibility he bore as the son of the king of Rhazgord. The two moved silently into a large hall. The hall, like the other rooms, was simple but eerily austere. The stone walls held no ornamentation, only a cold emptiness. There was only a heavy, large table in the room. The table had been carved from an enormous rock that had witnessed Corvus'' hard negotiations throughout the day. Now the last meeting would be the most important.


    Corvus placed before Belisarius a few simple but hearty dishes. But each bite added to the weight of the upcoming speech. Silence was a more powerful means of communication than words in this room. When the meal was finally over and they were alone in the quiet parlour, Corvus took a deep breath. His expression took on its usual seriousness. He and his friend were seated opposite each other, but this was not a friendly meeting. Corvus began to speak with the weight of a leader who realised his responsibilities.


    "I stand before you now as a representative of the Rhazgord." The sternness in his voice drew Belisarius into a deep seriousness. Belisarius nodded, respecting Corvus'' new role. However, slightly reflecting the warmth of that old acquaintance, he asked in a slightly mischievous tone: "So what is on the agenda for today, Prince Corvus Tiamat?"


    A small smile appeared on Corvus'' face, but disappeared immediately. Their friendship had been on the surface for a moment, but now there was more responsibility than friendship. Corvus took a deep breath and began to speak in a serious tone.


    "This is the matter you and I have discussed before," he said, and his eyes met Belisarius¡±. "Trade between our countries." The seriousness in his voice emphasised the importance of the matter.


    Belisarius realised that his friend was struggling with this new role. This was Corvus'' first major diplomatic venture and his inexperience was evident. But the proud prince of Rhazgord did not see this as a moment of weakness, but of growth. There was more than just two friends at the table; the future of two countries was about to take shape in this room.


    "I will ensure the safety of the trade routes... and you will send your merchants with the goods we need," Corvus said, his strong voice echoing off the stone walls of the room. The clarity of his words cut through the silence at the table like a sharp knife. His eyes were fixed on Belisarius with the determination of a leader hoping to strike a hard but friendly deal.


    Belisarius waited for Corvus to say more. But Corvus¡® nod, as if saying , ¡°What are you waiting for? ¡± brought an involuntary smile to Belisarius¡¯ lips. Far from being a friendly expression, it was filled with compassion for Corvus'' inexperience in this diplomatic confrontation. The smile, however, was enough to spark anger in Corvus.


    Corvus was displeased by Belisarius'' reaction; the hardness in his face, combined with the red flames in his eyes, was vaguely menacing. Still, he waited silently for his friend''s answer, his jaw clenched, impatient.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I am very, very sorry, ¡¯ Belisarius said, forcibly suppressing a smile and adding a serious tone to his voice. "But if that is your offer, I cannot accept it." His words sent a cold wind through the room. Corvus''s eyes widened. He never expected this answer. Unable to suppress his anger and surprise, the young leader suddenly jumped from his seat. His chair was pushed back hard, and he came round the table to stand in front of Belisarius, his anger filling the room.


    "I thought you were a friend, Belisarius! And wasn''t it you who suggested the deal?!" he thundered. The power in his voice was reminiscent of the shouts of the warriors of Rhazgord. His chest rose and fell rapidly, frustration and anger combined, ready to erupt like a volcano. "Do you know what risks I take!" There was a gleam in Corvus'' eyes, a look that carried the pain of betrayal, the resentment of a friend.


    Belisarius was momentarily startled by this anger. The flames in Corvus'' red eyes startled him, but he did not back down. He took a deep breath, looked into his friend''s eyes and spoke in a patient tone.


    "Corvus, please calm down and sit down," he said, the calmness in his voice like a prayer to calm this storm. "I will explain my reasons." Belisarius'' calm demeanour made Corvus pause for a moment. The burning waves of his anger receded slowly, but not completely. With a frown, Corvus returned slowly to his chair and sat down again. He wanted to hear what Belisarius had to say; he was both curious and sceptical.


    Belisarius leaned across the table, resting his elbows on the hard rock table. His expression was serious now, giving weight to every word. "Look, Corvus," he began, his voice now firm and convincing. "The large population in Sorbaj City and the market for your products are very valuable to a small country like ours. My country certainly wants access to that market." Belisarius paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on Corvus as if to measure the impact of his words. Then he continued his speech. "But if you secure the trade routes, others will come before us to trade. Rather than make several commitments to you here, we can wait for you to make the same deal with another country and send our traders later. Less profit, of course, but fewer promises to keep. Don''t you agree?"


    Belisarius'' words made the air around the table heavy. Corvus was deep in thought for a moment, it was hard to resist his friend speaking so clearly and logically. He knew Belisarius was right. The Kingdom of Adler and Rhazgord were several weeks away, but there were many kingdoms closer than that. Once Corvus had secured the trade routes, many kingdoms, not just the Kingdom of Adler, would move to take advantage of this new trade opportunity.


    Corvus had no chance to disagree with Belisarius. He was caught in the tangled web of diplomacy and could not find a way out. He had come to the table knowing almost nothing about diplomacy and trade. His first major diplomatic meeting had been even more difficult than a duel. No matter how clever a warrior he was, he was still inexperienced in the intricacies of trade and politics. As his mind searched for a way out, he finally decided the simplest solution was the best: to ask.


    He took a deep breath, his eyes taking on a stern expression, but struggling with the insecurity resonating within. "So... what do you want? " he asked, the soft vibrato in his voice a sign that he recognised Belisarius'' diplomatic superiority.


    The question brought a sly smile to Belisarius'' face. The strings of the negotiation were now in his hands, and he was determined to use them skilfully. "Let us form a trade union," he began, choosing his words carefully. "For three years, no customs duties on merchants who belong to our union. Let the tax on other merchants be increased.Security will be your responsibility, as it is on your territory."


    Belisarius leaned back comfortably in his chair as he finished, his eyes focussed on Corvus to measure his reaction. Corvus was deep in thought. He agreed that the offer made sense. The people of Rhazgord were powerful, but trade and politics were not in their nature. Belisarius'' proposal held both economic and strategic opportunities. There were two problems. First, it was a restrictive proposal. For three years it would be difficult to trade with other countries. The second and bigger problem was that Corvus did not have the authority to sign such a long-term agreement on his own.


    Corvus slowly raised his head, took a deep breath and began to speak. His voice was determined but worried. "I am not authorised to sign a long-term agreement," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I can only sign an agreement for a few months. It will be up to Sanguinar to decide whether or not to extend it."


    The slight smile on Belisarius'' face gave way to a serious expression. This was an obstacle he had not expected, and he paused briefly in disappointment. His thoughts whirled rapidly, searching for a quick solution so as not to lose the opportunity at the table. Finally, he made up his mind and began to speak again.


    "I certainly want the deal," he said, strategic caution in his voice. "But under the circumstances, it''s a bit complicated." He paused for a moment, folded his hands on the table and took a deep breath. "But let''s do it this way... Give me two days to think about it. In the meantime, I can study the market and think of a different deal. My country is certainly interested in close relations with the Kingdom of Rhazgord. I will do everything necessary to ensure that both sides do not leave this table empty-handed."


    With those words, he stood up and extended his hand towards Corvus. "I offer you the same, and I trust you can come to me with a better offer, Corvus." The confidence in his voice was not based on the relationship between two friends, but on the interests of the two leaders.


    Corvus grasped the outstretched hand firmly, but his mind was still filled with complex thoughts. He had not anticipated that what he had seen as a simple trade agreement would be so complex and multifaceted. A wave of shame rose in him - perhaps he had not been prepared enough. For the first time he realised that trade and politics were far more complex than war.


    As Belisarius left the room, Corvus sat back in his chair in deep thought. The heavy silence that filled the room reflected the chaos in his mind. This diplomatic duel was far more complicated for him than the fights on the battlefield. Now he had only to think and plan a better move.

 0020 | Adorned Sword

    Corvus had been wandering the narrow streets of Sorbaj for two days. The tense expression on his face was a reflection of the turmoil in his mind. The uncertainty of his deal with Belisarius had almost swallowed him. He was looking for a solution at every step, but he could not find a way out. He had spoken to his friends and everyone whose opinion he valued, but no one had a solution. Belisarius insisted on a long-term agreement, and Corvus felt the weight of it on his shoulders.


    Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, there was a sudden knock on the door of his room. Corvus snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the door. It was one of the guards of Sanguinar''s mansion. "One of the merchants from the city has arrived. He says he has gifts for Sanguinar," the guard said in a strong, cold voice.


    Corvus was in no mood for such business. His mind was still locked in the treaty with Belisarius, and such matters as gifts from merchants were nothing more than a burden to him at the moment. He frowned and sighed wearily. "Let Kaelyra or Siran deal with it," he cut himself off. His eyes drifted off into space again, and he was about to return to the depths of his thoughts when he realised that the door was still not closed. The guard stood there like a statue.


    "Neither Kaelyra nor Siran are here," the guard said in a dull voice.


    Corvus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, unable to suppress his annoyance. The thoughts echoing in his mind fell silent for a moment, replaced by an emptiness that left him wondering who the merchant was. He walked with heavy steps towards the throne room.


    When he entered the throne room, the merchant was soon brought in. The merchant stood before Corvus and grinned with great ugliness. The man was someone Corvus did not like at all. He was the owner of the inn where Belisarius had stayed when he first came to the city. Now he was smiling at Corvus as if he were a friend. The merchant''s fawning behaviour was more annoying than ever.


    With great panache, the merchant began to describe the gifts he had brought with him. As he praised each gift with exaggerated words, his eyes were constantly watching Corvus'' reaction. Corvus would normally not be interested in such gifts, seeing them as simple bribes. This time, however, a brightly jewelled sword caught his eye. The sword was so extravagantly adorned that it was impossible to use it in a real battle. But these decorations strangely attracted Corvus'' attention. He took the sword in his hand and began to examine it.


    The merchant became excited when he realised Corvus'' interest in the sword. The ugly glint in his eyes became even more pronounced, and a fawning smile spread across his lips. This was his big chance to get Corvus'' attention. He immediately took action, exaggerating his fawning behaviour even more, and approached Corvus.


    He began to speak with an angry expression: "Unfortunately, my employees are very incompetent, Your Majesty. I ordered a sword like the one you are holding in your hand but, unfortunately, it is not ready yet." The smile on his face was ugly and fake, like the sly grin of a snake. "I will make sure the sword and my other gifts reach you as soon as possible."


    As Corvus watched this scene, filled with the merchant''s empty and false promises, a wave of anger rose within him. The merchant''s cynical demeanour added a new layer to the worries in his mind.


    A look of stern disgust spread across Corvus'' face. Ever since the day he was born, he had hated flatterers. The merchant before him might be one of the most miserable, fake people he had ever seen. He looked at the ornate sword in his hand; it symbolised how superficial and empty the merchant''s approach to him was. It was just an ornament for show, useless in real combat. Just as the merchant''s loyalty to him was shallow.


    Suddenly, he began to walk towards the merchant. The merchant backed away slowly, in the echoes of Corvus'' hard footsteps. There was fear in his eyes. Corvus grew more menacing with every step, closing in like a predator cornering its prey. When the merchant''s back was against the cold stone wall, he realised he had nowhere to run. A look of horror appeared on his face. His breathing quickened, his heart was pounding.


    He closed his eyes and tried to shrink himself to protect his body. He had accepted death. He thought he had no chance of survival against Corvus, one of the most brutal of the Rhazgord. The blow he expected never came. His rapidly beating heart became more pronounced in the echoing silence. His breathing slowed, and he finally summoned the courage to open his eyes. Corvus was still standing right in front of him, but instead of the anger he expected, there was a strange smile in his eyes. Corvus began to laugh lightly.


    The merchant was shocked by this sudden change. Gradually, fear gave way to surprise, and he too began to laugh, as if it were part of a joke. But the laugh was shaky and weak. The laugh of fear was interrupted by Corvus'' curious gaze. Corvus leaned towards the merchant with a curious expression on his face.


    "There is something I would very much like to know, merchant," he said. Corvus'' voice was as strong and authoritative as ever, but with an underlying tone of questioning. He didn''t even bother to remember the merchant''s name; remembering the names of merchants was an unnecessary detail in Corvus'' eyes.


    The merchant replied in a still trembling voice, "It is impossible for me to know what you, with your great knowledge, do not know, your majesty!" These words of flattery only emphasised the look of disgust on Corvus¡¯ face. The merchant''s pretentious behaviour was too repulsive for him to bear.


    Corvus took a step closer, frowning, and his strong voice echoed through the room: "Stop your flattery!" His voice seemed to shake the stone walls of the room. For a moment the merchant thought his eardrums had burst. He fearfully put his hands to his ears and checked for blood. He was relieved to realise that his fingers were clean, but the wave of fear in his heart still had not passed. Corvus''s eyes were locked on the merchant and the anger on his face had not subsided.


    "What do you trade?" Corvus asked, his tone far from the diplomatic speech the merchant was familiar with. It was an unexpected question. The merchant was surprised that Corvus had become interested in trade. The trade routes were as unforgiving as the battlefields, and the mighty warriors of the Rhazgord could easily secure them if Corvus stepped in. Possibilities quickly began to swirl in the merchant''s mind. This could be a great opportunity for him.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    The merchant began to rub his hands together excitedly. It was another gesture Corvus hated, but this time Corvus'' expression did not change. He still retained his curiosity. The merchant began to speak carefully, but his fawning words were back on his tongue: "Your Majesty, the products of your beautiful city..." But the anger in Corvus'' eyes caused the merchant to interrupt his words. The threat in his eyes silenced the merchant.


    The merchant took a deep breath and gave his answer directly, this time without fawning. "Your Majesty, I usually buy dairy products and iron tools and weapons from Rhazgord and sell them to other countries, while my convoys bring back some ores and food products from Rhazgord."


    In recent days, Corvus had been studying the world of Rhazgord''s trade more closely, beginning to understand the dynamics of the market. The goods the merchant mentioned - dairy products, iron tools and weapons - were valuable to Rhazgord, yes. But the merchant''s profits from this trade were small compared to the expensive gifts he offered him. He seemed to be spending a fortune on these gifts. Doubts began to creep into Corvus'' mind. Either the merchant was really spending a large part of his earnings on these gifts, or he was earning income from another source and hiding it from Corvus. In Corvus¡® eyes, this was the result of what he called ¡¯insufficient fear'' .


    Corvus frowned and shook his head, then turned towards the flashy sword he had left in a corner. He picked it up and examined it for a moment; it was too fragile to be of any use in battle. However, this sword would now be used for another purpose. An idea flashed through Corvus'' mind, and the stern expression on his face took shape with determination. He unexpectedly brought the sword in his hand to the merchant''s neck.


    The merchant froze as he suddenly felt the pressure of cold steel against his neck. His eyes widened in horror, his body stilled as if petrified. His heart raced and his pupils dilated like a rabbit''s, glowing in the light. He gasped for breath; it was as if he had swallowed all the air in the world at once, but he could hardly breathe. He had even forgotten that the sword was a blunt ornament. He wanted to beg, to ask for forgiveness, but the anger and power in Corvus''s eyes drove him into a fear he dared not put into words.


    Corvus pressed the sword a little harder against the merchant''s neck. "I didn''t believe you, merchant!" he thundered, his voice shaking the room once more. As the tip of the sword dug lightly into the merchant''s skin, Corvus raised his voice even louder. "What is your true source of income! Tell me!"


    The merchant''s lips trembled, but he could not utter a single word. His whole body was locked in fear. His eyes darted around in panic, but he was gasping for breath, unable to collect his thoughts. Corvus slowly withdrew the sword. The merchant fell to his knees as soon as he took a deep breath. His fat body shook with fear. Silence fell over the room for a moment; the merchant was trying to recover by taking deep breaths.


    Corvus paid no attention to the merchant''s desperation. When he realised he was still not speaking, he reached for his sword again, but this time the merchant lunged in panic. He began to plead in a trembling voice.


    "Please... please, Master Corvus!" he said in a hoarse, trembling voice. "I swear I will tell you! Just... just give me some time to breathe." The merchant''s voice was filled with a survival instinct. Corvus took a few steps back. His instincts told him he was on the right track. This merchant was hiding something from him, and Corvus believed that the answer to the problems in his mind was here.


    The merchant finally took a deep breath. Slowly, he tried to gather his words, but there were still traces of fear in his eyes. Silence filled the room as Corvus waited impatiently for the merchant to reveal the truth. Two words broke the silence.


    "Lightstones."


    These two words from the merchant''s mouth hit Corvus''s mind like a lightning bolt. In an instant, all the pieces fell into place. How had he not thought of this? He laughed at his own stupidity. Every mercenary group that set out against the demons brought back hundreds of kilos of Lightstones. A small portion of these precious stones were distributed to the soldiers as loot, but most soldiers did not know the true value of these stones. Some used them to get stronger, others sold them for nothing. Merchants made enormous profits by snapping them up cheaply. According to the merchant who trembled in front of Corvus, a small group of merchants, including himself, ran this business. But what was really surprising was the last words of the merchant.


    "Your Majesty... A family... I swear to the gods, I don''t know which one, but one of the three great families is helping us. I have never met the representatives of that family, so I don''t know, but if you spare my life, I will tell you who knows."


    This explanation wiped the smile off Corvus'' face in an instant. Hearing that one of the three great families of Rhazgord was involved had caught him off guard. This could change everything. His thoughts spun quickly; he thought that this family might even be his own, but he didn''t want to dig into it for now. If he pursued this clue now, all his plans could be turned upside down. Pushing aside the confusion in his mind, he made a mental note of this information for future use. He had something more important to do right now: This important idea from the merchant could change his deal with Belisarius forever.


    A look of triumph flashed across Corvus'' face, only to be interrupted by the merchant''s shaky voice.


    "Your Majesty, if you spare my life, I swear to you, I will leave Rhazgord, never to return... Please, spare my life."


    As Corvus looked into the merchant''s trembling eyes, he remembered something Montis had once told him. Montis had said that the first diplomats of history had come from among the merchants. Corvus was well aware of his lack of diplomacy. This man standing before him now became even more valuable to him. The merchant''s cowardly but cunning demeanour had made him more than just a tool of trade. A plan was forming in Corvus'' mind. He would use this merchant who had fallen into his hands to the end.


    He looked at the merchant with a cold expression. "I will spare your life," he said, his voice no longer threatening, but full of firm determination. The merchant looked at him with a mixture of fear and hope in his eyes. "On top of that, you will continue to trade the Lightstone. Only now it will be with me and at a fairer price."


    The merchant immediately realised the meaning of these words. Now he had a chance to survive and continue his trade. Moreover, he had the opportunity to make contact with Corvus, the future Sanguinar. This could give him a great advantage. Immediately bowing his head, he rubbed his hands together once more.


    "I am ready to do whatever you ask!" he said, his voice filled with unshakable confidence. He had survived and this meant a new beginning for him.


    As Corvus watched the merchant''s demeanour and the gleam in his eyes, he recognised his cunning. This man had survived by his cunning, and Corvus intended to use it. Diplomacy was not his strong suit, but now, with this merchant''s experience, he could improve. He glanced at the jewelled sword still in his hand. It would have been useless in battle, but now it seemed to him a beautiful ornament - just like the opportunity this merchant''s words had given him.


    "From today," Corvus said, fixing his eyes on the merchant''s, "you will teach me the art of diplomacy and trade."

 0021 | Trade Agreement (2)

    Corvus told his new teacher, Baral Durin, about his deal with Belisarius. "Your Majesty, I understand that you want to make this treaty," the merchant said, his voice calm and thoughtful. "But do you really need a treaty?"


    The question echoed in Corvus'' mind for a moment. He paused in mid-thought, his eyes squinting slightly, carefully weighing what the merchant had said. The merchant''s implication was simple: Clearing the trade routes of the Rhazgord, announcing this security to the surrounding kingdoms and punishing a few greedy merchants would be enough to increase the volume of trade and ensure fair trade. There was no need to make special and privileged treaties with Belisarius or other countries.


    But Corvus'' goal was not just to protect the trade routes; it was to show the people of Rhazgord that great change was possible. If trade flowed quickly and uninterruptedly, he would soon be able to show the effects of proper trade. He wanted to gain the trust of the people, his soldiers and even his rivals. If he could do all this before Sanguinar arrived, success would be his. And for the trade to continue, all he had to do was to get Sanguinar''s approval. After that, it would be as the merchant said.


    After some more consultation with the merchant, he began to prepare for the second round of negotiations for the trade agreement. The merchant''s help in this matter was unquestionably great. Corvus was not going to let this help go unrequited.


    As the red light of sunset filtered in through the windows, both leaders sat down at the table with a stack of papers in front of them. Neither leader was alone this time. Baral was standing behind Corvus. Belisarius had an advisor with him. Silence reigned for a short time. Belisarius was watching Corvus and especially Baral carefully as he organized his papers, not at all expecting Baral to be here. After a short conversation, the meeting began.


    Belisarius began with a serious expression. "I''m sorry, Corvus," he said, his tone diplomatic as usual. "But I cannot change the terms of the previous meeting."


    Corvus responded to Belisarius'' words with a silent nod. His expression, however, was not sad at all. In fact, there was a faint light of triumph in his eyes. With a calm gesture, he handed Belisarius the papers Baral had given him. They contained the names of various trade goods and the quantities demanded. Belisarius studied the list carefully. It was too neatly organized to have been prepared by a political newbie like Corvus. Then he handed some of the papers to his advisor to examine, and Corvus spoke up.


    "I will clear the roads," he said, his voice as strong and authoritative as ever. "And you will bring at least half of the goods on this list here within a month. Of course, the incoming convoys can buy the goods they want here and sell them wherever you want. In two months I want all the goods on the list here, and after two months we can discuss tax exemptions or a trade union."


    Belisarius paused for a moment as he flipped through the papers. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment. Corvus'' proposal was not the kind of deal Belisarius had expected. This was not a trade agreement with complicated diplomatic terms; this was a straightforward purchase agreement. He stared at Corvus'' face, searching his eyes for any sign of hesitation or indecision, but Corvus'' expression was resolute. Baral waited, expressionless and silent.


    "This is not a trade agreement, Corvus," Belisarius said, slightly surprised. "This is a purchase agreement spread over time."


    It was Baral who answered Belisarius. "As Your Majesty said, it is a purchase agreement. And a very profitable one for you!" He was wary of Corvus, but seeing that Corvus did not react, he continued. "However, as my lord said, if the deal is successful and fulfills its purpose, we will meet again to discuss forming a trade union."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Belisarius'' intention was to strike a more comprehensive deal, but the deal he was presented with was, as Baral said, a very profitable one. On top of that, the door was still open to sign the ''more comprehensive'' agreement he was aiming for a few months later. The question was how and with what Corvus would pay for it. Inwardly, he wondered if Corvus had the financial resources to trade in such quantities.


    "We can supply all the goods here, and I''m willing to make that deal. If you pay, it won''t be a problem."


    Corvus met Belisarius'' questioning gaze calmly. He took a deep breath and leaned back. This was part of his plan with Baral; he expected Belisarius to be surprised. He was ready to make his first move to transform the Rhazgord''s internal economic structure. Belisarius'' doubts about whether he had enough resources at his disposal only strengthened Corvus'' strategic advantage. Corvus responded confidently, lowering his voice a little.


    "Payment will not be a problem," he said. "You will bring some of the goods on this list here as soon as we secure the roads. I will make the payment in return."


    ¡°Payment..." Belisarius asked, a slight mixture of curiosity and suspicion in his voice. "How will you pay?"


    Corvus answered immediately, without hesitation. The single word echoed around the room.


    "With the Lightstones."


    For a moment, Belisarius could not understand what Corvus was saying. But he soon realized how logical the answer was. The Rhazgordians had already collected hundreds of Demon corpses from the battlefield, and each Demon corpse brought with it an enormous amount of Lightstones. It was a priceless fortune. Rhazgord''s rich resource was a powerful lever that could support Corvus'' trade moves. The Lightstone was not just a precious ore, it was a strategic resource. It was at the center of everything.


    The Kingdom of Adler, though a semi-independent state, was crushed under the pressure of the Sizat Empire. They were denied access to strategic resources, especially the Lightstone. Therefore, for Belisarius, Corvus'' offer was extremely tempting. It was the opportunity they needed to escape the tyranny of the Empire. But there was a problem: The amount of goods Corvus wanted. Such a large trade would require a large amount of stone, no matter how valuable the Lightstone was. Belisarius was quickly making calculations in his head when Baral interrupted his thoughts, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.


    "We will give exactly 100 kilos of Lightstones," Baral said, his voice full of cunning. "Half now and the other half in two months, when we meet to make a new deal."


    ''100 kilos''. The amount that echoed in Belisarius'' mind was almost surreal. So far in his life he had used less than half a kilo of Lightstone, and now Corvus was offering him two hundred times that. That amount could increase the physical strength of at least a thousand well-trained men several times over. For a powerless state like the Kingdom of Adler, it was almost the difference between survival and extinction.


    Corvus'' offer swept away any doubt in Belisarius'' mind. 100 kilos of Lightstone would not only strengthen relations with the Rhazgord, but also provide the impetus Adler needed to break free from the clutches of the Sizat Empire. This strategic treasure could be an important step in achieving Belisarius'' goals.


    Faced with this opportunity, Belisarius approved the offer without a second thought. A look of excitement flickered across his face. 100 kilos of Lightstone could change the balance of power, could take him to his next step. Corvus'' payment would be not just a trade, but a deal that would shape the future itself.


    "It is an honor to work with you, Corvus," Belisarius said sincerely. His eyes suddenly lit up. "This trade agreement will bring great change, not only for Rhazgord, but for the Kingdom of Adler."


    Corvus took Belisarius'' excited response calmly, knowing in his heart that his plan was working perfectly. As the two leaders prepared to sign the papers in their hands, the agreement between them would be the first step in reshaping not only the economy of Rhazgord, but also the balance of power in the region.


    With the deal finalized, diplomatic relations between the two were restored. For several days Corvus had paid no attention to Belisarius, his friend and guest. They were both working on the treaty. Using the signing of the treaty as an excuse, Corvus proposed a celebration. It was a very tempting offer for Belisarius.

 0022 | The Road to Bahoz

    In Sanguinar''s secret storerooms, Lightstone had accumulated in quantities that even the most powerful countries on the continent had only dreamed of. These stones were not just precious ore, but an almost mythical source of power. But the people of Rhazgord, and especially Sanguinar and his family, knew only too well the true nature of the Lightstone: That it was both a blessing and a curse. If the Lightstone was used continuously or taken in large doses at once, it could have fatal consequences - and it often did, as one became addicted to the power over time. The power of the stone would soon consume the body, increasing stamina but burning the soul. That is why Sanguinar carefully managed this enormous resource at his disposal.


    The Lightstone was collected in warehouses and given in limited quantities only to Sanguinar''s family and a few loyal followers. It was a strategic decision: If even ordinary soldiers of the Rhazgord had easy access to such a vast amount of a powerful resource, the balance of power in the city could be upset. Everyone was a potential enemy, and empowering enemies was not a risk Sanguinar could afford to take. Therefore, the people of Rhazgord and ordinary soldiers had limited access to the Lightstone. They could only acquire a small amount of Lightstone after major attacks against the demons, and these rare stones were usually sold in the market. Sanguinar knew the value of his stones and kept them only in the most trusted hands.


    Corvus, however, was one of the few who had access to this vast treasure. Everything that had accumulated in his father Sanguinar''s storerooms technically belonged to the Tiamats. Corvus, the future leader of the Tiamats, knew that one day he would own all of this treasure. Even if Sanguinar lost his position, he would traditionally retain ownership of the goods in the warehouses. So Corvus, with his father''s trust, could access these stones as he wished.


    Every time he entered the warehouse, the faint glow and powerful energy emitted by the stones made Corvus'' body tremble. The gleaming stones were far more precious than gold and jewelry. But this power was a weapon to be used with care.


    Corvus knew the value of the Lightstone all too well, but he needed to take a big step to realize his strategic goals. That''s why he was fifty kilos short of storage. Even though the Rhazgord''s huge warehouse still seemed full to the brim, each of these stones was priceless. But for Corvus, this was not a loss, but the first step in a major investment. These Lightstones would lay the foundations of the Rhazgord and its future power.


    Belisarius and his men decided to load the stones late into the night, after the celebration was over. Every move was carefully planned; the Sizat Empire must never find out that the Lightstones had traveled to the Kingdom of Adler. Protecting the stones seemed an almost impossible task, because Sizat spies were everywhere. So Belisarius was determined to transport the stones to Adler as secretly as possible. During the night, they quietly prepared and set the convoy on its way. By dawn the convoy was ready for departure. But Belisarius was feeling uneasy; he wanted to say goodbye to Corvus. But Corvus was nowhere in sight. Belisarius waited, but it was time to go and there was no point in wasting any more time.


    Tired during the night, Belisarius threw himself into the back of a cart and lay down to sleep. The monotony of the journey and the tensions of the night were enough to make Belisarius close his eyes. But when he awoke, he was disturbed by the sounds he heard. The sound of horseshoes outside was much more than he had expected. When he poked his head out and looked behind the convoy, he saw thousands of Rhazgord soldiers marching behind him. The soldiers'' eyes were scanning the surroundings intently, every one of them walking on alert. As he tried to understand what was happening, he suddenly heard a familiar voice.


    "So you left without saying goodbye to me." Corvus'' voice was sarcastic, as if he was genuinely upset that Belisarius had not said goodbye to him.


    Belisarius was startled. He did not know what to say in the face of this unexpected situation. He thought for a few seconds, then asked with a half-smile on his face, "What are you doing here?"


    Corvus met this question with a big smile. He looked at Belisarius with a mocking gleam in his eyes. "I have things to do in the same direction as you," he said, his voice full of amusement. "If I had known you would be so sad to see me, I would not have come!" He smiled slightly at his words, as if this encounter was just a friendly joke.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    But Belisarius ignored Corvus''s mocking tone and slight smile. There was a bigger question occupying his mind. Belisarius was now on a different route from the one he had taken to Rhazgord. He wanted to do this because he wanted to be well out of sight. He began to think about what Corvus meant by ¡°things to do ¡±. What Corvus needed to do was to clear the trade routes. If Corvus was heading in this direction first, it meant that this road held the greatest dangers. Belisarius'' mind was suddenly filled with uneasy thoughts. His eyes, despite Corvus'' cheerful appearance, were filled with suspicion. "So..." he said, cautiously. "These roads are dangerous, are they?"


    Corvus raised his eyes to the sky, as if to downplay the situation. "Ah, yes. A few minor problems," he said, as if it was no big deal at all. Then he added with a serious expression, "Why are you going this way anyway? You''re making a long detour now."


    Belisarius felt uneasy as he listened to Corvus'' words. Despite Corvus'' relaxed demeanor, he sensed that this journey was going to be much more complicated and dangerous than he had imagined. The discipline and vigilance behind the Rhazgord soldiers made it clear that this was no ordinary journey. He anxiously explained to Corvus why he was taking this route.


    Noticing the concern on Belisarius'' face, Corvus smiled, looking into his friend''s eyes. "Don''t worry..." he said, his voice calm but confident. "I have three thousand men with me." He gestured to the soldier marching in front, carrying a large flag. This flag was decorated with the figure of a black lion on a bright red background. The flag was the ancient symbol of the Tiamats.


    "That is the banner of our family," Corvus said, a gleam in his eyes. "There is no one in Rhazgord who would dare attack someone standing behind that banner!" His voice was full of determination and pride. It was the confidence of not just a leader, but of a man carrying the legacy of a family with a long history.


    "Near the border is the city of Bahoz," Corvus continued, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "We will escort you there. That is my destination too. There are wagons in the back carrying what my soldiers need. We will place your cart among them. That way you won''t attract attention." His tone was serious because the city of Bahoz was strategically located for Rhazgord and the surrounding kingdoms. Bandit attacks posed a serious threat to the trade routes.


    Bahoz was the only city close to the border and almost everyone who came to Rhazgord stopped at least once. This crossroads had the potential to become a vital center for both trade and diplomatic transit.


    Corvus turned to his friend thoughtfully. "I will give you some good warriors to escort you to Adler," he said. These words eased some of Belisarius'' uneasiness. However, Belisarius wanted to make it clear in a polite manner that this help was not necessary.


    "Thank you, Corvus," he said, without losing his courtesy. "But it''s really not necessary, I don''t want to attract too much attention." The Rhazgordians'' large bodies and clothes would certainly attract too much attention, and Belisarius did not want that.


    After listening to Belisarius'' polite refusal, Corvus widened his smile and decided to reveal his true intentions. "I''ll arrange for a few people who won''t attract attention. And they won''t just be coming to protect you," he said, his voice taking on a more serious and diplomatic tone. "They will also come to protect our treaty!" His words lit a spark in Belisarius'' mind. With those words, Belisarius realized for a moment that his friend was fast becoming a true leader.


    Corvus knew how critical it was for Belisarius to get the Lightstones safely to Adler. The deal would only succeed if these stones reached Adler. Otherwise, it would be impossible to deliver the goods Corvus demanded. Therefore, securing this journey meant not only clearing the trade routes, but protecting the future of the Rhazgord.


    Corvus'' plan did not stop there. He also wanted to ensure that trade was fair. So the men Belisarius would send with him would not only guard the convoy, but also investigate the internal markets of Adler and other kingdoms. In this way, Corvus would gather critical information for future deals and learn the true value of the goods Rhazgord produced.


    After a day and a half of tiring and silent travel, the city of Bahoz appeared on the horizon. Even from a distance, the city resembled the harsh and irregular architecture of Rhazgord. Buildings made of stone, with sharp corners, crammed together. Some looked as if they had been eroded by the wind over time; others were on the verge of collapse, held up by patched roofs. The gray sky covered the city in a dark blanket, as if the clouds over Bahoz would never dissipate.

 0023 | Shadows of Bahoz

    As the city gates slowly opened, Corvus, Belisarius and a few soldiers entered. The people of the city took to the streets when they saw the banner of the Tiamats. Some bowed their heads in fear, others watched them curiously. As Corvus moved coolly through the crowd, he noticed a few people waiting in the center of the square. Tanar, Bahoz''s chief, and his men had come to greet Corvus.


    Tanar looked at Corvus with his usual cunning gaze, his thin build and sly posture giving him away. The fake smile on his face clearly showed his duplicity. He was the head of Bahoz''s largest family and responsible for everything in this city. However, the way Tanar had ruled the city for years had always put his own interests first. Bahoz was a strategic center of the Rhazgord; all the horses of the Rhazgord army came from there, and this gave Tanar great power. Corvus had known Tanar for a long time, as Tanar regularly came to Rhazgord to report on the horses and the state of the city. He was also aware that Tanar could use this power as a threat.


    Corvus watched Tanar as he sat upright on his horse. The buildings casting shadows on the narrow streets of Bahoz, and the eyes around, made everything feel dark and confused. He knew the depths of Tanar''s power in this city, but the contrivance of his face did not escape Corvus'' watchful eyes.


    "Corvus Tiamat," Tanar began, his voice trembling with feigned respect and flattery. "Welcome to my city. How was your journey?"


    Corvus slowly dismounted his horse and faced Tanar. Tanar bowed his head as usual, but Corvus could read his true intentions in his eyes. "My journey was peaceful, Tanar," he said coldly. Then he fixed his eyes on Tanar and added with a slightly wry smile, "Before you ask, I''m here to solve your bandit problem."


    The smile on Tanar''s face faded for a moment. The worry in his eyes was fleeting, but Corvus did not miss the brief moment. Tanar quickly recovered himself and regained his false smile. "Ah, trivial matters, sir," he said, as if the subject were not worth dwelling on. "The bandits are acting as usual, but they are under control. All is well in Bahoz too."


    Corvus took a deep breath and moved towards Tanar, his steps slow. His expression remained calm, but there was a threatening tone in his voice. "So everything is all right, Tanar," he said, his eyes piercing Tanar''s. He took a step closer. "If everything is fine, why are traders being attacked near Bahoz? Why is it that every time trade convoys pass through this area they are looted or pay tribute to bandits?"


    Tanar''s smile faded completely. There were a few seconds of silence, Tanar tried to avert his eyes from Corvus, but he could not find a way out. His words stuck, he cleared his throat and tried to say something. "Sir... these are... individual incidents. Small groups, don''t worry, everything is under control."


    Corvus had waited for Tanar to fall for the lie. His eyes increased the pressure on Tanar. "Are they individual?" he said, deepening his voice. "Then why are the traders afraid to come, Tanar? If it is under control, why are the roads still unsafe?"


    One of Tanar''s men stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger, and raised his voice: "What do we care about merchants! We are warriors, not merchants! Protect them..."


    Before he could finish, Zarqa stepped forward like a shadow and punched him hard in the jaw. It happened so fast that the man didn''t even realize what had happened when he found himself on the ground. Corvus only acknowledged the gesture with a wave of his hand. The rules of the Rhazgord were simple: Everyone had to know their place, especially in the presence of the leader.


    "Answer me, Tanar!" Corvus thundered. His anger was now uncontrollable. His eyes were shining with rage. In a strategically important city like Bahoz, indiscipline and rebellion had no place. He had to show his strength in the middle of the crowd and make sure the whole city knew he was the superior one.


    Tanar trembled with fear as he watched his man collapse. His face grew even paler. He looked crushed under Corvus'' sharp gaze, but there was little he could do.


    Corvus approached Tanar once more, his voice a more threatening whisper this time. "If you cannot provide security in two days, Tanar," he said, his eyes locked on Tanar''s. "Sanguinar will tighten his grip on this city. And everything under your control will be taken away, one by one!"This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Tanar stared at the ground. Cold sweat poured down his face and he looked discouraged. He realized how serious Corvus was about this. This threat meant that he could lose all his power. If Sanguinar wanted it, Tanar would have no presence here.


    Corvus took one last look at Tanar, never changing his stern expression. His words echoed through the city streets like a slap. "The problems in Bahoz will be solved with me, Tanar. Like I said! You have two days. You will bring me the heads of the bandits! Either you restore order in this region, or Rhazgord himself will come and do things my way."


    Tanar could say nothing, his silence betraying the depth of his fear. No one gathered around him was silent either. They didn''t seem to mind being scolded like children by the ruler of their city. Corvus had recognized Tanar''s weakness. Tanar''s leadership was now in question and Corvus would use this to his advantage.


    Corvus turned away without saying another word to Tanar. Zarqa, Belisarius and the other soldiers followed him in silence. A gloom seemed to fall over the city; the echoes of Corvus'' words still vibrated through the streets. The power of the Rhazgord was being felt more and more in this city.


    ¡°Did you feel it too?¡± said Belisarius. Corvus looked around.


    ¡°Yes. And now that you''ve noticed it too, I''m probably right, someone is watching us."


    Zarqa''s hand was on the hilt of his sword and he looked tense. "I''ve been feeling strange since we entered the city, so that''s why.¡± At these words, he remained vigilant until Corvus and his men left the city.


    Corvus and his soldiers had already set up camp outside the city. The camp was close to Bahoz. When Corvus returned to this camp, he had a stern expression on his face.


    As soon as Corvus entered the camp, he told Kragan to protect Belisarius and to increase the security of Belisarius'' carriage. It was not clear who was following them and too much precaution was not good. Corvus gave a few more orders to increase security.


    Meanwhile, Tanar was making his way through a secluded and dark street. It was one of the most secluded corners of the city, with cracks and moss on the walls and muddy tracks on the ground. Tanar stopped in front of an iron gate in a narrow passage. Hesitantly, he knocked a few times. Then the door opened with a creak and Tanar entered.


    There were several people in the room, their faces hidden by black masks. The eyes behind the masks were focused on Tanar. A figure standing in the shadows approached Tanar with heavy steps. The figure''s voice was like the hiss of a snake, insidious and dangerous.


    "Why is Sanguinar''s son here?" the masked man asked, his voice harsh and questioning. Tanar visibly tensed. He was clearly afraid of these men. He answered in a faint voice: "It has nothing to do with you. He has come to clean up the bandits."


    The masked man hesitated for a moment, unsatisfied with this answer. His eyes roamed over Tanar, as if weighing every word. He knew that bandits had been running rampant in Bahoz for years. Most of the bandits were Tanar''s men. Tanar had long used the bandits to collect tribute from merchants and fill his coffers. But it was unusual for Corvus to intervene so suddenly and forcefully. The masked man took a deep breath and spoke: "I hope so, Tanar! There must not be the slightest hitch in our plan!"


    Tanar''s fear was not hard to feel. These men had made promises to him, but if Tanar lost their trust, he could lose everything. The masked man turned to the other masked men in the room and ordered in a stern voice: "Watch every move of Corvus Tiamat!"


    The masked men in the shadows bowed their heads and obeyed. Then, another question was raised: "What about the Prince of Adler? Why is he with Corvus?"


    This question caught Tanar completely off guard. His eyes widened in surprise. He had not even noticed Belisarius. He stood in silence, not knowing what to say. It was enough to exhaust the masked man''s patience. He gestured for Tanar to leave, his voice now clearly threatening. "Get the hell out. Don''t ever bring me incomplete information again."


    Tanar nodded helplessly and hurried away. The fear inside him was reflected in his footsteps, echoing through the dark streets of Bahoz. He went home, praying that things would not get complicated.


    Zarqa, at Corvus'' call, entered the tent with quick and silent steps. The air inside was thick and gloomy. Corvus was deep in thought with several maps spread out in front of him. He raised his head slightly and looked at Zarqa, calling him to join him. Pointing to a few spots on the map, he said, "Send men to investigate these places before morning. They should be back by tomorrow evening." His voice was firm and determined. His eyes carefully scanned every corner of the map as if he were forming a battle plan in his mind.


    Zarqa accepted the order in silence. But Corvus noticed a slight uneasiness on Zarqa''s face. Zarqa was usually cool and calm, which was why he had caught Corvus'' attention. He raised his head and stared at him. "What''s wrong? If I were a bandit, I would hide in one of these spots," he said. The locations he showed on the map were both strategic and perfect places to hide.


    Zarqa was silent for a few seconds. Without taking his eyes off Corvus, he took a deep breath and responded. "That''s not the problem..." he said, his voice lowered. Then he spoke a truth so dangerous that it broke the silence in the tent. "Someone was spying on the camp."


    These words changed Corvus'' expression. His brow furrowed and his gaze hardened. Zarqa''s information signaled a much bigger problem than he had thought.


    "When I was checking the soldiers," Zarqa said, his voice still low. "I sensed someone outside the camp. They realized I had spotted them and quickly moved away."

 0024 | Chasing the Shadows

    The Rhazgord had no intelligence unit. The only thing that could be called similar was a scout unit. The purpose of this unit, as the name suggests, was to gather information about the enemy, but this information was not very comprehensive. They were responsible for finding out things like the enemy''s position, number of troops and defensive fortifications. In short, the men under Corvus'' command did not have the skills needed to track down the men who were watching the camp and find out who they were.


    It is very likely that the people watching the camp were not from Rhazgord. This meant that other countries were involved. Corvus gave orders to maximize security measures and went to bed to recover from the journey. There was nothing else he could do now.


    Belisarius was so nervous that he kept watch over his cart until morning. Zarqa and the soldiers from the scouts had kept watch throughout the night, trying to track down any strangers who might have been watching the camp. But the information gathered was not even just a general guess: The enemies had disappeared into the darkness of the city, their numbers were unknown and they were moving with extreme caution.


    With nothing to do, Corvus, with some persuasion, took Belisarius with him to explore the city of Bahoz. The first thing that caught Corvus'' attention was the abundance of inns and merchants in the city. It made sense that many merchants would be here. The city was close to the borders and relatively safe. But there was an inn every two steps and it only took a glance to realize that most of them were empty. Tanar''s uneasiness and the events of the night made Corvus suspicious of even the smallest details.


    Corvus and Belisarius noticed something else in their conversations with the city''s residents and merchants. Almost all of the merchants came from three specific countries. These three countries were all medium-sized kingdoms close to Rhazgord. Given the distance, it made sense that the number of merchants from these three countries would be plentiful, but the people of the city said that merchants from other countries were heavily taxed, while those who were citizens of one of these three countries were hardly taxed at all.


    Corvus could not control his sense of suspicion, for every step he took, he found something else interesting about the city. Something was definitely going on in the city of Bahoz, but he could not put the pieces together. Finally he decided to see Tanar. As if Tanar was waiting for Corvus to think about him, he suddenly appeared in front of Corvus.


    "I was just coming to report to you!" Tanar said and greeted Belisarius as if surprised to see him. "It is an honor to see you here, Prince Belisarius." His voice was full of flattery and he had a mastery of the Adler language that one would not expect from a Rhazgordian.


    Corvus said not a word, but his curious and impatient gaze screamed "speak! ¡±.


    "There are about ten bandit groups in the area, two of them large. Some of them are not from Rhazgord..." He had more to say, but Corvus'' angry glare made him take a step or two back. Only yesterday he had told Corvus that bandits were not a big problem, but now he was talking about ten bandit groups. As much as Corvus wanted to broach the subject, he preferred to remain silent. "Go on! ¡± he said in a tone that betrayed his anger.


    "We have found the camp of several bandit groups and I have already sent my men. I will bring you their heads before morning."


    Corvus nodded at these words. "I don''t intend to stay around here for long, Tanar. As soon as I have the bandits'' heads, I will leave." He put his hand on Tanar''s shoulder and continued, "The more you help me, the faster you will be rid of me." Tanar tried to tell Corvus that he was honored and happy to have in Bahoz a warrior who had proven his ability at such a young age, but Corvus ignored him. He was hungry and had other things he wanted to talk to Tanar about.


    "There are things I need to talk to you about." he looked around. "Shall we talk here, standing up, or at a nice dining table." Tanar moved quickly, trying not to lose the softness in Corvus'' voice.


    On the way to where they were to eat, Belisarius approached Corvus and asked in a low voice, "Did you introduce me to Tanar yesterday?" Corvus thought for a moment and then said, "No. Things were tense, so I couldn''t think of it.Why is that?" Belisarius thought for a moment and then said, "I am sure I have never met Tanar before. And I don''t think his face is very well known around here." Corvus was about to say something when they reached the place where they were going to eat. A nice table was prepared in a short time.


    After a few bites, Corvus interjected. "Look Tanar. I understand you. You are playing with taxes to make some extra money from a few merchants. But you have to do it in balance. You understand that I''m trying to stabilize Rhazgord trade, and Bahoz is very important for that."


    Tanar knew nothing of Corvus'' plans, but he had heard many rumors. Clearly young Corvus wanted to change things and he had the support of his family. At least until his father returned.


    "As you know, Corvus, we Rhazgordians eat a lot! So I''ve been doing a favor for a few merchants to feed my men, but if it''s a problem for you, I''ll cut it off." he said, and sipped his drink, not breaking his smile for a moment.


    Corvus had a feeling that the reason for the favoritism to the merchants was not so simple, but pressing Tanar might make things worse. He needed to observe and gather more information. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Tanar turned to Belisarius, who had not understood much of the conversation, and said, "I did not expect to see you here, Prince Belisarius. I assume you are close to Corvus."


    Belisarius swallowed the food in his mouth and replied. "Yes. When the Rhazgord mercenaries came to help my kingdom, Corvus and I met and became good friends." He paused for a moment and pointed to Tanar with his fork - he was the only one using a fork - and said, "Were you among the mercenaries?"


    "Unfortunately," he said with feigned sadness, "since I took charge of the city I have not been able to participate in the battles and ..."


    Belisarius suddenly interjected, "And... how do you know me then?" It was an unexpected question for Tanar. There was no answer he could give. After all, he had learned from the masked men that Belisarius was in town and he couldn''t say that.


    "As you know, there are many merchants in our city. One of them saw you yesterday and told me. And I apologize for not recognizing you yesterday."


    Tanar''s excuse was reasonable, but neither Corvus nor Belisarius believed him. After dinner, despite Tanar''s insistence, Corvus went back to see the city with Belisarius. They were walking through one of the crowded streets of the city. Ever since he and Tanar had parted, he had a feeling he was being followed. Belisarius had felt it too. While Corvus and Belisarius were wondering how to spot their followers, a couple of small children passed them quickly. Thanks to his reflexes, Corvus managed to avoid hitting the children, but as they ran, he ran into several people. Except for one person. Corvus locked his eyes with this robed man who was skillfully avoiding the children. He was standing a few meters behind Corvus and Belisarius, and he didn''t look like he was from Rhazgord. Before Belisarius even realized what was happening, Corvus rushed towards the robed man.


    Corvus was close to him when suddenly the robed man skillfully dodged, taking advantage of the narrow streets of the city. The man''s movements showed that he knew these streets like the back of his hand. Despite this escape, Corvus was determined not to lose sight of his prey. He glanced behind him at Belisarius, who had realized at the last moment what had happened, but had fallen behind. Corvus quickened his pace, keeping his breathing even. At the shouts of Corvus and Belisarius, many tried to stop the robed man, but they only slowed him down.


    The streets of the city of Bahoz were full of wide squares and narrow, labyrinthine alleys, typical of Rhazgord architecture. The city was built with a mixture of stone and wooden structures, and every corner seemed to have been specially designed for escape. Houses and shops rose irregularly in the streets, creating obstacles in which the robed man gained time. But thanks to Corvus'' agility and warrior skills, the narrow streets only slowed him down, not stopped him.


    As the men''s screams echoed through the streets, some Bahoz residents poked their heads out of their windows to watch what was happening. As the robed man entered a marketplace, several merchants and city dwellers stepped back in surprise. Corvus'' sharp gaze captured every detail as he watched the man''s sudden maneuvers.


    But a group of local warriors accidentally blocked Corvus'' path. Their main aim was to stop the robed man. This allowed the man to gain a little more distance. Corvus paused for a moment in anger, but quickly found a side passage and resumed the pursuit. The chase became more challenging as the streets narrowed. Sudden turns between the city''s narrow alleys, waterways and small passageways laid out like traps, seemed to put the robed man one step ahead. But Corvus did not fall for these traps, strategically calculating each turn as his next move.


    As they approached a corner, an old woman waved her walking stick at the robed man. Once again the man dodged with a nimble move, but this one helped Corvus close the distance. The robed man was now only a few steps ahead. But the obstacles were not over.


    When the robed man entered a narrow passage, Corvus was about to dive in after him when suddenly a shepherd and his sheep appeared. The sheep were moving slowly, covering almost the entire pass. The shepherd panicked, but tried to keep his flock together. Corvus quickly jumped over one sheep, then tried to dodge several more without trampling them. The sheep made a "meee ¡± sound and ran left and right.


    Finally they entered a narrow alley. This was one of the most isolated corners of Bahoz; the shadows of the buildings made the streets dark and eerie. Corvus felt his prey tighten, he was about to grab it when he felt the urge to kill in the back of his neck. He stopped for a moment and turned quickly, his sword ready. At the beginning of the street, for just a moment, he saw a figure disappearing into the darkness. Before he realized who it was, the chase had lost its target.


    Corvus stopped in the middle of the narrow alley where he had lost track of the fleeing man, his breaths hardly calming as they rose and fell rapidly in his chest. Anger filled his muscles like a hurricane. He clenched his fists and pounded hard on the stone wall beside him, not even noticing the pain radiating from his knuckles. Small pieces of the stone wall began to fall from the impact of his fists, but this did nothing to quell the rage that had reached boiling point inside him. He had never experienced such failure on a mission before. He felt cheated, trapped.


    The man he was chasing was certainly no ordinary man. The agility with which he fled, the extraordinary speed with which he maneuvered, and his ability to find his way through even the most complex city streets set him apart from the average street thug. But it was the second man who got on Corvus'' nerves the most. The threat of death he felt on his back in that alley ... Those cold, calculating eyes. The presence of the second man meant that his prey was part of a much more complicated structure. Both men were skilled, that was clear. Worse, they had consumed Lightstone, which meant that they were not only dangerous, but also had a solid background. This fact echoed in Corvus'' mind, the fact that unknown forces were at large in his country, infuriated him.


    His eyes darted to the shadowy streets around him, as if the darkness harbored another threat lurking around every corner. Far from calming his anger, his anxiety grew exponentially. Corvus would have to face not only these two men, but perhaps many more. There was no point in staying here a single moment longer. Seeing how skilled his enemies were and how effective they were in the dark, just walking around this dark city alone was getting on his nerves, and then Belisarius came to his mind. Belisarius was left behind. Corvus quickly dived back into the city streets to find Belisarius. Soon he found Belisarius running around, sword in hand, and together they returned to the camp.


    On the way back, the sky had already begun to descend and the narrow streets of the city of Bahoz were plunged into a gloomy darkness that rose between the stone buildings. The street lamps cast a faint glow, but Corvus'' eyes were always alert. As he rounded each corner, he watched his back, waiting for a move from the shadows. Anything. His sword was at the ready at his side, but even in this dangerous city, perhaps the unseen was the most dangerous. As he reached the campsite, the anger in his heart gave way to a deeper worry. For himself, for his friend and for his men.

 0025 | Bandits Lament

    When Corvus and Belisarius stepped into the campsite, they immediately felt the tension in the air. Anger at Corvus'' failed chase intensified as he realized he was facing a new problem. The camp was quiet, but tension permeated every corner. The weak light from the campfires illuminated the tired and wary faces of the soldiers. All the soldiers who had gone on the reconnaissance mission had returned, but something was wrong. Belisarius was curious, but he had to check his carriage. The events of the day had alarmed him.


    There was an unusual seriousness in Zarqa''s face as he greeted him at the door. The man''s eyes reflected the bad news that was coming. As Corvus made his way into the heart of the camp, Zarqa interjected. "A scout team has been attacked," he said, his voice flat and controlled, but with a weight behind it. Corvus quickened his pace, his gaze shifting to the crowd in the camp square. There, tied to a pole, stood a man. He was missing an arm, but he still looked defiant.


    Zarqa continued to describe the situation. "A large group attacked. Our men somehow managed to prevail. They even captured their leader." He paused for a moment, took a deep breath.


    Scout teams were chosen from skilled men because they had no other choice. They were the men who infiltrated enemy territory in small groups, watched the enemy''s movements like shadows, and returned without a trace. Talent was not an option for them, it was the only way to survive. But this group of bandits... to defeat them and take their leader alive would require more than a small scouting party could do.


    Corvus fixed his eyes on the man tied to the pole. Despite his defiant gaze, he saw how the man stood there with one arm. There was fatigue in his eyes, but the fire of resistance was not extinguished. In that moment, he began to realize that this man was no ordinary leader, that the threat he faced was immense.


    Zarqa continued. "They spotted our guys and both sides chose to fight rather than flee. Some of the bandits managed to escape." Pointing to the man tied to the pole, he said, "This man stayed behind. He seems to have sacrificed himself to buy time for his men who escaped. He says he was the leader."


    Corvus quickly reviewed the situation. Capturing the man alive meant a chance to interrogate the enemy, but he realized how dangerous a mission this was. He turned his gaze to Zarqa for a moment and asked, "And are there any casualties on our side?"


    A deep sadness appeared on Zarqa''s face. Corvus knew what he was about to say before he heard it. "We lost two men," Zarqa said, his voice heavy. "Four wounded, one of them seriously."


    This news deepened the pain inside Corvus. He had learned that he had to value the lives of his men above everything else. Each one of them was more than a warrior to him; they were his responsibility. Each man he had lost was like a part of his own body. The anger rising inside him flared like an ember, but it was not idle. It turned into a determination that drove him.


    Corvus took another step forward, approached the bandit leader and looked him in the eye. "We are listening to you," he said in a cold voice, "but every minute you do not speak will increase the price you pay."


    There was a momentary flicker in the bandit''s eyes, but then his defiant gaze returned. Corvus was determined to find out what was behind the man''s resistance.


    The laws of Rhazgord put the honor of warriors above all else. Killing was forbidden except in duels and wars, and attacking unarmed men was considered a great shame and disgrace. When Corvus learned that the man tied to the pole was from Rhazgord, the anger inside him was ready to erupt like a volcano. But there was not a trace of remorse in the man''s eyes. He stared at Corvus, his lips trembling but resolute, "I want to die like a true warrior!" There was an arrogant and commanding tone in his voice, as if he had forgotten all his betrayals and demanded an honorable end.


    When these words echoed around the camp, they chilled the blood of everyone there. The surrounding soldiers reacted to this brazenness by clenching their teeth and fists. Everyone had the same thought in their minds, but it was Corvus who voiced it. There was both anger and disappointment in his voice. "You are not a true warrior so you can''t die like one!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the camp. "You attacked defenseless merchants! Do you not fear the wrath of the gods! People are hungry because of dogs like you!"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Corvus approached the man tied to the pole step by step, each word sharpening like a sword. "You tell me that you want to die like a true warrior! Is this worthy of a warrior''s honor? You are nothing but a dog who has betrayed the gods!" Corvus'' eyes met his. The gaze of the entire camp was focused on this confrontation, the soldiers gathered around the pole. Each one of them was like a wild dog trying to break free from its chains. As if on command they were ready to tear the man apart. Corvus''s speech only fueled the anger rising in each of them.


    At first the bandit seemed to maintain his defiant demeanor, but Corvus'' anger and the weight of the truth began to weigh heavily on him. For a moment, regret and deep pain appeared in his eyes. His lips trembled, as if tears were about to fall, but he pulled himself together, biting his lips so as not to appear weak for a moment. The defiant expression on his face was completely gone. The proud demeanor of a few minutes ago was gone, now there was only a broken man. Crushed by his own past, his own actions and their consequences.


    And then, suddenly, he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Fuck the merchants!" The cry seemed to reach beyond the borders of the camp and almost into the city. Everyone froze. Despair, hatred and pain mingled in the man''s voice. It was a revolt, a rebellion. With tears in his eyes and clenched teeth, he continued, his voice now trembling. "The hunger is not because the traders don''t come! It''s because you and your family don''t care! You think the merchants don''t come because of me! If bandits were the problem, instead of sending your mercenary armies across the continent, you should have sent them here! Ever since your ancestors united the tribes of Rhazgord to form the kingdom of Rhazgord! War, war and war! You don''t know another shit! People are hungry, my family is hungry, but I''m sure Sanguinar''s table is always full of wine from the merchants!"


    His words completely changed the atmosphere around him. Whereas at first everyone had judged him angrily, now they were witnessing his desperation. Some even agreed with him. The soldiers retreated step by step. On the one hand, their anger had not subsided, but now the man before them was not just a criminal, but a victim of Rhazgord''s disorder. Corvus'' eyes narrowed a little more as he looked at the man. His hostility was still there, but now he was facing a more complex reality. What this man had done was horrible, but these actions were born out of desperation. The darkness of hunger and poverty had driven him to this point.


    Corvus'' outward anger had turned inward and targeted his own conscience. It was as if a whole day''s worth of frustration and despair had been gnawing away at him and he began to blame himself and his family for everything. "Why didn''t I act sooner?" he thought. Maybe, if he had intervened a little earlier, this man in front of him would not have had to become a bandit. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have realized the desperation of these people before? He was realizing that reality was not as simple as he had thought.


    The anger inside Corvus suddenly changed direction. The target was no longer himself, but his own family, who had ruled the Rhazgords for centuries. Why had they not acted? Why had no one done anything while these people were driven to crime by hunger and desperation? For a moment Corvus saw himself as part of this injustice. He was part of this order and perhaps by remaining silent, he had deepened the suffering of these people.


    He stood in the center of the camp, a few steps in front of the man tied to the pole, lost in thought. Time seemed to stand still. The world around him blurred, he could only hear the screams in his own mind. He clenched his fists so tightly that the nails on his hands dug into his palms and blood began to drip onto the ground. The blood mixed with the dust of the ground, forming a fine mud.


    The soldiers around him watched their leader in silence. The fact that Corvus had become so quiet, so deep in thought, made them uneasy too. Zarqa noticed this tension. He realized that the young leader was slowly losing his temper and after a moment''s hesitation, he put his hand on Corvus'' shoulder. "Pull yourself together, Corvus," he said in a low voice, leaning close to his ear. "Everyone is watching you." Zarqa''s voice pierced the clouds of his mind, filled with dark thoughts. Corvus took a deep breath, relaxed his fists and began to recover, though with difficulty.


    Slowly he looked around. Hundreds of gazes were locked on him. Some soldiers had anger in their eyes; they wanted revenge. Others felt pity for the pity and helplessness of the man in front of them. But most were confused. In that moment, Corvus felt the weight of this decision. He knew that making a rash decision in this situation would end in disaster. His anger and frustration prevented clear thinking. He was facing a more complex problem than he had ever faced before. Killing this man would have been easy, but it was not that simple.


    "Tomorrow," he said in a firm voice, a determined tone that echoed through the camp. Turning to the crowd around him, he continued, "I will decide what will happen to you!" He was delaying the decision because he felt that any decision he made now might be wrong. As his anger cooled, he needed to think more clearly. The hatred or compassion of the soldiers created a great conflict in Corvus'' conscience.


    Corvus turned his eyes once more to the bandit leader. The man had completely lost his defiant demeanor of a few minutes ago. Corvus walked back to his tent to collect his thoughts. His mind was churning as if he was in the middle of a battle. Anger at his family and anger at himself was adding to the turmoil inside him.

 0026 | The Meeting

    After an hour''s rest, Corvus entered the meeting tent with Belisarius. Inside, the atmosphere was heavy, every face shadowed with worry. The arrival of Belisarius with Corvus made Zarqa, Kragan, Baldrek and the two old warriors a little uncomfortable, but they said nothing. When they had set out, they had thought they would eliminate a few bandits, but now they had complex issues to resolve.


    As soon as Corvus sat quietly in his chair, Zarqa laid the large leather map on the table. "These are the locations of the major groups," he said, his eyes fixed on Corvus, pointing with his finger at the marked points on the map. His fingers ran over the map, as if pointing to the graves of the bandits. It had become quiet enough to hear every breath inside the tent. "If you give the order, I will clear them all before tomorrow evening."


    One of the old warriors leaned forward, his brow furrowed. His voice carried the weight of years.


    "Do they know we are here?"


    Zarqa nodded with his eyes and took a short breath. "Yes, there are some who know. Some of the base camps we found were recently abandoned. Someone seems to have warned them. Others are not aware of the situation."


    Baldrek said in a deep voice, "The bastard Tanar must have sent word. I heard rumours today that some bandits are working for him." The other warriors in the room had heard similar things.


    Corvus did not focus much on this issue. He was aware of the situation and left this matter for later. Running his eyes over the map, he asked in a low voice. "What about the small groups? What are they doing?"


    Zarqa''s expression hardened. "They''re always moving. Trying to catch them will take too much time. And if we try to catch them, they''ll keep ambushing or hiding. They know the area better than we do. Without Tanar''s support, we''ll have a hard time catching them."


    Kragan interrupted, his words echoing in the room. "We don''t know exactly which groups Tanar is partnered with. If we take out the big groups without informing Tanar, the smaller groups will get scared and scatter. We''ll catch the ones that aren''t working with Tanar in time. The rest will flee and go to safer places because they have lost trust in Tanar."


    Corvus'' eyes travelled over the map again. Then he turned to Belisarius and translated the entire conversation into Adler language. This made Kragan nervous.


    "Why is a outsider here?" he said. Corvus understood Kragan, but he was the one to judge whether his friend could be trusted.


    "As you say, he is an outsider. He comes from another world and sees things differently than we do. That''s why Belisarius'' opinion may be important!" then his expression hardened. "And I decide who attends my meetings and who does not!" Kragan was not satisfied with his explanation, but he quieted down.


    Belisarius realised it was about him, but made no comment. After listening carefully to Corvus, he studied the map for a few seconds.


    "Bandits are all over the continent. There are three ways to get rid of them. Either you make a deal with the bandits, or you hunt them down regularly and punish them mercilessly, or you make sure that no one needs to be a bandit."


    Corvus didn''t quite understand these sentences, so Belisarius spoke more clearly.


    "If you deal with bandits, you will get the benefits, but it is risky. You can regulate trade even if the bandits don''t bring you money. For example, they might make it harder for groups of traders you don''t want to enter your country, but you won''t get in trouble politically. After all, it is the bandits who disrupt trade, not you."


    Corvus and the others in the room didn''t like the idea of dealing with bandits, but it was something they had never thought of before. Belisarius continued.


    "Destroying bandits is costly. Even if you take out all the bandits at once, you have to keep sending men after them to make sure they don''t get replaced. So you have to constantly deter bandits."


    These words depressed the morale of the people in the room a little. Their plan was to destroy the bandits once and for all and leave the matter behind. They thought this would be a permanent solution.


    "The third option is the most effective. If no one needs to be a bandit, there will be no bandits."


    "What do you mean?" said Corvus. He didn''t quite understand.


    "Why would anyone become a bandit? I think you have to solve that question to solve the whole bandit problem."


    Belisarius'' words reminded Corvus of his conversation with the bandit a few hours ago. "The lack of livelihood..." said Corvus. That should have been the answer to the question.


    "Exactly! Money is usually the reason for banditry. Of course, sometimes criminals and psychopaths form bandit groups, but once you catch them, that''s it. But you can''t get rid of bandits if there''s a lack of livelihood! You can get rid of bandits if you solve the problem of livelihood, but this is the most difficult and long-lasting method."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Belisarius'' words confused everyone in the room, and they were wondering what to do. Until Belisarius spoke up.


    "The only thing you can do now is to destroy the bandits. It''s a short-term solution, but you have no choice. We''ve barely even located the bandits, and you say most of them are in a deal with Tanar. So you can''t deal with the bandits in this area right now. And the livelihood problems in Rhazgord can''t be solved while bandits are around.So all you can do is wipe out the bandits once and wait for your deal with me to take effect."


    Everyone in the tent silently confirmed the truth of Belisarius'' words. Still, there was a tension in their hearts; one wrong step could ruin everything. Zarqa turned back to Corvus, seeming in a hurry. "What shall we do, move in the morning?The men are ready."


    He shook his head slowly from side to side, thoughts warring in his head. "No," he said in a heavy voice, ¡±I want to see what Tanar is going to do. He said he''s going to take out a few groups by tomorrow morning. Let''s see which groups he takes out. But in any case, it will be more effective to attack at night. We''ll catch them by surprise." His voice intensified the tense atmosphere inside the tent. "What do you think?"


    Everyone in the meeting understood Corvus'' patient approach, but waiting for Tanar''s troops to mobilise was risky. Nevertheless, they respected Corvus'' plan. After minor adjustments, they approved Corvus.


    Corvus turned his gaze to Baldrek, his voice commanding. "Go to Tanar first thing in the morning. Share with him all the information we have. Also find out if he has cleared out the groups he promised me. And don''t forget to arrange for someone to follow Tanar and his men. We need to know exactly which bandits are working with Tanar."


    Baldrek bowed his head, his strong hands tightening on the hilt of his sword.


    "Understood."


    After a moment of silence, Corvus spoke. He kept his voice as low as possible. He did this because he did not want his words to be heard outside under any circumstances.


    "Someone was following me and Belisarius today."


    Corvus'' words caused everyone in the room to frown. Watching the camp and following Corvus directly were two different things. They were all loyal and valued Corvus. They were also deeply loyal to the Tiamats and Sanguinar.


    "Did you kill him?" asked one of the older warriors. He knew Corvus'' abilities well, and there were not many in Rhazgord who could escape Corvus, and he had heard that Belisarius was a good warrior too. Corvus tilted his head and shook his head from side to side, surprising the old man.


    "I was about to catch him when another man appeared and distracted me. I missed them both."


    Everyone in the room knew what that meant. These men were obviously well trained in espionage. Which meant they were foreigners. It could not be a good sign that foreigners would send such skilful men to the Rhazgord.


    "Were they following you or Belisarius?" Zarqa asked. The answer to that question could make all the difference, but neither Corvus nor Belisarius would know. But regardless, spies from other countries were on Rhazgord territory, and that was an important problem.


    "We must send word to Rhazgord! Sanguinar is not here and he has half the army with him! These men could be gathering information for war!" said Baldrek. He liked to make a big deal out of things.


    "Are you afraid of war?" Kragan retorted. The two were joined in their quarrel by the two older warriors in the room. Until Corvus pounded his fist on the table.


    "Shut up!" Corvus'' voice drowned out every sound in the tent. Everyone was on edge, and the last thing Corvus needed right now was his trusted men fighting with each other. After telling everyone in the room about all the strange things he had noticed in the city earlier, he asked everyone for their opinions.


    Many ideas were put forward, but none of them seemed to be enough for Corvus. Zarqa was silent from the beginning. He sighed deeply as if he wanted to show that he wanted to talk. When everyone turned their eyes to him, he began to speak.


    "Bahoz is close to the borders, but don''t you think it is strange that so many merchants are here? Even in the city of Rhazgord there are not this many merchants. On top of that, almost all of these merchants come from the same countries, and Tanar favours them."


    Everyone in the room already knew what Zarqa was saying. Zarqa continued after a moment of hesitation.


    "Although the city is full of merchants, I have not seen any different products being sold. Most of them are local products. Moreover, the merchants do not fill their carriages when they leave the city. They come full and leave empty."


    These words hit the minds of everyone in the room like lightning. Everyone in the room started to scan their memories. What were the goods brought by the merchants and to whom were they brought. Everyone was looking for answers to these questions when Baldrek''s voice gave the answer.


    "The inns! They must be bringing goods for the inns!"


    "Is there anyone staying at the inns? Why would they bring so many goods!" replied Kragan. Only merchants were staying in the inns, and their numbers did not even fill half of them. This was also a legitimate question. There were an abnormal number of inns in the city, but almost all of them were empty. Besides, the inns usually served Rhazgord food. So there was no need to bring goods from outside.


    Many ideas were thrown around. Belisarius was silent, too busy thinking. Finally they decided to inspect the inns and merchants.


    "Check the inns and merchants before noon tomorrow! Even if you can''t find out what the merchants are bringing, find out where or to whom the goods are being taken. Whatever is happening in this city! Let''s find out what these merchants are up to. Whether Tanar is lining his pockets or something else is going on."


    It was time for the last topic, the one no one wanted to talk about. Corvus stepped in to end the unrest in the room. "Gather everyone tomorrow morning." He told Zarqa. "We will decide what will happen to the Bandit. Now get some rest."


    Corvus'' words ended the meeting. Everyone left the tent except Belisarius. Seeing that Belisarius was thinking like his brain was exploding, Corvus said, "I didn''t know you were so smart." laughing. He was trying to lighten the mood. Belisarius also noticed this.


    "While you were learning to swing a sword at the age of seven, I was learning how to rule a country."


    The sun was still a long way from first light and the new day brought with it many things to do. So the two left after chatting a little more.

 0027 | The Secret Everyone Knows

    Corvus woke up before the sun had risen. There was a uneasiness in him. When he got up, the same thoughts swirled in his mind: the speech he would deliver in a few hours would shape not only the fate of the bandit, but also his authority over his own soldiers. The pressure was like a heavy burden on his shoulders. For a while he sat in his seat, lost in thought, but finding no other way out, he decided to go out and get some air. He quietly stepped out of his tent.


    The camp looked like a fortress rising out of the darkness. The heavy fortifications around it set it apart from an ordinary military settlement. In a short period of time, the Rhazgord soldiers had built a camp as if they had taken root in enemy territory. The tents were set up in perfect order, forming a large inner circle. The inner fortifications were like a shield against the outside world, thick wooden poles and barbed barriers rising everywhere.


    In the centre of the camp a large fire was still burning weakly; the few guards who fed it moved silently around it, talking briefly to the cooks who were preparing the morning meal in pots on the fire. There was a light mist around, filling the camp like a thin layer on the ground. Everyone was asleep except the guards and the labourers.


    Corvus walked with heavy steps towards the soldiers preparing breakfast. The coolness of the air, combined with the sharp wind blowing in his face, made him shiver. The smell of the simple food the soldiers were preparing permeated the air: smoking bread, fried pieces of meat, hot soups. He greeted them with a few words and tasted the prepared food. At that moment he locked eyes with a few soldiers who were milling around. There was silence, but it had the intense anticipation of the pre-war moments. Then he went to the fire, and as the flames crackled slightly and the warmth of the fire enveloped his body, he had a short conversation with a few soldiers on guard. Nothing extraordinary had happened during the night.


    As they chatted, Corvus''s eyes fell for a moment on the man tied to the post beyond the fire. The bandit was in much worse shape than he had been a few hours before. His face was unrecognisable, his eyes were black and blue, and his body seemed to be covered with violent blows. Every breath he took was laboured, as if a knife had been thrust into his lungs. Apparently, the soldiers, unable to digest the loss of their comrade-in-arms, had vented their anger on the bandit''s body.


    Corvus took a deep breath. With the composure of a leader restraining his own anger, he turned towards one of the soldiers standing guard. "Why is this man like this?" he asked. His voice was cold, but calm. The question caused immediate uneasiness in the soldier; his eyes briefly darted away, but he relaxed when he realised that Corvus did not seem angry. Still, his voice was slightly agitated.


    "Sir, we tried to stop them, we wanted to let you know, but... Zarqa told us not to go near the meeting tent at all."


    Corvus took a brief look at the soldier''s face. It was clear from his face that this soldier, too, had taken his anger out on the bandit. But Corvus did not react in any way. He just walked slowly towards the bandit. There were two guards standing over the bandit. The hands of one of them were covered with dried blood; they were obviously the hands that had tortured the bandit''s body during the night. Corvus ordered the two guards to leave. One look was enough; the soldiers bowed their heads and walked away.


    Corvus crouched down and gave the bandit a few slow slaps on the face. The slaps were soft but warning, meant to wake him up. As the bandit slowly regained consciousness, he was startled by a hoarse, painful cough. The wheezing from his lungs revealed the desperation and agony inside the man. When he opened his eyes and looked into Corvus'' face, he was frozen with the fear and despair of someone close to death. He tried to say something, but his weak breath betrayed him. Corvus leaned a little closer to hear more clearly, straining to hear the bandit''s feeble words.


    The bandit moaned in a low, almost inaudible voice, "Water... please, water..." His voice was full of pain; every syllable echoed like a knife through his flesh. Corvus paused for a moment, his eyes travelling over the man''s distraught face, and made a decision. He turned round with a cold expression and gave an order to one, or perhaps all, of the soldiers inside the camp. "Bring water!" he said, his voice full of command but not directed at anyone in particular. But the silent resistance of the soldiers was evident. None of them moved, all pretended not to hear.


    Corvus'' eyes darkened, he did not like this silent rebellion around him.


    "I said water!"


    This time his voice was threatening, every word like a flame. The certainty in his tone penetrated the bones of the soldiers. No soldier could ignore this voice any longer.


    As if suddenly realising this, one of the soldiers hurriedly picked up a canteen and brought it in front of Corvus. As Corvus took the canteen in his hand, he felt the coolness and weight of the water. He bent down and carefully poured the water into the bandit''s chapped lips. Each drop brought a moment of relief as it travelled down the man''s parched throat. The bandit opened his eyes slightly and drank the water; a few drops escaped from the corner of his lips, but Corvus watched with cool patience. He remembered the intricacies of keeping a wounded man alive, how he had cared for wounded soldiers on the battlefield before.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    As soon as the bandit regained consciousness, his first sentence was, in a hoarse voice, "Untie me..." Then he added, "I couldn''t escape from Corvus Tiamat''s hands even if I wanted to." Corvus was surprised to hear his name spoken from the bandit''s lips, for he had never told him his name. The bandit was a man of keen hearing and perception, attentive to his surroundings, never missing a detail. He had caught Corvus'' name, perhaps from a whispered rumour about him.


    Corvus took a deep breath and made his decision. Without saying anything, he wrapped his bare hands around the thick ropes the bandit was tied to. His strong hands slowly loosened the ropes, tearing off each fibre one by one. When the bandit was freed from his bindings, he tried to move with a groan of pain. His body had been immobilised for so long that his bones crunched back into place and every movement felt like torture. When he finally got himself into a more comfortable position, he took a deep breath.


    Corvus'' thoughts whirled like a storm as his eyes travelled over the bandit. The bandit reached for the canteen, his chapped lips seeking another sip of water. Corvus quietly handed him the flask, and the man took another sip. They both sat facing each other without speaking, the depth of the silence echoing through the camp.


    "Sakhaar... He would have torn me apart by now," the bandit moaned, his voice hoarse and pained. Corvus had never expected to hear his father''s name, especially from such a desperate mouth. The great Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat was both a hero and a monster in the eyes of the people of Rhazgord. In Corvus'' mind, hearing that name had an echo. His curiosity was piqued.


    "Do you know my father?" he asked, his eyes studying the man''s tired, weathered face. The bandit was middle-aged, his face unremarkable, but everything one would expect of a Rhazgordian: bulging muscles, night-black hair and sharp, stony features. So ordinary that Corvus was unlikely to recognise him, if he had ever seen him.


    The man coughed bitterly before he began to speak. Each wheeze from his chest brought back the pain of the broken bones inside him. With each breath, the wounds in his body cut him like a knife. He had to make an effort to keep talking, but his words were stubbornly accompanied by groans of pain.


    "I fought many times under Sakhaar''s... command," he said, his eyes flickering for a moment to the old days. Corvus'' father was a legend to all who knew him. But there was a tone in this man''s voice that made Sakhaar sound like a burden, not just a commander.


    Corvus'' brow furrowed, knowing all too well how his father had treated his soldiers. The bandit had spoken of hunger and poverty before. But his father, Sakhaar, though known as a ruthless and strict leader, was known for his care and generosity to his men. "My father took good care of his soldiers," Corvus replied. There was respect for his father and a fierce defence in his voice.


    A bitter smile appeared on the bandit''s face. His lips trembled, as if he couldn''t help feeling the pain even as he smiled. "Yes..." he said, as the smile slowly gave way to a bitter expression. "He didn''t leave us hungry anyway... Not him..." As his voice trailed off, his words echoed like a whisper. "His recklessness... Rhazgord''s recklessness starved us..."


    Corvus'' face grew serious. His father may have been a legend on the battlefield, but he was blind to some things. Just like those before him. Corvus made sense of the man''s words, trying to contain his deep anger. What he was complaining about was the flaw in the legacy he had inherited. This bandit had rebelled against a world Corvus had already endeavoured to right. As Corvus fought to break free from his father''s shadow and to lift his own people back to their feet, this bandit had been crushed beneath that shadow.


    "Shall I tell you a truth, son of Sakhaar, that everyone knows but no one will admit?" the bandit whispered, his eyes narrowed in pain, finding it difficult to take a deep breath. His words were interrupted by a wheeze in his throat. He began to cough violently again, each contraction of his chest causing a deep pain, as if a knife was stabbing him. With trembling hands he brought the few drops of water he had left to his mouth, trying to soften his throat. After breathing in and out with difficulty, he fixed his eyes on Corvus. His gaze was deep and dark, just like the weight of his words.


    "We of Rhazgordians... We see war as sacred... War is our worship to the gods!" he said, each word carrying a heavy burden. "We are happy when we go to war... Because only when we go to war do we stand shoulder to shoulder... We are equal... After the war, Sanguinar returns to the Red Pavilion... Everyone else returns to his ugly home... Until the next war..."


    When Corvus heard these words, he felt as if all the walls inside him would collapse in an instant. The truth in the bandit''s voice had lifted the scab of a deep-seated wound. His eyes filled slightly, but he could not cry. It was not weakness to cry, but now, here, was not the right moment to shed tears. This was his reality too. He was in the same battle and the burden was on his shoulders. He had to stand upright. If he fell, if he succumbed to this pain, his dream of creating the future of Rhazgord would fall with him.


    Every word of the bandit stabbed into his heart like a dagger. He stared at the ground and closed his lips tightly to suppress the storm inside him. It was difficult to even take a deep breath; it was as if the bandit''s words had swallowed the air and created a darkness in the camp.


    Suddenly he could not stand still, he was drowning between the thoughts in his mind and the pain in his heart. He stood up quickly and took a few steps back. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he took a deep breath and quickly headed for his tent without looking at anyone. The bandit''s coughing laughter echoed behind him, as if casting a shadow over Corvus'' trembling soul.


    "How did the Tiamates... raise someone like you?" the bandit muttered as the warriors bound him again. There was both sympathy and deep pain in his laughter. This man, crushed by the legacy of Sakhaar and the Tiamats, had recognised Corvus'' efforts and was mocking the contradiction of his very existence.

 0028 | The Debt

    Corvus retreated to the darkest corner of his tent. He pulled his knees to his chest, deep in thought. The chaos in his mind gnawed at his soul like a thin wind seeping into the tent. If anyone who entered the tent saw him like this, they might think he was trying to hide. But Corvus was just hoping to find peace for a moment and to find a way out of this chaos. He didn''t know how much time had passed; he could only think about what he needed to do to accelerate change. But figuring out how to do this was more difficult than he thought.


    Suddenly, he was jolted out of his seat by a loud noise outside. For a brief moment he couldn''t comprehend what was happening, but it was clear that this was no ordinary movement. He could hear swords being drawn from their scabbards, heavy boots pounding hard on the ground. The sounds were getting closer and closer, like a growing storm heading towards his tent. He had a sense of what was happening outside, but before he could be sure, he hurried towards the entrance of the tent. At that moment a shout from outside brought his steps to an abrupt halt.


    "Come out, Corvus Tiamat!"


    It was a woman''s cry. The anger in the voice seemed to cut through the air, and as Corvus rushed out of the tent, the cry he had heard formed before his eyes. Kragan was barely able to stop a maddened female warrior. She was wielding a huge black axe, her rage in every muscle. As soon as she saw Corvus, her anger flared. Her teeth clenched, eyes narrowed in anger. She didn''t care if Kragan tried to stop her; she kept trying to break free from his strong arms. But Kragan held her down. If this had been anyone else, Kragan would have knocked her down long ago.


    "Know your place, Franz!" roared Kragan, his patience at its limit. But Kragan was still holding back. Because Franz was someone both Corvus and Kragan knew well. Franz was the first female warrior under Corvus'' command and had been fighting alongside him since he became Sharazir. On top of that, she was Kragan''s cousin. Her skill, talent and courage on the battlefield had always caught Corvus'' attention. But now, it was not the calm and strategic woman he had seen on the battlefield. This woman was a storm of uncontrolled rage.


    The axe in Franz''s hand sliced the air with reflections from its black iron. Her muscles tensed, her eyes glowing with rage and pain. Every muscle tensed violently as Kragan struggled against the hands holding this axe. Franz was a woman, but on the battlefield this would have gone unnoticed. Her short, sharply cropped hair and large build flowed like a shadow through the battle. Yet her thin voice gave away the woman behind the tough exterior.


    Corvus had not expected to see Franz in this state. Although he could guess the source of the anger, it was hard to understand such a devastating reaction. Franz was a warrior, but she was also a friend. Now she stood before him like an enemy.


    Franz''s eyes were aflame with hatred. Corvus could not immediately grasp the reason behind her anger, but it was clear that Franz was mad as hell. Corvus''s mind was still stuck on the night''s thoughts of the bandit''s miserable state; echoes of his pity for him still lingered in his mind. But now he had to face the torrent of anger that had erupted the moment Franz had learned of his brother''s death. Franz was the sister of one of the fighters who had been badly wounded in the clash with the bandits the previous day, and unfortunately his brother had not survived the night. With the first rays of the sun, his brother''s life was lost forever.


    But even this fact did not fully explain Franz''s devastating rage. Fighting was part of war, and despite every precaution, the inevitable had happened. Moreover, for the Rhazgordians, dying in battle was something to be proud and honored.


    It was not Corvus'' fault, but for Franz the reality was not so simple. Before Corvus could understand why this fearless woman in front of him was so enraged, Franz shouted out her thoughts.


    "While I mourn my brother, instead of beheading his murderer, you give him water, untie his ropes and chat with him! Do you sympathize with the enemy!?" roared Franz, the pain and betrayal burning in Franz''s eyes like a dagger stabbing Corvus.


    Corvus knew that on the battlefield death was always one step away. He had expected Franz''s brother to die, but there was a hope, a possibility, that he would survive. The news weighed heavily on his heart. He was perhaps more saddened by the death of Franz''s brother than he had expected. But what fueled Franz''s anger was the wounded bandit he had given water to that morning. Corvus himself didn''t know exactly why he had given him water. Maybe it was a moment of pity, maybe it was because he wanted the bandit to talk, maybe he really sympathized with him. But whatever the reason, he had no answer at the moment.


    Franz took a few steps back. Her eyes were full, tears falling slowly to the ground. They were like echoes of a painful silence that squeezed Corvus'' heart. The woman''s eyes fixed on Corvus and anger burned inside her like an unquenchable fire. Then she spoke in a calm, but equally painful voice.


    "That bastard owes me blood! Either you bleed him or I will bleed you, Corvus Tiamat, prove to me that you are not a traitor!"


    These words echoed like lightning striking the earth. Franz''s pain and anger held a threat deeper and sharper than anything heard in the camp. But this threat was not directed only at Corvus. Franz''s challenge also limited the loyalty and devotion of all the warriors around Corvus. For a warrior like Kragan, who was fiercely loyal to Corvus, this was the last straw.


    Kragan''s booming voice echoed as harsh as a knife. "I told you to know your place, Franz!" he shouted as he drew his huge silver inlaid axe from his back. Kragan''s entire body responded to this rage, radiating a commanding force as he trampled the earth with every step. The deceased was his cousin, but he trusted and believed in Corvus. In an instant, not only Kragan but many other warriors took up arms against Franz''s threat. Axes, swords and spears came out, each one filled with a flood of anger reacting to Franz''s words.


    But something unexpected happened. Part of the crowd got behind Franz and drew their weapons. The warriors in front of Corvus'' tent were split in two. Both sides looked at each other threateningly with their weapons.


    In the center of the camp, deathly silence reigned at that moment. All it would take was a spark between the two groups of warriors, and it could turn into a bloodbath. Every breath made the atmosphere heavier, testing the patience of both sides.


    Baldrek''s loud voice cut through the crowd and opened a gap. It echoed through the camp, cutting through the tension. Baldrek and Zarqa stepped through the gap and stood in the middle of the two groups, between the warriors on the brink of conflict. Zarqa''s mere presence put an overwhelming pressure on the crowd. Corvus was the only person in the camp as influential and deadly as Zarqa. Looking into Zarqa''s face was like looking into the depths of a dark sea; cold, boundless and utterly dangerous.


    The crowd that had gathered behind Franz drew back as Zarqa approached. For the moment the crowd had forgotten how deadly this man could be, but now the reality was enough to make their whole bodies tremble. Zarqa was responsible for the discipline of the soldiers and was famous for the severe punishments he almost always carried out himself. Driven by Franz''s rage, this group was becoming discouraged. Zarqa took a step forward, looked the crowd in the eye and began to speak, as if a single word would silence them all. The words were as sharp and threatening as a knife.


    "Is this a rebellion?" he asked. Zarqa''s voice was so calm that each word echoed in the silence, adding to the tension. There was a death threat in the depths of his voice, felt but not clearly seen. Zarqa ran his eyes over the crowd. He took in the faces of each warrior, one by one. As he looked at each one, it was as if he imagined them dying before his eyes. The crowd stood helplessly under Zarqa''s gaze, almost frozen.


    "But..." one warrior dared to speak in a trembling voice. But Zarqa did not even let that warrior finish. He repeated his earlier question, his voice even sharper: If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "I said, is this a rebellion!?"


    This second warning sent some of the warriors into a deep fear. Some took their hands off the hilts of their weapons, their gaze shifting to the ground. Zarqa was not nicknamed "Sword of Corvus" for nothing. He was one of Corvus'' most loyal and deadliest warriors. He did not like to talk too much. So it was obvious that he would not give a third warning.


    Yet, despite Zarqa''s cold threat, many still held their weapons. Hands were on the hilts of swords. Everyone was looking at each other, weighing who would make the first move. Eyes were constantly scanning the surroundings, sensing the danger of a crowd that would go berserk at a misstep. Just then, something happened that sharpened the tension in the camp: Corvus passed between Zarqa and Baldrek almost unnoticed. Unnoticed by the crowd, he arrived right in front of Franz and at that moment everyone held their breath.


    Corvus had two swords, both gifted to him by his father Sakhaar Tiamat when he became Sharazir. These swords were no ordinary weapons. Made of a dark metal, they carried the coldness of death. On the blades were sacred words engraved in the ancient alphabet of Rhazgord, words that glowed with a crimson glow. These swords were symbols not only of Corvus, but also of the deadliness of the Tiamats.


    Corvus slowly drew his swords in front of everyone''s eyes. The sound of the swords leaving the hilt echoed in the ears like a deadly whisper. For a moment, the swords vibrated in the air, as if they were hungry for blood, as if they could not wait to return to the battlefield. With this movement, the tension in the crowd reached its peak. Even Franz had to retreat, staggering into the warriors behind him. Everyone standing in front of Corvus felt the power of the swords. Zarqa was terrible, but Corvus was a monster. They were facing the strongest man in the camp, and if he raised his swords, he would surely tear them apart when they landed.


    Everyone thought that Corvus drawing his swords was a sign of a battle. Some even thought that he had drawn them out of bloodlust and that he would instantly strike Franz down. But Corvus made an unexpected move. In front of everyone, he threw his two black swords in front of Franz. The swords were so heavy that as soon as they touched the ground, a small cloud of dust rose into the air.


    Corvus paused for a moment, caught his breath and then fixed his gaze on Franz. His words were heavy, as if made of steel.


    "First collect the blood debt the bandit owes you... then come to me," he said, his voice cold as ice. Franz tried to contain his pain and anger, but every word Corvus spoke only fueled his rage. But Corvus continued without pause, this time with a deeper challenge. "Come and collect what I and my family owe to the bandit, to you and to every other Rhazgordian." Hearing these words, the warriors were stunned. Some understood immediately what Corvus meant, others did not.


    Corvus'' face suddenly became more menacing. His eyes narrowed, his lips set in a hard line. What Corvus was about to say seemed to bring a dark cloud over the camp.


    "But! ¡± his voice rose suddenly, like a thunderbolt tearing through the sky. "But if you don''t have the courage to stand up to me and my family and demand the debt owed not only by your brother but by all Rhazgordians, then sit down!"


    This sentence hit the crowd like a bomb. Franz''s eyes filled with anger and despair, while a wave of uncertainty spread through the warriors behind him. Corvus slowly pulled his gaze away from Franz''s face and turned to the crowd. His eyes, unlike his voice, were not threatening. On the contrary, they were full of sadness. His eyes traveled over each warrior in turn. No one could escape his gaze. Everyone felt the effort, sadness and determination in those eyes.


    "While you fought for us, we gave you the spoils! Because you died for us, you can eat more than any other Rhazgordian!" Corvus'' voice was even louder now, each word echoing through the air, hitting the warriors'' minds like a hammer. As everyone listened in silence, Corvus'' words reached everyone''s ears, one by one. Then he continued with a hard but sharp question.


    "And when you needed to buy medicine for your child, could you find it? And when you did, did you have the money to buy it!"


    Many of the fighters in the crowd had experienced what he was saying, or knew very well those who had experienced these harsh realities. As their heads fell back, a shadow appeared on their faces. Corvus moved to cut an even deeper wound.


    "Or when the uneven, muddy streets ruined your shoes, could you afford new ones? Or did you enjoy watching those who lost an arm, a leg or even a life in a duel over a stupid disagreement!"


    Corvus'' voice hit each warrior in the face, almost like a tangible substance. The words were so heavy that it was as if it was hard to breathe when they heard them. Everyone had to accept what Corvus said, the bitter truth of those words. The air inside the camp became too tense to breathe.


    Corvus wanted to further reveal the truths that were beginning to murmur quietly in the crowd.


    "Shall I continue to tell you about these nonsense that is almost never seen in even the smallest kingdoms! Are they so superior to us that their roads are elaborately built, that they are smarter than us, that they sell every herb and medicine in their markets? Why do they settle their disputes with words and not blood? Why don''t bandits run wild in their countries!"


    These questions pierced the crowd like daggers. Everyone knew these facts, but it was always difficult to face them. The people of Rhazgord had become accustomed to living in this misery, almost accepting their fate. But now Corvus had punched them in the chest and told them that they could not run away from the truth. The faces of everyone in the crowd darkened even more, anger, sadness and despair mingled together.Corvus'' voice rose again, growing harsher and more determined every moment.


    "You fought under the banner of my father, grandfather and ancestors! You bowed your head in respect every time you saw them! You brought your tribute to Sanguinar without missing a day!"


    With the weight of his words, he cut through the crowd and pointed to the bandit tied to the pole and motionless.


    "This is the price! Hunger, rebellion and death!"


    His eyes traveled through the crowd, studying each face one by one. The silence was filled with tension, as if it could not hold any longer. Everyone was waiting for Corvus'' next step. Then he turned quickly in front of Franz. His steps echoed with determination, as if he was walking towards Franz.


    "Look, Franz!" he roared, his voice cracking with rage. "I''ve listed for you the debts you have to collect one by one!Go on, start! Get me out of this mess if you can! Because if you won''t, I will! I will build the Rhazgord you deserve, the Rhazgord your brother Larz deserves!"


    Corvus'' eyes were boiling like a volcano. The crowd was crushed under his power. His words were a call, not just to Franz, but to all Rhazgordians. A call for help. Then he turned and continued, looking at every corner of the camp. He looked into the eyes of each warrior, one by one.


    "Now! I say to each and every one of you! If you can afford it, come and collect your debt! But if not, stand behind me! Give me strength! And I will pay you what I owe you, what Rhazgord owes!"


    A deep silence reigned in the camp. Every warrior felt the weight of Corvus'' words on their shoulders. The centuries-old order of Rhazgord was being questioned. Everyone could feel the desire burning inside them: To follow Corvus and recreate Rhazgord. But was it really possible to change an order that had not changed for thousands of years? Could an eighteen-year-old boy break this ancient order? In their minds, they worried that Sanguinar and the Tiamats would rise up against them, that the other great families would resist change.


    As the crowd struggled with these thoughts, Franz walked slowly towards Corvus, his head bowed, unable to look Corvus in the face. How had she gone so far as to threaten him? How could she have been so reckless? As one of those who knew Corvus'' struggle best, she had failed to see the weight on his shoulders. She had only seen the bandit as a murderer, a criminal. But when Corvus looked at the bandit, he saw the order of the Rhazgord.


    Slowly she picked up the two black swords lying on the ground. In Franz''s hands they were a symbol of a heavy and lofty responsibility. She fell to her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto the ground.


    "Forgive me... forgive me, Corvus..." she said, her voice hoarse and shaky. Her tears mingled with her words, her regret was visible in her eyes. "I didn''t see what you saw... I didn''t calculate the weight on your back..." She held out the swords in her hands towards Corvus, but her head was still bowed, as if she did not dare even look at him. "If you forgive me, I will walk in your path from today until my last day!"


    Franz''s words hung in the air, and before Corvus could answer, there was a movement. Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek knelt without hesitation. The same words fell from their lips: "I will walk in your path from today until my last day!" Their words spread through the camp like an echo. A wave rose in everyone''s heart. All the dark clouds that cast a shadow over their hearts dissipated. In just a few seconds, every single warrior in the camp had sworn to follow Corvus until the day they died.


    Corvus slowly took the swords Franz was holding out to him. As the hilts of the swords fit in his hand, the weight of this moment became even more pronounced. He glanced around at the warriors around him. They would all fight for the dream of a better Rhazgord under his leadership. Only then did he notice the smile on the face of the half-conscious bandit. As Corvus replaced his swords in their hilts, the bandit''s spirit quietly left his body. As he crossed over with a final look of acceptance and peace in his eyes, this death would perhaps symbolize the rebirth of the Rhazgord.

 0029 |Baldreks Mission

    Before the sun had reached noon, the camp was back to its old order. But something had changed in the air; the warriors'' respect and loyalty to Corvus had visibly increased. Zarqa, Baldrek and Kragan were already on their way to carry out the tasks they had agreed upon in their meeting during the night. Although Corvus wanted to check the inns himself, Zarqa said it would be better for Corvus to stay in the camp. In his opinion, this was the moment when Corvus was most respected by his soldiers and he needed to spend time with them to strengthen that respect.


    Zarqa and Kragan set off to visit the different inns of the Rhazgord, while Baldrek set off to inform Tanar about the bandits. Baldrek''s place in Corvus'' life went far beyond being a comrade-in-arms. They had spent their childhood together and had been friends from the earliest moments of their lives. Even in his earliest memories, Corvus remembered Baldrek by his side. Baldrek''s father, Irgon, was one of the most skilled blacksmiths in Rhazgord and one of Corvus'' father''s closest friends. This bond brought their children closer together.


    Baldrek''s real dream was not to become a warrior in the first place. He wanted to be a blacksmith like his father, making the best weapons for the best warriors. While he was apprenticing at his father''s fire and anvil, Corvus was training to be a warrior at the age of seven, training in the army. While Baldrek followed in his father''s footsteps at the forge, Corvus needed a real sword. It was his first time carrying a sword, getting used to the weight of iron. So Corvus went to the smithy to order his first sword for Dragan, Baldrek''s father. Dragan wanted to test Corvus'' skills, so he gave him a sword of his size and asked him to make a few moves. After only a few weeks of training, Corvus'' skills were far beyond those of his peers. That day, Baldrek was so amazed by the skill of Corvus, who was three years his junior, that the next day he left his life at the forge and went to the army to become a warrior.


    Baldrek soon surpassed his peers with his muscular strength and skill at blacksmithing. His courage in battle was forged in the fire of blacksmithing. He soon became a master of both iron and sword. Baldrek''s loyalty and friendship to Corvus was based on a deep bond.


    Corvus sent Baldrek to Tanar for a special reason. Baldrek''s character reminded Corvus of Baldrek''s father, Dragan. Just as Dragan forged a sword perfectly and delivered it on time, Baldrek performed every task perfectly. Corvus wanted Baldrek''s information to Tanar to be strictly controlled and for Tanar to act without excuse. Baldrek''s reliability was a guarantee for Corvus. Baldrek would get Tanar to act no matter what.


    As Baldrek moved swiftly towards Tanar''s mansion, he had only one thought in his mind: To carry out his orders on time. He was so disciplined that he thought he had been delayed by the events in the camp in the morning, so he hurried. He still had plenty of time, but even that could not slow Baldrek down. When he reached Tanar''s large, imposing house, two burly warriors stopped him at the door. The guards knew from the weapons and armor that Baldrek was important, but they were still cautious. No one could enter Tanar''s house without question.


    "Who are you and what are you doing here?" one of the guards asked, without taking his eyes off Baldrek.


    Baldrek straightened his posture with military discipline and spoke in a hoarse but clear voice: "Baldrek Vornak, adjutant of Corvus Tiamat. I have important information to relay to Tanar."


    Baldrek''s words had an immediate impact on the guards. His response, formal and straightforward, galvanized the two men into action without hesitation. Without wasting any time, they opened the courtyard gate and Baldrek entered the courtyard. The first thing he noticed were three bodies lying in a corner. These were the bodies of the bandits Tanar''s men had killed.


    The inside of the house was full of details that could not escape his eyes: A soldier at every corner, a guard at every staircase. Tanar was not only the head of a large family, he was also one of the people responsible for the administration of the city of Bahaz. But such intense security seemed too much, even for him. A spark went off in Baldrek''s mind; who did this man feel threatened by?


    When he entered Tanar''s room and greeted him, Tanar''s face wore his usual uncomfortable, sly smile. He stood up and spread his hands in an exaggerated gesture, pretending to be delighted to see Baldrek.


    "What a nice surprise! Welcome, Baldrek. How can I help you?¡± he said with false enthusiasm.


    But Baldrek ignored Tanar''s sycophantic behavior. Without showing any emotion, he greeted Tanar coldly and said, "I saw some bodies in the courtyard. I assume they are the bodies of the bandits you promised Corvus."


    Tanar sat down and explained what had happened. He said that his men had found and neutralized three groups of bandits after a very difficult search and struggle. The bandits lying in the courtyard were the leaders of the bandit groups.


    Baldrek listened to Tanar in silence, then laid the maps he had taken out of his bag on the table and focused on the locations of the bandit groups marked on the maps.


    "These are the areas and camps where the bandit groups we found were active," he said as he pointed to the marked areas on the map. Then he said, "Can you mark the locations of the groups you destroyed?" and pushed the map in front of Tanar. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    After a moment''s panic, Tanar crossed out a spot and stayed like that. After looking at the map for a few seconds as if he was searching for something, he made two more crosses on empty spots.


    "We couldn''t detect any bandit groups in those areas" Baldrek said.


    Tanar was annoyed, but he had a smile on his face. "You may not have found any, but we did," he said in a sarcastic tone as he pushed the map in front of Baldrek. Baldrek ignored Tanar''s attitude and began to explain one by one, pointing to all the points marked on the map with his finger. In short but precise sentences he described the situation of the bandit groups, their movements and what had to be done according to Corvus'' orders. Tanar watched in amazement as Baldrek explained in a cold and mechanical way.


    When Baldrek finished and looked up at Tanar, he noticed the anger on Tanar''s face and spoke sarcastically, as if to irritate him further: "If you don''t understand, let me explain it again."


    Tanar suddenly seemed to come to his senses. He was lost in thought for a moment, but recovered quickly. "No, no, I understand perfectly," he said, trying to suppress the anger on his face. But then a sly smile settled on his face. "But first we should sit down and have a few words. It is an honor to meet a great warrior like you. Come, let''s have a meal," he said with mock politeness. But Baldrek''s face did not change in the slightest; only his eyes grew darker and his muscles tensed. "What''s the plan?" Baldrek said, his voice even harsher. But Tanar had completely misunderstood the question. Thinking that his offer of food had been accepted, he responded with a big smile.


    "Oh, very good! I know a place that cooks great meat, and you know what we should do? Let''s take Corvus and go. I haven''t had a chance to have a proper chat with him either," he said with mock joy. This time Baldrek''s patience had run out. His expression was still hard as a rock, but his voice sharpened like a sword. His hand gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly as he stared into Tanar''s eyes.


    "I am asking when and how you will attack the other bandits," he said, his voice cold and determined. "Corvus gave you until tonight to deal with all the bandits. You have only taken out three. Have you forgotten what Corvus ordered you?"


    The fake smile on Tanar''s face disappeared in an instant. Faced with Baldrek''s threatening attitude, he realized he had nowhere to run. It was clear that he did not really want to deal with the bandit problem. Even though he ruled an entire city, he was afraid to send his men into battle. Every soldier meant a price, every action an additional cost. On top of that, most of the bandits worked for him. So he seemed to be taking action, but in fact he was doing nothing. The lifeless bodies lying in the courtyard were not the leaders of three separate bandit groups, but members of a small bandit group. Tanar had hunted them down and killed them in order to pull the wool over Corvus'' eyes. Corvus obviously wanted more. His only hope now was that Corvus would quickly eliminate the bandits who had nothing to do with him and leave the city.


    While Taner was lost in thought, Baldrek took a step towards Tanar. His eyes met Tanar''s and his voice was as hard as a frozen knife:


    "What is your plan?!"


    The sharpness of that sentence cut Tanar to the bone. Baldrek''s patience was running out and Tanar knew it. He felt he had to act immediately. Part panic, part anxiety, he regulated his breathing and mumbled something quickly:


    "Plan? Don''t worry Baldrek, everything is ready. At sundown I will move to clear out the bandits."


    Baldrek took a few steps back, keeping his eyes on Tanar. "I would like to see the information you have," he said slowly, his demeanor softening a little. The words resonated inside Tanar, because he knew how sloppy and inadequate his information was.


    Tanar began to pace around his desk in fear. He seemed confused, his hands frantically rummaging through the drawers. Every now and then he would pull documents out onto the table, then realize they were wrong and put them back. Every movement was a manifestation of the chaos in his head. Finally, he found some maps and papers and handed them to Baldrek with a false look of pride on his face. As if he had achieved a great victory: "This is the information gathered by my best men," he said, as if he had achieved a great victory.


    As Baldrek took the documents and skimmed through them, a tiny trace of derision crossed his face. One of the greatest talents of the Rhazgord army was its map-making skills. But the map in his hands was an embarrassment. The documents were even more disgraceful. There was no detail, no detail at all. Everything looked as if it had been prepared just for the sake of it.


    "Can I take a copy of these with me?" he asked, his voice cold and distant. In the Rhazgord, copies were always made of documents that were not very important or classified, something every trained soldier knew. Baldrek watched Tanar''s reaction carefully.


    Tanar''s lips curled as he sneaked out another lie: "Unfortunately, my soldiers lost it. But if you wait, I will have copies made quickly." For Baldrek, these words were just a sign of weakness. It took him only a moment to realize that Tanar was lying. There was nothing of note in the documents anyway.


    Baldrek put the documents back on the table with his own. He stood up and headed for the door with steps as heavy as a rock. Without saying a word, he straightened his shoulders. When he reached the door, without turning around, he said, "Until tomorrow. Remember," he said. The cold threat in his words echoed in the room. He hadn''t looked at Tanar, but the warning in that sentence cut the air in the room like a sharp knife.


    Baldrek hurried back to the camp as quickly as he had come, and Tanar hurried out of his mansion. His steps were hurried, his heart pounding in his chest, getting faster with each step. Plans swirled in his head, looking for a way out. His destination was clear: In one of the darkest corners of the city of Bahoz, he headed for an iron gate. He hadn''t had to knock on that door since Corvus'' arrival, but now he had to. Now everything was at stake. As he hurried on his way, at the same time Zarqa and Kragan were entering an inn, carefully observing their surroundings.

 0030 | Fight at The Inn

    When Kragan entered the inn in the center of the city with his huge body, he attracted the attention of everyone inside. His footsteps made noise, as if an elephant was walking. His huge silhouette drew the gaze of everyone, from the innkeeper to the drunks in the far corners. He had a rare height even among the Rhazgord, over two meters tall and with broad shoulders, he was not a man but a walking mountain. Zarqa, who had been walking silently beside him, had become invisible in the face of Kragan''s majesty. Zarqa''s slender build and silent steps were a stark contrast to Kragan''s loudness. But it was this contrast that made them the perfect mission duo.


    Kragan''s muscles were the result of endless training in the army camp during his childhood. Other young men would stop training at noon and go home exhausted. But Kragan wanted more. In the corner of the camp, he would continue to do additional training to further develop his huge muscles. At the same time, Corvus, like Kragan, was an unsatisfied warrior. The two met during this extra training and soon became friends. Then Baldrek joined them and a deep friendship developed between the three.


    Zarqa sat quietly at the table while Kragan watched everyone in the inn. As soon as he sat down, Kragan began to shout in a booming voice:


    "Bring food! A lot of it!"


    His voice was so strong that everyone in the inn fell silent for a moment. The innkeeper rushed to them, speaking only in a broken accent, trying to understand Kragan''s order. But Kragan''s booming voice was so loud that even people on the street could hear it, and it was impossible for the innkeeper not to hear or understand it. Kragan fidgeted impatiently in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.


    "I said I want food! Bring whatever you have! I haven''t eaten anything today!"


    Kragan''s voice echoed as if he were giving orders on a battlefield. But the innkeeper did not seem to understand what he was saying. Zarqa, recognizing the situation, intervened in a soft but clear voice in Adler:


    "Food. Lots of food," he said, pointing to Kragan. Then he pointed to himself and said, "Less food." Zarqa and the other Rhazgordians knew almost no Adler, but the Innkeeper gave Zarqa a nod of understanding and quickly turned back to his stall, while Zarqa took a deep breath and began to look around. Kragan frowned, grumbling about the innkeeper''s lack of knowledge of the Rhazgord language. He muttered to himself in a surprisingly low voice:


    "This idiot can''t speak Rhazgord language."


    Zarqa nodded. Kragan''s massive body was a perfect distraction, but a quiet, observant man like Zarqa was adept at noticing the oddities around him. That the innkeeper did not speak Rhazgord language was not a problem in itself, but this innkeeper was working alone in a large and crowded inn. Most of the tables were full, some were full of Rhazgordians, but only one person was serving. And this person did not even speak the language of most of his customers.


    Zarqa tried to unravel the mystery behind these small details. The accent of the innkeeper, the lack of staff, the unusual situation for an inn in such a busy part of the city. These were signs that did not fit the normal functioning of an inn, and Zarqa''s suspicion grew.


    A few minutes in the inn was a lifetime for Kragan. He was starving, impatient, and his eyes darted around for food. Because of the morning''s chaos, not a single bite had entered his stomach. The inns always had hot food and orders were quickly prepared, but this time things were different. At the height of Kragan''s impatience, he fixed his eyes on the innkeeper and shouted in a booming voice, banging his hand on the table:


    "Where the fuck is the food?!"


    Kragan''s voice echoed through the inn. Behind the counter, the innkeeper, who had been moving in a hurry, picked up his pace. Kragan''s intimidating size and anger were enough to make the poor man sweat. Soon the innkeeper came to the table with two plates of food. But the food was not what Kragan had expected. It was obvious that the food was of poor quality, hastily and carelessly prepared. There was no pre-prepared food, even though there were so many customers in the inn. This raised Zarqa''s suspicions even more.


    Kragan looked angrily at his plate. It took him only the first bite to realize that the food was tasteless, but he was so hungry that he continued to eat even though he was disgusted. Each bite he chewed tested his patience a little more. Zarqa was quietly observing. His eyes fell on the men sitting at the tables. They were dressed like merchants, but when he looked carefully, all they had in front of them was a drink. Traders usually ate at this hour, but these men were content with alcohol. It was rare for a merchant to drink alcohol at such an early hour. Moreover, the men''s bodies looked more like warriors than merchants. Even though their clothes hid them, their muscular build was unmistakable. Zarqa felt it was time to act.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    He tilted his head slightly towards Kragan, a silent signal that told Kragan to "start". Kragan reluctantly pushed his food aside and suddenly threw his plate to the ground. As it hit the floor and shattered, he announced his anger in a booming voice:


    "Anyone who eats this shit can''t be human! This inn has to be catering to dogs!"


    Kragan''s voice echoed through the inn like thunder. The men at the tables, disguised as foreign merchants, watched Kragan''s outburst without responding, not understanding what he was saying. But the drunken Rhazgordians in the inn did not take it lying down. One of them pushed his chair aside in a huff and stood up. His back was broad and his voice strong enough to rival Kragan''s.


    "Fuck off if you don''t like it!" he said, glaring at Kragan. ¡°"You think you''re shit because of your fat fucking head?"


    Kragan''s eyes suddenly flashed dangerously. The muscles in his neck tensed, his fists clenched, and he prepared to lunge at the man, as if he had just sparked a bar fight. But just then Zarqa''s cold, determined voice echoed in Kragan''s ear:


    "Don''t rush and don''t kill anyone."


    As Zarqa''s warning fed Kragan''s dark side, a devilish smile appeared on his face. Hunger, anger, and the desire for violence blended together, making him ready to explode. Zarqa''s words sounded almost like an invitation to Kragan. His whole body was ready to savor this violence as he started the fight.


    "Don''t kill anyone," he muttered, as if starting a ritual.


    Kragan''s huge body began to move like a giant sledgehammer in the narrow space of the inn. The moment he raised his hand, he deflected a punch from the Rhazgord warrior in front of him and picked up the table in his other hand and threw it into the air. As the table spun in the air and hit the ground, it seemed like a ball of fire to the innkeeper''s eyes, and the sounds of clashing wood and iron filled the inn as Kragan moved forward in chaos. With every movement, tables, chairs and even people were thrown around, turning the inn into an apocalypse. He deliberately bumped into men dressed as merchants who got in his way, bringing them into the fight. Seeing the confusion and fear on each of their faces only added to Kragan''s joy.


    Meanwhile, Zarqa moved silently in the midst of the chaos. As the storm of destruction created by Kragan drew all eyes, Zarqa moved like an invisible shadow to a corner of the inn. There, a thick wooden door caught his attention. A sturdy lock hung on the door, an implausible detail, since the innkeeper must have been coming and going through it all the time. The size and strength of the lock caught Zarqa''s attention. He was almost certain that what he was looking for was behind this door. But breaking the lock would leave a mark, and Zarqa was not one to make such mistakes. He chose the hard way.


    He took a small lock pick from his pocket and carefully began to pick the lock. His fingers probed the lock with quick and precise movements, and clicks and small cracks could be heard. Zarqa had learned this skill on one of his mercenary expeditions. After a few seconds of meticulous work, the lock slowly opened. Zarqa quietly opened the door and stepped inside. The air inside was cool and dark, filled with the smell of old wood and steel.


    When he entered the warehouse, he found dozens of crates lined up in neat rows. There was no food or drink inside. He began to open them and what he found inside confirmed the secrets he was looking for: Weapons, long-lasting supplies, medicines... This warehouse was not a merchant''s stash of supplies; it was an arsenal. Zarqa continued to quickly examine the crates, each one holding clues to the preparations for a war. This many weapons and supplies could not be a coincidence, they had to be related to the man Corvus had chased and the men who had been watching the camp.


    Zarqa had learned everything he needed to know. Now it was time to turn back. Silently he closed the door, put the lock back on, and disappeared like a shadow into the crowd of the inn. In the middle of the fight, Kragan was throwing punches, knocking over tables, knocking down his enemies. Zarqa found Kragan''s eyes and gave a silent signal. Immediately Kragan sprang into action and played the final act of the fight. With one last punch, he knocked down the man who opposed him, and then, one by one, he knocked down the last few men around him. Their eyes locked on each other as the two men wreaked havoc in the inn. The plan had succeeded.


    Zarqa quickly headed for the back door of the inn. He had to disappear like a shadow, because there were men slowly gathering outside the front door. These were Tanar''s men and they had heard the sound of the fight in the inn. They had come to restore order and punish the guilty. When they saw Kragan, they gasped in surprise. While they were wondering how to control a giant like Kragan, Kragan walked towards them in his usual relaxed manner.


    "I will never eat here again, even if the gods command it," he shouted, as if all this chaos was caused by the terrible food. Then he threw his sword and other weapons at the men''s feet.


    As the men looked at each other with puzzled expressions, Kragan continued sarcastically: "What are you looking at? Aren''t you going to arrest me and take me to Tanar?"


    The mockery and threat in his words made Tanar''s men''s eyes glaze over. But before they knew it, Kragan was already acting as if he had surrendered. By then, Zarqa had already disappeared into the alleyways. Thanks to Kragan''s diversionary maneuver, Zarqa was able to return to the camp easily and unnoticed.

 0031 | Clearing Out The Bandits

    A few hours had passed since the fight at the inn. When Kragan was taken to Tanar, Tanar had just arrived at his mansion. Tanar saw Kragan at the door, recognized him immediately and ordered his immediate release. He made sure to treat Kragan to a nice meal afterwards. He asked him what the fight was about and if he had seen anything strange. Kragan, frowning, said angrily, "The food was shit. They attacked me for saying that, Tanar! So I did what I had to do!" Tanar paused for a moment at Kragan''s words, then smiled slightly and shrugged.


    When he returned to the camp, Kragan went straight to the meeting tent. Fatigue was written all over his face and there was a vague uneasiness in his eyes. The previous night''s squad had gathered here again, including Belisarius. Baldrek had come earlier and told Corvus what had happened at Tanar''s house, but he had not yet reported to the other five in the room. The tent was filled with the tension of preparations for battle. Baldrek''s words echoed, intensifying the heavy air of the room. Zarqa''s voice was firm and determined as he told what he had learned. Then the two older warriors spoke to the people of the city, sharing what they had learned. Each was like a piece of a puzzle, each piece fitting into place.


    When all the stories were put together, the picture was dark and menacing. Tanar had made arrangements so that merchants from the kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Laxon would not have their goods inspected and would not have to pay tribute on entering the city. Soon after, security at Tanar''s house was increased and many inns were opened in the city. This continued for more than a month. Those who came as merchants probably used these inns as warehouses, providing the logistics for the armies of one or all of the kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Laxon. The men Corvus was trying to capture were overseeing this business and preventing any trouble. Even if the three kingdoms united, the Rhazgord army would be hard to defeat, but logistics, Tanar''s possible betrayal and the absence of Sanguinar and his army could change things.


    The situation was dangerous and the worst case scenario was very possible. The air inside the tent resembled the calm before a storm. Corvus ordered Zarqa and Baldrek to leave immediately and take their information to the city of Rhazgord. The seriousness in his face made it clear that his decision was absolute. As they left the camp and along the way, he made sure to tell them to move as stealthily but as quickly as possible. Time was running out and every moment counted. By the end of the meeting the sun was setting, the sky was blood red and dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. Corvus'' warriors were waiting for the order to clear the bandits if Tanar did not act. Everyone who came out of the tent knew they were on the brink of a battle.


    Just when Corvus thought Tanar would not act, Tanar and his men appeared. Tanar''s face was tense with determination. "I have come to inform you that I am personally mobilizing to clear out all the bandits. We will start in the west and move east! We will take them all out before morning." he said as he dismounted. His voice echoed defiantly around him. Corvus nodded, but his eyes were watching Tanar carefully.


    "How many men do you have?" Corvus asked, his voice sharp and questioning. The question alarmed Tanar a little, but he didn''t show it. "No need to worry, sir, I have enough," Tanar replied, with a forced confidence in his voice. Corvus, however, was not satisfied with this vague answer. A slight flicker in Tanar''s eyes did not escape Corvus'' sharp gaze.


    "Enough is not enough for me, Tanar! I want this resolved once and for all. Kragan and his thousand warriors will accompany you," Corvus said, an authoritative tone to his voice. These words momentarily dissipated the tension inside the tent and replaced it with a different kind of unease. Tanar''s face showed a brief look of surprise when he heard the offer, but then he nodded his head in satisfaction. An extra thousand men would greatly reduce his losses and the cost of the medicine he would have to pay. With a sly gleam in his eye, he began to pay false compliments.


    "What an honor, sir, to fight side by side with such worthy warriors," Tanar said, his voice full of flattery. But Corvus could see the true intentions behind Tanar''s false demeanor. Trying to control the anger rising in him, he raised his hand in a slight gesture and motioned for him to leave. Tanar nodded and stepped back.


    Corvus went to Kragan''s side. Kragan had already prepared the men at his disposal and was waiting. He had a determined look on his face, the look of a man unafraid of the approaching shadow of war. Corvus gave him a brief but meaningful look.


    "Is everything ready?" Corvus asked, his voice low but determined. Kragan nodded, a determined gleam in his eyes. "Yes, everything is ready. I don''t trust Tanar, but our men will finish the job."


    Corvus relaxed a little at Kragan''s reassuring words. Even if his uneasiness had not completely gone, he knew that war was inevitable and that they had to make every preparation for it. His eyes turned to the horizon, the sun was setting and darkness was fast approaching.


    "Don''t, Kragan! Don''t lose your temper and do anything to Tanar! Clear out the bandits, but try to capture as many of them alive as you can!" Corvus warned, serious determination in his voice. As much as Kragan wanted to tear Tanar to pieces, he was aware that his actions could bring a major battle prematurely. The Rhazgord army was not yet aware of the events unfolding in Bahoz and could be caught off guard if war broke out suddenly. The thought was enough to curb Kragan''s anger.


    Crushed under his weight, Kragan followed Tanar with his horse and a thousand warriors. His men advanced with quiet determination. As the darkness of night slowly enveloped them, the difficulty and seriousness of their journey became more and more apparent. Each step echoed with the low rumble of metal armor and swords. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    After an hour of travel, Kragan stopped his horse and pointed to the valley ahead. "We head south from here," he said, his voice hard and firm.


    "We''ll march on the big group to the south until you''ve dealt with the ones in the valley. Meet us there. Then we''ll divide the troops into small units to take out the smaller groups."


    Kragan spoke without regard for Tanar''s rank. The anger in him gave his voice a slight tremor, but it did nothing to diminish his determination.


    Tanar nodded with a wry smile as he listened to Kragan''s words. "Of course, Kragan! But I have good news for you!" he said, a sly satisfaction in his voice. "I have already sent my best men to take care of the small groups. They''ll take care of the small groups while we take care of our business."


    Kragan frowned at Tanar''s words. He wanted to ask who these men were and how they were going to find and destroy the small groups in different locations by morning. But he had to suppress the suspicion rising inside him. As much as he wanted to tear Tanar apart, he knew he could not. With a grunt, he acknowledged Tanar and took the crossroads. Under the dark shadow of the road, the confusion and anger in Kragan''s mind intensified.


    Kragan and his men continued on their way in silence. The darkness of the night had already made itself felt and enveloped the surroundings. The moonlight barely found its way through the clouds above the valley, occasionally hitting the ground. The uneasiness in Kragan''s heart became even more pronounced in this cold light. In it, along with his distrust of Tanar, lay the inevitability of war.


    Tanar knocked on the iron door for the third time, immediately after his meeting with Kragan hours earlier. As the door opened, he was again confronted with the same bleak scene he had encountered before. Men in black masks appeared in the darkness, silent and menacing. Each one had the same mask, so he didn''t know which one to turn to. The uneasiness inside him showed itself as a distinct worry on his face.


    "What do you want, Tanar!" hissed one of the masked men, his voice cold and chilling. Tanar recognized the voice. He moved in the direction of the voice, but he was crushed under the deadly gaze of the masked man, not daring to look at his face. He bowed his head and began to speak, his voice shaky and worried.


    "Corvus is forcing me... If I don''t clear out the bandits, he''s going to be trouble and he won''t leave. His men are starting to cause trouble at the inns. The longer they stay here, the more danger we are in," he said, his words coming out in haste and fear.


    The masked man paused for a moment as he considered Tanar''s words. However, he seemed to focus on Tanar''s last sentence. "What happened at the inn? ¡± he asked, his voice somewhere between curiosity and anger. He didn''t seem to have heard Tanar''s other words, or didn''t want to.


    "One of Corvus'' idiot men... He wanted food and didn''t like it, so he started a fight. Normal stuff for us Rhazgordians. But it could have been dangerous if it had escalated," Tanar replied, a defensive tone in his voice.


    The masked man called one of the men with him and whispered something in his ear. Receiving the order, the man hurried out the door and disappeared into the dark streets. Tanar held his breath in the tension of this brief moment, waiting for the masked man''s decision.


    "So what do you want from me, Tanar! Don''t half the bandits already work for you! Tell them to disappear for a few days!" the masked man thundered, his voice ringing with echo, magnifying the fear in Tanar.


    "I have already taken care of those who work for me! But there are still too many bandits. If I don''t take them all out by morning, Corvus will cause me... big trouble. So help me clear out the bandits by morning... I don''t have the strength to do it..." said Tanar, his voice full of desperation.


    These words enraged the masked man. Suddenly he leapt to his feet and put his dagger to Tanar''s neck. As the cold metal pressed gently against Tanar''s skin, his heart began to pound with fear.


    "Last time I checked, you had thousands of men, Tanar! Bahoz''s entire force at your disposal! Are you kidding me!" the masked man shouted, his voice rising in anger. Tanar felt the menacing gleam in the masked man''s eyes and flinched in fear. The coldness of the dagger hung like a threat around his neck, but even colder were the masked man''s misty, cruel eyes. In the grip of fear and desperation, Tanar wondered how he could survive this dangerous game.


    Tanar felt like he was suffocating when the masked man put the dagger to his neck, but his flattery was as good as ever. His voice was shaky but determined. "If I mobilize the men, I have to pay! My coffers have been empty since I played with the tribute from the merchants..." he moaned. The masked man was surprised that he could speak in such long sentences, even in the grip of the fear that clenched his throat. The man let go of Tanar and sat back down. Tanar collapsed, gasping for breath, coughs burning his throat. As soon as he came to, he barely said, "Just take care of the small groups..." and handed the masked man the map Baldrek had brought earlier.


    The masked man took it and studied it. The map was dazzling in its detail and accuracy. The documents contained detailed information about the bandits. The masked man was impressed by these documents, but he kept his expression stern so as not to show it.


    "Okay," he replied, his voice dark and threatening. "But if Corvus and his men don''t leave when this is over, I''ll have your head!" and he gestured Tanar out. Tanar took a deep breath, relieved that he had narrowly escaped a great calamity, and set off for his mansion. With every step, he tried to erase the image of the cold dagger in his neck.


    When the first rays of morning broke over the horizon, Kragan and Tanar had destroyed only three large bandit camps. The other six camps were empty. Tanar''s men had killed every bandit, leaving behind a bloody battlefield. Kragan, on the other hand, had managed to capture most of the bandits as prisoners; their testimony would be of great use to them in the days to come. After the noise and confusion of the battle, the silence that fell was a sign of victory for both groups.


    Together they returned to camp to make a final report. The rising sun had painted the sky pink, but the remnants of nightfall still hung over the camp. Kragan and Tanar marched towards Corvus, tired but full of triumph.


    When they reached the center of the camp, the exhaustion of the battle was written all over their faces. Corvus was waiting for them, his face serious and determined. As Kragan and Tanar recounted the details of their victory during the night, the cool morning air heralded the beginning of a new day.

 0032 | Horns of War (1)

    It was early morning in the camp at the foot of Mount Rhaz. The young warriors were just warming up, lined up to learn the harsh discipline of Rhazgord warfare. They sweated on the hot sand as far as the eye could see, enduring training that pushed their bodies to their limits. Volmir stood out among the others, but not in a positive way. His movements were slow and weak, his sweat and strides puny compared to those of his peers running beside him. He had been in training for some time and had made some progress, but Volmir''s body had not yet reached the stamina of his peers.


    Just ahead of him, Montis was suddenly startled. He felt a strange energy in the air. In the distance, just above the horizon, he noticed a small cloud of dust approaching fast. Two horsemen were approaching the camp at full speed, and Montis instinctively sensed that this was no ordinary arrival. He squinted as the shadow on his face deepened and tried to understand who they were.


    Zarqa and Baldrek had ridden through the night, trying to find their way under the gloomy moonlight. Exhausted, the horses were panting, their legs trembling, and they seemed to collapse with every step. Their labored breathing showed how urgent the two warriors were carrying urgent news. By the time they reached the camp, their horses had almost died without breathing a last breath. They had changed horses twice along the way, but the horses could not endure the journey. Zarqa and Baldrek wasted no time and jumped off the horses. Without a moment''s hesitation, they ran towards Valerius'' barracks.


    Valerius'' room had fallen into a heavy silence. He had listened to the soldiers'' reports all morning and had just leaned back in his chair. He had taken a moment to relax. But that moment of relief was shattered by the sudden opening of the door.


    "Has something happened to Corvus?" Valerius asked as soon as he saw Zarqa and Baldrek, his voice both alarmed and threatening. Zarqa and Baldrek were not the kind of people to barge into his room like that, something had obviously gone wrong.


    Zarqa shook his head, trying to catch his breath, almost collapsing from exhaustion. "No," he said, short and harsh. Baldrek continued with a tremor in his voice, momentarily forgetting the burning in his lungs.


    "War... War is coming!"


    A spark went through Valerius. He had not seen a real battle for years. The fight against demons was, of course, deadly and bloody, but his instincts as a warrior knew that fighting flesh and blood enemies was a different thrill altogether. Baldrek''s words had triggered a deep-seated desire to fight. The rhythm of his heart quickened, but he remained professional. He took a deep breath and gestured for the two to sit down.


    Zarqa and Baldrek sat down, almost collapsing into the chairs. With trembling hands, Baldrek opened his bag and handed Valerius the documents he had taken out. These documents foreshadowed a much bigger plan and impending danger. Valerius studied the papers in silence while Baldrek elaborated on the situation.


    "Tanar betrays... Bahoz... Enemy spies and the logistics the enemy armies will need are ready."


    Valerius'' brow furrowed, his eyes scanning every line of the documents with the attention and intuition of a commander. Zarqa interjected to complement Baldrek''s words:


    "Bahoz is preparing for war. Weapons, supplies, men... They are all there. One or all three of the kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Laxon are preparing to attack Rhazgord."


    Valerius'' eyes slowly lifted from the pages of the document and met Zarqa''s. The lines on his face deepened, the anger and desire for war growing inside him became clear. The opportunity he had waited so long for had arrived. But this opportunity came with betrayal. Still, he took his time and weighed the situation. For an hour, the three of them argued heatedly over these documents.


    By the end of the discussions in Valerius'' room, it was clear that war was inevitable. The tense atmosphere inside had begun to spill out of the room and spread throughout the camp. Valerius turned to Zarqa with cold determination in his eyes. His features had the sharpness of a commander who had led warriors for years.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "Call my adjutants," he commanded, his voice as hard and sharp as a sword stroke. "And the Sharazirs... All the critical figures will be in this room before noon!"


    The orders echoed out of the room and across the camp. The whole army began to buzz like a beehive as the soldiers moved swiftly, relaying Valerius'' words to the others. Nothing was hidden anymore. War was at the door.


    By noon, the most important leaders in the city had gathered, engaged in a heated debate. Every soldier, every Sharazir, was aware of the imminent danger, but this awareness did not fill them with fear. On the contrary, they were full of excitement and enthusiasm. Valerius, after listening to all the opinions, calmly gave his final order.


    "Blow the horns of war!" he said, his voice heavy, echoing in the chests of those in the room.


    "The gods are thirsty for blood!"


    At Valerius'' command, the great horns of Rhazgord suddenly came to life. A muffled, ominous sound cut across the city. While in normal cities this sound would cause fear and panic, in the streets of Rhazgord it was a carnival. Young warriors poured out into the streets, shouting and beating their chests. Each one of them had the glint of victory in their eyes, shouting defiantly at their enemies waiting miles away, imagining how they would strike them down in their first battle.


    "For the gods! For Sanguinar!" cried one. "I will draw first blood!" another challenged his friends. The streets echoed with the brave shouts of the young men of Rhazgord, the air vibrated with the energy of these young warriors.


    But this energy was not limited to the youth. In the depths of the city, in the ramshackle workshops and alleyways, a much deeper preparation had begun. Older warriors were quietly preparing their weapons, oblivious to the enthusiastic cries of the young. Many of them were gray-haired, their faces etched with the lines of the war years. They were preparing for battle with years of wisdom and ruthless experience. The swords, arrows or axes they held in their hands were like the last things they had left in this world.


    They knew that their youth was long gone, that those energetic days were over. But that did not mean they could not be deadly on the battlefield. Now they had only one desire: An honorable death, as the gods commanded. On the battlefield, among the corpses of their enemies who perished under their swords, they wanted to lay down their souls as befits the gods. Not to die quietly at home, but to die amidst the war cries, on the blood-soaked fields of Rhazgord.


    "The gods have been waiting for us for a long time," said one of them, an old warrior, as he continued to sharpen his sword. "But this time, I will earn the right to go to them!"


    All the while, at the summit of the Rhaz Mountains, shamans were painstakingly preparing to light the sacred fire. This huge fire would light up the night, not only piercing the darkness, but also offering the soul of Rhazgord to the gods. The faces of the shamans, surrounded by white incense, flickered like shadows, the deep mystical glow in their eyes heralding the battle.


    This was no ordinary rite; this was a ritual honoring the blood that would be offered to the gods for the great battle that would decide the fate of Rhazgord. The ancient prayers murmured by the shamans drifted with the wind down from the mountaintop and into the city. These sounds, combined with the war horns echoing through the city, seemed to boil the blood in Rhazgord''s veins.


    The shamans were preparing to light a huge fire. The hands of the shamans were placing stones in slow movements, as if sowing seeds on sacred ground, preparing the offering to the gods. When the first spark flew into the air, the fire burst into flames with a roar reminiscent of the eruption of a volcano. Tongues of fire rose into the sky, tearing through the dark night as if reaching for the gods themselves.


    In the city, with this sacred fire burning, the fervor of war reached its peak. The young warriors raised their swords to the sky and shouted in triumph, while the old warriors took one last look at their sharpened weapons and rekindled the fire of war within them. When the Rhazgordians believed that the gods were on their side, there was no power that could stop them.


    It was at this very moment that Valerius sent messengers across Rhazgord. This was no ordinary mercenary expedition. There was a threat that touched the heart of Rhazgord, and this war belonged to all Rhazgordians. Every city, every town, every village had to heed the call. Valerius'' heralds rode across bridges, across valleys, horns echoing in the foothills of the mountains. The clouds of dust from their horses'' feet screamed the importance of their speed. These messengers were running at full speed to mobilize the full power of the Rhazgord.


    But this was not Valerius'' only plan. Urgent news was also sent to Corvus. These messengers would reach Corvus, a day and a half away, and give him Valerius'' orders. Valerius was not satisfied with mere verbal orders; immediately after the messengers, a special group of the most elite Rhazgord warriors set off for Corvus. These soldiers moved swiftly, carrying the fate of a battle on their shoulders with every step.


    And so, the wind of war swept across Rhazgord, echoing in the souls of every warrior, both in the streets of the city and on the mountaintops. The huge Rhazgor army was slowly gathering at the foot of Mount Rhaz.

 0033 | Horns of War (2)

    Corvus and his men should have already begun preparations for their return, but instead they were ordered to rest. This caught the attention of everyone in the camp. There was an uneasy silence among the warriors, no one daring to question Corvus'' decisions. Many were relieved, because rest and time away from training sounded good. But the ban on leaving the camp overshadowed this pleasure.


    Tanar suspected that there was something underlying this silence. The previous night the bandit issue had been resolved, but Corvus did not seem to be backing down in any way. Corvus'' movements had also begun to unsettle the masked men around Tanar. They were growing impatient, putting pressure on Tanar and forcing him to act. His situation could not be left in limbo any longer, so Tanar, along with a few of his men, had to depart for the camp. He had to find out when Corvus would make his move.


    At the camp, Tanar received a different welcome than on previous occasions. When they approached the entrance gate as usual, they thought they would be let in freely, but the soldiers at the gate stopped them. From now on, no one could enter the camp without Corvus'' approval. Tanar''s nerves were on edge. He glanced at his men, each of them watching carefully, the tension written all over their faces. After a few minutes, permission to enter was granted, but on one condition: They had to hand over their weapons.


    This condition hit Tanar like a punch in the stomach. He felt like a soldier returning from battle; being left unarmed only deepened his distrust of Corvus. But turning back or protesting would have put him and his men in a more difficult position. Without hesitation, he handed over his weapons and they went inside.


    As they made their way towards Corvus'' tent, the silence around them grew more intense. The calm of the camp was like the calm before a storm. When they reached Corvus'' tent, a faint candlelight and whispers from inside greeted them. When Tanar stepped into the tent''s entrance, he was greeted by Corvus'' warm and friendly face, in contrast to the cold welcome he had expected.


    Corvus greeted Tanar with a broad smile and held out his arm as if seeing an old friend. "Welcome, Tanar,"  he said in a soft voice. But this friendly greeting did not match the atmosphere inside the tent. Tanar''s eyes shifted to Kragan; unlike Corvus, Kragan stood cold and menacing. There was not the slightest trace of warmth on his face, and he did not even look at Tanar. The other soldiers inside the tent stood the same way, tension cutting through the air.


    Tanar was aware that the smile on Corvus'' face was fake. An invisible danger lurked inside the tent. Everyone was on high alert, as if something could break out at any moment. Tanar took a deep breath and tried to return Corvus''s smile, but the dark suspicion was visible in his eyes. The tension in the room grew more intense with each passing second before the words came out.


    Tanar spoke with a sycophantic smile, trying to hide the nervous tension on his face. "I wanted to see you one last time before you left, Corvus," he said, his voice filled with false warmth. Corvus greeted her words with a smile, as if it was a lie he had been waiting for for a long time. There was a twinkle in his eyes, but it was far deeper than mere contentment.


    "Tanar," Corvus said, a soft but distinct tone of superiority in his voice. "First of all, I want to apologize to you. I was quite nervous when I first arrived and I was too hard on you." Tanar waved his hands quickly in mock alarm at this unexpected apology, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.


    "Never, never!" he said hurriedly, his face a mask of false humility. "I cannot accept an apology from someone as important as you. A young leader sometimes does such things, but believe me, I am not offended, but thank you for your thoughts." As he finished, Tanar leaned back in his chair, as if he were not a Rhazgord warrior, but a merchant, sucking up to sell his wares. It was a reflection of the fear in his soul; he felt that the more respect he showed, the less trouble Corvus would cause.


    Corvus ordered Tanar to bring something to eat. Tanar tried to say he was not hungry, but Corvus'' insistence was as hard as iron. "Thank you, Tanar," Corvus said as he gestured to the food placed on the table.


    "I am here for a few more days and I would like to spend a lot of time with you."


    The fake smile on Tanar''s face froze for a moment. The news sent him into a deep restlessness. He had expected Corvus to leave tonight at the latest, but when Corvus said tomorrow, Tanar''s uneasiness began to flare. "Oh, what a nice surprise," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. But his voice was weak and hoarse. He cleared his throat and put that fake smile back on his face before continuing. "But I thought you were going to take out the bandit groups in the other regions. Won''t you be wasting time?"


    Corvus''s hand went to the back of his neck, as if he felt a great weight on his back. The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a troubled expression. For a brief moment his eyes were fixed on a point in the emptiness of the room, as if he was trying to slow down time to answer Tanar''s question. This momentary silence stretched the tension inside the tent like a tightrope. Tanar felt his breathing quicken; he felt uneasy, as if at any moment Corvus''s mask might slip and reveal the true face lurking beneath.


    Corvus continued, his voice calm but mocking. "Unfortunately we have a few wounded and I don''t want to leave until they are healed," he said, fixing his gaze on Tanar. "And I haven''t had a chance to have a proper chat with you!" He said with a slight smile, his eyes fixed on Tanar''s face. But then his voice suddenly changed and he asked with cold seriousness: "What, do you want me to leave? Or are you hiding something from me?"This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The question cut the air in the room like a knife. A cold shiver ran down Tanar''s spine. Corvus'' voice was so menacing that for a moment Tanar''s world stopped. His breath caught, his thoughts jumbled. The words were about to come out of his mouth, but his mind was completely frozen. Just as he was about to drown in the silence, Corvus'' laughter filled the room, like thunder after a heavy storm.


    "I''m joking! Joking!" Corvus said, shaking with laughter. Tanar''s heart relaxed for a moment, but the laughter did little to ease his uneasiness. A subtle voice inside him told him that all was not well, that something was terribly wrong. Still, he forced a smile to suppress his nervousness, parted his lips in a trembling sound, and joined Corvus'' laughter. Glancing at the food on the table in front of him, he began to think of ways to get out of here. As he tried to formulate an escape plan in his mind, the sound of horses echoed outside. Tanar''s heart skipped a beat and his thoughts, filled with fear, became even more complicated, as if to betray him.


    Before he knew what was happening, a soldier entered, his face full of alarm, and approached Corvus, whispering in his ear. Corvus nodded and stood up quickly to leave. Tanar fidgeted in his seat, unable to resist the wave of anxiety that washed over him. His eyes filled with a flickering unease as Corvus stepped out. There was silence outside the tent for a few seconds, then suddenly there was a loud crash. A small but unsettling echo, as if something was being torn apart by thunder.


    Tanar wanted to get up, but at that moment Kragan''s huge hand landed on his shoulder like an iron vice. "Eat your food!Don''t let it get cold!" Kragan growled, his voice as cold as ice. Tanar was crushed under Kragan''s strong grip, his body petrified for a moment. It was as if even the blood in his veins could find no escape from the pressure. Kragan''s shadow loomed over Tanar like a giant fear, a threat that could prevent him from making even the slightest movement. As Tanar looked around, his eyes wide with confusion, the sounds from outside grew louder and louder. The uneasiness that had been gnawing at him grew deeper.


    After a while Corvus came back inside with silent steps. At that moment, Tanar''s whole body froze. Corvus'' hands were covered in blood up to his shoulders. He still had the same cold smile on his face, but now his silhouette looked even more frightening because of the light coming from the entrance to the tent behind him. Corvus looked like a demon from hell as he stared into Tanar''s eyes. At that moment, Tanar thought that the man before him might not be a human being but a demon. He gasped, his pupils dilated and his heart pounded in his ears.


    As Corvus moved silently towards Tanar, Tanar tried to understand what had happened. But before he could open his mouth to say a word, Kragan''s huge fist landed on his face. The blow came with lightning-like speed and threw Tanar out of the tent. The world stopped spinning for a moment and Tanar experienced the most painful moment of his life as he flew through the air. When he hit the ground, his body seemed to shatter. It was as if all his bones had broken one by one and half his body had disappeared. As his face hit the ground, he sank into a deep darkness, only one thought echoed in his mind: Corvus was a monster and he had fallen into his hands.


    When Tanar opened his eyes, he could not make sense of what he saw. He saw his men lying motionless on the ground in front of Corvus'' tent. Their bloody bodies were shrouded in a horrifying silence. Beside them, leaning on their tired horses, were a few messengers. Tanar was in a fog; he could not comprehend what was happening. The world seemed to be spinning in slow motion, as if everything was a blurry nightmare. He tried to get up, but his body would not obey him. The pain had seeped into his bones. Catching his breath, he began to crawl, he could only crawl. He would have given anything to escape the camp, but his hopes were fading fast. He was already surrounded by soldiers; there was no way out.


    When he heard Corvus'' footsteps, an indescribable fear rose in him. Panic-stricken, he began to plead, the words pouring from his lips but ineffective. Sometimes he threatened the soldiers, sometimes he promised great rewards. Then, as if there was no other option, he shouted again and again that he was a Rhazgordian, that he was innocent. But every word hung in the air. The soldiers around him did not look at him or say a word, they all stood indifferent to him. Tanar''s fear deepened in this silence.


    The eyes of the soldiers seemed to be locked on a single point. Corvus was standing where they were looking, and the messenger was kneeling beside him, holding out a black cloth. This black cloth was a sacred flag. It was the legendary battle flag of the Rhazgord, a flag that had not been unfurled for years, a flag that many of the warriors would see for the first time in their lives. It was only unfurled in the greatest dangers and the fiercest battles. Corvus looked respectfully at the messenger and took the flag, then carefully tied it to the spear that had been brought. The flag was old and unassuming in appearance. It was embroidered only with a simple red triangle symbolizing Mount Rhaz. But this simplicity only emphasized the weight and power of the flag. This flag, the greatest symbol of the Rhazgord, proclaimed that war was inevitable.


    Corvus filled his chest with a deep breath and raised his voice as if he commanded the entire universe: "We have learned that enemy forces have infiltrated the city of Bahoz!" As his voice echoed through the camp, all the warriors paid attention. "The enemy is secretly piling logistics into Bahoz! Enemies are in the city even now!"


    The warriors'' eyes widened, their brows furrowed, but none of them moved. The flag in Corvus'' hand did not yet allow them to move. Under the weight of the flag, time seemed to freeze. Corvus stood tall, making the silent call of battle. There was the glint of death and victory in his eyes, a silent but mighty aura emanating from his every breath, as if swearing to fight.


    Meanwhile, Tanar was desperately trying to escape, hoping to save his life. But the soldiers were like a wall of flesh. It was impossible to break through their disciplined ranks. Crawling in sweat, he grew more desperate with every step. The world around him was closing in on him like a closing circle.


    Corvus shouted a final order, raising the flag even higher: "Be here in five minutes, ready and equipped!"


    His words, like an arrow shot into the sky, went straight into the hearts of the warriors. The spirit of Rhazgord was awakened by this command. At that moment the whole camp was set in motion, like a gigantic machine that would be driven into battle. Tanar straightened up and tried to run away, but he felt a huge hand on the back of his neck. The owner of the hand was Kragan.


    "You haven''t finished your meal yet! Where are you going, Tanar!"

 0034 | Horns of War (3)

    Just as Corvus had said, within five minutes, three thousand warriors were equipped and lined up before him in perfect formation. Every one of them was ready for battle, their gaze determined and impatient.


    In Bahoz, none of the enemy knew what was going on in the camp yet, and this silence was Corvus'' greatest advantage. But this advantage could quickly run out. The clock was ticking against Corvus. He wanted to catch his enemies unprepared, but for that he needed a strategy. In particular, he had to take as many prisoners as possible, because there was so much he needed to know about the enemy.


    Corvus ran his eyes over his soldiers. Each one of them was a gigantic war machine, blood glistening on their armor, the scars of previous battles. But it was impossible to completely surround a city as big as Bahoz with so few men. They could control the entrances to the city, but they did not know how many enemies were inside. It was strategically risky to hold the entrances and enter the city and clear it of enemies at the same time.


    The scouts had reported that his uncle Valerius was sending a reinforcement of his best men. But it would be evening before they arrived, and Corvus'' patience could not wait that long. The only reason the scouts had come so quickly was that they had changed horses along the way. But it was uncertain whether the reinforcements would arrive in time, so Corvus had to solve the situation on his own.


    The uncertainty was not only about the number of soldiers. The city of Bahoz was a large settlement, with more than fifty thousand inhabitants, and Tanar''s tribe made up almost half of the city. If Tanar''s tribe had made a deal with the enemies, Corvus would have at least ten thousand armed men against him. To stand up to such a force with three thousand men would be suicide in the truest sense of the word. So Corvus began to formulate various plans in his mind.


    He looked at the flag hanging from the spear in his hand. The sacred battle flag of the Rhazgord. To unfurl this flag was to summon all the warriors of Rhazgord. Every Rhazgordian who saw the flag had to answer the call. The reaction of those from Tanar''s tribe to the flag was uncertain. But certainly if the people of the city saw the flag, a significant number of them would be at Corvus'' disposal. Corvus needed to enter the city to carry this flag to the center of the city and gather friendly forces. But he could not take all his troops with him, because he had to leave someone behind to guard the entrances. If the enemies realized that their plans had been discovered, they could flee and alert their main forces, meaning the battle could be lost before it was won.


    In the midst of this confusion, as Corvus''s mind raced with plans, Kragan came to him with silent steps. His massive body towered like a giant. Kragan''s face was stern and determined. It was as if he had read Corvus'' mind. He waited patiently, one hand on the hilt of his axe, the other outstretched to Corvus.


    "Everyone is ready. Give the order and we will carry it out," Kragan said, no hesitation in his voice. His voice was like a sword cutting through the heavy air over the camp.


    Corvus paused for a moment, looked once more at the flag in his hand. This flag was the most sacred symbol of Rhazgord. For hundreds of years it had heralded victory on the battlefields, cemented Rhazgord''s power. But now it had become a gambling tool for him. He had to enter the city, but that meant risking not only his life, but the lives of all his soldiers. His eyes locked with Kragan''s. It was the look of a friend, a brother. There was no fear in Kragan''s eyes, only loyalty and determination.


    Corvus clenched the spear in his hand. "We must raise the flag in the heart of the city," he said in a low voice. "That''s the only way we can increase our numbers. But you must surround the city. You have to prevent the enemies from escaping. I will enter the city alone."


    Kragan''s eyes suddenly darkened, his lips moved for a moment. "Enter alone? Entering the city when the enemy numbers are unknown means certain death," Kragan muttered, but his voice was not full of worry. He was simply stating the truth.


    Corvus tapped Kragan hard on the shoulder. "We have no choice," he said. "We cannot take the city unless we increase our numbers. We can rally the civilians to our side by raising the flag."


    Hearing this, Belisarius interjected.


    "Will the civilians be a enough force?"


    That was the biggest question on Corvus'' mind too. The people of Rhazgord were a warlike people, but warriors and civilians were not equal in strength. Tanar had at least ten thousand warriors. On top of that, there were enemy forces in the city, although the number was unclear.


    "It won''t be enough, but we must buy time until reinforcements arrive. Word may have gotten out that we captured Tanar. The reinforcements will be spotted before they reach the city. We must move before the enemy is ready."


    Belisarius tensed, for if Corvus and his men were defeated, he would not be able to fulfill his mission and bring the Lightstones home.


    "I think you should retreat. Although you will be at a disadvantage, if the Rhazgord army rallies, you can retake the city."


    ''Retreat''. The word caused Kragan''s brow to furrow. He fixed his furious eyes on Belisarius and advanced on him. He was saying something in anger, but Belisarius did not understand the Rhazgord language and could do nothing but retreat in fear. Until Corvus intervened. He was angry too, but he could control his anger.


    "Sorry, Belisarius, but you are out of line. For us to retreat means dishonor and turning our backs on the gods. It is a word forbidden by both our religion and our traditions."


    Belisarius had learned much about the culture of the Rhazgord, but what he had heard was nonsense. Retreat was a military tactic, practiced to avoid unnecessary deaths of soldiers. But to forbid it was absurd and showed a lack of value for human life.


    "I thought you cared about your soldiers and your people."


    These words brought Corvus to the end of his patience. Corvus'' red eyes flared and locked on Belisarius.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "I wouldn''t be here if I didn''t care for my people, Belisarius!"


    Belisarius knew that Corvus had taken great risks to come to Bahoz and clear out the bandits, but he felt that Corvus'' words contradicted him. He was about to answer Corvus when Corvus continued.


    "Unlike you, Belisarius, I grew up on the battlefield! I know what it means to retreat! The reason we will not retreat today is not only because the gods have commanded it! If we retreat, we risk losing the war!"


    "If the Rhazgord army gathers, you can easily counter the combined might of the kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Laxon! There is no need to risk your men and yourself!"


    Corvus took a few steps.


    "Are you the only one who knows this, Belisarius?"


    Belisarius did not quite understand the intent of this question. His eyes turned to Belisarius, searching for an answer.


    "Don''t you think those three little kingdoms know that they couldn''t stand against us even if they got together? Are you the smartest fucking person in the world?"


    This answer struck Belisarius like lightning. He understood what Corvus meant.


    "Someone else. Someone else is involved in this!"


    Corvus was glad that Belisarius had belatedly realized the situation.


    "But who? Why would anyone fight the Rhazgords? If you go, we will lose our only defense against demon attacks..." He had just finished when Belisarius realized something else. "For that... To monopolize the knowledge of where the demons will attack..."


    Belisarius was surprised how he had not realized this before and felt a little ashamed. But he still thought he should retreat.


    "That would increase the danger. If there are bigger forces involved, the danger is greater. You must definitely retreat! As long as Sorbaj city does not fall, the enemy will not achieve its goal."


    Belisarius was right. If the enemy''s goal was to gain the knowledge of where the demons would attack, the city of Sorbaj had to be protected. The longer the war dragged on, the more likely it was that the Rhazgord would win.


    "If we retreat, we leave all Rhazgordians living outside Sorbaj at the mercy of the enemy. On top of that, my father and his army are not here and do not know the situation. When they come back, they could be caught unprepared and defeated by the enemy. In short, if Bahoz falls, even if we win the war, it will be the Rhazgordians who are defeated."


    Belisarius had no more answers. Corvus had no time to listen to Belisarius either.


    "Make sure Belisarius and his men are safe, Kragan." Then he turned to Belisarius and said, "I cannot leave this city to the enemy, Belisarius, even if I die here. Kragan will ensure the safety of you and your men. Go to Sorbaj as soon as the situation worsens."


    This was not Belisarius'' war. If he got involved and it was discovered, there could be political problems. As much as he did not want to leave his friend alone, there was nothing he could do but watch what was happening.


    Corvus turned to his horse. As he walked, he said, "If I die, Kragan, you will be in charge. Even if three thousand of our men die, prevent the enemy from gaining full control of the city until reinforcements arrive."


    Kragan nodded slowly. "Give that order to someone else, Corvus! Because I am coming with you."


    Corvus smiled for a moment. All his worries had vanished in the magic of this moment. Kragan''s loyalty whispered to him that this battle would be won. Corvus adamantly disagreed, despite Kragan''s insistence. His friend''s loyalty, the warrior fire in his soul, was admirable, but Kragan should have left him alone on this mission.


    "No!" Corvus said, his eyes shining with determination. "Someone has to lead these three thousand men. If you don''t make sure that no enemy escapes from the city, all our efforts here will be in vain. We have to surround the city and you are the only one I can trust."


    Kragan''s face was clouded, his lips tightened with rage. Leaving his comrade in arms, his leader, to die felt like a betrayal. His eyes met Corvus'' for a moment, the silence between them a struggle beyond words.


    "No!" Kragan exploded, his voice a muffled echo. "If anyone must die, it must be me. I am a simple soldier, you are the future Sanguinar! I cannot let you die here. Rhazgord needs you. Without you, this war will never be won."


    Corvus agreed with Kragan''s every word. Indeed, he was the only one who could shape the future. His dreams could change not only Rhazgord, but the lives of thousands of people. But this moment was indicative of the heavy burden that rests on the shoulders of a leader. Corvus was a Tiamat; only in the hands of a Tiamat could this sacred banner have meaning. No matter how strong and skilled a warrior he believed Kragan to be, only he could carry the flag and enter the city. If anyone else carried the flag, the trust of Bahoz''s warriors would be shaken, and the sacred symbol would lose its power.


    Corvus looked deeply into Kragan''s eyes. "This is an order, Kragan!" he said, his voice harsh and threatening. "I will go. Remember, this flag is only useful in the hands of a Tiamat. You will stay and lead the men and prevent the enemy from escaping. If I go and I succeed, all of Bahoz will rise up. But not if you hold the flag."


    Kragan knew the truth of Corvus'' words, but he did not want to give in to the feelings in his heart. As Corvus had said, they had to put this plan into action if the Rhazgord were to win the war. In Bahozda, enemy forces were on the prowl and the logistical resources piled up in the city were very dangerous. If the enemies could exploit these resources, they could advance rapidly through Rhazgord territory. This war could not wait to be resolved any other day than today.


    Corvus took one last look at Kragan, seeing the concern and determination in his friend''s face, but said nothing. This had to end here. In silence, he mounted his horse, his body showing the majesty of a strong leader. He raised the battle flag tied to the spear he carried in his hand to the sky, the black cloth stretched with the wind and all the warriors could not take their eyes off him.


    A moment of silence, then Corvus'' voice echoed throughout the camp. "Kragan is in charge until further orders!" His voice was like thunder, heavy and firm. "You will not even let a bird escape from the city! Is that clear!"


    Corvus'' warriors obeyed without a single doubt, seeing the ambition and determination flashing in their leader''s eyes. Although it was unexpected to be under Kragan''s command, the sacred flag in Corvus'' hand and what had happened earlier in the camp had created a loyalty mixed with fear in the hearts of the soldiers. The presence of the flag silenced all objections. It was a warrior''s deepest bond; it was the duty of all who gathered under it to obey without question.


    The roar of "Yes, sir!", raised in one voice, was as powerful as if it were an oath to the gods of war. Three thousand warriors mobilized with discipline and without questioning orders. Following Kragan''s instructions, they left the camp and marched towards the city''s only gateway. Some of them were to spread out to encircle the city completely; the rest were to take up positions in front of the main gate, blocking the passages. They would encircle the city like an iron fist; this pressure would put the city under complete surveillance.


    When the last soldier left the camp, Corvus picked up the bugle the scouts had brought with a spark in his eyes. Corvus slung the trumpet over his shoulder and hung on to his horse''s reins. The wind hit his face, echoing in his heart like a battle cry. He rode at full speed, as if flying towards the city. As the dust clouds rose behind him, there was only one target in his eyes: Bahoz. Entering the city meant untying the knot of destiny. Either he would bring victory or he would sink into darkness with all his hopes.


    At that moment, the whole world was silent. Just Corvus, his horse and the wind... And a flag shining in the darkness.

 0035 | Call of the Flag

    The soldiers at the city gate first saw a cloud of dust approaching in the distance, and then a black flag caught their eyes. The sight of this symbol sent a shiver through them, for the waving of the flag meant that Rhazgord was at war. The realization that Corvus had come as a leader carrying this flag sent a chill through their veins. The soldiers hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do.


    Corvus was approaching the city gates as if racing with the wind. The clouds of dust he left behind, rising up the road with his speed, looked like a storm approaching the entrance to the city. The black flag he raised in his hand waved like thunder, bearing the sacred symbol of Rhazgord, sowing fear and respect in the hearts of the soldiers guarding the city gate. Even though these warriors were from Tanar''s tribe, they were overwhelmed by the magic of Corvus and the flag he held.


    As Corvus approached the gate, he fixed his hawk-like gaze on the two young warriors at the door. His voice boomed like thunder as his horse''s footsteps echoed like heavy blows on the ground:


    "Do you heed the call of this flag!"


    Corvus'' question was clear and brutal. It was clear that he was not waiting for an answer. If the two warriors had answered in the negative, he would have torn them to pieces without blinking an eye. But the excitement in the hearts of the warriors was so overwhelming that they did not even notice the threat Corvus posed. For them, gathering under the banner was both an honor and a sacred duty. They both raised their axes and shouted:


    "To the last drop of our blood!"


    Corvus was pleased by the warriors'' enthusiastic response. Clearly not everyone from Tanar''s tribe was part of the treachery in the city. The two young soldiers in front of him were probably not even aware of the situation. The two young soldiers had made their loyalty clear. Recognizing the determination in their eyes, Corvus took a deep breath and spoke with a serious expression. His voice was as harsh and resonant as a battle bugle:


    "Listen carefully to what I have to say! The enemy is now approaching Bahoz from the north!"


    This news came as a shock to the fighters. There had been no word from the scouts on the border and they did not expect an attack any time soon. But the flag in Corvus'' hand looked just like the stories they had heard, and Corvus could not be lying. As the warriors were caught up in the excitement of battle, Corvus seized the opportunity to give his orders:


    "Not a single man is allowed to leave the city! Gather all the troops in the city to the north side of the city! I will explain the situation to everyone there."


    As soon as the soldiers heard the orders, they scattered left and right like arrows. The city gates closed with a loud bang, and footsteps echoed through the streets, signaling that the alarm had spread. Corvus had deliberately asked the warriors to gather in the north. That way the warriors, most of them loyal to Tanar, would be concentrated on the walls to the north of the city, giving Corvus time to gather the loyal Rhazgordians and a chance to pin down any potential enemies. Meanwhile, Kragan and his three thousand warriors were stationed at strategic points around the city, watching the city to make sure no one escaped.


    As he plunged into the city''s main street, Corvus marched forward, waving his flag in the air. The streets narrowed and narrowed, opening towards the square, the heart of the city. With each step, more soldiers rushed to the false threat to the north, preparing to defend the city. Corvus'' plan was working; the square was almost empty and only the footsteps of civilians echoed through the city streets. They too were arming themselves to fight if necessary. Now he had only one goal: To unfurl the flag in the town square, rally the people around him and recruit everyone to take the city.


    The footsteps of Corvus'' horse echoed across the floor of the square as the dust rose like a shimmering curtain in the sun. It was as if the square could not wait to witness one of the greatest moments in history.


    When Corvus stepped into the city, carrying the black flag, those who saw him followed him as if under a spell, filling the square one by one. As he walked through the streets, the dark but majestic waving of the flag drew the crowds after him. In a few minutes the square was filled with the roar of an enthusiastic and agitated crowd. Everyone was eagerly awaiting orders from this young leader of the Rhazgord.


    When Corvus reached the center of the square, he dismounted and stepped quietly but firmly to the ground. As his gaze scanned the crowd, he slowly raised the trumpet to his lips. When Corvus blew on the trumpet with all his might, every sound in the city suddenly fell silent. It was as if the echo of the trumpet dominated even the streets of the city. Nothing could be heard in the whole city except the sound of the trumpet. This shrill and powerful sound, the harbinger of war, instilled both fear and courage.


    Corvus sounded the bugle three times. This, according to the customs of Rhazgord, signaled an emergency gathering and danger. Every soul in the city heard the call. The crowd surged into the square in a mass wave of thousands. Eyes were on Corvus; breaths awaited the words that would come from the mouth of the banner''s owner.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Corvus thrust the spear bearing the flag into the ground with all his might. The flag danced with the wind, waving like a dark storm behind him. The sight cast a shadow over the crowd in the square, adding to the heaviness of the wait. Corvus looked around with red eyes and spoke in a voice as resolute as the flag behind him:


    "I am Corvus Tiamat, son of the great Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat! I have something to say to you, proud sons of Rhaz! Our country is at war!"


    These words instantly ignited the crowd. The holy war had once again brought them excitement and adrenaline. Several people raised their weapons in the air, shouting war cries. Corvus'' speech created a wave of excitement, just like the people in the city of Sorbaj. But Corvus did not let the enthusiasm get out of control; he raised his voice and continued:


    "But I have not brought you good news! The enemy is here! In Bahoz! Tanar sat and watched while the enemy infiltrated Bahoz! He is accused of betrayal and that is why he is under arrest and will remain so until the truth is known!"


    These words shocked the square. Some in the crowd, some from Tanar''s tribe, began to grumble in annoyance. Some murmured, others looked around nervously. Tension poisoned the air. Corvus noticed that people were getting restless. His brow furrowed, he turned to the crowd with a threatening look. His voice was sharp as a dagger:


    "One way or another, the Black Flag has been given to me! All who see it must come under it, which means they must obey my orders! This is the ancient law of the Rhazgord and anyone who disobeys will be punished by the Tiamats!"


    His voice grew in volume, echoing off the walls of the city''s buildings. Silence fell in an instant. Even those of Tanar''s tribe stopped grumbling, feeling the weight of this sacred law. Corvus'' eyes traveled over the crowd gathered in the square, taking in each and every one of them. The determination and leadership in his eyes intimidated everyone in front of him. Then, over the silence that filled the square, he called out once more, this time with a deeper echo:


    "Do you heed the call of this flag?!"


    Corvus'' voice fell like a thunderbolt on the crowd filling the square. His eyes pierced each and every member of the crowd, his gaze sharp as a sword, waiting for a response. The sudden silence was almost suffocating. This was not a warning, but a moment of decision. All the people of Bahoz looked at the black flag in Corvus'' hand, feeling the weight of Tiamat blood and the shadow of Rhazgord traditions. Everyone knew that if they refused to come under that flag, they would betray not only the Tiamats, but the ancient heritage of the Rhazgord. And the price of betrayal could only be paid with blood.


    At first no one moved. Eyes turned to each other, faces tense, hesitant. There were many who didn''t like Tanar or thought he was up to something. But betrayal had never occurred to anyone. Betrayal was almost unheard of in Rhazgord''s history. Whispers rose, but no one dared to take the first step. The growing unrest was a rebellion over Tanar''s arrest, but the flag was there. Corvus was a Tiamat and the country was at war. A young warrior shouted in a shaky voice, ¡°To the last drop of our blood!¡± It was like the first drops of a great river, and the crowd erupted in a wave of shouts. Even members of Tanar''s family reluctantly raised their voices. There was no turning back now; united under the black flag, victory or death awaited them.


    "Everyone! Follow me!" Corvus ordered, his voice still echoing. The huge crowd instinctively followed him. The people of the city moved like an army behind the determined steps of their new leader. Some wielded swords, some spears, most were simply filled with rage and anger. Perhaps they were not professional warriors, but their determination made them dangerous. Corvus'' strategy began to work. If things went wrong, he could hold Tanar''s men for a while with these people in Bahoz, and with reinforcements from Rhazgord he could see his plan through to the end.


    As Corvus swept the crowd behind him like a whirlwind, the soldiers gathered in the north grew suspicious. The echoes of the horn from the heart of the city and the sounds of the roaring populace drew them to the center. Each step seemed like a trap, but the soldiers were unwittingly heading towards Corvus and his new army. On both sides, they were heading towards their own fate.


    But the city was not just Corvus'' theater of war. Shadows stirred in the dark alleys and treacherous plans continued to be hatched. In hidden corners of the city, masked men gathered in panic. Months of labor, deceit and intrigue were for this moment. Every effort, every gold, every plan they had spent to capture Bahoz was now about to crumble to the ground. Corvus'' sudden intervention had upset all their calculations. But all was still not over. Like a dark shadow, the leader of the masked men continued to work his insidious plan.


    "Send the messenger birds! Get the troops waiting at the border here now!" the leader ordered. His voice was dark, cold and cruel. The orders were swiftly carried out and the birds, with small letters tied to their feet, were quickly released into the sky. Even though Corvus had given the strict order, ''Not a bird shall escape from the city! '', the birds soared free and soared towards the horizon. Even if their plans had been thwarted, he could have turned the situation around by calling in their troops. Still, it would take at least six hours for the troops to reach here, and the only way to withstand Corvus'' pressure was to use Tanar''s loyalists and the nearly two thousand soldiers hidden in the city''s inns. A race against time had begun.


    The leader of the masked men moved swiftly across the rooftops like a hunter. He watched the echoes of Corvus'' horn and the movements of the soldiers gathered to the north. In the midst of the chaos, he was looking for an opening for himself. A cruel and treacherous idea swirled in his mind. If he made the right move, he could upset Corvus'' plan and get one last chance to capture Bahoz. But it was a big risk. Either the whole city would fall into Corvus'' hands, or his.

 0036 | The Battle for Bahoz (1)

    As Corvus'' new army filled the streets, their footsteps echoing through the city, they came face to face with soldiers from the north. As the two groups looked at each other, the tension hanging in the air became almost palpable. The black flag in Corvus'' hand drew the attention of all the soldiers. They were the ones who should have been standing behind the flag, but they had been sent north on a false alarm. Their faces were a mixture of surprise and anger. Tanar was nowhere to be seen. The man in charge of the city should have been the first to respond to the Black Flag, but he was nowhere to be seen.


    A young man stepped forward, more erect and authoritative than the others. There was both fear and defiance in his eyes. A whisper spread among the soldiers; this young man''s name was Rasur, Tanar''s eldest son. As he stood in front of Corvus, angry voices rose from the crowd.


    "Bastard of traitor!" someone shouted from the crowd. The voices echoed in Rasur''s ears and suddenly his face filled with gloom. But he ignored the insults and spoke, keeping his eyes on Corvus.


    "I am Rasur, son of Tanar Laraz! We have gathered in the north at your call, but I see that you have been busy raising an army! I would like to know why you are doing this, where my father is, and why the people of my city insult me!" he said, his voice hard and defiant. He knew that his father had gone to Corvus'' camp some time ago. He also knew that Tanar was working in secret with masked men. Now, looking at the scene in front of him, he knew things were not going well. He was ready for bad news, but anger and fear were growing inside him. One hand gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, like a lightning bolt ready to strike at any moment, waiting to strike Corvus a few meters in front of him.


    As Corvus lifted his foot to take a step towards him, Rasur suddenly felt a crushing weight on his chest. It was as if gravity had increased dozens of times, pulling his body to the ground. In a moment of confusion, he fell to his knees, trying to understand what had happened. Desperately he raised his head and the sight froze his soul: Corvus'' eyes were glowing blood red. These eyes were the terrifying power that was the ancient symbol of the Tiamats; legends say that a Tiamat''s eyes could look into the souls of her enemies and bring them to their knees. Clearly the legend was true.


    As Corvus'' eyes burned with fire, the pressure Rasur felt inside him became unbearable. It wasn''t just a physical weight; it was like a burden on his soul, on his will. Corvus'' power came from the Lightstones and Tiamat blood he had consumed over the years. The Lightstones had given him not only physical strength, but also strengthened his family''s ability to radiate an aura of dominance around him. At that moment, Rasur thought that Corvus was not a human being, but a demon that had descended to earth. His body trembled with fear and he was afraid to blink.


    Corvus stopped right in front of Rasur. The pressure on the young man increased exponentially as he approached him with silent, shadowy steps. Rasur could hardly breathe anymore. His eyes were glazed, but he still did not let go of his sword. Corvus stood directly in front of Rasur and thrust his spear into the ground. It was as if it had the force to split the earth in two; the earth trembled slightly under the weight of the spear.


    "Your father... chose treason! And he will be judged according to the laws of Rhazgord!" Corvus said, his voice echoing through the crowd with every word. Corvus'' voice exploded like a storm in Rasur''s ears. The young man understood the meaning of these words, but he could not suppress the fear in his heart. At that moment, Rasur''s eyes began to well up with tears, but they were not tears of sadness, but a reflection of the terrible pressure and helplessness inside him.


    Just then, from the back ranks of the crowd gathered behind Corvus came the sound of screaming. Enemy forces that had been hiding in the city for months had used the narrowness of the street to attack the people Corvus had gathered. As Corvus involuntarily turned around to see what had happened, two arrows flew from the crowd behind Corvus and from the side of Rasur''s soldiers. Corvus sensed danger as soon as he heard the sound of the arrows from the bow. The first arrow was aimed directly at him, but the second arrow was aimed at Rasur. Faced with this deadly threat in a matter of seconds, Corvus had only a moment''s hesitation. Saving himself and causing Rasur''s death would involve thousands in a bloody battle. But if he decided to protect Rasur, he would risk his own life. The moment of decision was approaching, time was running fast, but Corvus did not hesitate.


    Without a moment''s thought, he turned around and dodged an arrow aimed at Rasur. He managed to stop the first arrow with his sword, but the second arrow hit him. With a deep pain, he felt the arrow lodge in his back. Corvus'' face showed a flash of pain, but his eyes were too determined to reflect it. At that moment, voices from both groups filled the air like exploding gunpowder.


    "Traitors have attacked Corvus! Attack!" came an angry cry from one side of the crowd. At the same moment, another voice echoed from among Rasur''s men: "First they wrongfully arrested Tanar, then they attacked Rasur! Revenge!" Both sides were on the brink of war, chaos could erupt at any moment.


    But Corvus, in a last ditch effort, found strength in the blood seeping from his wounds and shouted: "The enemy is here and he is trying to turn us against each other! Everyone, hold your swords!" His voice echoed through the crowd like a command in the middle of a storm. With these words, Bahoz was able to stop his people. The people gathered under the Black Flag paused, if only for a moment. But the soldiers on the other side were about to attack, and there was already an attack from unknown enemies in the rear ranks. Corvus'' voice did not stop them. His tired body could take no more and he fell to his knees, but he still tried to stand upright. The arrow hadn''t hit anything vital, so he shouldn''t have been in such bad shape. As he tried to figure out what was wrong, he saw his blood dripping on the floor. The blood had turned black. This meant he had been poisoned.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Rasur felt a deep convulsion when he saw the scene before him. The moment of decision had come. Either he would choose betrayal, like his father Tanar, and fight against the Rhazgord, destroying his own people, or he would follow the call of the Black Flag and stand with the people of Bahoz, in whom he had been born and raised. His eyes fell on the bloodied body of Corvus on his knees. This man, who had seemed like an invincible demon just moments before, now seemed to be succumbing to death. But he was not giving up, he was still trying to stand.


    Just then, something unexpected happened. Corvus quickly drew his two black swords and plunged them into the ground. These swords gave him a foothold to stand on. His weak body stood up as if by force of will. His legs trembled, his wounds leaked blood, but Corvus did not give up. He did not surrender to death. He stood on his guard and turned to face the Bahoz fighters, ready to fight with the last of his strength.


    This scene touched Rasur''s heart deeply. Corvus'' sacrifice was not because he loved Rasur, but so that the Rhazgorites would not be tricked by the enemy and slaughter each other. This determination gave Rasur a strength he could not have imagined. In an instant he stood up and turned to his men. If he hesitated a second longer, he would not be able to stop the two groups from attacking each other. He shouted with all his might:


    "Stop! I will not draw the sword on my own people, no matter what!"


    His voice was so strong that even Rasur was surprised at the echo of his own voice. Even the soldiers, who until that moment had been eager to fight, suddenly paused. After a breath of silence, Rasur shouted again: ¡°To the last drop of our blood! We will obey the call of the Black Flag!¡± and added: ¡±In return, I ask that my father not be executed until the truth of the matter is revealed!¡±


    Corvus was surprised. He thought Rasur would also choose betrayal. But he had no time to be surprised any longer. He nodded his head and approved Rasur''s request. The warriors hesitated a moment longer, but then joined Rasur and took the same oath. The chaos in the crowd was just beginning to give way to calm when, to Rasur''s relief, three black-masked assassins burst out of the crowd. Both were moving towards Corvus with deadly speed. Rasur and Corvus were the first to realize the danger.


    With his last remaining strength, Corvus rebuilt the pressure around him. The leading assassin hesitated for a moment under this pressure and was forced to retreat. But the assassins behind him were not going to stop. Corvus tried to stop the attack by swinging his two black swords in a crescent, but his weak legs could not hold him up. He fell to the ground, but he had created a barrier in the direction he had swung his swords.


    One of the assassins could not avoid Corvus'' swords, but when the other assassin dodged Corvus'' thrust and lunged at Corvus to make the finishing move, Rasur intervened with a swift thrust. The two assassins locked eyes. A silent agreement seemed to have formed between them; they were planning a simultaneous attack. Only then did they realize that they were being quickly surrounded.


    "Protect Corvus!" one of them shouted.


    "Protect Rasur!" came a voice from another group.


    Under the call of the Black Flag and the shadow of betrayal, both sides had finally seen the enemy and decided to act together. Moments of fear and betrayal on the battlefield were now giving way to unity and determination.


    When Bahoz''s warriors and his people formed a wall of steel around Corvus and Rasur, there was no escape for the assassins. As the ferocious energy in the crowd came down like a storm on the assassins, the men in dark masks realized that they could no longer reach Corvus. They had no hope; they had to flee.


    But they did not achieve their goal. In that brief interval, Corvus had used the power of the Lightstone to lessen the effects of the poison. Corvus'' aura was everywhere in an instant. Everyone within twenty feet of Corvus fell to their knees. Those who were not strong enough had already fainted. Rasur was the strongest fighter in Bahoz, but even he could barely breathe. When he barely turned his head to look at Corvus, he was horrified. Corvus'' face was like a lion''s, mad with rage. It was impossible to tell whether Corvus was conscious or not. His eyes were shining in all their majesty and his veins were bulging as if they were about to burst.


    The assassins, their backs to Corvus, were trying to understand what had happened. They had used the Lightstone before and fought people who had empowered themselves with it. But they had never felt what they were feeling now. Even though they couldn''t see Corvus, they could feel his gaze. Their relentless training and instincts told them only one thing: ¡°Run!¡±


    One of the assassins was gathering his strength to flee when he was startled to see something falling in front of him. It was the head of the other assassin standing right next to him. Corvus grabbed the assassin by the scruff of the neck, not even allowing him to be terrified.


    "Just one of you needs to live!"


    That was the last thing the assassin heard before he fainted.


    While this was happening, the two thousand soldiers who had been attacking the people with the assassins suddenly stopped their attack and rushed into the streets of the city. Their first plan had failed. Now it was time for the second plan. They would wage a guerrilla war in the city and keep it in chaos until their main army arrived.


    Corvus took a deep breath. Pain wracked his body and his consciousness was blurred. The arrow wound in his back had taken a heavy toll. However, the gamble had been won. Bahoz''s soldiers had rallied under the Black Flag and spoiled the enemy''s game. This unity, which Corvus had achieved with a last ditch effort, had changed the fate of the battle. Nevertheless, his strength was now exhausted. His eyelids became heavy as lead. With each breath, he seemed to get further away from the world. And finally he closed his eyes. As his consciousness slipped into darkness, the last thing he heard were Rasur''s orders.


    Rasur''s voice brought order to the chaos on the battlefield:


    "Arrest anyone in the city who is not from Rhazgord! Kill those who resist without mercy!"


    The command echoed like a battle trumpet. Bahoz''s warriors mobilized on that order. Each of them spread out through the streets of the city, taking narrow alleys and corners to hunt down the enemy. At Rasur''s command, chaos gave way to disciplined movement. The streets slowly fell into the silence of death, only the echoes of steel armor and heavy footsteps could be heard.


    Meanwhile, the thousand or so soldiers guarding Corvus and Rasur moved swiftly towards the entrance to the city. Tanar''s mansion contained the Lightstone, which could save Corvus'' life. But the biggest challenge on this road was the narrow and dark streets. Enemies could be lurking around every corner, waiting for them. The streets were like a labyrinth; danger lurked at every step.


    Another option was to go back to Corvus'' camp outside the city. This was a safer route because the road to the camp was made up of wide avenues. They could safely carry Corvus back to his camp without having to go through narrow streets. Rasur had chosen this option. They moved towards Corvus'' camp, taking the assassin Corvus had knocked unconscious with them.

 0037 | The Battle for Bahoz (2)

    With some difficulty, Rasur and his men managed to reach the city gates. Along the way, they were attacked, chased like shadows that hunted them. But Rasur''s soldiers did not hesitate to lay down their lives for Corvus and their leader, showing their loyalty with every drop of blood. When the gates opened with a great groan, without a moment''s hesitation they set off for Corvus'' camp.


    They had only been traveling for a few minutes when they saw a group approaching from the opposite direction. Still, they could not afford to slow down; Corvus'' breathing had become ragged and his lifeline was at breaking point. Time was now their enemy. It was only when they took a few more steps forward that they realized who the approaching group was. Corvus'' soldiers, under Kragan''s command, were coming towards them in full force. Rasur and his men first took a deep breath. Then the relief was replaced by a sense of uneasiness mixed with fear: Kragan''s face was dark and menacing, like an approaching storm.


    It was as if Kragan had been stripped of his human form, an embodiment of pure rage. His eyes burned with a red fire, his every step shook the ground. He had long since left his soldiers behind; now he advanced only in his rage, in his vengeance. Corvus'' seemingly lifeless body became a single scene in his mind: betrayal and loss. He panted with a deep growl, clenched his fists and quickened his pace. Every muscle was tense to the point of cracking; it was as if even his body was struggling to bear the weight of his rage.


    There was no trace of humanity in his eyes. He had lost all sense of humanity the moment he saw the body of his friend, wounded or dead. Now Kragan was not a soldier but a roaring storm. "Them!" he thought, referring to Rasur and his soldiers. "Those fucking traitors! Those dogs!" His eyes were on Rasur, as if he could crush him with just his gaze. His hands were stiff as the claws of a predator, each finger trembling with a desire for vengeance that eclipsed even his self-hatred for failing to defend Corvus.


    Kragan was no longer a human being, only a killing machine. He had only one goal in mind: To avenge Corvus. There was not a shred of logic in his rage. The soldiers before him reminded him of Corvus'' pain, and he was ready to do whatever it took to destroy that pain. Squinting, he increased his speed. Even with his bare hands he felt as if he could destroy the whole world. Rasur and his men were not just enemies to him; they were dogs to be destroyed.


    The soldiers following Kragan from behind were also on the verge of cracking with rage and despair. Each had a different expression on his face, darkened by the thought of their fallen leader. Some bowed their heads and whispered silent prayers to the gods to receive Corvus into their presence. Others clutched their swords tightly, hissing with rage, vowing vengeance. "We will see fear in the eyes of our enemies." one of them said, as if to console himself. Others moved through the chaos with deadly calm, eager to satisfy the hunger of their swords with the blood of their enemies. Every step they took was motivated by the desire to somehow make amends for what had happened to Corvus.


    Rasur and his soldiers recognized the impending danger and realized that Kragan and his forces were acting on a false assumption. But every cry to tell the truth was lost in the storm. Their voices could not penetrate the wall of Kragan''s rage. Rasur raised his hands and shouted, ¡°Wait! You misunderstand!¡± But for Kragan the words no longer made sense. His eyes were focused only on his anger. Everything was behind a smokescreen; the only reality was the silhouettes in front of him, which he believed to be the enemy.


    Rasur''s soldiers, realizing that it was no longer possible to correct this illusion, took up a defensive position. They gripped their weapons tightly and hid behind their shields, not knowing what to expect. This sight brought Kragan''s anger to its peak. In his eyes, this moment of Rasur and his soldiers preparing against them was proof of their betrayal. They had killed Kragan''s friend, his leader, and now they stood shamelessly before him. A roar erupted from Kragan''s throat, the storm raging inside him. It was not just a battle cry, it was a declaration of death.


    The soldiers behind him seemed to be aflame with their commander''s rage. Swords flashed in the air, each one ready to rush forward to mete out his own justice. And so the first steps of an inevitable clash were taken. With Kragan''s rage ready to erupt like a volcano, the fate of Rasur and his soldiers would be decided in a matter of moments.


    And the moment of impact arrived. Kragan smashed the shields in front of him as if they were toys. He advanced relentlessly, his huge axe cutting down those in his path with every swing. The armor of his enemies was no protection against Kragan''s fury; each blow took another life. When Rasur saw Kragan approaching him step by step, the weight of fear gripped his body. His voice trembled, yet he continued to shout in desperation: ¡°You misunderstand, Kragan! Stop it!¡± But the noise of the battle prevented his cries from reaching Kragan.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Kragan''s eyes were locked on Rasur in the crowd. The corpses around Rasur were the trail of death on the road Kragan had traveled. And finally, Kragan stood before Rasur. But his eyes were focused not on Rasur''s face, but on the motionless body of Corvus, which he carried on his back. A low, threatening voice came out of him, like the growl of an animal: ¡°Put him down.¡±


    Rasur froze in fear and confusion. As he tried to understand what he was saying, Kragan''s voice sounded again, this time deeper and sharper, threatening: "Put him down so that I don''t accidentally damage his body with my axe as I chop you to pieces."


    Kragan''s words froze the blood in Rasur''s veins. He was still holding Corvus'' body on his back, his hands covered in sweat. Meanwhile, the warriors behind Kragan had taken down the ''traitors'' one by one. These warriors were the most elite soldiers of the Rhazgord. They were very different from Bahoz''s soldiers; they were more than simple soldiers, they were true killing machines, who had learned the ins and outs of war since childhood and had survived countless battles. Rasur''s men were being knocked down before they could put up even the slightest resistance.


    The crowd narrowed, everyone''s gaze locked on Kragan and Rasur. Kragan''s huge axe hung just above the motionless Corvus. There seemed to be no force that could stop the movement of this axe. His rage was deadlier than the sharpness of the swords. In the midst of all this rage and chaos, in that moment when everything was on a knife edge, an unexpected miracle happened. Just as Kragan''s axe was about to land on Rasur, every sound, every movement froze. A small, faint growl broke through the chaos. It was a faint sound, full of pain. It was so low and fragile that it seemed impossible to hear in the fiercely echoing battlefield. But the sound echoed in everyone''s ears, as if by magic.


    It came from Corvus. Not a word, not a sentence, just a few meaningless letters, a faint moan mingled together. Yet the weight of that simple sound seemed to pin everyone on the battlefield to the ground. Kragan, preparing to lift his axe off Rasur, suddenly paused. His eyes were fixed, as if against his will, on the motionless body of Corvus. For a moment he gasped, all his anger giving way to deep concern and bewilderment.


    The soldiers behind Kragan stopped as they were about to continue attacking Rasur''s men with a cry for vengeance. A question echoed through everyone: "Did he speak? Is he alive?" It was as if this small voice, coming through the heavy fog of war, had swept away all the hatred and the desire for bloodshed.


    Kragan fell to his knees, close to Corvus'' face. "Corvus..." he whispered, his voice this time carrying more the concern of a friend than the anger of a warrior. That small, meaningless growl shook the whole square to its roots like a giant plane tree. Now the battle was over, because that voice had made everyone remember a common truth: Corvus was still alive.


    Rasur had felt the cold breath of death on his neck many times that day. He was a brave warrior, his sword sharp, his reflexes quick, but he had always lived a life of plenty and security, far from the real face of war. Now, for the first time in his life, the sight before his eyes shook him to the core. He looked at the lifeless bodies lying on the ground; these were hundreds of men he had known since childhood. Many of them were his family, the rest were his friends... But fear and the regret growing inside him prevented Rasur from grieving these losses, from demanding justice for the dead, or even looking up at Kragan.


    Unable to take his eyes off the corpses for even a moment, his body began to tremble. He fell to his knees, his hands involuntarily touching his trembling chin. His father''s actions, the wrong decisions and the consequences of this war swirled in his mind like a vortex. For a moment he forgot to breathe, it was as if the world had fallen into a gray silence for him. And just then, a slap shattered this grayness.


    The slap was hard, but not in anger, but with the intention of bringing Rasur to his senses. Franz was the one who slapped him. As Franz''s slap echoed on Rasur''s face, her voice spoke with the same harshness: "Wake the fuck up! This is no time to fall apart!" The slap echoed in Rasur''s mind, bringing to the surface like a flood all the truths he had recently repressed. Franz''s intervention had worked. Rasur was slowly returning to the reality around him.


    When Rasur regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that the weight on his back was no longer there. For a moment he tried to understand what had happened. While he was immersed in the depths of fear, Kragan had already picked up Corvus and was on his way to the camp. The giant man held Corvus in his hands as if he were carrying a treasure, each step dutifully. Unlike Rasur, Franz and the other warriors had already calmed down and moved quickly to find out what was going on in the city and what had happened to Corvus.


    As Rasur stood frozen in place, facing his own helplessness, he was once again confronted with the horrors of that day. He was no longer just trying to survive in the midst of war, but also questioning what the future would hold and how he would face the consequences of his father''s decisions.


    Under the weight of fear and guilt, Rasur tried to avoid Franz''s gaze. Franz crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Rasur with an almost piercing gaze. "We already know why Corvus is like this," Franz said, his voice cold and sharp. Rasur was still in shock when his men told her what had happened.


    "But there are still things we don''t know about your father''s betrayal. It would be good for you to start explaining everything now!"

 0038 | The Battle for Bahoz (3)

    When Corvus arrived at the camp, the medics wasted no time. They immediately placed him in the best equipped tent. Every corner of the tent was prepared for treatment and equipped with all the supplies the medics would need. But Corvus'' condition was more than an ordinary injury. The seriousness on the medics'' faces as they cleaned Corvus'' wounds said it all. Each of them knew how important it was to save their leader''s life.


    Medicines and antidotes made using lightstone were central to the treatment process. Lightstones were unique in reducing the effects of both physical wounds and poisoning. Medics carefully ground the stones and mixed their essence into medicines. One by one, the paste applied to the wounds began to take effect. Corvus'' body showed a strong predisposition to these substances; it was as if the Lightstone was recognized and embraced by his body. This predisposition was like a miracle that accelerated the healing process. But there was a major obstacle in this process: Corvus was unconscious.


    Had Corvus'' consciousness been open, he would have been able to channel the energy of the Lightstones at will and accelerate the healing process in an incredible way. This ability of his was unique even among all the ''blessed ones ''. But at the moment, Corvus'' body was content with passively absorbing this power. Therefore, for the medics, time had become an enemy. It was impossible to say for sure when Corvus would wake up. Maybe in a few hours he would open his eyes and be back on the battlefield, maybe he would remain in this unconscious state for days, even weeks.


    In the meantime, all the Lightstones from Corvus'' camp were gathered in a tent. Even the stones that had been given to Belisarius were taken back to help the process. The medics who dressed Corvus'' wounds hoped that the presence of these stones together would increase the spread of energy. The air inside the tent was filled with an intense energy; the radiating glow of the stones turned it into a garden of stars. The medics had carefully placed each stone, creating a healing field around Corvus.


    At the edge of Corvus'' bed, the quiet but frantic work of those who were trying to heal him continued. Everyone was waiting for their leader to wake up soon, praying with devotion and gratitude. Outside the tent, the soldiers waited in silence for the outcome of this healing process. Each of them knew that the moment Corvus opened his eyes would be a new hope in the war.


    While the camp was quiet with the warriors who had stayed behind to protect Corvus, another struggle was going on in the narrow streets of the city. The city was still in the grip of chaos and war. Some of the warriors who had mobilized on Corvus'' earlier orders were once again holding strategic points to prevent the enemy from fleeing the city. But the most dangerous task had fallen to Kragan and the fifty elite fighters he had taken with him. The enemy was waging guerrilla warfare in the city, using narrow alleys and secret passages to hold out. Kragan had to end this war.


    Rasur had to stand by Kragan''s side. Not only was he the one who could provide information about the enemy forces in the city, he was also the leader of the soldiers in the city in his father''s absence. Kragan learned everything from Rasur and his surviving men, but he could not shake the suspicion that he was an untrustworthy figure. Rasur''s father was a traitor, and this betrayal had nearly cost Corvus his life. Worse, Rasur knew of his father''s plans but did nothing - or, as he put it, could do nothing - to prevent them. For Kragan, this was an unforgivable weakness.


    Misunderstandings and the chaos of war had wiped out most of Rasur''s men. Kragan and his warriors had killed more than half of Rasur''s best men. In Rasur''s eyes, this was both a loss and a shame. Kragan did not seem to mind his plight; in his mind Rasur was still a man living in his father''s shadow.


    As they walked through the city streets, Kragan kept glancing at Rasur. The young man was silent, his face showed no emotion, no determination. He obediently followed Kragan''s orders, but there was no commitment or spirit behind this obedience. Whatever Kragan asked, Rasur answered in short, dry words. "They can pass through here," or "We can look that way." His words lacked the will of a leader or a warrior. Rasur''s mood deepened the suspicion in Kragan.


    As the city of Bahoz struggled to completely destroy the enemy forces, the narrow streets and complexity of the city worked in the enemy''s favor. The enemy forces were a small force compared to Bahoz''s local army, but dangerous and insidious nonetheless. Spurred on by Corvus'' call to arm the population, local forces were searching for the enemy in every corner of the city. But the enemies carefully avoided major confrontations, forcing the defenses with hit-and-run tactics at every opportunity. The rapid arming of the population as part of the city''s contingency plans was a great strength, but it also led to a lack of organization and casualties.


    The strategy of the enemy forces was clear: create chaos inside the city and buy time. This chaos could create an opportunity for reinforcements to arrive. Bahoz''s defense units were therefore in a race against time. They had to take complete control of the city before the enemies could receive any outside help. Every minute was critical and could determine the outcome of the battle.


    As fighting raged in the streets of the city, Kragan turned his attention to a more strategic objective. The city had turned into a logistics depot for the enemy. Inns, warehouses and stores were filled with military supplies, the result of months of preparation by the enemy. Kragan was determined to eliminate the risk of these supplies falling into enemy hands. He wanted to make sure that even if the city fell, the enemy would not be able to take advantage of this logistical support.


    He gave a strict order to the warriors with him: All inns, warehouses belonging to foreign merchants and the back rooms of shops were to be evacuated and their supplies gathered in one place. "In the worst case scenario," Kragan said, his voice resolute and cold, "All logistics will be completely destroyed. Not even a single drop will be left for the enemy."


    The warriors quickly mobilized. All logistics points in the city were systematically evacuated, and every place was carefully searched. Weapons, food and other military supplies were moved from inside inns and warehouses, all the while keeping alert in case the enemy attacked again. Although merchants who had nothing to do with the enemy objected for fear of losing their goods, Kragan''s orders were unquestionable. His sharp gaze silenced any resistance before it even began.


    While the local forces moved the logistics to safety, Kragan moved on to his next target. His next target was the ''Black Masks''. Rasur did not know who they were. All he knew was that it was these men who had offered to betray his father. He had only seen them once. He said that his father sometimes went alone to the streets south of the city and presumably met these ''Black Masks''.


    Although there was no detailed information, it was enough to spur Kragan into action. They formed a small team and dived into the narrow streets north of the city. The warriors with Kragan were a group of men distinguished by their experience and skill. Each of them was older than Kragan and had spent years on the battlefield. These warriors had been carefully trained by the Tiamat Family and then fought countless battles under the command of Valerius, Corvus'' uncle. While they were not the best warriors of the Rhazgords, there were few in the country who could rival them. Each of them had mastered the arts of war, were disciplined, able to move swiftly through narrow streets, and were empowered with the Lightstone.


    Kragan took only 12 warriors with him on this mission. He knew that his enemies resorted to hit-and-run tactics and anticipated the disadvantages of moving with a large group through narrow streets. A large unit would be less mobile and an easy target for the enemy. But the 12 men Kragan had chosen, with their speed and lethal skills, were ready to be the enemy''s nightmare in the narrow streets.


    Rasur stayed behind in this operation, taking on the task of leading the city''s general troops. After all, he was the son of the city''s former leader and the leader of the local army. Of course, his every move was watched by Corvus'' loyal soldiers. But no matter what, someone had to be in charge of the local forces to control the chaos in the city and block the enemy''s escape routes.


    Kragan and his warriors moved carefully through the dark streets of the city. They opened the doors of every suspicious house and store, and searched them thoroughly. But no matter how hard they tried, they could not find even the slightest trace of their enemies. Their targets, the Black Masks, moved like shadows, invisible, but making their presence felt at every moment. Kragan was getting more and more nervous by the minute, his patience was wearing thin. The sounds of fighting in the vicinity reminded him of the battle raging in other corners of the city, but even these sounds did not give away the location of the enemies they were pursuing.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Kragan stopped and listened to his surroundings. The air was heavy and silent, only distant screams and the clash of swords could be heard. "It is as if they are running away from us" he muttered. He knew that the enemy had realized their strength and was avoiding a direct confrontation. But this thought also gave him a kind of advantage. The fact that the enemy had to hide revealed their fear.


    Just when all hope seemed to be lost, a sound broke the silence: the whizz of an arrow. Kragan saw the warrior next to him stagger with a sudden groan. An arrow had lodged in the warrior''s arm and fresh blood was seeping through his armor. Kragan''s eyes immediately moved, but before he realized what had happened, several more arrows rained down on them. He and the group quickly took cover in the surrounding alleys and corners of houses. Even with cover, most of them were wounded. Everyone was on alert, eyes focused intently in the direction from which the arrows were coming.


    Finally, the expected enemy appeared. Five black masked men jumped down from the darkness of the rooftops like silent shadows. It was not clear who they were behind their masks, but the agility and determination of their movements made it clear that they were no ordinary soldiers. Each of them stood confident and deadly.


    As soon as Kragan drew his axe and assumed a fighting stance, the Black Masks moved in. The five enemies attacked in silent but deadly coordination. The first move was so swift that one of Kragan''s warriors fell to the ground with a sword thrust before he realized what had happened. The masked men took advantage of the narrow streets and the surrounding shadows to pick off targets one by one.


    The warriors on Kragan''s side struggled against the enemy''s superior mobility. One warrior, just as he raised his shield to counterattack, was struck in the back by an arrow fired from the roof by a second Black Mask. The man staggered for a moment, then collapsed to his knees.


    Kragan, roaring with rage, took aim at this enemy. "Die!" he shouted, swinging his axe and severing the enemy''s arm. The Black Mask was forced to retreat with a groan, but it cost him dearly; another warrior took the opportunity Kragan had created to strike the enemy down with a single blow. The first Black Mask was dead.


    But the enemy still had the advantage of position. One of the masked men plunged a deadly knife into the stomach of another warrior. The wounded man, in a last ditch effort, aimed for his enemy''s abdomen and managed to thrust his sword through. Both men collapsed in a pool of blood. The battle was becoming increasingly bloody and chaotic.


    Kragan heard the scream of another warrior right next to him. He turned to see a Black Mask piercing his man through the chest with his sword. Furious, he lunged forward and charged at the enemy. His axe sliced through the mask and face of the masked man in a single blow, knocking the enemy to the ground. Kragan''s actions emboldened the other warriors on the battlefield, but even this was not enough to slow the pace of casualties.


    The two remaining Black Masks continued to surround the group with quick and agile movements. The difficulty of fighting in the narrow streets slowed the reaction of Kragan''s men. One Black Mask lunged at Kragan to distract him, but Kragan realized it was a trap and strengthened his defenses. A warrior at his side took advantage of the enemy''s move to strike with his sword and decapitate him. This was the third casualty of the enemy force.


    But this victory did not last long. The last two remaining enemies knocked out two more warriors each. By the end of the battle, Kragan had only seven men left with him, feeling the weight of losing five. Kragan looked down at the motionless body of the last enemy, the one he had dealt the final blow to. His eyes fixed on the dead body, still hiding the face behind the mask. "May the gods accept you..." he murmured. He could do nothing but pray for the dead.


    The two remaining Black Masks realized that they had suffered far more casualties in the battle than they had expected. They glanced at each other briefly, then, at a signal, began to retreat. Moving quickly and silently, they disappeared into the narrow streets, as if they were part of the shadows. Kragan gritted his teeth as he watched the enemy''s sudden retreat. The bodies of his comrades were left behind; it was like a weight around his neck. But the anger and sense of responsibility inside him reminded him that he had no choice. He had to follow the enemy.


    "You know I will not leave the bodies of our comrades here," he said to his remaining fighters, his eyes shifting briefly to the bodies of his dead friends. "But now we have to stop the enemy. If we don''t pursue them now, everything will be in vain."


    His four remaining warriors nodded silently. They were all shaken by the loss of their friends. They immediately set off in pursuit of the enemy. The streets were like a labyrinth, the Black Masks using the city''s complex structure as a weapon. But Kragan''s eyes were sharp and alert. He was able to pick up the enemy''s tracks from the small clues they left in their haste. A drop of blood in one place, a footprint hastily buried in the mud in another, pointed them in the right direction.


    They followed the tracks for what seemed like hours. The streets grew darker and darker, the sounds of the surrounding fighting faded. They were now sure they had entered a more secluded and hidden part of the city. Finally, a dark opening appeared before them. The alley opened into a large courtyard, and directly in front of them stood more than twenty men in Black Masks. Kragan and his warriors took cover at the entrance to the courtyard and began to observe this dangerous group.


    Half of the men had bags on their backs, as if they were carrying a heavy load. The rest were carefully watching the perimeter, protecting the others. The group gathered around a heavy iron gate. Those with bags took turns going out, hurrying as if they were trying to smuggle something valuable inside. It was dark behind the door, but Kragan was sure that this was the main headquarters of the Black Masks.


    After seeing the enemy headquarters, Kragan made a quick decision. Turning to the warriors with him, he spoke in a low but clear voice: "We must report the location of the enemy headquarters." He turned his eyes to one of the fastest and toughest looking fighters in the squad. "You will go back. Leave immediately and report the location of the headquarters to Rasur."


    The warrior did not hesitate, but the determination on his face was clearly accompanied by fear. "Yes, sir." he said, and quickly made his way back. Just then, however, one of the Black Masks noticed movement within the group. A loud whistling sound cut through the air; like an alarm, it galvanized the other Black Masks into action.


    "Enemy!" one of the Black Masks shouted in Adler, and immediately launched his arrow, aiming for the warrior Kragan had sent. The arrow struck the target quickly, but Kragan moved like lightning, raising his shield to deflect the arrow. "Protect him!" he shouted, and together with the warriors beside him, they took cover against the hail of arrows and threw themselves forward to secure the escape route for their friends.


    Kragan kept his eyes on the Black Masks fleeing from the headquarters. Carrying packs on their backs, the enemies and their leader gave a few orders and quickly fled. But the 15 Black Masks who remained behind had moved to secure the escape. Kragan studied his warriors for a moment. There was determination in the eyes of his seven comrades, but the numbers and agility of the enemy were too great to ignore. Clutching the shield in his left hand, he raised the giant axe in his right. "Not a step back from this spot until we are dead!" he roared.


    The Black Masks attacked with silent but deadly agility. The first move was aimed at the warrior just to Kragan''s left. But Kragan swiftly swung his axe and parried an attacker''s sword, then with one powerful thrust, slashed a deep gash across the enemy''s chest. The Black Mask fell to the ground bleeding, while the others continued the attack.


    Kragan targeted every enemy in his path with his heavy axe. With each blow, his axe made an echoing sound of bones crunching and enemy armor shattering. "That''s it?" he shouted, twirling his axe in the air with one hand and aiming it at another Black Mask. But the enemies were not only strong, they were cunning. While one pretended to be distracted, the other three tried to sneak up behind Kragan.


    With a swift turn, Kragan recognized the movement of the attackers behind him. He quickly raised his shield to block the first attack, then swung his axe in a wide arc. The blow struck two Black Masks at once, one of whom fell to the ground with a fatal wound to the neck, the other with a cut to the abdomen before he could escape. But this victory came at a heavy price for Kragan. Two of his comrades who had fought beside him had collapsed after being attacked by other enemies.


    Despite these losses, Kragan remained standing. His breathing was getting heavier, he was beginning to feel his wounds and fatigue, but that was no reason to stop him. "Fucking bastards!" he shouted, gripping his axe with both hands and charging forward. He landed a single powerful blow towards the group of enemies in front of him. His axe sliced the Black Mask in half from the head down, unable to dodge. But in the meantime, another enemy took advantage of Kragan''s attention and plunged his dagger into Kragan''s stomach.


    Kragan fell to his knees with a groan, but did not fall to the ground. His eyes were locked on his enemies. He raised his axe once more and struck down another enemy in front of him. But these were the last moments of his strength. The blood flowing from his wounds was rapidly weakening him. He could hear his comrades screaming and falling to the ground, but he no longer had the strength to raise his arms.


    Finally, Kragan leaned on his axe, exhaling heavily, and saw the enemies lighting fires around the iron gate. The Black Masks were destroying their headquarters. As the flames rose into the sky, Kragan collapsed. Beside him lay the lifeless bodies of his seven comrades. When the courtyard fell silent, all that remained of the Black Masks was smoke rising in the darkness. As Kragan''s consciousness faded into total darkness, Corvus, lying in his tent, opened his eyes

 0039 | The Battle for Bahoz (4)

    As soon as Corvus opened his eyes, he made a sudden movement to sit up, but the medics quickly intervened, forcing him to stay in bed. "Please remain seated, sir," one of them said in a soft but firm voice. "Your condition is still critical.The poison in your blood has not been fully neutralised. Speeding up your heartbeat could worsen your condition."


    Corvus was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of the tent. His mind drifted back to the moment he had been wounded. He clearly remembered the moment when the poisoned arrow pierced his back. Although he managed to overcome his enemies at that moment, the impact of the blows he received increased with each passing second, and he finally lost consciousness. The noise around him, the hurried steps of the soldiers carrying him and the efforts of the medics trying to close his wounds remained as faint echoes in his mind.


    Now the weight of his body and the lethargy caused by the poison in his blood were clearly felt. However, he could not maintain this state any longer. The only thing echoing in his mind was the responsibilities awaiting him and the possibility of losing the war.


    "How long have I been asleep?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse and forked. The scars of his wounds and fatigue were evident in every word, but the underlying authority of leadership was still there.


    One of the medics spoke as he carefully replaced the blackened Lightstones with new ones. "Just over four hours, sir." he said. There was tiredness and concern in his voice, but he continued to do his job with care.


    Corvus frowned and took a deep breath as he heard the reply. Four hours... He had to find out what had happened since the moment he lost consciousness. He pushed aside the haze in his mind and concentrated on gathering the energy in his body. His hand reached for one of the lightstones the medics had just placed and he felt the warm power the stones radiated. He was already channelling this energy to heal his wounds.


    "What''s the current situation?" he said, his voice clearer this time, but firm. He knew that every moment was vital and he could not bring himself to stay in bed even a moment longer.


    But the medics could not answer this question. They hadn''t left the tent for a moment in four hours, their full attention focused on Corvus'' condition. They had heard nothing but the screams and distant echoes of the battlefield, let alone what was happening in the city. The oldest medic took a deep breath and, after a brief hesitation, with a movement of his head sent a younger medic out of the tent. The young medic quickly got up and headed towards the entrance of the tent, disappearing from sight as soon as he stepped out.


    After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, two familiar figures emerged from the tent entrance. Corvus'' eyes immediately recognised the intruders: Tharvork and Draknar. These two names held an important place in Corvus'' life. They were the most respected ''Art of War ¡¯ instructors in the Rhazgord army and had trained countless warriors over the years. Corvus was one of them, and as a young warrior, under their guidance, he had become a leader on the battlefield.


    Tharvork walked in front, with Draknar walking heavily behind him. Both looked much fitter than their peers, their broad shoulders, stern gazes and bodies standing tall despite their age, proudly bearing the scars of many battles. However, a careful eye could notice the slight slowing of their movements, their steps not as fluid as before. It was clear that neither of them was as physically strong on the battlefield as they had been, but the might of their experience made their mere presence effective enough.


    Tharvork''s broad shoulders seemed to push the tent to its limits. Draknar was taller and leaner, but the serenity of his presence was a reminder of how dangerous he could still be. Both were more than just mentors to Corvus; the sight of them brought back years of rigorous training and discipline that lingered in his mind even on the battlefield.


    Tharvork bowed his head slightly as he entered the tent and greeted Corvus. Most of his hair had greyed and the fine lines of his face were more pronounced, but the sharp gleam in his eyes was unchanged. "Sir, ¡¯ he said in a deep, full voice, a solemnity filling the air in the room. Draknar, standing behind him, was a little quieter, but the stern expression on his face told Corvus that he too would soon begin to speak.


    Corvus leaned his back against the back of the bed as if relieved to feel their presence. These two men were not only his counsellors, but also his mentors, standing by him at the most critical moments of his life. No matter how wounded or exhausted he was, seeing them somehow reassured him. Tharvork and Draknar had been with Corvus from the day he formed his unit, supporting him and providing strategic advice. They had stood by Corvus at every meeting he had held since his arrival in Bahoz.


    "How are your wounds?" Draknar asked. His voice was as calm as ever, but the depth of his eyes betrayed the concern he was harbouring. Corvus sat up in bed rather than answer the question directly. Ignoring the medics'' objections and attempts to stop him, he reached for the bandages on his back. When he found the knot with his finger and pulled, the thick cloth slowly unravelled, revealing the wound beneath.


    The deep cut appeared to be completely closed; the skin was almost unscathed as it healed rapidly with the Lightstone''s energy. But when Corvus touched the wound, he immediately realised that the poison in his body was still active. The poison was much more than a simple toxin. It seemed to have been specially designed against a body that could use Lightstone energy; it slowed the natural flow of energy and prevented Corvus from using his full power to its fullest. The poison had subsided, but it still lingered deep within his body.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "I can move," Corvus finally said, throwing the bandages aside. The wound was seemingly closed, but a battle still raged inside him. His voice said that he was ready for duty, no matter what the situation. He turned his eyes to Tharvork and Draknar. There was an unusual tension in their faces, which further fuelled Corvus'' curiosity.


    "What is the news?" he asked, his gaze piercing them questioningly.


    Tharvork took a step forward, a dark expression on his face. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes focused on a distant point. "We control most of the city," he said, the sharp tone in his voice making it clear that the news was only partially good. "We also control the surrounding area. No enemy can leave the city." But after these seemingly positive words, Tharvork fell silent. His sentence hung in the air and he stared silently at the ground.


    Corvus was annoyed that Tharvork did not finish his words. He waited patiently for a moment, but when he realised he would say no more, he turned his eyes to Draknar.


    When Draknar saw Tharvork''s pause, he spoke. "Kragan and a few warriors have gone scouting for the enemy''s headquarters." he said, his voice low but firm. Corvus could tell from Draknar''s tone that something was wrong, but it was what Draknar added that really set him off.


    "But we haven''t heard anything from him in three hours."


    Corvus frowned, the atmosphere in the tent growing heavier. He knew Kragan''s abilities; it was rare for someone like him to go that long without news. This only added to the seriousness of the situation.


    Corvus had already realised that he was not in the city. Therefore, it was normal that the information about what was happening in the city reached the camp a little late. But three hours of silence was more worrying than anything he could think of. However, he did not show his worry on his face. As he gathered his thoughts, he began to put on his armour. His movements were swift and decisive, holding the Lightstone tightly in his palm as he carefully placed each piece. Finally, as he placed the last piece of armour on his shoulder, he asked in a sharp tone: "Has the search party been dispatched?"


    Draknar took a step forward, his eyes gauging Corvus'' resolve. "Yes, sir," he replied. "But the inner city is difficult to move through. The streets are narrow and dark, and enemies are waiting around every corner. Our fighters are taking great risks to advance. That''s why we still have no concrete information. The enemies on the outer parts of the city are almost completely wiped out. As soon as the outside is completely cleared, we will go deeper into the city with all our might. But until then, we can do nothing but wait."


    Corvus listened to Draknar''s words with a slight frown. It was understandable, given the labyrinthine nature of the streets and the strategic cunning of his enemies. But three hours without word from experienced warriors like Kragan and his companions meant that things had become more complicated.


    He knew the power of the Black Masks all too well. These enemies had lethal abilities that could easily overwhelm even trained warriors. But by the same token, he had complete confidence in Kragan and the elite warriors he had taken with him. Still, he could not afford to remain inactive any longer. He double-checked the straps of his armour and secured them, then placed the Lightstone firmly in his belt.


    "Let''s gather the men from the camp and go for reinforcements." he said, his voice stern and commanding. His eyes were fixed on the entrance to the tent. "We also need to review the city''s defences. We must act quickly."


    With these words, he headed for the exit of the tent. When the heavy flap of the tent was opened, he encountered the dark night. The smoke rising from the city whispered that the war was still going on. The camp had fallen into a strange silence. Everyone was holding their breath, watching the movements of their leaders. Corvus'' elite guards stood silent vigil outside the tent, hands on their weapons, eyes scanning the surroundings. The silence made Corvus feel the weight of his responsibility all the more heavy.


    Just then, Belisarius approached Corvus with quick steps. From a distance, the sight of him walking firmly on two legs eased some of the worry on his friend''s face. As he approached, however, he could not tear his gaze away from Corvus; he scrutinised him carefully from head to toe to see if he was truly recovered.


    "I''m glad to see you are well!" he said, his voice excited but concerned. His hand was lightly touching the hilt of his sword, a sign of the tense waiting of the last hours.


    Corvus nodded with a slight smile as he heard Belisarius'' words. "The war is not over yet," he said, his eyes shining with determination. Then he added in a low voice, "I do not intend to die before the war is over."


    After these words, his face slightly sulked. He put his hand embarrassedly to the back of his neck; it had occurred to him that the Lightstones used to heal him belonged to Belisarius. He felt uncomfortable about being a burden to his friend. He glanced at Belisarius out of the corner of his eye and was about to apologise and say that he would repay his debt as soon as the war was over, when he was distracted by the sound of hoofbeats outside the camp.


    A horseman was approaching the centre of the camp in a rush of dust. This soldier did not have the gloom on his face of someone bearing news of fear or disaster, but he was clearly in a hurry.


    The rider quickly pulled the reins and jumped to the ground. After a moment''s instability, he straightened up and ran, panting, straight to Corvus. "Sir!" he called, stopping a few paces in front of Corvus and saluting. His agitation was evident on his face, but his expression was full of hope, rather than the dullness of someone bearing bad news.


    Corvus raised one eyebrow and studied the horseman. Apparently the soldier had come with important news. "What is it? ¡¯ he asked, his tone sharp and authoritative. He had no intention of waiting for the rider to catch his breath.


    ¡®The Iskats..." the horseman breathed, trying to catch his breath. "The Iskat cavalry has arrived, sir!" he finally said. The happiness and hope in his voice instantly changed the heavy atmosphere over the camp. Corvus'' expression, however, never changed. The shadow in his eyes showed that he was judging the situation differently.


    Belisarius did not understand the soldier''s words, but with the help of a few words he had learnt in Rhazgord language, he realised that someone was coming. But he had no idea whether they were friend or enemy. His eyes focussed on Corvus'' face, trying to understand the situation. Curiosity and anxiety dominating his voice, he asked:


    "Who is coming, Corvus? Friend or enemy?"


    Corvus was silent for a moment. His eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the horizon, as if weighing the news within himself. Then he replied in a tone almost like a whisper:


    "Neither of them. My fianc¨¦ is coming..."

 0040 | The Battle for Bahoz (5)

    Rhazgord was known as the home of many great families, or more accurately, many ''tribes''. But it was impossible to imagine a place where these tribes lived together in peace. Apart from Sorbaj, there were no towns or villages in Rhazgord where tribes lived together. There were two main reasons for this.


    The first reason was that each tribe had its own culture. These cultural differences were so pronounced that the tribes seemed to be from different nations. Their customs, rituals and ways of life were completely different. This created a distance between the tribes and made it difficult to live together.


    The second reason was closely related to the first: Behind all their differences lay a common trait: their warlike nature. Every tribe of the Rhazgord recognized that the most basic necessity for survival was strength. Being strong was the only way to survive and gain honor. This warrior spirit triggered constant rivalry and strife between the tribes.


    All of this fed the hatred between the tribes. Many of the tribes disliked and even openly hated each other. Culture clashes, misunderstandings and past scores further weakened the bonds between them.


    Despite all this, there had never been a major war between the tribes since the kingdom of Rhazgord was founded. There have been disagreements, duels and minor skirmishes, of course, but such tensions have never grown to the point of threatening the unity of the kingdom.


    The main reason for this was Rhazgord''s unique system of governance. Rhazgord functioned essentially as a Tribal Federation. The members of the Federation, the tribes, had a say in proportion to their power. Power was measured not only by the number of soldiers, but also by the individual strength of the leaders, the history of the tribes and their economic influence. The most powerful tribe among all the tribes was held responsible for maintaining order in the country. The reward for this great responsibility was the title of king of the country and the highest ranking commander of the united federation army.


    Being king and having the most influence over the army sounded very attractive, but the title came with an enormous burden. If there was a conflict between two tribes, it was the responsibility of the leading tribe to resolve it. If the conflict could not be resolved through duels or negotiations between the tribal leaders, the leading tribe would have to arbitrate. However, these decisions were not always guaranteed to be accepted. If a tribe challenged the decision or refused to accept the punishment, this meant outright war.


    In this case, the leading tribe had to confront the rebelling party directly. Since the tribe in the leadership position was the most powerful in the country, it was usually able to put down such rebellions. But this success always came at a price. Wars could lead to a loss of resources, a shortage of warriors and a loss of trust in the leadership by other tribes. In Rhazgord, one truth was never forgotten: The strong could only remain leader as long as they could maintain that power. Every battle meant a new test for the leading tribe to maintain its strength.


    The reason why the Tiamats had been leaders for so long was not only their physical superiority, but also their ability to strike a diplomatic balance. For it was as much about winning their loyalty and preserving the integrity of the federation as it was about combating the hostility of other tribes. Thanks to this complex structure, the Rhazgord were able to strike a delicate balance within a system that appeared barbaric from the outside.


    Although the Iskats were not settled in the city of Sorbaj, they were known as one of the most powerful tribes in Rhazgord. They were also the Tiamat''s most loyal and closest allies. Adopting a nomadic lifestyle, the Iskat were constantly on the move, traveling across the vast steppes of Rhazgord. This nomadic lifestyle, however, transformed them from an ordinary community into one of the most strategic elements of the Rhazgord Army.


    The Iskat usually came to Sorbaj only to receive the title of Sharazir. During their short stay in the city, they participated in duels, met with army leaders to report back and then set off again. This mobility represented a pattern that suited both the nature of their tribe and their warrior character.


    They learned to ride horses from an early age, and riding across the vast steppes of the Rhazgord was a way of life for Iskat children. These skills not only made them strong and agile warriors, but also positioned them as the most reliable cavalry unit in the Rhazgord.


    The relationship between the Tiamates and the Iskat was built on the unique abilities of these two powerful clans. The Tiamats produced the most disciplined and strongest infantry in Rhazgord, while the Iskat produced the finest cavalry in the land. Together, these two tribes were an irresistible force, both diplomatically and militarily. For the rivals of both families, this alliance was always a daunting reality.


    This close relationship was strengthened not only by common interests, but also by ties forged through marriage. The alliance between the two tribes was preserved through generations of marriages, and this tradition continues with new generations.


    The young girl leading the two thousand cavalry that had just entered Corvus'' camp represented a new link in these relationships. The young woman, Corvus'' fianc¨¦e, was named Ilyada, and she was in a position to influence the fate of both her tribe and the Tiamates. She was a year older than Corvus and just as skilled a warrior. Her beauty was almost beyond human. She had night-black hair. It was tied tightly and cut short so that it would not bother her when she rode. The combination of long hours on horseback and the sun shining in the steppes gave her a wheat-colored skin. The muscles covered by her skin, though not large, were strengthened by the Lightstone.


    As soon as Belisarius saw this young woman, he thought of the statues of goddesses in his country. The woman standing on a horse in front of him had a body that really resembled statues. At that moment, a lightning bolt flashed through Belisarius'' brain. His puzzled gaze shifted to Corvus, who looked nervous. He involuntarily punched Corvus in the shoulder.


    "You bastard! I was worried you were engaged to an ugly girl! She looks like a goddess."


    Corvus ignored his friend''s joking stem. After a moment of silence, Corvus'' voice was heard. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Take a few steps back, Belisarius."


    As Belisarius tried to comprehend what Corvus was saying, the sound of horseshoes rang in his ears. Interrupting his thoughts and causing him to flinch, the sound was that of a horse passing swiftly by. However, in his confusion, he barely noticed the horse''s passage. When he turned his head and looked behind him, he was even more stunned by the sight. The horse was there, but no one was on it. A riderless horse, wandering alone in the middle of the camp.


    At that moment something else caught Belisarius'' attention: Corvus had drawn his sword. Belisarius turned quickly to his friend and saw the focused expression on his face. Corvus was staring upwards. When Belisarius looked up to where he was looking, everything suddenly made sense.


    Above, there was Ilyada. The rider of the speeding horse that had passed Corvus was, in fact, still in attack position. Ilyada had swung his sword gracefully as he passed Corvus. But in the blink of an eye, Corvus was able to return the attack with a nimble move.


    Corvus'' agility in his wounded state was admirable, but Ilyada''s move was on another level. Realizing that her move hadn''t quite hit its target, the young woman didn''t hesitate for a moment, but leapt from her horse''s saddle, almost floating in mid-air, and attacked Corvus from above.


    The sight sent a brief shockwave. This move, which showed Ilyada''s experience in the steppes and her warrior reflexes, took the breath away from everyone who saw it. Corvus'' eyes were intently following the attack from above, his sword moving like a limb in his hands. This moment between the two warriors was not just a duel of swords, but a unique demonstration of the power represented by the best warriors of the Rhazgord.


    A moment later, Iliad''s sword met Corvus''. Sparks flew from the swords with the force of the clash, the sound of clanging metal echoed through the camp. Ilyada''s hard blow knocked Corvus off balance and brought him to his knees. Corvus had successfully parried the deadly attack, but at a heavy cost. A thin trickle of blood escaped from his lips, his body pushed to its limits by the pain of his wounds.


    Ilyada''s face first showed a look of disgust, which quickly turned to anger. The reason for his disgust was Corvus'' seeming weakness. The Corvus he knew would never kneel in such a situation. This was not the strong and fearless man he knew. But Ilyada soon realized why: Corvus had been wounded. That was the real source of the anger on her face.


    "If you don''t stop, your uncle will have to discipline you, Ilyada!"


    It was a voice like thunder. It filled the quiet atmosphere of the camp in an instant, startling everyone. It was Draknar, who had long ago left the nomadic life to live in Sorbaj and had been a teacher for many years. Ilyada''s uncle, Draknar was an old warrior who had made it his mission to stand by Corvus. He turned his stern gaze on Ilyada and his expression made clear the seriousness of his words.


    Immediately after Draknar''s intervention, several warriors quickly stepped between Corvus and Ilyada. One of the men immediately began to check Corvus'' condition. He bent down and scrutinized the pale face of their leader, who had fallen to his knees. The other warriors stood alert for an attack, their swords gripped tightly.


    Meanwhile, Belisarius watched all this with amazement. Ilyada''s beauty and weird demeanor, Corvus'' state and Draknar''s intervention made things even more complicated.


    "Who did this to my fianc¨¦?" Ilyada asked, her eyes blazing with anger. It was as if her question had reached every corner of the camp on the wind. But no one answered her question. It seemed strange to many around him that Ilyada was now showing concern after having just attacked Corvus. But her anger was completely genuine.


    Ilyada searched for an enemy with his eyes; his every movement resembled a hunter ready to strike. But the enemy was not here. It didn''t take her long to realize that. She had come here because of the situation in Bahoz. Luckily, Ilyada and his soldiers were close to Bahoz, and when they learned of the situation, they had rushed here. Now, it was not difficult to piece together the reason why Corvus had become like this: The enemy in Bahoz.


    Ilyada gave a short whistle. As soon as his horse heard the familiar sound, it pricked up its ears and started to run quickly towards its master. Ilyada also lunged for her horse and in one leap she was in the saddle. She stood tall on the horse''s back, displaying all the splendor of her warrior nature. She had just decided to ride towards Bahoz and slash every enemy in her path with her sword when Corvus'' stern voice stopped her.


    "Stop acting like a lunatic, Ilyada! That is an order!"


    Corvus'' voice echoed through the camp. The authority in his tone was clearly beyond dispute. But instead of quenching Ilyada''s anger, these words turned it in another direction. Now, that anger was directed entirely at Corvus.


    On the back of his horse, with her curved sword in her hand, Ilyada looked even more frightening than she had a moment before. Her eyes blazing with rage, the determination in her stance a challenge to those around her.


    "Last time I checked I was above you on the list, Corvus Tiamat!" she said, her voice sharp and stern. "When did you reach the rank of ordering me around?"


    Despite Corvus'' recent rise, Ilyada was still officially ahead of him. Both were considered among the most skilled warriors of the Rhazgord, but the hierarchy between them was not entirely clear. In the official ranking, Ilyada was two places above Corvus and they were considered equal in rank. Corvus had no authority to give her orders in this situation.


    Corvus did not hesitate for a moment to respond to these words. Calmly but firmly, he pointed to the sacred black flag flying in front of his tent.


    "No, you are still on the list above me," he said. The calmness in his voice pierced the tense atmosphere. "But things are different now. The Black Flag has been given to me. When I tell you to stop, you will stop."


    These words brought complete silence to the campsite. The Black Flag was a symbol representing the highest command authority of the Rhazgord. It ensured absolute authority in the leadership, and its orders carried a certainty that disobedience was unacceptable. Ilyada''s eyes shifted to the flag Corvus was pointing to.


    Ilyada dismounted silently. The frightening presence that had filled the camp with its rage was gone, replaced by a calmer, more thoughtful presence. With slow, controlled steps, she walked in front of Corvus. She still had the determination of a fierce warrior, but as she approached, a subtle redness crept across her face. She noticed that her cheeks were slightly flushed, but she tried to hide it.


    She stopped in front of Corvus, lowered her sword to her side and bowed her head respectfully. Her voice was soft but serious. "I salute the owner of the Black Flag," she said, choosing each word carefully. "And I await your orders with two thousand of my soldiers."


    These words created a deep silence in the camp. It was almost unbelievable to those around her that Ilyada, who had just been seething with rage, could surrender so quickly. The way she restrained her warrior spirit and respected the hierarchy proved how strong willed she was.


    Belisarius, on the other hand, was mesmerized as he watched this young woman standing before him and her emotions changing over and over again in a matter of minutes. Sometimes she was a raging storm, sometimes a loyal soldier, sometimes a fragile human being. This amazed Belisarius.


    He looked at Corvus and sighed involuntarily when he remembered that his friend was engaged to this ''insane'' woman. A wry smile spread across his face as he rolled his eyes, lost in thought. "What a luck." he muttered to himself, trying to digest this strange situation.


    Corvus, on the other hand, took Ilyada''s words with equanimity. The stern expression on his face maintained his authority and represented the power of the Black Flag. But inwardly he shuddered at the fact that he had to marry this woman.

 0041 | The Battle for Bahoz (6)

    Ilyada sat in the center of the tent, her hard gaze fixed on Belisarius. After tapping her hand lightly on the table, she asked, her expression showing no sign of softening: "Who is this little girl and why is she here?"


    She asked the question in such a serious tone that for a moment the warriors in the tent could not tell whether she was joking or not. Ilyada''s demeanor added to the seriousness of her words. The warriors looked at each other in silence, not knowing what to do in this tense atmosphere.


    Belisarius was trying to understand what Ilyada was saying because he could not speak Rhazgord language. Nevertheless, with his eyes he recognized the tension around him. His eyebrows furrowed involuntarily as he sat up slightly, trying to get a clue as to what the situation was. He felt threatened to be pointed out by a ''crazy'' woman in a foreign country.


    "He is a close friend of mine and prince of the Kingdom of Adler," Corvus said, giving Ilyada a stern look. His voice clearly conveyed his authority. "He is here to make deals on behalf of his country. Do not disrespect him, Ilyada."


    But Ilyada did not seem satisfied with Corvus'' explanation. Without taking her eyes off Belisarius, she continued to speak in a mocking tone.


    "And why the fuck is he here? Is the ¡®Great¡¯ Kingdom of Adler going to support us?"


    These words, punctuated by a contemptuous smile, made everyone in the tent tense. Ilyada''s harshness had suddenly made the atmosphere even heavier. But there was some truth in what she said. Adler was no longer the power it once was; the once great empire was no longer in a position to provide enough support for an independent and powerful entity like the Rhazgord.


    Besides, the real purpose of the meeting in the tent was to inform Ilyada and her soldiers. The presence of a foreigner like Belisarius was problematic, both in terms of privacy and security. From Ilyada''s point of view, he should not be here.


    Corvus took a deep breath and turned his tired gaze to Ilyada. "His ideas have helped us before," he said in a calm but firm tone. "Your uncle will agree with me. So let''s drop the subject."


    Corvus turned his eyes to Tharvork as soon as he had finished speaking. He needed to explain the situation and diffuse the tension. Tharvork, noticing the intense atmosphere in the tent, sat up and slowly began to explain the situation.


    "The kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Laxon have formed a coalition against us. A few months ago they infiltrated Bahoz and lured Tanar to their side..."


    As Tharvork''s words echoed through the tent, Ilyada frowned and quickly interjected. "Galir? Isn''t that the little kingdom on our border?" she asked, a look of open derision on her face. Tharvork nodded at Ilyada''s question and prepared to continue. But Ilyada interrupted him again, this time with even more sarcasm in her tone.


    "Last year we ¡®accidentally¡¯ violated the borders of Galir. We ''borrowed '' things from a few villages and instead of getting angry, they sent gifts to my father!" She continued, smiling slightly: "I will never believe those cowards attacked us!"


    Although the mood in the tent seemed to soften a little with Ilyada''s sarcasm, everyone knew the truth behind her words. All three kingdoms were small and militarily weak. In fact, even if they were to put all their forces together, they would only be half the size of the Army of Rhazgord. This made it clear that a direct attack on Rhazgord would be a form of suicide. It was at this point that Corvus stepped in. The seriousness in his face added weight to his voice. "That''s the problem," he said, catching Ilyada''s gaze. "They wouldn''t dare do it alone. Someone might be behind them."


    His words suddenly created a deep silence in the tent. Then Corvus continued, a little more sternly: "Moreover, the enemy forces include highly trained and Lightstone-empowered warriors."


    Corvus'' words made the atmosphere in the tent heavy again. Lightstone-empowered warriors posed a serious threat even to the warriors of the Rhazgord. This meant that they would have to deal not only with numerical superiority, but also with individual skill. The amusement faded from Ilyada''s face as she tried to digest this information, replaced by a more serious expression.


    "So what does this hidden enemy want?" Ilyada asked, his eyes fixed on Corvus. Her question was direct, but the answer came from an unexpected place. Belisarius, whom she had just sarcastically called ¡°little girl¡±, was silently following the conversation with the help of a translator. He had learned that he was being called a ¡°little girl¡± and was clearly uncomfortable.


    "They want the most valuable thing on the continent: The Lightstones!" said Belisarius, his voice taking on a serious tone. This immediately drew the attention of those in the tent. Ilyada raised an eyebrow and looked at Belisarius. Although she had difficulty speaking Adler language, she understood it very well and was following what Belisarius was saying carefully.


    Belisarius continued: "More precisely, they want to know how you know where the demons will attack, I think."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    These words instantly changed the mood inside the tent. The mockery on Ilyada''s face gave way to seriousness. What he had heard implied much more than a simple conspiracy theory. But the seriousness lasted only a moment; then Ilyada turned to Corvus with a slight smile on her face.


    "This is to be expected from my fianc¨¦!" she said, with both pride and sarcasm in her voice. Then she turned to Belisarius and added, "You have found a wise friend, even if he looks like a little girl." Belisarius''s face showed a brief look of displeasure at these words, but Ilyada didn''t seem to mind.


    Then she pulled the map from the table towards her. She placed her finger on the spot on the map labeled Lakson and slowly traced the border line. "Instead of dealing with enemies we don''t know, let''s deal with those we do know," she said confidently. Her eyes reflected the seriousness of her plans. "My cavalry and I will reach the borders of Laxon before morning."


    She turned her head to Corvus and stared at him. "Give the order, and before morning we will destroy Laxon. At least that will be one less enemy."


    Ilyada''s words caused a brief silence in the tent. While offense had always been known as a good defensive tactic, the boldness and danger of her proposed plan weighed heavily on everyone. Moreover, everyone knew that Ilyada could actually do it. Laxon''s military strength was far greater than Ilyada''s two thousand cavalry. But this superiority would only mean anything if they could capture Ilyada and her cavalry.


    Even if Ilyada and her cavalry could not completely destroy the Laxon army, the trouble they would cause would be enough to put Laxon out of the war. A sudden attack on the Laxon frontiers would not only weaken the enemy, but also undermine their credibility within the coalition. But this plan also meant that Ilyada and her men were taking a huge risk.


    "We can''t move until we solve the problems in Bahoz," Corvus said, his voice still tired, but still commanding the attention of everyone in the tent. "Even in Bahoz they have managed to hide thousands of troops and logistics. The enemy is not simple and Valerius'' orders are clear: we hold Bahoz until reinforcements arrive."


    Ilyada seemed determined to act. But as soon as Valerius'' name was mentioned, her expression changed. In the absence of Sanguinar Saakhar Tiamat, Valerius was the military leader with the highest authority. If the order came from him, there was no room for argument. Ilyada took a deep breath, stood up and reached for the hilt of her sword.


    "No point in talking here then. Let''s go and send the bastards in Bahoz to hell!"2 he said, his anger flaring again. But Draknar''s cold voice stopped her instantly.


    "Sit down."


    The displeasure on Draknar''s face sent a message much stronger than his words. Ilyada sat back down, sighing reluctantly. She was acting like a child. For a while she looked at her uncle with unconscious eyes. She was not going to sit still until she knew why she had to sit down.


    Draknar turned to the map on the table. Pointing his finger at a few points on the map, he began to speak. "Send some of your fastest men to these areas," he said. His voice was filled with the tone of a leader accustomed to orders. "Tell them to report any enemy activity to us."


    "Would their armies really dare to cross our border?" asked one of the soldiers who had come with Ilyada. The young warrior could hardly conceal his concern.


    Corvus turned to the warrior and replied calmly: "As I said, they''ve massed logistics in the city and seem intent on defending it to the last moment. If they are positioned close to the borders, they might make a move to capture the city. They can''t take the logistics no matter what, but if we lose the city, it will be a lot of work to get it back."


    These words added to the tension in the tent. The enemy might not be as weak as they seemed. It was illogical for three small kingdoms to challenge Rhazgord, but if one of the great powers of the continent was backing them, it could pose a great threat to Rhazgord.


    Corvus had another dangerous thought in mind: These small countries could be part of a larger strategy. Perhaps they had been put forward as pawns to exhaust the Rhazgord and drain its resources. Even if they won this war, there was no guarantee that another war would not start immediately or simultaneously.


    Moreover, the situation in Rhazgord was already complicated. Sanguinar and nearly half the army were dealing with a massive demon raid in a kingdom far away from Rhazgord. This severely limited Rhazgord''s military power.


    Ilyada was the first to notice Corvus deep in thought. Unable to sit still, the young woman suddenly jumped up and turned to her uncle with an affectionate tone and a sweet smile on her face: "Now that we''ve discussed everything, can we go, please?" The gesture pulled Corvus out of the depths of his thoughts. Ilyada''s sudden departure had somewhat diffused the tense atmosphere in the tent. Those around her began to rise from their seats with a slight sense of relief.


    Corvus stood up and turned to Belisarius. "Belisarius," he said in a calm voice, "if it''s not too much trouble, come with us. There are some things I need to discuss with you." The fact that Corvus had asked for his help so many times before made him feel a little embarrassed.


    But Belisarius immediately accepted the offer with a big smile on his face. "I already felt trapped in this camp," he said, adding a slightly sarcastic tone to his voice. This seemed to ease Corvus'' tension a little. As the two made their way towards the exit of the tent, Ilyada suddenly sprang into action. Ignoring her uncle''s attempts to stop her, she began to speak, whining like a child.


    "Uncle, uncle, uncle! Will you take care of the cavalry for me? You always said I should spend time with my fianc¨¦e anyway. Besides, I can''t leave the wounded Corvus in the care of a little girl and send him off to the battlefield, can I? Yes, I''d say so! I can''t let my fianc¨¦e die, can I?"


    Ilyada said these words at once, without allowing her uncle to reply. Draknar was about to open his mouth, but Ilyada finished before he could say a word, and her uncle acted as if he fully approved of what she had said.


    Then she quickly pushed Belisarius aside and took Corvus''s arm. With a playful smile on her face, she leaned quietly into Corvus'' ear. "At least I can''t let someone else kill before me, can I?" she whispered.


    Meanwhile, Belisarius understood only one word of what Ilyada was saying: ¡°kill.¡± That single word made Belisarius shudder once more. Ilyada''s dangerous aura was a reality that both fascinated and frightened him.


    Corvus continued on without reacting to Ilyada''s words. There was no change in his expression, but it made Belisarius think once more. The fact that his friend was engaged to this ¡°mad¡± woman made him sad and pity him.

 0042 | The Battle for Bahoz (7)

    Corvus had left the lands of Rhazgord only a few times in his life. Each time, the purpose of these journeys had been war. He was never much interested in the situations of the lands he passed through, the countries he visited. His eyes were focused only on the Demon claws and the battlefields. This lasted until the day he arrived in the city of Rax, the capital of the Kingdom of Adler, and met Belisarius.


    He had a shallow knowledge of the major powers on the continent, thanks to his training in the army and the information provided by his mentor Montis. But that didn''t mean he really knew the world. He was still ignorant of much on the continent, and his short time on Rax had made this knowledge gap even more pronounced.


    During the short journey to the city of Bahoz, Corvus almost completely ignored Ilyada. Instead, he preferred to consult Belisarius. This journey was not just a city rescue operation; it was also an interrogation to understand the true face of the war in which they were engaged. Corvus was increasingly convinced that this war was merely a strategy to wear down the Rhazgord. In his view, the real enemy would be revealed before the war was over, or soon after.


    This idea had crossed Belisarius'' mind too, but he had not yet voiced it. Neither of them was sure who this hidden force was. The enemy was quite adept at concealing his identity. If Belisarius was in his own country, he might have had a chance to gather information. But right now he was far away from his sources of information and contacts.


    One thing was clear in Belisarius'' mind: Whoever the power behind this was, he had a firm idea of who they were not.


    "All I can say," Belisarius said thoughtfully, "is that the Sizat Empire is not behind this."


    Corvus turned to Belisarius. At first it was a little surprising to hear him speak with such certainty. The first possible enemy Corvus could think of was the Sizat Empire. But he trusted Belisarius. Belisarius'' country had been a vassal of the Sizat Empire for years, and Belisarius knew a lot about this power. At that moment, no one in Rhazgord knew the Sizat Empire as well as Belisarius. This information provided by Belisarius offered an important clue to shape Corvus'' battle strategy. However, even this new information did not reveal who the real enemy was. The mystery was still watching them from the shadows.


    Before Corvus could ask why Belisarius thought that, Belisarius spoke up. He spoke thoughtfully, looking into the distance, but the sadness in his voice was striking.


    "The Sizat Empire is suffering from its rapid territorial expansion. They are finding it very difficult to stabilize the country."


    Belisarius'' statement raised some questions in Corvus'' mind. He wanted to know the details; he wanted to know how much the Sizat Empire had expanded in such a short time and what kind of difficulties it had created. But he did not voice these questions. The information he had received from Belisarius was enough for him. He preferred to focus on the threats they now faced rather than dwell further on Sizat''s weaknesses.


    The two seemed to want to continue the conversation, but were interrupted from their thoughts by a loud warning from Ilyada. Ilyada warned them in an impatient tone: "We have reached the city!". Even though she had been eavesdropping on the conversations along the way, she had not been able to take part in them because she could not speak the Adler Language. On top of that, it bothered her to be ignored.


    When Corvus and Belisarius looked up, they realized that they had reached the gates of Bahoz. The strategic questions and worries of the journey gave way to the reality before them.


    Corvus'' entry into the city had a profound impact on the allied forces. The Black Flag he carried was a symbol of leadership and authority. His majestic stance on his horse inspired confidence in everyone around him. He had returned to this city, which he had left only a few hours before in the face of death, now standing tall and resolute. A flurry of activity soon began among the Allied forces. Corvus'' presence had boosted morale. The leader of the Black Flag had returned, and this was seen not only as a symbol but also as a sign of victory. As Corvus'' eyes roamed the city, he could see this motivation in every glance he encountered.


    Guided by the warriors, they soon arrived at Rasur''s place. As soon as Rasur noticed Corvus in the distance, he immediately stood up. The weight of the exhausting day, both mentally and physically, was evident on his face, but his surprise that Corvus had recovered so quickly was reflected in his expression for a brief moment. His fatigue prevented him from showing more of this emotion.


    Rasur took quick steps towards Corvus. The distance between them had diminished to five or six meters when he suddenly paused. It was Ilyada''s eyes that caused him to remain frozen in place, motionless. Ilyada''s face was as usual; there was nothing unusual about her expression. But her eyes shone with anger. Someone not looking directly into those eyes might have thought that Ilyada was calm. But Rasur could clearly feel the anger in those eyes. They were like an invisible wall that prevented Rasur from taking a step.


    Rasur looked away and tried to speak. "I greet the young star of the Iskats," he said with a slight tremor.


    The Iskats often visited Bahoz and got what they needed from there. So Rasur and Ilyada knew each other. Their relationship could even be called friendship. But Ilyada''s gaze made it clear that this friendship had long since ended. Her words proved it even more harshly.


    "I will have your fucking head at the first opportunity, you traitor dog."


    Ilyada''s voice cracked almost like a whip. The contempt and anger in her words created a moment of silence. Rasur knew he had no answer for Ilyada. He lowered his eyes to the ground, turned silently to Corvus and saluted him respectfully. Then he bowed to Belisarius in the same way.


    Rasur took a deep breath, pushing aside his nervousness. He quickly pulled himself together and, looking around more calmly, began to explain the latest situation. Ilyada crossed his arms over her chest and watched him with a stern expression. She was following Rasur''s every word, waiting for the end of the conversation.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    According to Rasur''s words, all but the slums of the city had been cleared of the enemy. The perimeter of the city was under control, leaving only the most dangerous and complex area, the slums. The fighters were waiting, ready to attack this area. But one thing was stopping them: the order.


    "What are you waiting for?" Corvus said in a stern tone. He frowned as his eyes roamed around him. Then he asked another question that had been nagging at the back of his mind: "And where is Kragan?". Rasur answered, looking Corvus in the eye. "We are waiting for Kragan."


    Kragan, along with a few of his elite men, had dived deep into the city in search of the enemy headquarters. His delay in returning from this mission, however, was unsettling for everyone. In his absence, Rasur could not risk mobilizing the troops. Kragan''s information could have been crucial in deciding the fate of the war. He was afraid to do anything that might affect Kragan''s operation.


    When Corvus heard this explanation, there was a brief flicker of alarm in his eyes. Kragan''s absence for so long was a clear sign that something was wrong. Something could have happened to him, but Corvus had no time to think about it. As worrying as the situation was, it wouldn''t be the right decision to tie the course of the war to Kragan''s return.


    Corvus took a deep breath and reviewed the plan once more. Quickly weighing the options in his mind, he came to a firm decision. "Start the attack," he said with stern determination. He ordered the soldiers to advance.


    Then he announced to whom he would give the command. "Ilyada will command the warriors."


    These words instantly changed the mood. Belisarius looked at Corvus in disbelief. Given Ilyada''s stern and at times unpredictable demeanor, he had thought that she was not suitable for such a task. But the surprise only increased after a moment; Ilyada spoke immediately.


    "I refuse, I will stay with you and protect you," Ilyada said, her eyes fixed on Corvus. This surprised Belisarius even more.


    Ilyada may have seemed like a maniac to Belisarius, but she was a leader who had proven herself time and again on the battlefield. She could command large forces skillfully and outmaneuver her enemies with her strategic acumen. It was therefore a perfectly logical decision for Corvus to offer her the position. However, Ilyada''s refusal and her choice to stay by his side to protect her betrothed raised new questions in Belisarius'' mind. He could not understand their relationship.


    Corvus'' insistence finally convinced Ilyada. Ilyada accepted the mission and was to lead the troops under Rasur''s guidance. Rasur knew the city well and, combined with Ilyada''s skills, could reduce potential casualties.


    Corvus, meanwhile, would stay in a safe place and concentrate on strengthening the city''s defenses. Both Corvus and his advisors were certain that the city was likely to be attacked from outside. Corvus therefore ordered immediate preparations to evacuate the city for those unable to fight.


    "The enemy could appear on the horizon at any moment," Corvus said, his voice firm and clear. "Before that happens, make sure those who cannot fight are moved to safety."


    In addition, the city walls needed to be reviewed for deficiencies, gaps closed and the chain of command reorganized. Corvus had ordered the evacuation and was watching the necessary preparations begin when several soldiers approached him. A tired and wounded man stood out among the group. His face was covered in scratches and part of his armor was damaged.


    Corvus recognized this person immediately. The man standing before him was one of his best fighters. As far as he knew, he was part of the group that had been assigned to find the enemy headquarters with Kragan. But the mere fact that he had returned sparked a spark of concern in Corvus. Yet he remained calm, keeping his expression in check.


    The wounded warrior took a deep breath and began to speak. His fatigue and hardships were reflected in every word. "Kragan and the others," he said, his voice a little shaky, "have found the enemy headquarters... but they need support."


    These words indicated a more urgent situation than Corvus had thought. He listened attentively to what the warrior had to say and then stood still for a moment. His mind was working to formulate a plan as quickly as possible. Then, without delay, he ordered Ilyada to be informed.


    When Ilyada received the call for help from Kragan, an indescribable excitement gripped the young woman. Ever since she arrived in Bahoz, she had felt trapped. She had been caught between groups of soldiers crammed together in the streets, almost never engaged in serious combat. The enemies they did encounter were quickly neutralized by other soldiers before Ilyada could act. For a warrior like her, this was an unbearable ordeal.


    Kragan was just a name to Ilyada. She had never even seen him before. It didn''t matter to Ilyada that Kragan was in danger. In her eyes, Kragan was a little more powerful than the others, and no more than a friend of Corvus. The real source of Ilyada''s excitement was that she had finally found something to drown her boredom. This was her long-awaited opportunity for action.


    As soon as she learned from Tanar the location of the enemy headquarters, she took action. She was accompanied by a few loyal warriors who followed her like shadows. The streets were crowded with soldiers, making it almost impossible to move forward. But this was no obstacle for Ilyada.


    Instead of getting lost in the chaos of the narrow streets, she quickly made her way to the side of a building. With a graceful move, she grabbed onto the wall and pulled herself up, reaching the roof in a few seconds. The warriors behind her followed with equal agility. Now, instead of the chaos of the streets, they had the advantage of advancing from the rooftops of the city.


    As soon as Ilyada reached the top of the roof, she realized that thick smoke was rising in the direction Tanar had described. Her eyes quickly scanned the source of the smoke. The smoke pointed in the direction of the enemy headquarters. This meant that Kragan and his men were still in danger.


    A slight smile appeared on Ilyada''s face when she saw this image. For her, this adrenaline-boosting danger represented a warrior''s most natural environment. Ilyada approached the edge of the roof and leaned down. Amid the bustle of the crowd at street level, she easily spotted Tanar. The familiar feeling that rose in her every time she saw him once again swept through her: a deep anger and a desire to kill. The mere presence of Tanar created a rage inside Ilyada that was hard to contain. She shouted in a cold, but threatening tone: "Do anything wrong and I will have you trampled by horses!"


    Her voice echoed through the streets. His words made it clear how serious Ilyada was. Her gaze was locked on Tanar. The menacing expression in her eyes was more powerful than her words.


    When Tanar heard this warning, he raised his head slightly and looked up at her. There was no sign of fear on his face, but he did not dare to look Ilyada in the eye. Ilyada''s threat was not just words; anyone who knew Ilyada''s character knew that she would do what she said.


    Ilyada paused for a moment after seeing the look on Tanar''s face. She could feel the pressure that even her presence put on Tanar. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned around and started moving towards the other end of the roof. As adept as she was at controlling her anger, she was equally skilled at habitually hurling such threats.


    Then she gripped the hilt of her sword tightly and, without turning to those around her, gave a single order: "Let''s move out."

 0043 | The Battle for Bahoz (8)

    Kragan was not a Sharazir, but to many he was the equal of one. Despite his young age, his superior skills and successes on the battlefield made him known throughout the Rhazgord. His fighting skills were not limited to his physical strength, but also his keen intellect and quick judgment, which gave him a special prestige.


    This natural talent quickly made Kragan''s name famous. Moreover, the fact that he was recognized as one of Corvus'' closest men only added to his reputation. But Kragan''s fame did not stem solely from his successes on the battlefield. The fact that he came from a small and insignificant family attracted the attention of interested tribes. The powerful families and tribes of Rhazgord made him many offers in an effort to recruit a talent like Kragan.


    Kragan, however, rejected all these offers without hesitation. In his eyes, the status and power offered by these tribes was not as valuable as his own principles. Although he never received a direct offer from the Tiamat family, the years he spent with Corvus shaped his future. Having gained Corvus'' trust, Kragan was not yet officially recognized by the Tiamat family. But those around him were sure that one day he would be recognized as a member of the Tiamat family. His position next to Corvus and his closeness to the Tiamats already made him treated as a Tiamat.


    That is why the Iskat warriors were stunned by the sight before them. Their eyes could hardly believe what they saw. It was not only Kragan lying motionless on the ground, covered in blood, but other elite Tiamat warriors who had gone with him to the enemy headquarters. Every one of them appeared to have been badly wounded or had lost their lives.


    Behind the view, the enemy headquarters was still burning. The orange light of the flames fell on the bodies lying on the ground, making the scene even more frightening. The black-masked enemies, likewise covered in blood, made it clear how brutal this conflict had been. The smoke rising from the burning headquarters thickened the air, mixing with the pungent smell of dead bodies.


    The Iskat warriors did not know what to do. Their confusion had caused them to freeze. But the silence and stillness was suddenly broken by Ilyada''s sharp voice.


    "Check for survivors," she said in a stern tone. She pointed her finger at Kragan and the two warriors lying on the ground. Her voice galvanized the stunned warriors into action. Ilyada''s commands brought the situation somewhat under control.


    A few warriors rushed to where Ilyada was pointing, while Ilyada led the rest of her warriors towards the enemy headquarters. The headquarters was collapsed and in flames, but there were parts of it still standing. Ilyada''s steps were determined, her gaze locked on a target. The warriors accompanied her, matching their leader''s courageous demeanor. With each step, as they approached the headquarters, the heat of the burning structures hit them in the face and the smell of blood intensified. Ilyada did not seem unmoved by this terrible scene. For her, it was just a scene of war; danger and violence in its most natural form.


    Ilyada and his fellow warriors carefully surveyed the surroundings, hoping to find anything that might have escaped the flames and remained in the headquarters. At first glance, there seemed to be nothing left to burn, but strangely, the flames seemed to lose no strength. The fact that the flames were rising more intensely and steadily than in a normal fire made Ilyada feel uneasy.


    Ilyada paused for a moment as she carefully surveyed her surroundings. She felt an energy coming from the flames. There was a vibration characteristic of the Lightstone, but she could not be sure of its source. Her instincts told her that this fire was out of the ordinary. But no matter how carefully she looked, she couldn''t find anything tangible other than this strange feeling of energy.


    When her search proved fruitless, Ilyada took a deep breath and looked around. It seemed impossible to find a passage through the fire or to make out anything meaningful. Not only was everything already burnt to ashes, but the intensity of the flames would not allow them to continue their search any further. Finally, recognizing the futility of their efforts, they retreated from the headquarters.


    Meanwhile, the two warriors who were controlling Kragan and the other Rhazgord warriors approached Ilyada, their arms covered in blood.


    One of them began to speak in a tired voice. "Only three survived," he said, his voice filled with sadness.


    "But if they don''t get treatment soon, they will die."


    Ilyada did not show the slightest emotional reaction to the news. Her eyes shifted to Kragan lying on the ground. With a nonchalant expression, she tilted her head slightly and pointed to the large warrior.


    "Is the big one alive?" she asked, her voice cold and indifferent.


    The tone of this question might have had a bad effect on the warriors who did not know her, but these warriors knew Ilyada well. Ilyada''s indifference was striking in contrast to Kragan''s struggle for life. But it was part of her natural warrior demeanor: Focusing on actions rather than emotions. Ilyada''s ruthlessness and emotional detachment on the battlefield made her both an impressive and frightening leader.


    She was about to tell her warriors to take the wounded and retreat when Ilyada sensed something. Her sharp instincts warned her. A pair of eyes, cold and watchful, were watching her; she was sure of it. But she did not show this feeling. His expression was completely indifferent as he moved his eyes around.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The owner of the eyes watching her was hiding in the darkness of the street behind her. She didn''t know who he was or why he was there, but she felt the danger almost as close as a touch. This awareness brought a frightening smile to Ilyada''s face. The excitement of having finally found a real enemy was expressed in this cold expression.


    The two warriors standing in front of her were briefly surprised by Ilyada''s suddenly changed expression. But they knew her well and had learned not to speak unnecessarily. They looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes and waited in silence for Ilyada''s next move.


    After a moment, the smile on Ilyada''s face disappeared. It was replaced by her usual cold-blooded expression. She began giving orders as if nothing had happened, her voice resolute and calm.


    "Gather the wounded--"


    But she interrupted herself and moved quickly. In a single movement she took the axe from the side of the warrior standing next to her. Without wasting any time, she threw the axe with all her might into the darkness where the eyes that had just been watching her were. Her movement was so sudden and decisive that the warriors only had to take a step back before they realized what had happened.


    The axe swung into the darkness, leaving a rustling sound in the air. At that moment, the mysterious being hiding in the depths of the alley was about to face the desperation of being a target, not knowing what to do in the face of an unexpected attack.


    Ilyada stood motionless after throwing the axe. Her eyes were focused on the darkness. There was not the slightest sign of hesitation on her face. The warriors around her, unable to shake off their astonishment, waited in silence for the outcome of this sudden move.


    After a moment of silence, the sound of footsteps coming from the dark street increased the tension in the air. Ilyada''s eyes were fixed on the darkness, ready to move at any moment. The echo of the footsteps created vibrations not only in the narrow walls of the alley, but also in the nerves of the warriors.


    They triggered Ilyada, as they triggered the warriors beside her. The way Ilyada moved like a hunter focused on her prey sent a clear message to those around her: the enemy would be captured. But one thing was clear: the axe had not quite found its mark.


    As Ilyada dived into the dark alley, the warriors moved behind her. The first thing they saw was the axe lodged in the wall. The wall where the axe had been was covered in blood stains. Traces on the ground showed that the owner of the blood was still on the move and not far away.


    As they moved a little further, following the blood trail, they realized that their prey was fleeing. The enemy was holding his arm and staggering through the narrow streets. He was wounded, but he kept moving. The sight brought a cold smile to Ilyada''s face. She couldn''t wait to track down her prey.


    Ilyada pursued her prey like a wolf. Her steps were determined and swift, each movement bringing her closer to her target. The warriors behind her followed without hesitation. The narrow nature of the streets and the dark atmosphere made the chase difficult. But Ilyada''s eyes shone with a focus that would never lose its prey.


    "To the rooftops!"


    Ilyada''s short and clear order quickly reached the warriors around her. As soon as she finished, several warriors wasted no time and climbed the walls to the rooftops. Now the pursuit was going on in two columns: Ilyada and a few warriors on the ground, while the others moved from above, over the rooftops.


    The warriors on the rooftops moved quickly and carefully to better track the prey from above. Any movement that might have been missed in the chaos of the street was clearly visible from above. Ilyada focused on the bloodstains on the ground, waiting for the moment when she would catch her prey. This was not only a moment of pursuit, but also a moment for the hunter to dominate its prey.


    She could have already caught the wounded enemy if she wanted to, but Ilyada kept her pace steady and carefully kept her distance. Her aim was not just to catch the enemy; she wanted to know where he would run, what his next move would be. Ilyada''s eyes were locked on her prey. In her mind, she was thinking about the moment when she would fight the enemy. These thoughts brought a faint smile to her face. But at that moment, the voice of a female warrior just behind her interrupted her thoughts.


    "Allow me to stay behind to take care of the wounded."


    Her voice was very different from that of the other fighters. The tone and confidence in her words was a far cry from the usual submissive approach of the others to Ilyada. The way she spoke gave the impression that she was Ilyada''s equal. Ilyada did not turn her head. Her eyes were still fixed on her prey. Her voice was cold and hard.


    "If you''re going, you''re on your own."


    It was both a confirmation and a warning. The woman warrior was free to make her own decision, but she had to take full responsibility for it. The woman warrior did not say a word when she heard this answer. There was no hesitation or fear on her face. She quickly stopped and started running in the opposite direction. Her determination made the other warriors behind her pause for a brief moment. But Ilyada continued to pursue her prey without a single second''s distraction.


    Ilyada''s eyes were still steady as the female warrior moved away. She carefully watched the movements of the fleeing enemy.


    The wounded man suddenly took a sharp turn and dived into a narrow alley. Ilyada and her warriors entered the same alley a few seconds behind. But the first thing they noticed when they entered was that the enemy had disappeared. The street was completely silent and empty.


    Ilyada immediately looked at the warriors on the rooftops. She was trying to see if they had seen the enemy. But the situation became even more complicated when the warriors above shook their heads in the negative.


    "You go on!"


    Ilyada''s stern order quickly mobilized the warriors on the rooftops. Wasting no time, they continued to follow the narrow street from above. Ilyada, along with the few remaining warriors, began to examine the street in detail.


    Surprisingly, there were no traces. The bloodstains had suddenly stopped and there were no traces left on the ground. Moreover, there were no doors or windows in the street. This added to Ilyada''s discomfort.


    The warriors with her tapped on the walls, looking for a secret passage or hatch. They were trying to see if there was a gap behind the walls, carefully examining every stone for a possible secret path. But Ilyada''s attention was on something completely different.


    Ilyada closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was trying to focus on the superhuman senses the Lightstone had given her. She tried to feel every vibration, every movement in the dark alley. For a moment she tuned out all the surrounding sounds, listening only to her instincts and the vibrations of the stone.


    After a few seconds she opened her bright blue eyes. With a wry smile on her lips, she spoke:


    "I found you, fucking bastard!"

 0044 | The Battle for Bahoz (9)

    Ilyada stood up with decision and took a few steps forward. When she reached the middle of the street, she paused for a moment. Her eyes were focused on the ground. She moved a few inches, carefully adjusting the position of her feet. After making sure she was in the right place, she lifted her right leg and brought it down with all her might.


    With the impact of the kick, a cloud of dust suddenly covered the street. A deep crunching sound was heard through the dust, as it became blinding. The warriors watched in amazement. As the dust cloud gradually dissipated, a tunnel entrance appeared in the middle of the street.


    The tunnel entrance appeared to be protected by a hatch. But the hatch, if there was one, had been shattered by the force of Ilyada''s kick. Still, Ilyada felt something strange about the arrangement on the ground. The whole structure was different from an ordinary secret passage. When she kicked the alley, she didn''t just feel as if she had hit a stone floor. She felt a vibration from the Lightstone energy in the device beneath her feet.


    This was something Ilyada had never experienced before. But Ilyada did not dwell on this detail. She had to move to corner her enemy. The tunnel had a steep entrance that went down to a depth of several meters. Ilyada jumped into the tunnel without losing a second. The warriors behind her followed, matching their leader''s determination.


    It was dark inside the tunnel, but that was no obstacle for Ilyada. Thanks to the Lightstone''s superior senses, she could feel even the slightest movement around her. The warriors moved cautiously behind her.


    The air grew heavier and more humid as they moved through the tunnel. The sound of footsteps echoed around them, making the silence even more tense as Ilyada and her warriors moved carefully through the narrow walls. After a few minutes of progress, they reached a crossroads.


    At the intersection, there were two roads, one leading to the right and the other to the left. Without a moment''s hesitation, Ilyada continued on her way. She was still following her enemy; the blood trail was enough for her to track her prey. They went on for another ten more minutes or so, the trail unbroken. Eventually, however, the road split into two separate branches, causing them to pause once more.


    There were two roads leading to the right and to the left. Ilyada felt an intense Lightstone energy from both directions. However, Ilyada made a decision at that moment: She would not go in either direction. After a brief glance around, she gestured sharply for her soldiers to retreat. "Step back a little," she said, her voice calm but authoritative. The warriors took a few steps back without objection.


    Ilyada looked up intently, like a wolf. She once again activated all her senses to find her prey. Then, with determination in her eyes, she jumped up and brought her sword down with all her might into the center of the ceiling.


    The echo of the sword''s impact caused a deafening rumble in the narrow tunnel. Then, once again, a cloud of dust covered everything. The warriors raised their arms to shield their faces from the dust. But Ilyada''s gaze was fixed on the point where the dust dispersed.


    When the dust cleared, it revealed the presence of an exit hidden in the center of the ceiling. Light was seeping through the hole Ilyada had made with her sword. This light illuminated the dark atmosphere of the tunnel for a moment. The exit must have been a way their enemies had used to escape before. Ilyada looked back at her soldiers with a faint smile on her face. As their leader, she had once again proved how resolute she was and how right her intuition had been. Without wasting a moment, she started climbing towards the exit above. The warriors behind her quickly prepared to follow.


    As Ilyada stepped out of the exit, the fresh air hit her in the face. She looked around for a moment and knew immediately: they were no longer in the city. The tunnel had taken them away from the city. But they were not far away; Bahoz''s silhouette was faintly discernible through the fog a little further ahead.


    Ilyada''s brow furrowed as the warriors surveyed the surroundings carefully. It strained her nerves that the enemy was still out of sight after all this pursuit. She took a deep breath and focused on the tracks on the ground. When she followed the blood trail for a few more meters, she noticed something new: fresh hoof prints. Ilyada''s eyes scanned them carefully. They clearly showed that the enemy had rode away from here on horseback. At that moment a wave of anger rose inside Ilyada. If she had a horse with her, she could have continued to pursue the enemy. But that was not possible now. She looked in the direction of the tracks, trying to guess where the enemy was, but it was now impossible to catch up.


    Ilyada was infuriated that so much effort had been wasted. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her fists. After a moment of silence, somehow she couldn''t suppress the anger that exploded and she kicked the tree next to her with all her might. The kick left a deep mark on the trunk of the tree, bending it significantly. But this did not calm Ilyada. The anger in her eyes grew even bigger. Then she kicked a few more times. With each kick, the trunk cracked a little more, the tree came closer to the ground. Finally, when the tree collapsed, Ilyada''s breathing was heavy. But her anger had not yet subsided. Clenching her fists, she found it hard to accept the fact that her enemies were one step ahead of her. But there was nothing left to do.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Ilyada took a deep breath and turned to the warriors behind her. There was still a spark in her eyes, but her voice was cold and full of anger.


    "Back to the city!"


    As soon as she gave the order, she headed towards Bahoz, her men afraid to make the slightest sound. The warriors followed her without hesitation.


    When they reached Tanar''s mansion, Ilyada asked where Corvus was, to share the information she had and to find out what to do next. Franz was the one who answered. Her eyes were red and her face was covered with deep anger and sadness. Her voice was like that of a woman who was trying hard not to cry; the turmoil of her emotions was reflected in every word. Franz''s pain-filled eyes were fixed on Ilyada. The anger in her gaze was clearly palpable, but Ilyada didn''t care. That kind of look meant nothing to her.


    "Follow me." Franz said.


    Franz in the lead, Ilyada and the others behind her, they made their way to where Corvus was. When they reached the backyard of Tanar''s mansion, Ilyada was overcome by a familiar but disturbing feeling: the desire to kill. With each step, this feeling grew stronger, manifesting itself in the trembling that spread through her body. When she stepped into the garden, she immediately recognized the source of this feeling. It was Corvus, crouching on the ground with his back to her.


    In front of Corvus, on the ground, lay the lifeless body of Kragan. Next to him was Belisarius, standing silently. Corvus seemed to sense that Ilyada had come into the garden. He stood up with slow movements and slowly turned around. When Corvus''s face turned and his red eyes locked on Ilyada, the atmosphere suddenly changed. The aura in the air became heavy, even breathing became difficult. Even Ilyada''s always cool demeanor was crushed by the atmosphere. Belisarius and Franz could not stand the pressure and fell to their knees.


    Ilyada found it difficult to stand in the face of this power. With every step, the invisible pressure from Corvus increased. Ilyada''s body began to tremble; every muscle tensed, every breath became harder. She was straining so hard to stand that a thin trickle of blood began to ooze from her nose. But she refused to back down.


    By the time Corvus arrived in front of Ilyada, Ilyada''s body had almost collapsed. But somehow, she managed to lift her gaze to Corvus'' face. Instead of seeing a face full of anger, as she expected, she saw a completely different scene.


    There was not a trace of anger on Corvus'' face. Blood oozed from his lips as he used his Lightstone powers on his still unhealed body. There was only deep pain and regret in his eyes. The fear Ilyada felt at that moment was replaced by a kind of bewilderment. The destructive aura that covered Corvus'' entire being now seemed to be only a carrier of deep sadness.


    "Why... Why didn''t you bring him to me sooner?" Corvus said, his voice almost a whisper, slow and emotionless. But behind that emotionlessness, there was pain woven into every word.


    Ilyada continued to stand, straining her trembling body. Her breathing quickened, trying to control herself despite the chaos rising inside her. Gathering her strength, she said what she believed was right. Her voice was firm but cold at the same time.


    "As a warrior... I did what I had to do."


    These words caused a change in Corvus'' face that only Ilyada could have noticed. The deep pain in his gaze gave way to an unexpected expression: pity. It was as if Corvus was looking at Ilyada with pity. This look sent a wave of anger through Ilyada.


    Why does he pity me? she thought. Corvus'' gaze was like an invisible burden on Ilyada''s shoulders. The discomfort of this gaze turned into a single question echoing in Ilyada''s mind: Why? If anyone should have been pitied, it should have been Kragan, who had died young, or Corvus, who was burdened by the loss of his friend. But Corvus pitied Ilyada. It was not something Ilyada could make sense of in her world.


    "I understand you..." Corvus said, his voice soft and full of deep sorrow. These words stunned Ilyada for a moment. But Corvus'' continued words were sharp enough to shake her world:


    "This country... Rhazgord raised you as an emotionless animal. A dog of war."


    With Corvus'' words, the pressure that had filled the air suddenly lifted. Everyone, except Ilyada, who had just felt almost glued to the ground, got back on their feet. Franz and Belisarius slowly sat up and tried to regulate their breathing. Ilyada, however, could not move. She didn''t know what to do. The thoughts in her head were colliding with each other. She had done what had to be done. It was her duty and the basis of her existence. Emotions were unimportant. At least, that''s what her father had taught her. She had been taught to fight, to defeat her enemy, to triumph. But now, Corvus'' words made her question everything. What she had done was not to be pitied. It shouldn''t have been. Why? Ilyada''s mind could not silence this question.


    Trapped in her thoughts, Ilyada didn''t even realize that Corvus had collapsed in front of her. His tired and still unhealed body was paying the price for Corvus'' forceful use of the Lightstone energy. Slowly he fell to his knees, then collapsed completely. Belisarius and Franz reacted quickly to this sudden situation. They both ran towards Corvus and tried to lift him up. But Ilyada was still motionless. Her eyes were glazed and her mind was overwhelmed by Corvus'' words.


    Corvus'' heavy breathing somehow pulled Ilyada back to reality. But what she felt was not anger or discomfort, but deep confusion. The moment when Corvus took pity on her echoed in her mind. The thought pushed her into a silent but dark void.

 0045 | The Battle for Bahoz (10)

    It was already dark when Corvus opened his eyes. A dim lamp burned in the room, gently illuminating the darkness around him. He tried to sit up with a slight pain in his head, but the fatigue in his body limited his movements. His body was still feeling the effects of the poison and the overuse of Lightstone energy.


    While he was asleep, the city forces had taken control of the whole of Bahoz. Every street, every corner had been thoroughly combed and cleared of hostile elements. None of the elite enemies known as ''black masks '' had been captured. In addition, most of the soldiers, many of whom had hidden in the city disguised as merchants, were either killed or captured.


    The information received from the captives once again demonstrated the seriousness of the situation. Two important pieces of information were captured: The first was the location of the enemy''s logistical resources, which had still not been found. The second was the identity of the enemy. In addition, it was now confirmed that the kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Lakson had formed a coalition against Rhazgord. But it was clear that these small kingdoms alone could not plan and wage such a war.


    The captured warriors said they were only following orders from men in black masks. The orders were simple: to hide and when the time came, to draw their swords and fight to take the city. But the real plan of the enemy and the purpose of the men in black masks remained a mystery.


    As Corvus struggled to rise from his seat, a soldier standing guard by the door rushed up to him. "Ilyada, Rasur and the prince of Adler are waiting for you." Corvus hesitated briefly and then nodded. Now he had to face the complex nature of this war, both physically and mentally. He had no time for mourning. He had to do justice to the responsibility he had taken on.


    Rasur was the first to speak. With a slight hesitation on his face, he did not seem to want to attract Corvus'' attention. He still didn''t dare to look at Corvus directly or ask if a decision had been made about his father''s fate and his own. But he had recovered a little. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain what had happened, leaving out no detail. Corvus kept his eyes on Rasur. He was listening attentively to everything that was being said, even though he was seemingly absent-minded. Rasur''s account summarized the state of the battle: The enemy had suffered no major losses, but the city was under control. It was a partial victory, but there were still many problems to be solved. Rasur paused for a silent moment before concluding his speech, then added his final words:


    "By morning we will have evacuated the civilians who are unable to fight."


    These words were a reminder that the threat had not completely disappeared. The city would not be completely safe until the main Rhazgord army arrived. Bahoz was too close to the borderlands and there was a chance that the enemy might be on their way for another attack. Corvus looked out the window. In the darkness of the night, he wanted to see even the slightest movement in the distance. His mind tried to comprehend how much time had passed. The vanguard from Sorbaj should have reached here by now. He frowned at the thought and spoke, breaking the silence in the room:


    "No reinforcements from Sorbaj?"


    This question echoed briefly in the room. Rasur was not the addressee of the question. Rasur had no information about whether reinforcements would arrive. He had spent the whole day stabilizing and controlling the city. The silence was suddenly broken; it was Ilyada who answered the question.


    "My riders have just brought news," Ilyada said, her voice resolute and cold. She had her usual confident expression on her face.


    "Reinforcements will soon reach the city."


    Ilyada''s words eased some of the tension in the room. But the stern expression on Corvus''s face made it clear that he saw this battle as a fight yet to be won. His eyes were still staring out the window into the darkness.


    "And how many warriors have come?" Corvus asked, looking at Ilyada. His voice was determined, but his face was thoughtful. Ilyada''s gaze was still fixed on the ground. Under the influence of recent events, she answered in a lower, slower tone:


    "About five thousand mounted soldiers."


    Corvus considered this number in his mind. Counting his own forces and Ilyada''s cavalry, they had a total of five thousand warriors. Now, with reinforcements, there was an army of ten thousand. But the enemy''s combined army could easily exceed seventy thousand. This imbalance caused Corvus to frown even more.


    He turned his gaze to Rasur. "How many warriors are there in the city?"


    Rasur thought for a moment. He weighed the numbers in his mind. His voice was clear but a little hesitant as he answered:


    "About fifteen thousand." He paused for a moment, then added: "But most of them are armed civilians."


    Twenty-five thousand fighters. Corvus considered this number in his mind. With that strength, they could defend the city until the Rhazgord army arrived. But this did not mean victory; everything depended on the enemy''s plans. Corvus had already checked the city defenses and made sure that the gaps were closed. Now he was detailing the defense plans in his mind.


    Just then Ilyada spoke unexpectedly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Ilyada raised her eyes slightly, still staring at the floor, and spoke:


    "Once we are sure there is nothing left for the enemy, we must leave the city and retreat to the hills in the west."


    These words changed the mood in the room in an instant. Not only Rasur, but also Corvus were surprised that Ilyada would say such a thing. Coming from Ilyada, who was normally known for her warrior spirit and saw retreat as a weakness, these words only added to the seriousness of the situation.


    "They have dug tunnels everywhere," Ilyada said, her tone stern but serious. "I haven''t examined all of them, but it will take us a long time to find and seal all the entrances. Moreover, the entrances are hidden by a strange mechanism."


    These words intensified the tense atmosphere in the room. Rasur was already aware of these tunnels. Until now, however, he had only considered them a superficial threat. The warriors were busy examining the tunnels, but Ilyada''s revelations took the seriousness of the situation to a new level.


    Corvus frowned and weighed the situation in his mind. He realized that he would have to abandon all defensive plans. If the situation was as serious as Ilyada said, the enemy could use these tunnels to their advantage and completely collapse the city''s defenses.


    After a moment of silence, Corvus turned his thoughts into a clear decision. With an authority in his voice that did not waver, he gave his order:


    "Get all the fighters organized and ready to retreat. And don''t tell anyone about the tunnels."


    These words changed the mood in the room. Rasur hesitated for a moment, but recovered quickly. He nodded at Corvus'' order and quickly left the room. Ilyada paused briefly when she heard Corvus'' order. She parted her lips as if she wanted to say something. But when her gaze shifted to Corvus, a moment of indecision silenced her. What she wanted to say seemed to be drowned out in the room. After a brief pause, she left the room without a word.


    Belisarius watched these events in silence. Now he and Corvus were alone. The silence in the room deepened once more. Corvus bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes for a moment. The weight on his shoulders was as intense as the silence around him. Belisarius spoke as if to break the moment.


    "I still do not know the Rhazgord language," Belisarius said with a slight smile.


    These words brought a momentary smile to Corvus'' face. It was obvious that Belisarius almost always did not understand what was being said, and yet everyone treated him as if he did. Corvus turned his gaze to his friend. The tiredness in his eyes had given way to a brief relaxation.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "In short, ¡® Corvus said with a hint of sarcasm, "I have twenty-five thousand warriors, a city with crooked walls and underground enemy tunnels. And my war-mad fianc¨¦e says we should retreat."


    Belisarius took a moment to assess the weight of the situation. Although he did not speak Rhazgord, the conversations he had heard and the events he had seen over the last few days had taught him much. He could clearly see that Ilyada''s proposal was a sensible option. The city was in no condition to withstand an enemy attack, and the tunnels posed a great threat. But Belisarius quickly realized that Corvus was undecided. He could sense the expression on his face and the small hesitations in his speech. The source of this indecision was, in Belisarius'' eyes, revenge. He knew that Corvus had not forgotten the pain of his lost friend Kragan. Staying and fighting might bring him some kind of relief.


    After gathering his thoughts, Belisarius spoke. His voice was calm but serious:


    "You know you have to put your feelings aside in these matters, don''t you? You will have your chance for revenge."


    Belisarius'' words elicited an unexpected response. Corvus looked at him as if he did not understand. He tilted his head slightly in confusion, the look in his eyes filled with a momentary emptiness. Belisarius relaxed a little at this reaction. He even laughed at his own thought: "For a moment I thought you were thinking of facing the enemy," he said with a wry smile.


    Corvus gave a completely different answer than Belisarius had expected:


    "Yes, I am thinking of fighting, but not because of revenge."


    Belisarius was silent for a moment at this answer. Puzzled, he took a few steps closer and sat down heavily on the corner of Corvus'' bed. The expression on his face made it clear that Corvus was waiting for an explanation for his decision. He stared at his friend as if asking why.


    Corvus thought for a while. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "If I manage to defend the city to the last moment..." he said, then paused for a moment. It was as if he was weighing how to phrase what he was about to say. "I feel as if they will be useful to my plans."


    These words echoed in Belisarius'' mind. For seconds he tried to decipher the meaning behind it. When he understood, he jumped. His eyes widened in astonishment and he looked at his friend in disbelief.


    "No way!" he exploded.


    "You''re going to defend the city to the last moment and try to win the loyalty of the townspeople?!"


    The thought was unbelievable to Belisarius. Political intrigue and winning the loyalty of the people were common in places like the Kingdom of Adler, where sophisticated strategies were employed. But in a warrior culture like the Rhazgord, such a move was highly unusual. Belisarius was completely baffled that Corvus had undergone such a transformation in such a short time.


    As Belisarius pondered the idea some more, anger rose within him. He turned to Corvus, his voice much harsher this time.


    "It''s not human, Corvus! You can''t gamble with the lives of thousands of people. It is not humane!"


    Belisarius'' words did not change Corvus'' expression in the slightest. Corvus listened in silence to his friend''s excited and angry speech. When Belisarius looked at him as if demanding an answer, Corvus finally spoke.


    "A man who behaves like a man cannot change this country, Belisarius."


    Corvus'' words made the atmosphere in the room even heavier. For a moment Belisarius did not know what to say, seeing his friend''s determination and composure. If Corvus succeeded, he would be one step closer to his plans to change the Rhazgord. But if not, it was inevitable that many people would die. Belisarius decided to think from Corvus'' point of view for a moment. After all, he was the heir to a kingdom, and Corvus'' success or defeat in this battle would directly affect him. "What is your plan?" he asked reluctantly.


    A moment later, Corvus and Belisarius were standing at the table in the room, looking at the maps that had been brought in on Corvus'' orders. They were spread out on the table, showing in detail the strategic points in and around Rhazgord, the city of Bahoz and the surrounding area. Corvus, focused on the map, pointed to a spot and began to speak:


    "The enemy has no choice but to enter Bahoz before the Rhazgord army."


    Belisarius sensed the determination in his friend''s voice. Corvus''s face was serious, his eyes moving over the map. He continued:


    "It is now clear who they are. They know that if they lose their current advantage, we will destroy them when we gather our forces. So they either attack now or lose."


    Belisarius nodded silently at this logical analysis. He knew that the Rhazgord army was one of the most powerful and experienced on the continent. Even if half of it was responding to Demon attacks in another country, the remaining forces in Rhazgord were still strong enough to take on the Kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Lakson. But a question lingered in Belisarius'' mind: What would happen if the enemy captured Bahoz?


    Corvus pointed to another spot on the map. His fingertips hovered over it in a distinct movement.


    "The fact that they still haven''t reached Bahoz means they don''t have many horses. So, assuming that cavalry does not make up most of the army, the enemy forces should be at this point now."


    The point Corvus pointed to was dangerously close to the city of Bahoz. Belisarius'' face showed discomfort, but he said nothing. Corvus shifted a little further away from his point and pointed to another place.


    "This is called the Black Plain," Corvus said, highlighting a distinct area on the map. "It is flat. That''s why the Iskats often run horses here."


    Belisarius was trying to understand where Corvus was getting from here. But Corvus continued his explanation:


    "The enemy does not have much cavalry. The soldiers of the three kingdoms do not wear light armor. So they have no choice but to move slowly. Many soldiers even travel without armor to avoid fatigue."


    Corvus tapped another point on the map.


    "Right now I have seven thousand good cavalry, two thousand of them Iskat cavalry. If I gather the warhorses from the city, that number will grow even more."


    Then he tapped his finger on the point several times, as if to emphasize the importance of this idea.


    "If we reach the Black Plain before them, we will have the advantage on the open plains."


    Belisarius was impressed by the detail of the plan Corvus had developed in such a short time. By constantly harassing the enemy, Corvus and his cavalry could slow their advance or even stop it altogether. Corvus pointed to an area a little further away from where he had been pointing earlier. "While we do that, the rest of the soldiers remaining in the city will prepare at this point. Even if we fail, we can hold off the enemy on these hills."


    Belisarius accepted the logic of Corvus''s plan, but he still felt that there were some things he was not sure about. He studied the map carefully and pointed to a forested area some distance from the Black Plain.


    "This forest area here is not far from the black plain. What will you do if the enemy continues on its way here? After all, fighting you is not their priority. Their goal should be to reach Bahoz and the surrounding hills."


    Belisarius'' observation brought a triumphant smile to Corvus'' face. His friend had a point, but it was clear that Corvus had already considered the possibility. He ran his hand over the map, then spoke in a determined voice:


    "They will expend a lot of energy fleeing into the forests. Moreover, we will keep attacking them until they reach the forest. If they want to move through the forest tired, they are welcome to do so. I will gain the time I want to gain. But they won''t do it. They can''t."


    Belisarius did not expect such a definitive answer. To him, retreating into the woods seemed the enemy''s most logical move. He voiced this question openly:


    "Why shouldn''t they retreat? Even if they slow down, they can reach Bahoz before the Rhazgord army."


    Corvus''s eyes turned to Belisarius and there was a vague satisfaction in his expression. As if he had been expecting to hear this, he began in a relaxed manner:


    "That''s what you would have done! But if you were the commander of a kingdom that has lived on our borders for hundreds of years, you would never do this."


    Belisarius'' brow furrowed. He was trying to figure out what Corvus meant. He got the idea that the armies of the Rhazgord had secret techniques for fighting in the woodlands. This could be one reason why their enemies did not want to retreat into the forests. When he mentioned this guess to Corvus, the grin on Corvus'' face made it clear that his guess was wrong.


    Corvus moved his finger on the map closer to the Black Plain and continued speaking:


    "When they see us, their first thought will not be that we are trying to slow them down. Not when they see the Iskat cavalry and Ilyada!"


    Before he finished, he pointed to a spot on the map where a square had been drawn. It was the capital of Laxon.


    "This is the capital of Laxon." he said. He added, his eyes on Belisarius: "And we are barbarians. They''ll think we''re out to burn their houses to the ground instead of making strategic moves."


    Belisarius nodded instinctively when he heard this explanation. The explanation made Corvus'' plan clearer. He remembered what Ilyada had said when she first arrived, that they should attack even before the city was under control. Corvus'' plan was based on using the image of the Rhazgord as barbaric and unintelligent to deceive the enemy.


    Still, the doubt in Belisarius'' mind was not completely erased. He asked with hesitation in his voice:


    "What if they don''t think so and head for the forest?"


    Corvus took a deep breath at this question. He could understand Belisarius'' concern. But there was no panic or fear in his voice:


    "If they dare to attack us, they will have left no soldiers behind. So I will send Ilyada and her cavalry to attack the defenseless Laxon. They will take Bahoz, but we will destroy the three kingdoms. Then there will be no point in them taking Bahoz. And we will have time to retreat."


    This answer did not reassure Belisarius, but it showed that Corvus had calculated every contingency. The cold determination in Corvus'' gaze made it clear that he was prepared to take the risk. Belisarius was silent for a moment, then looked at the map with a sigh. "You''re crazy." he muttered, but he said it with some admiration.

 0046 | The Battle for Bahoz (11)

    As Belisarius and Corvus were discussing the details of the plan, the door to the room suddenly opened with a bang. Entering was someone even Corvus had not expected: Kaelyra. Her entrance into the room, with her beauty and threatening stance, changed the atmosphere inside in an instant. Always known for her authority, Kaelyra''s arrival also startled Belisarius.


    Kaelyra quickly walked towards Corvus. In a motherly manner that reflected concern and authority at the same time, she began to check Corvus'' condition even before he spoke.


    "I heard you got hurt! What are you doing up? You should rest!"


    Kaelyra checked Corvus'' wounds, first with her eyes and then with her hands. Corvus tried to stop her by saying, "I''m fine, calm down! ¡± but Kaelyra could not stop her inspection. Her hands slid down Corvus'' shoulders, her every movement a mixture of authority and affection.


    This unexpected situation increased the tension in the room in an interesting way. Corvus'' slightly embarrassed expression surprised Belisarius, but even more surprising was Kaelyra herself. After a few minutes of this awkward encounter, Kaelyra finally stopped and glanced at the maps on the table.


    "I didn''t know you were going to be in charge of the reinforcements." Corvus said. His voice was both questioning and a little surprised.


    Kaelyra being here was unexpected for Corvus. Kaelyra normally did not leave her father Valerius'' side easily. It was usually Kaelyra''s job to keep Valerius under control and organize his orders.


    "I came because the situation is urgent." Kaelyra said, her voice as confident as ever, but trying to hide an underlying nervousness. She involuntarily reached for her hair, as she did every time she lied. In truth, she had been curious about Corvus'' condition and had managed to head the reinforcements, much to her father Valerius'' chagrin. To diffuse the tension in the room, she said, "I met Ilyada. She told me about the situation in the city. She said that you had decided to retreat." she added.


    Corvus took a quick glance at the maps on the table and replied in a calm tone:


    "I have not made that decision yet."


    Then he turned to the warrior waiting at the door. "Summon Ilyada, Tharvork and Draknar." he ordered. Corvus'' order made the mood in the room even more serious. As they waited for the summoned people to arrive, Corvus explained his plan in detail to Kaelyra. Kaelyra listened to Corvus, whom she loved like a brother, and watched his words with anxious attention.


    After a while Ilyada, Tharvork and Draknar came into the room and each took their place around the table. Their eyes reflected the seriousness of the situation. Just as Corvus was about to begin detailing his plan, a question from Kaelyra changed the atmosphere of the room:


    "Why didn''t Kragan come?"


    Kaelyra''s question created a cold silence in the room. Ilyada immediately averted his gaze from Kaelyra, her tense expression revealing the situation. The silence lasted for a few seconds, and then everyone became acutely aware of the weight. Draknar attempted to speak, but Corvus answered without raising his head from the maps:


    "In the presence of the gods."


    Kaelyra did not want to believe these words. Her eyes quickly scanned the faces in the room, searching for the truth. Draknar''s sad gaze, Tharvork''s fists clenched in grief, Ilyada''s fleeing eyes... Everything confirmed the bitter truth. Kaelyra''s eyes moistened, but the heat of her anger quickly dried them. Her hand reflexively went to the hilt of her axe. "How?" she asked, her voice broken but dangerously sharp.


    For Kaelyra, Kragan was not only a friend, but a brother. The news of his death was like a dagger in her heart. But Corvus'' response ended this emotional moment with cold clarity:


    "He fought with honor, he died with honor. The matter is closed. Let us focus on the work ahead."


    Corvus''s firm, emotionless words silenced everyone in the room. Kaelyra took a deep breath, trying to suppress the pain and anger inside her. But the heavy air over the room did not seem to dissipate easily, even later in the meeting. When Corvus began to explain his plan, all attention was focused on him. He valued everyone''s opinion, so he listened to the suggestions of everyone at the table. Ilyada agreed with Corvus'' plan, instead of insisting on her previous suggestion to retreat. The old wolves, Tharvork and Draknar, enthusiastically accepted the new strategy, as they had opposed the idea of retreat from the beginning. Kaelyra, on the other hand, with a look of vengeance and anger, remained silent, not saying a word.


    After about fifteen minutes of discussion and minor changes, Tharvork, Draknar and Ilyada left the room to carry out Corvus'' orders. As they left, Corvus turned to the warrior waiting at the door and ordered him to summon Rasur.


    As Rasur stepped into the room, he felt crushed under the weight of Kaelyra''s hateful gaze. He turned silently to Corvus, avoiding eye contact. Corvus was donning his armor without breaking the silence, but at the same time preparing his words to satisfy Rasur''s curiosity. Finally, he spoke in a calm tone:


    "I will soon execute your father."


    These words sent a shiver through Rasur''s body. He knew he would meet such an end because of his father''s betrayal; he had accepted this fact. But to be suddenly confronted with this reality shattered all his preparation. Moreover, according to the strict rules of the Rhazgord, the price of betrayal was not only the life of the guilty, but also that of his family. So this decision was also Rasur''s death sentence. Corvus recognized the war in Rasur''s face. Without making him wait long, he made him an offer:


    "Either you stand by your father and share his fate, or you stand by me and save your life and that of your family."


    Corvus'' offer raised the tension in the room even higher. Before Rasur could react, Kaelyra intervened angrily:


    "You cannot trust this dog, Corvus! The law is clear: treason is a crime of the whole tribe, not just one person!"


    Kaelyra''s words were right. Rhazgord law considered treason a social crime, not an individual offense. Even if Rasur had not been involved in the betrayal, his family could not escape the stain. But the determination on Corvus'' face did not change.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "I have the Black Flag, Kaelyra! In time of war, I alone have the right to judge and execute judgment!"


    Corvus'' words interrupted Kaelyra''s protests. The Black Flag trumped all Rhazgord law in wartime, and Corvus'' authority could not be questioned. Kaelyra''s anger remained on her face, but she knew she could say no more. Rasur took a deep breath, realizing that this offer could not only save him, but his family as well.


    Corvus turned to Kaelyra and said in a calm voice, "Go and prepare your warriors, please." Kaelyra hesitated briefly, but left the room without further protest. Her footsteps left a vague trail of anger and sadness in her wake. Corvus waited until he was sure she was well away. Then he turned to Rasur with a cold expression on his face. This time he began to speak in Adler language. It was not his intention to make Belisarius understand what he was saying; his main purpose was to prevent his words from being understood by others.


    "My brother died today because of your father, Rasur."


    Corvus'' voice was low and eerily calm. The words, spoken in that tone, cast a heavy gloom over the room. Rasur''s face turned as white as lime. Corvus continued to speak in the same chilling tone:


    "I want to tear your father and your whole family apart right now, Rasur."


    These words brought Rasur to his knees. He was trembling with fear, almost collapsing to the ground. The fear echoing in his heart had taken over his body.


    "Your life and the lives of your family belong to me now." Corvus said, as his eyes bored into Rasur.


    "You and your family are now only my dogs. If I say bark, you will bark, if I say bite, you will bite. In return I will give you Bahoz and a death that comes with time."


    As soon as Rasur heard these words, he reflexively knelt in front of Corvus. Kneeling was a gesture foreign to Rhazgord culture, but in that moment, Rasur''s instincts told him clearly what to do. His voice trembled with desperation and pleading as he fell at Corvus'' feet:


    "If you say bark, I will bark! If you say bite, I will bite! Just spare my family!"


    This was the moment Rasur''s fate was literally sealed. Corvus'' gaze was hard and determined. There was not a trace of compassion or mercy in his eyes, only control and authority. As Belisarius watched this scene in silence, he realized once again how ruthless and impressive Corvus'' new leadership style was.


    Corvus had gotten what he wanted and made his decision. It was time to set off. Despite Belisarius'' insistence, he had refused to take him with himself. Instead, he convinced Belisarius and his men to go to Sorbaj, giving him twenty warriors. For this was not Belisarius'' war; as a prince of another country, he should not interfere in the affairs of Rhazgord.


    At the exit of Bahoz, tens of thousands of warriors were waiting for their leader. At the same time, thousands of civilians had left their homes and made their way to safety. Chaos and fear were evident among the crowds. Everyone living in Bahoz was part of this scene. Everyone was waiting to see what their leader Corvus would do.


    Corvus came into the space between the people and the warriors, carrying Tanar by the hair and dragging him along the ground in one hand and Kragan''s huge axe in the other. Walking beside him, Franz proudly carried the Black Flag, while Rasur stood silently to Corvus'' right side.


    Tanar''s bruised and battered form and Corvus'' heavy footsteps drew everyone''s attention. Murmurs rose among the people, some cursing Tanar, others silently watching in horror. Corvus paused for a moment when the full attention of the crowd was on him, letting them feel the weight of his gaze. His eyes burned like embers. It was as if he was challenging not only Tanar, but all his enemies.


    Corvus'' voice, aided by the Lightstone energy, echoed throughout the crowd. Every word, sharp as a sword, echoed and penetrated the ears. A heavy, tense silence filled the air. People listened to Corvus speak, holding their breath. Some had anger on their faces, others despair. But they all had one thing in common: Hope mixed with fear in their eyes. Corvus aimed to fuel that hope and turn it into loyalty.


    When he thrust his axe into the ground, the sound created a small ripple in the crowd. Every face turned to the axe and then to Corvus'' determined expression. Whispers rose in the crowd, but Corvus raised a hand to silence them.


    "Brave and honorable sons of Mount Rhaz!" he began, his voice echoing throughout the square. His voice was like a fire that penetrated the people, igniting the vengeance hidden in their souls.


    "I am your brother Corvus! Corvus of the Tiamats!" he said, and voices of approval rose from some of the crowd. Some clenched their fists, others bowed their heads.


    "This is the dog you saw with me," he said, and took Tanar by the hair and pulled him a step forward. Tanar''s bloodied face was a picture of fear and desperation.


    "He chose to betray you and the Rhazgord!"


    His words raised murmurs from the crowd. Insults directed at Tanar mingled with threatening whispers. But some faces remained silent, staring at the ground, trying to digest the weight of what had happened.


    Corvus''s voice grew even harsher as he said, "Today, husbands, fathers, mothers, sons and daughters of many of you have died because of this dog''s betrayal!" There was a moment when the crowd could no longer contain their anger. Angry looks and harsh words were directed at Tanar.


    "And now you must leave your home, the streets where you grew up!" he added, and the angry voices of the crowd rose once more. But Corvus once again raised his hand to silence them.


    "But this dog called Tanar is not the only one to blame!" his voice suddenly changed, deep and accusing. "Unfortunately, my family and I failed to keep this dog on a tight leash!"


    These words brought a stony silence to the square. Corvus'' statement about himself and his family had the people frozen in their seats.


    "But I, Corvus Tiamat!" his voice rose again, resolute and sharp, filling the square. "I will pay for my family''s absence! By avenging the deaths of your children! By protecting your home for your safe return! And by taking the life of this dog and then the enemies of the Rhazgord!"


    Corvus'' words echoed through the crowd. Anger, hope and determination once again blended in their hearts.


    The silence of everyone created a tense atmosphere that filled the square. Until Ilyada''s strong, determined voice cut through the silence like a knife:


    "Long live Corvus Tiamat! Long live the Lion of Rhaz!"


    Ilyada''s shout dissolved the tension in the square in an instant, and the silence was replaced by echoing slogans. It was unexpected for Corvus, but his timing was perfect. Ilyada''s cry was echoed first by the two thousand Iskat cavalry behind her. Then Corvus'' and Kaelyra''s warriors joined in. In a few seconds the people of Bahoz joined them too.


    The sound of the crowd mingled with the rhythmic sounds of the warriors beating their swords against their shields, the neighing of the horses and the chants of the people. The screams rose to the sky like an unbreakable wall. In the midst of these waves of sound, Corvus gripped his axe with heavy steps.


    Kragan''s huge axe rose in Corvus'' hands like a glowing symbol of death. His eyes flickered for a moment to Tanar''s exhausted, helpless state. Then, without hesitation, he brought the axe down. The blow put an end to Tanar''s life.


    At this moment, the noise of the crowd reached its peak. The cries of the warriors and the people merged, echoing with a force that made Bahoz''s crooked walls tremble. Corvus'' speech and the punishment he had meted out to Tanar had given the people of Bahoz the confidence and sense of unity they had lost. Only this time it was a sense of unity centered around Corvus.


    The square was still buzzing with enthusiasm when Franz brought Corvus'' horse. Corvus nimbly jumped onto the horse''s back. He placed the axe in the strap on his back and took the Black Flag in his hands. The flag waved proudly in the wind.


    Corvus rode his horse towards the Black Plains. The sound of steel hooves echoed on the ground, Corvus was leaving Bahoz behind, followed by ten thousand cavalry. It was a scene that would go down in Rhazgord history - an army marching for vengeance and victory, behind the leader who bore the Black Flag. And most importantly, people loyal to Corvus, not to the primitive nature of Rhazgord.

 0047 | The Battle for Bahoz (12)

    Corvus rode galloping through the darkness. He aimed to reach the Black Plains, keeping his eyes on the uncertain path ahead. Behind him, the sound of cavalry horseshoes pierced the silence of the night, heralding an approaching storm. The warnings of warriors who knew the area well echoed in his ears: "We don''t have much time." That is why both Corvus and the cavalry never slowed their pace. Their aim was to reach the Black Plains before the enemy and catch them unprepared.


    Meanwhile, the soldiers left behind were not idle. Defensive lines were being set up on the hills, trenches were being dug and arrangements were being made to be ready for a counterattack. Everyone was aware of the seriousness of the coming battle.


    Corvus was barely controlling his horse when he noticed someone approaching him silently, like a shadow. It was Ilyada. Ilyada looked relaxed, as if she was on a daily ride. She was not holding the reins, guiding her horse with a grace that was purely instinctive. Her posture was very relaxed, despite her horse''s breakneck speed. Corvus interjected before Ilyada could speak.


    "Thank you, Ilyada."


    There was gratitude in his voice, but also surprise. He had never expected Ilyada to lend a helping hand. However, her unexpected move had played an important role in helping Corvus achieve his goal. A slight smile appeared on Ilyada''s lips. She replied in a relaxed but confident tone:


    "No problem. I don''t know why you''ve been badmouthing your family, but..." she paused for a moment, then continued with a slight shrug. "After all, you are my fianc¨¦e. I should help you when necessary, right?"


    Corvus nodded. He spoke without taking his eyes off the road for a moment:


    "Why haven''t your scouts arrived yet? Is this normal?"


    His voice carried both curiosity and a slight uneasiness. Corvus was alert for any unexpected situation and the silence of the scouts was gnawing at him. Ilyada had already sent her best men to locate the enemy. Ilyada smiled confidently at Corvus'' question. Her confidence was written all over her face.


    "They will be here soon. Don''t worry." he said, as if he was not the least bit worried. Soon after these words, it became clear that Ilyada was right. The sound of hoofbeats echoed in the distance, and two scouts, approaching fast, joined the group like lightning. The sweat on their horses and the serious expression on their faces made it clear that they had returned from an urgent mission. The scouts made a sharp turn and reached Ilyada''s side and immediately began to report.


    The enemy had just entered the Black Plains, as Corvus had predicted. The scouts'' information showed that the enemy was much smaller in number than Corvus had estimated. The unexpected events at Bahoz had taken the enemy forces by surprise, forcing them to move before they could muster their full strength. Nevertheless, it was certain that the enemy army numbered no less than sixty thousand.


    But this was not the only good news. The enemy forces had set out in a hurry and had been marching for hours without stopping. They were tired and disorganized. This was the opportunity Corvus had been looking for. If a cavalry army of ten thousand men were to meet them, they could be thrown into chaos, despite their superior numbers. It was almost impossible for a tired and disorganized army to stand against a disciplined cavalry attack.


    The two young warriors, relieved that they had accomplished their mission, stayed behind and rested. They had done their scouting duty well. After all, they were not the only scouts Ilyada had sent; Ilyada''s warriors were watching the enemy army at every moment, following their steps. In addition to these warriors reporting on the movements of the enemy army, a group of them were scouting the terrain to find the most strategic point where Corvus'' army could meet the enemy.


    As Corvus and his cavalry continued to advance across the Black Plains, Ilyada''s scouts appeared on the horizon one by one, bringing new information. Each report further clarified the enemy''s location and situation, helping Corvus to refine his plan. Finally, they reached their staging point. This point was slightly elevated compared to the rest of the plain, covered with tall grass. Looking down from the elevation, it was possible to notice how the rolling plains made any movement across this vast expanse of land clearly visible. It was the perfect vantage point both for observing the surroundings and for catching the enemy off guard.


    Ilyada quickly mobilized a few of her men. She had her warriors spread out across the plain and take up strategic positions. These men, like Ilyada, had grown up on these vast plains and had mastered the art of concealing themselves without even the slightest cover. Using the darkness of the night and the limited cover provided by the tall grass in the area, each of them lay in ambush to catch the enemy scouts off guard.


    Even though time was short, the soldiers and horses needed to rest. Ilyada, however, gave a strict order that no one was to go a step farther than the horses. Not letting go of the horses'' reins and being ready to move at any moment was the main condition for this irregular rest. The silence of the night was broken by the breathing of the soldiers and the occasional thud of the horses'' hooves on the ground. Everyone was alert in case the enemy appeared in the dark.


    Soon, several horsemen approached the plain. These riders were tired and careless scouts of the enemy. Cautiously moving through the darkness of the night, they did not realize that they were in the grass, where the Iskat warriors were hidden. Before they knew what was happening, they were knocked down one by one by the sound of arrows piercing the silence. The arrows were aimed precisely; none of them had a chance to escape or call for help.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    After making sure the enemy was dead, the Iskat warriors quickly checked the bodies on the ground. Then they slapped the enemy horses away from the plain to remove unnecessary attention. The hoofbeats of fleeing horses briefly filled the night, but even these sounds were soon silenced. The plain was silent again, only the howl of a gentle breeze rustling the grass.


    The silence did not last long. Soon, a single owl hoot was heard, breaking the night. Then several more hoots echoed, one after the other. It sounded like a real owl hoot, but in fact it was a special alarm system used by the Iskat warriors to warn of the approach of the enemy. Ilyada listened carefully to the alarm and, quickly grasping its meaning, gave the order: All the warriors must get into a ready position.


    The plain was now filled only with patience and tension. Out of the darkness came first the faint vibrations of footsteps striking the ground. Then the first ranks of the enemy army appeared on the horizon. The pale light reflected by their armor and swords shone menacingly in the darkness of the night. One by one, the emotions Corvus had been suppressing for so long began to surface. His eyes grew redder, as if responding to the enemy''s presence.


    Corvus fixed his gaze on the enemy ranks. His gaze scanned for weak spots like a hunter. Small irregularities, visible even in the darkness, the slackened lines of tired soldiers and scattered groups provided him with the clues he was looking for. He shared each detection with Kaelyra and Ilyada at his side and sought their opinions.


    There were many horses in the enemy forces, but they were used to carry the burden of the journey, not the cavalry. The armor, weapons and other equipment of the soldiers were loaded onto the horses, speeding up the enemy''s advance. But it also made it clear that the enemy forces had no cavalry at all. There were only a few men on horseback in the enemy army, and it was immediately obvious that they were the leaders by their posture and the way they stood out from the other soldiers. Corvus fixed his eyes on these men and spoke, pointing at them.


    "If you can''t take these three alive, make sure they are dead."


    Kaelyra gave a short and clear answer with a stoic expression on her face. "Leave it to me." Her voice was determined; this mission was more of an opportunity than a challenge. Corvus knew very well what the neutralization of these three leaders would mean for the enemy. With the enemy''s leadership removed, the army''s ability to organize would be greatly weakened. This alone would be enough to slow or even halt the enemy advance.


    When the final orders were given, Ilyada impatiently approached her horse. "We must attack now." she said, her voice full of both excitement and certainty. Corvus knew it would be a mistake to ignore the intuition and experience of an Iskat in cavalry action. He agreed with Ilyada and without hesitation gave the order.


    "Charge!"


    Corvus'' words were enough to mobilize the army. Within seconds, ten thousand cavalrymen mounted their horses and took up ready positions. The sharpest eyes of the enemy forces began to notice the movement. But before they could get this information to their leaders, the Rhazgord cavalry charged at full speed.


    The horses'' hoofbeats thundered across the black plain, and clouds of dust, carried by the wind, swept over the enemy. The determination of the cavalry was evident enough to strike fear into the enemy. The power of the charge that tore through the silence of the night was a testament to Rhazgord''s overwhelming fighting prowess. The enemy had neither the time nor the preparation to withstand the oncoming wave of fury.


    In an instant, the enemy forces were overwhelmed by the chaos created by the approaching Rhazgord cavalry. They hurriedly scrambled to take their weapons from the horses and fall into line, but each hurried movement only added to the confusion. What brought the chaos to a peak was the terrifying battle cry of the Rhazgord warriors.


    The brutality of the ''barbarians of Rhazgord'' , which the enemy soldiers had heard in stories for years, was now a bloody reality. The nightmares of young soldiers whose parents had frightened them on the nights when they did not sleep, telling them, "If you don''t be a good boy and stay awake, the Rhazgordian barbarians will kidnap you." had become a reality. These accounts reinforced the fabled horror of the Rhazgord warriors, and the fear became deeply ingrained.


    Corvus'' army attacked from many different points, unexpected by the enemy. The lines of the Three Kingdoms Alliance crumbled as if made of paper. The cavalry''s steady and relentless blows opened huge gaps in the enemy''s lines. Especially where the Iskat cavalry attacked, the scene was even more horrific. Pools of blood, severed limbs and soldiers screaming in terror were testimony to the striking power of the Rhazgord.


    The cavalry never slowed their pace as they broke through the enemy lines. Instead of standing and fighting in the enemy ranks after the attack, they kept moving forward. This tactic was central to Corvus'' plan. The plain offered the cavalry a clear advantage; it was Corvus'' strategy to use the horses'' combat power to disperse the enemy, if only for a moment, and then organize for the second wave.


    Now the cavalry had completely disorganized the enemy and, if only for a short time, taken control. Under Corvus'' leadership, Rhazgord''s cavalry began to assemble for the second wave. The chaos they left behind was great enough to make it difficult for the army of the Three Kingdoms to recover.


    This second wave was perfectly timed to completely frustrate the enemy''s attempts to regroup. While the enemy soldiers were still recovering from the shock of the first attack, the Rhazgord cavalry''s second assault was even more devastating. Corvus advanced to the front of his army, holding Kragan''s massive axe in one hand. The rage burning in his eyes not only terrified his enemies, but also inspired courage in the warriors behind him.


    Corvus'' imposing figure, with his red eyes glowing in the dark and his giant axe, resembled a mythical god of war. Every time he raised his axe, his enemies were at a loss, raising their shields in fear. But shields, armor or bodies were no match for Corvus'' attacks. When he swung his axe, it not only killed enemies, but also shattered the formation of the enemy lines.


    One of the enemies tried to block Corvus'' attack by raising his heavy shield with trembling hands. But Corvus'' axe, as if shattering a paper barrier, sliced the shield and the soldier behind it in half. No one could stand against this force. With every step, with every blow of his axe on the ground, fear echoed through the enemy ranks.


    The cavalry behind him moved swiftly along the path Corvus had opened, cutting deep into the enemy lines. With every move, the cavalry further demoralized the enemy, causing them to wallow in the mire of despair. The cavalry''s steel hoofbeats echoed across the plain, ringing in the enemy''s ears like a death march.


    Some of the enemy soldiers, watching what was happening, remained pinned to the ground in terror, unable to even think of fleeing. Others were looking for ways to escape in the chaos, causing even more disorder. This attack, led by Corvus, was not just physical destruction, but a blow to the enemy''s soul.


    It was a picture of the Rhazgord''s ruthlessness and determination in battle. With this attack, the enemy realized once again that the force they faced was no ordinary army, it was the monsters of Rhazgord, the monsters of the stories.

 0048 | The Battle for Bahoz (13)

    At first glance on the battlefield, it was possible to get the impression that Corvus had secured victory. The superior strength of the Rhazgord warriors and the deadly attacks of their cavalry seemed to overwhelm the enemy forces in an instant. But this was a misleading scene. The reality was much more complex beneath the surface.


    The enemy, however tired and unprepared, was proving more resilient than expected in the heat of battle. This was because they employed a strategy known to even the most inexperienced commanders: they spread themselves over a large surface area. As the enemy forces advanced through the Rhazgord lands, they did not move as a single mass, but in a long line formation. This formation greatly reduced the damage inflicted by the cavalry in combat.


    Of course, there was a disadvantage to this formation; it weakened the enemy line, which meant that at some point a large deficit would be created. However, enemy commanders prioritized reducing cavalry casualties through direct combat force. Cavalry attacks, while known for their striking power, were most damaging when their impact was concentrated in a narrow area. Spreading the enemy''s line long and wide dispersed this concentration and minimized casualties.


    Although Corvus'' cavalry at one point broke through the enemy lines and advanced rapidly, the enemy formation did not collapse. Their formation mitigated the impact of the waves of attack and gave the troops time to recover. This prevented the complete annihilation of the enemy forces. On the face of it, the battle seemed so close to victory, but in fact it was a balance of mistakes and strategies on both sides.


    Moreover, one of Corvus'' greatest challenges was the composition and capabilities of its own fighters. Kaelyra''s reinforcements and the bulk of Corvus'' troops were elite soldiers trained in the city of Sorbaj. These soldiers were considered the pride of the Rhazgord and could display superhuman speed and strength, especially those powered by the Lightstone. However, these elite forces had a weakness: Sorbaj training focused heavily on infantry combat.


    These warriors could be deadly on horseback, but their true strength was on their feet, swords and axes in hand. This is why some soldiers, not experienced enough in cavalry tactics, struggled in moments of intense combat. By the time Corvus completed the third wave of charges, the results were clear to see. The Iskat cavalry, with the advantage of growing up on the vast steppes and fighting on horseback, had suffered almost no casualties. But it was not the same among Corvus'' and Kaelyra''s soldiers.


    Many warriors lost control of their horses during the fighting and fell into the enemy ranks. They were surrounded by enemy soldiers and either killed or badly wounded. These casualties exposed the weakest point of Corvus'' plan: His elite forces were completely unsuitable for this kind of battle.


    Meanwhile, the enemy forces began to regroup and tighten their lines. Apparently, the commanders leading the enemy army were no ordinary men. They quickly adapted their defensive strategy and managed to overcome the chaos created by the cavalry''s initial charge. The enemy ranks now looked much more resilient than before.


    Corvus realized that his plan was starting to bog down. If he did not make a finishing move quickly, the balance of the battle could tip in the enemy''s favor. So he decided it was time to strike the final blow. It was time to test Kaelyra''s skills and the strength of her commanders.


    Kaelyra and her five hundred elite warriors had already set their sights on the enemy commanders. The enemy leaders had gathered in what was considered the safest place. Tightly guarded by soldiers armed with long spears, this group was the most difficult target to attack. Corvus'' plan, however, was based on capturing this elusive target.


    First, Corvus and Ilyada would attack the enemy commanders'' position with all their might. Their aim was to create a gap in the enemy''s defenses and break the line of defense. Then Kaelyra and her elite warriors would step in and try to kill or capture the commanders. If this plan succeeded, the enemy army would soon disintegrate and the war would turn completely in Corvus'' favor.


    Corvus'' anger and ambition fueled his horse as he launched the attack. He wanted to be at the forefront, to strike at the heart of the enemy with his own hand. But three Iskat cavalrymen rushed ahead of him and rode in front of him, forming a triangle formation. Corvus'' brow furrowed, his anger reflected in his voice as he shouted:


    "Get out of my way!"


    But the warriors did not obey Corvus'' order. They were the bearers of a strict order from Draknar: They were to protect Corvus. This attack was unlike any previous offensive. They would plunge into the enemy''s strongest point of defense, and if Corvus was in the forefront, he could become a target for long spears. The three young cavalrymen had orders to become a wall of flesh.


    Corvus tried to overtake them, but there was no keeping up with the speed and formations of their horses. It was too late. The moment of impact was seconds away, and Corvus was unwillingly riding under their protection.


    The moment of impact came with a roar that shook the battlefield. It was louder than any of the previous collisions, a terrible howl as metal collided with metal, life with life. The three Iskat warriors in front of Corvus became the target of enemy spears. The spears pierced their bodies and the warriors collapsed in a pool of blood. But their sacrifice opened a path for Corvus.


    In a moment of blood and rage, Corvus raised his axe and sliced an enemy in two with a single blow. His eyes began to scan the enemy line, searching for his main target, the enemy commanders. As he moved across the battlefield, he focused on the screams, gasps and overturned bodies around him. Finally, his eyes found his target.


    But what he saw froze his blood and brought his anger to the peak. A ''black mask '' stood next to the enemy commanders. This unexpected sight cut through Corvus'' mind like a knife. The black-masked figure represented both the real power behind the enemy''s plans and the root cause of the betrayal at Bahoz, the death of Kragan.


    His vision blurred for a moment; anger, hatred and revenge burned inside him. The presence of the black-masked man reminded him that he was not only fighting the enemy, but also facing a threat that had seeped deep into the Rhazgord. Without taking his eyes off this figure, he gripped Kragan''s axe tightly. This was no longer just a battle, but a showdown.


    Corvus forgot all his plans and went after his anger. He rode his horse towards the black-masked man, his gaze locked on his target. At every step he had to fight enemies, but his ambition and determination forced him onward. As the enemy soldiers swung their spears, the metal touched his flesh, making deep cuts and abrasions. As his blood mixed with the dust of the battlefield, each wound seemed to give him even more strength. But the crowd was too dense; Corvus found it difficult to move, his progress almost grinding to a halt.


    Just as he was about to be surrounded and pinned down, Kaelyra and her cavalry burst through the enemy lines like a storm. As swords and spears clashed in the air, Kaelyra and her warriors created chaos at the enemy commanders'' position. For Corvus, this intervention created the space he needed. He gripped his axe tightly, pulled on the reins and galloped his horse.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    He was only a few meters from the man in the black mask when a shadow passed in front of his eyes. Before he could realize what had happened, his horse suddenly collapsed. Corvus lost his balance as the horse hit the ground hard, but nimbly controlled his fall and got to his feet. He was now in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by enemies.


    Enemies rushed at him, but Corvus was completely focused. His eyes scanned the enemy lurking in the crowd as he deftly dodged the soldiers attacking around him. His movements were like a dance as he dodged their moves-planned, fluid and deadly. Even though he was unable to use his Lightstone energy, every muscle in his body worked in perfect harmony.


    A soldier swung his spear, but Corvus sensed the move. He quickly ducked to the side and avoided the spear, then drove his knee into his enemy''s chest with all his might. The man collapsed, unable to breathe from the impact. At the same moment, another soldier swung his sword at Corvus'' back. Almost as a reflex, Corvus spun backwards and twirled his axe; his huge axe cleaved the enemy''s sword and then sliced the man in half across the chest.


    A group of soldiers suddenly attacked. Corvus defended the space around him by swinging his axe. Every time his axe swung, the snarl of metal and the shouts of the enemies could be heard. He delivered a fatal blow to the chest of one soldier with his axe, then, as the other soldier leapt at him, he caught him with his free hand and knocked him to the ground. The force of his hand was enough to immobilize the enemy in a moment''s impact.


    On the battlefield, his movements accelerated even more. He dodged a spear thrust, simultaneously defending with his axe as if drawing a half-moon and knocking down the three enemies in front of him. Then, at a moment when he was caught without his axe, his fist came into play. He kicked the shield of a fallen soldier, sending it crashing into its owner''s chest and knocking him several meters away.


    Each strike was deliberate and deadly. His eyes were constantly searching for the man in the black mask, but the enemies did not give him the chance. Every gap around him was soon filled by another enemy, and Corvus fought on in the chaos without taking a breath. He acted with his warrior instinct, responding to every attack and seizing every opportunity.


    At one point, an enemy soldier managed to attack him from behind. But Corvus turned at the last moment and used his elbow instead of his axe. With the force of his elbow, he struck the man in the face, causing him to collapse. Meanwhile, he saw the man in the black mask again - far away, in the chaos, watching him.


    Corvus'' breathing quickened. His own blood was leaking from his body, merging with the blood of his enemies. The red glow in his eyes intensified. The enemies were beginning to realize that they could not stop him. Corvus moved across the battlefield like a storm of death, each step bringing him closer to the man in the black mask.


    Three black-masked men broke through the crowd and attacked Corvus. The men''s movements were planned with deadly precision, their daggers glinting menacingly with the greenish glow of poisonous liquid. Corvus deftly dodged these attacks, but the thin wind left by the poisoned daggers left an unsettling sensation on his body. But these three men were not alone in their attacks. When enemy soldiers from the crowd joined the attack, the pressure on Corvus increased.


    The black-masked enemies, each an experienced killer, wasted not a single moment in their attacks, moving in perfect unison to plunge their poisoned daggers into Corvus. Corvus was able to evade these deadly attacks with his own speed and agility, but the enemies'' attempts to strike were becoming more and more frequent, wearing him down. Even though his every step was calculated and every move deadly, the sheer number and agility of the enemies he faced severely challenged him.


    The huge axe Corvus held in his hand, though it gave him strength and intimidation, was becoming ineffective in this narrow space and the crowds of enemies surrounding him. As a warrior from Rhazgord, he was adept with an axe, but this massive weapon was a weapon of a different size and weight than any ordinary axe, a weapon he had taken with him in the circumstances of the battle to honor the memory of his friend Kragan. It was a weapon that reflected Kragan''s strength rather than Corvus'' style.


    Corvus assessed the situation for a moment. The enemy''s attacks were becoming more and more coordinated, narrowing his range of movement. He realized that he could no longer continue fighting with this axe. Sensing an attack coming from behind him, he made a sudden turn, swung his axe with all his might and drove it into the chest of one of the attacking soldiers. The enormous weight of the axe threw the man backwards and pinned his body to the ground. Corvus didn''t have time to pull the axe out, but he didn''t need to.


    Corvus reached across his back and grasped his main weapons. There was a moment of silence, then two curved black swords slid from their scabbards and stepped into the light. The ancient crimson runes on the surface of the swords began to flicker and glow with a faint glow the moment they left their scabbards. It was as if the swords had come alive in Corvus'' hands, thirsting for blood.


    These swords were no ordinary weapons. Their graceful curves and the ancient symbols on them showed that they were tied to one of the oldest traditions of the Rhazgord people. Though smaller and more elegant in appearance than the massive axe it carried, these swords were deadly at first glance. The sharp edges of the blades and the pulsating energy of the runes on them struck fear into the minds of enemies.


    When Corvus gripped his swords, his posture changed completely. He became more agile, more fluid and more deadly. The balance of the swords in each hand brought harmony and harmony to Corvus'' fighting style.


    A black masked man attacked Corvus, thinking he saw an opportunity. Corvus carefully followed the trajectory of the dagger in his enemy''s hand. With a graceful tilt of his body, he dodged the dagger and slipped to his enemy''s side in one step. The black sword in his right hand moved like a whisper of death, reaching his enemy''s neck. The sword cut his enemy''s neck as fast and smooth as a stream of water.


    Another black masked man was wounded in the abdomen by the blow of Corvus'' sword in his left hand before he even had time to prepare for the attack. Corvus turned just as quickly to his third enemy. The man had swung his dagger, but Corvus deflected the blow by swinging both swords at the same time. The sparks from his swords gave his enemy no second chance; the sword in his right hand pierced the man''s chest.


    Now Corvus'' fighting style had changed completely. Fluid, swift and deadly, he took down the enemies around him one by one. Every stroke of his sword was precise, every movement skillful. The pressure on the enemies was increasing, because they were facing not just a warrior, but a whirlwind. Each strike of the black swords shattered the enemy''s morale like a frightening echo from ancient runes. Corvus was now a figure that completely dominated the battle, an unstoppable force, an artist who performed death as if it were a dance.


    Despite the intense pressure of the black-masked enemies, Corvus moved swiftly towards his goal. His black swords swirled around him like a whirlwind, knocking down an enemy with each blow. The landscape left behind was a pool of blood; severed limbs, crushed armor and soldiers lying on the ground with horrified expressions, silent witnesses to Corvus'' advance. No ordinary soldier dared to attack him anymore. Only black-masked assassins were sacrificing themselves to cut him off, playing their last trump card to stop Corvus.


    As Corvus turned his attention to his target, an image cut across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning. Kaelyra''s voice echoed over the roar of battle. The gaze of everyone on the battlefield involuntarily turned in the direction of the shout.


    Kaelyra was holding the bloody head of one of the enemy commanders in her hand, raising her sword triumphantly in the air. Her sword was glowing, inspiring courage in the warriors around her. A closer look showed that other enemy commanders were lying lifeless at her horse''s feet. Kaelyra was surrounded by crushed armor and fallen flags. This was proof of the strength of the elite warriors she led; the enemy commanders had tasted death under Kaelyra''s sword.


    This scene marked a turning point for the enemy forces. Kaelyra''s triumphant cry shattered the morale of the enemy soldiers. Many soldiers, realizing that there was no point in fighting anymore, laid down their weapons and ran away. The ranking soldiers who survived tried to hold the army together, their shouts shouting orders to the fleeing soldiers. But these efforts were in vain. Kaelyra''s ferocious strength and fearlessness had completely extinguished the enemy soldiers'' will to fight.

 0049 | The Battle for Bahoz (14)

    The battlefield was now ready to declare victory for the Rhazgord. As Kaelyra''s elite warriors moved to clear out the remaining enemies, the panicked steps of the fleeing soldiers became a symphony of fear that echoed across the plain. This moment of triumph gave a new impetus to Corvus'' advance; even the black-masked enemies he faced now found it difficult to resist his fury.


    After some distance, two warriors appeared in front of him. Corvus immediately noticed these new enemies. They were different from the other black-masked ones; the skull face on their masks symbolized their status or power. The swords in their hands were no ordinary weapons, but what was most striking was the Lightstone energy these men radiated. Corvus knew immediately that these were no ordinary warriors, but specially trained and empowered with Lightstone. The wounds inflicted on his own body and the exhaustion of the endless battle made it difficult for him to use his energy.


    One of the enemies stepped forward, thrust his sword forward and took a defiant step towards Corvus. The other, in an arc to the right, began to turn Corvus diagonally. A classic dual strategy: one distracting, the other waiting for the opportunity for the killing blow.


    The first attack came from the warrior in front. His sword swung like lightning towards Corvus'' shoulder. Corvus parried the blow with one of his twin swords, but the second attack that followed caught him off guard. Coming from his right cross, the warrior cut deep into Corvus'' ribs with his sword. His armor cushioned the blow, but the sword penetrated deep, causing blood to seep from his flesh. Corvus took a step back, gritting his teeth, and tried to regulate his breathing.


    The enemies renewed their attacks without pause. The warrior in front of him swung his sword at Corvus with slashing, straight strokes, while the other took advantage of every gap to make a killing move. Corvus was trying to dodge these sharp attacks while trying to figure out the coordination of his opponents. But his tired body slowed his reflexes.


    A sword thrust grazed Corvus'' calf. Another blow immediately followed, slicing through his armor and cutting a gash in his right arm. Corvus was now in serious difficulty. The world around him narrowed, focused only on these two enemies. Every sword thrust was either a parry of another attack or a futile move. The perfect harmony of the enemies overwhelmed his individual abilities. For a moment his knees felt weak. The enemy on his left raised his sword once more, preparing for a deadly move. This could be the end of everything.


    Corvus took a deep breath and despite the pain in his body, he decided to summon his inner strength. With difficulty, he activated the Lightstone energy he had avoided using before. The runes on his swords suddenly glowed as if they were on fire. A crimson light seeped out of the swords, brightening the entire battlefield.


    He turned first to the enemy on the right. He stopped the man''s sword in mid-air just as he was swinging. Corvus quickly raised his sword and swept the enemy''s sword aside. Then, with his left sword, he delivered a sharp blow to the man''s neck. The sword sliced through the enemy''s armor and flesh like lightning. In a split second the man''s head was severed from his body, blood spurting into the air in an arc.


    The last remaining enemy hesitated for a moment when he saw his friend dead, but this was the opportunity Corvus had been looking for. His body, filled with lightstone energy, seemed to forget the pain for a moment. He rushed towards his opponent, parried his sword swing in one step, and plunged his second sword into the enemy''s chest. The red glow in his eyes intensified as the blade pierced the man''s armor and reached his heart.


    The last masked man saw only death in Corvus'' gaze. As he drew his sword with a final thrust and let the man topple to one side, Corvus realized that the surrounding enemies had retreated completely.


    Breathing in and out in a pool of blood, he could still feel the vibration of the black swords in his hands. The battlefield had fallen silent, his enemies had disappeared from his sight. But Corvus knew that his main target was not yet dead. The leader of the Black Masks was still hiding somewhere.


    For a moment Corvus sensed a threat as his eyes scanned his surroundings. But he was distracted by the sound of hard hooves behind him. Before he realized what had happened, he was thrown to the ground by a powerful blow. The impact of the horse threw him several meters away, and when he hit the ground, his chest was ablaze. His face touched the cold ground of the battlefield; blood and dust mixed with his body.


    With difficulty he lifted his head. His vision blurred, but it didn''t take long for the approaching shadow to become clear. A man in a black mask was moving towards him with a heavy air. His mask was far more elaborate than the others; the embroidery on it resembled a symbol of death. The menacing aura the man gave off seemed to ring a warning bell deep within Corvus.


    The man''s horse neighs proudly. The black masked man stared down at Corvus, sitting on his horse like a king. This was Corvus'' target; the man seemed to be the real master of the square. But Corvus knew one thing: There was no way he could defeat this man in his current state. His body was covered in wounds, he was running out of energy, and even though he had put down his axe and switched to his swords, the pressure of the enemy''s pressure was blocking his every move.


    The black-masked man slowly moved towards the spear lodged in a dead soldier. He pulled the spear out with a single thrust. As Corvus'' eyes followed this movement, Corvus jumped with a sudden sound. The spear was thrown at him like a bolt of lightning. Corvus dodged it, rolling to the side at the last moment, but as the tip of the weapon passed by him, it cut a notch in his armor, leaving a thin scratch on his chest. Even this scratch turned into a deep pain.


    As Corvus barely got to his feet, the man in the black mask urged his horse forward. The dirt splattered from the horse''s hooves hit Corvus in the face. The man swung his sword with great speed from the top of the horse. Corvus dodged the sword blow by leaping backwards at the last moment. But the man''s horse did not let up; the huge animal slammed into Corvus'' chest once more, knocking him to the ground.


    When he hit the ground, he gasped for breath. The air had left his lungs and his chest felt like it was under heavy pressure. Meanwhile, the man in the black mask turned his horse and charged once more. Corvus looked up as he struggled to get up from the ground and saw the cold-blooded gaze of his enemy. His every move was controlled and planned.


    Just then, Kaelyra''s powerful voice filled the battlefield. ¡°Retreat!¡± she shouted. Kaelyra''s voice cut through Corvus'' thoughts like a knife. He knew that the enemy lines had regrouped and that the Rhazgord forces could not prolong this moment any longer. Corvus''s plan had already achieved its goal. Corvus acknowledged that the order to retreat had been correct, but his full attention was still on the man in the black mask.


    On his horse, the man in the black mask moved once more. Corvus gripped his swords tightly and darted to the side to dodge the man''s attack. But once again, the man''s horse struck him like an arrow, and for the third time his body crashed to the ground. He tried to hold his swords tightly as he fell to the ground, but his tired body could barely obey his commands anymore.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    While he was on the ground, he heard the voice of the man in the black mask for the first time. The enemy''s voice spread over Corvus, cold and sharp like a frozen wind. Every word echoed in the roar of the square:


    "When I saw your red eyes, I was once again convinced that the Tiamats are descendants of the devil."


    Corvus raised his head with difficulty. His eyes were fixed on the face of the man before him. The eyes behind that mask were the eyes of a hunter. The man in the black mask had seen his weakness and was raging against it like a predator.


    As Corvus'' eyes followed the black-masked man raising his sword, he noticed movement behind his field of vision. A shadow hovered in the air. It was a scene that resembled the unforgettable maneuver of Ilyada, who had attacked Corvus when she met him at Bahoz. Ilyada rose from the back of her horse and brought her sword down with all her might on the black-masked man.


    The sword found its target with a huge thud. The black-masked man''s horse was split in two by the powerful blow. As the blood and dust swirled in the air, the black-masked man managed to dodge the blow with a moment of agility. He recovered quickly from his fall, his body radiating a menacing energy.


    Once on the ground, Ilyada did not hesitate to reach out to Corvus. Her voice echoed clear and sharp amidst the chaos around her.


    "Get the fuck up!" she said, as if commanding him.


    Corvus stood up, holding his hand, but the anger was clearly visible on his face. There was frustration and anger in his voice.


    "What are you doing here! The order is to retreat!" he snarled.


    Ilyada stood resolutely, her sword pointed at the black-masked man. Her eyes shone with the fire of a warrior who refused to leave the battlefield. Ignoring Corvus'' words, she replied in a calm but stubborn voice:


    "This time I will not be a dog of war, I will leave no one behind."


    Before Corvus could answer, the man in the black mask sprang into action. His sword sliced through the air as swift and deadly as a snake. Ilyada met the first blow by raising her sword. Sparks flew from the force of the impact. The black-masked man increased his speed, lining up one attack after another. Each move was aimed with deadly precision. But Ilyada''s sword skillfully parried these attacks. Rhazgord''s warrior nature was evident in every blow.


    Unlike Corvus, Ilyada had the advantage of using her Lightstone energy to its fullest, allowing her to track the black-masked man''s movements. But this was not an easy fight. Each of his attacks carried a deadly sharpness, slowly draining Ilyada''s strength.


    Meanwhile, on the battlefield, the Rhazgord warriors had retreated. Kaelyra''s order to retreat had led most of the army to retreat in an orderly fashion. But this was becoming a major problem for Corvus and Ilyada. The vacuum created by the retreat caused enemy soldiers to quickly surround them. Enemy soldiers came from all sides and surrounded Corvus and Ilyada like a vortex.


    Ilyada''s blows were slowly beginning to show signs of fatigue. The man in the black mask continued his attacks without a moment''s pause. Corvus was looking for a way out with his eyes, trying to knock down the enemy soldiers around him, but the circle of enemies around them was getting tighter and tighter.


    Ilyada, raising her sword, made a powerful counterattack, forcing the black-masked man to take a few steps back. Even though his warrior spirit was intact, Corvus was worried that the enemies were getting so close. Not only the black-masked man, but also the enemy soldiers surrounding them posed a great danger.


    Corvus'' body was now completely pushed to its limits. Every muscle, every breath was dancing on a fine line between life and death, but his mind was oblivious. He didn''t even realize that he was losing consciousness. The glow of his red eyes lit up the battlefield like a torch in the darkness.


    "Stand back!" Corvus shouted, his voice filling the battlefield like a thunderstorm. Ilyada felt something different from Corvus'' usual immense Lightstone energy; this time it was in another dimension altogether. The cold touch of fear felt like ice on Ilyada''s back.


    What spread across the battlefield at that moment was no ordinary aura. It was the full release of the Lightstone energy within Corvus, a power that had once made battlefields tremble, now unleashing death upon those around it without boundaries. The pressure spread through the air and fell upon all warriors, enemy and ally alike. Armors creaked, bones crushed, and the weak fell to their knees and screamed.


    Ilyada advanced towards Corvus. She knew how dangerous his power could be for anyone. But even taking a step was not easy. Corvus''s aura was like a physical force, weighing down on her body, making every step a challenge. Yet she did not stop.


    Even the man in the black mask began to stagger. He couldn''t stop his feet from shaking and tried to keep his body upright. But he could do nothing to counter Corvus'' spreading power. This was something even the black masks were not used to. His eyes stared in horror at this power that was wreaking havoc on the battlefield.


    Corvus was completely unconscious. He was no longer under the control of a human, but of an instinct machine. His body moved without thinking. The glare of his red eyes was like a death call to those around him. Although it did not cause the man in the black mask to fall to his trembling knees, it was enough to reveal his fear.


    Corvus turned on the few enemies who managed to stay standing. His every move was savage, every blow filled with deadly fury. The skillful fighting style of a moment before had given way to the attacks of a ferocious predator. He wielded his swords like claws, each blow drawing blood and screams.


    When a soldier swung his spear, Corvus ducked like a wolf and charged. One of his swords plunged into the soldier''s throat while another sliced his body in two. When another raised his shield and went on the defensive, Corvus shattered it with a kick and swung his swords in parallel, knocking the enemy down. Each move was both uncontrolled and relentless. Enemy warriors melted before his eyes.


    Ilyada was still trying to reach Corvus. "Corvus! Come to your senses!" she shouted, but Corvus did not hear her. As Ilyada''s sword swung and struck down an enemy, her gaze was fixed on Corvus. She knew how hard it would be to stop his uncontrolled rage. But the real cause of her fear was different: She feared that Corvus'' current state could lead him down an irreversible path.


    The intensity of the battle around Corvus grew more intense as the circle narrowed. Although his relentless fighting style had taken out many enemies, it was taking its heavy price. His body had reached its limits and was slowly giving up. Every breath hurt like a knife, every move a little weaker. The Lightstone energy was almost completely drained from him, its glow replaced by a pale, tired glow.


    Corvus tried to meet the enemy attacks, but his body could no longer react fast enough. A spear pierced his defenses and lodged in his shoulder. Then another spear went through his ribs and staggered him. Two enemy warriors were standing close to Corvus to control his body, pinning their spears, limiting his movements.


    Ilyada swung his sword like a storm, defying the enemies surrounding them. She knocked down every enemy that rushed forward, trying to prevent them from getting close to Corvus. But the number of enemies was increasing like an avalanche. Despite Iliad''s best efforts, there was no escape for either of them.


    Corvus'' body remained as still as a statue. His eyes still seemed to be fighting, but his strength was fading. As the blood from his shoulder and ribs mingled with the ground, the enemies squeezed the circle tighter, as if they smelled victory.


    "Corvus, get up! Get the fuck up!" Ilyada shouted, her voice full of anger and desperation. But Corvus'' blood loss and exhaustion were too much for him to answer. Just then one of the enemies broke through Ilyada''s guard and swung his sword, but Ilyada turned quickly and stabbed him in the stomach.


    Just when it seemed all was over, there was the sound of distant hoofbeats. At first it sounded like a distant, muffled hum, then it turned into a loud thud that struck fear into the enemy ranks. Even the enemies on the periphery were startled by the sound.


    Behind the hoofbeats, the cavalry was approaching, crushing the enemy lines. Two gigantic figures could be distinguished at the front, one advancing with his shield held forward like an armored battering ram, the other bringing his two-handed sword down on the enemies. The pressure of these two cavalrymen was enough to break the enemy circle.

 0050 | Sacrifice For The Future

    Ilyada had a brief glimmer of hope as the two cavalrymen dived onto the battlefield. When she realized who they were, she felt a little bit of courage in her heart: Tharvork and Draknar, the old wolves of Rhazgord''s army, come to change the fate of the war. But this hope did not last long. Tharvork''s horse, unable to withstand the wounds he had received, collapsed with a loud, strangled groan.


    Draknar stopped his horse without a second thought. Reaching Ilyada and Corvus, Draknar realized that his plans had changed. They now had only one horse to rescue Ilyada and Corvus at once. The attacks of the enemies became more frequent and the battlefield was filled with blood and death.


    Draknar swung his sword to keep the enemies at a distance while he carried Corvus, who had collapsed unconscious on the ground. Corvus'' weight was not a burden, but the future of Rhazgord resting on his shoulders. His experienced hands never hesitated to strike down his enemies with his sword as he fended off their attacks at every step.


    Ilyada never stopped fighting, despite her uncle''s efforts. Her sword swiftly struck the enemies, leaving a trail of corpses in its wake. But when she heard Draknar''s voice, she was forced to act on instinct. She jumped onto the horse''s back.


    "Ride!" Draknar shouted, the authority and certainty in his voice leaving no room for argument.


    Ilyada''s face showed indecision. She did not want to leave her uncle and Tharvork behind. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes fixed on Draknar''s resolute face. Draknar noticed her hesitation and gave the horse a hard slap on the back. The horse whinnied in pain and broke into a trot, driving him swiftly away from the battlefield, leaving Ilyada no chance to question the decision.


    Escape was not easy. Ilyada realized that the enemies ahead of them were trying to block her path. With each step the horse sped faster and faster, while Ilyada gripped her sword tightly, alert to the attacks. Some enemies were knocked down before they could dodge her blows, others were no longer a threat.


    Just when things seemed hopeless, a familiar voice echoed: Kaelyra. With Kaelyra''s powerful commands and the cavalry at her side, the enemies were repelled. The horse carrying the unconscious body of Corvus had finally reached a safe spot off the battlefield.


    Draknar was completely surrounded by enemies. As he paused for a moment in the midst of the chaos to catch his breath, his eyes found Tharvork. His old friend was still standing, fighting with the same indomitable will as ever. When Draknar saw that Tharvork could still fight, he made a decision: He would be with his friend in his last moments.


    Draknar began to advance towards Tharvork, knocking down the enemies around him. With each step, his sword cut through the flesh of his enemies, sending sparks flying across armor. A few steps away, his eyes fell on a huge axe lodged in the body of a lifeless soldier on the ground. He recognized this axe immediately: Kragan''s axe.


    Without a moment''s thought, he put down his sword and grasped the axe. This axe was not just a weapon. It carried an oath, a memory and a soul. As Draknar felt Kragan''s legacy in his hands, a wave of power washed over his body. He now represented not only his own life, but the honor of the Kragan.


    As Draknar crushed his enemies with Kragan''s axe, he finally reached Tharvork. The two old friends began to fight, back to back, as had been their habit for years. Blood dripped over their armor, their weapons forming a ring of death around them with each swing.


    Tharvork turned to Draknar and gave him a half smile. There was not a trace of fear in his eyes, but pride and determination. They both knew the same thing: This was their last battle, but not one that would tarnish their honor.


    "Save us a place at the table!" roared Draknar, his eyes fixed on the sky. His words were an appeal to Kragan, whom he believed was at the banquet table of the god of war. Tharvork answered the cry with a mighty war cry. Their voices momentarily shook the enemy lines.


    The two warriors moved with a rhythm honed in combat. Draknar''s axe broke enemy lines with each swing, and Tharvork''s sword filled the gaps left by the axe. The spears that surrounded them narrowed their space, but even in this narrow space they performed their dance of death.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Each one was writing his own legend with the bodies of the enemy piled around them. Each moment inside the shrinking circle was woven with years of experience and the strength of friendship. The battlefield blessed their last words, their last blows and their last breaths.


    These two old friends would do their utmost to fulfill their faith in the god of war. Death was near, but on their faces there was only peace and the honor of warriors.


    Meanwhile, Ilyada rode away at a gallop with the surviving Rhazgord cavalry. With every step of her horse, the pounding of hooves on the ground was like a melody of grief echoing in her ears. She stared ahead, averting her eyes from the battlefield even as the wind licked her face like a sharp knife. Because she knew that if she looked back, she would witness her uncle''s last moments - she couldn''t bear it. Instead, she tried to focus her mind forward, on the responsibilities she carried.


    But if she looked back, she would see this: The circle around Tharvork and Draknar had tightened. Shields and spears were pressing down on the two old wolves. Yet there was not a trace of fear on either of their faces. They looked at each other with pride and peace in their eyes, as if they had made a silent pact. Draknar raised Kragan''s massive axe once more, and Tharvork challenged his enemies with a final battle cry.


    And at that moment, inside the shrinking circle, echoing among the surrounding spears and shields, something was heard: laughter. The two old wolves welcomed death as a reward, taking their last breaths in laughter. It was the holiest sacrifice offered to the gods of Rhazgord.


    If Ilyada had been able to look back, she would have watched with tears and pride the legendary last moments of her uncle and Tharvork, but she kept looking forward. For it was because of their sacrifice that she knew she must live and fight on.


    Once they were far enough away from the enemy, Kaelyra stopped the fighting. As soon as Kaelyra stopped the warriors, she jumped off her horse and ran in panic to Corvus. She was used to seeing Corvus always standing upright after previous battles. But now, lying bleeding on the ground, his body looked more helpless than ever before. She bit her lip, tried to control herself, but it was impossible to suppress the fear rising in her heart. Ilyada stood over Corvus, but her expression was more sadness than concern. There was a chance that Corvus could somehow be saved. But not for his uncle and Tharvork.


    Meanwhile, the warriors around them were in a different mood. They straightened their backs and looked at each other like a victorious army. For them, Corvus'' wounded state was a symbol of pride, not sadness. He had crushed his enemies, defied an army five times his own, and sealed the battlefield with his blood for the safety of Rhazgord.


    The physicians quickly surrounded Corvus. Their faces were serious, but the light in their eyes was full of hope. His body was covered in cuts, bruises and deep wounds, but the Lightstone energy that lay within him still glowed. His minor abrasions were already beginning to close, but his severe wounds continued to pull him to the brink of death. Although his body was still fighting, he had reached his limit.


    Kaelyra clenched her fists as she watched the medics working frantically. "Please don''t die..." she muttered to herself. Ilyada took a step back in silence. To her, Corvus was born to dance with death. But she still couldn''t suppress a feeling of discomfort.


    But neither Kaelyra nor Ilyada''s gnawing worries changed the mood of the warriors. For them there was only one winner in this battle, and that was the man lying bleeding before them. Normally, after each battle, the warriors would discuss who had killed the most enemies and boast about the numbers. But this time no one said anything. Because no one even had a say next to Corvus.


    The group had to move on. They had dealt heavy blows to the enemy and brought the advance of the Three Kingdoms Alliance to a halt. But this did not mean that the danger was completely over. The sheer number of wounded required the soldiers to move more cautiously.


    Time had been bought for the Rhazgord army to catch up. The enemy''s commanders had been killed, they had suffered many casualties and many warriors had fled the battlefield. Moreover, there was a fear that gripped their souls. The possibility of another attack at any moment slowed their advance. Every time they saw the Iskat scouts watching them from afar, a deep fear gripped them.


    The Rhazgord warriors continued to advance, Kaelyra taking the lead. Her voice echoed over the soldiers as she gave commands in her bloodied armor and hardened expression. Everyone was silent, but there was a look of alertness in their eyes, mixed with pride in victory and caution. Even as they retreated, they were alert for a possible attack.


    Meanwhile, on the Black Plains, around twenty black-masked horsemen rode silently forward. Their plan had failed and the weight of defeat was heavy on them. Their movements were quiet but tense, anger and exhaustion mingling in the faces they hid behind their masks. As they left behind the lands where the battles had taken place, they seemed to leave behind a sense of aimlessness. They had not achieved their goal and there was no longer any point in standing with the Three Kingdoms Alliance.

 0051 | Releasing the Spirits

    When Corvus opened his eyes, he felt the deep pain that enveloped first the ceiling of the tent and then his body. A sharp burn penetrated every fiber of his smashed muscles. When he tried to move, he felt the weight of his body; each of his bones ached as if they had been struck. Realizing he was awake, Kaelyra immediately bent over him. Kaelyra''s voice echoed, but the words lost their meaning. It was muffled and distant. Just lost in the intense pain. Involuntarily, a single word escaped his chapped lips:


    "Water..."


    Kaelyra quickly fetched a bowl of water and gently held it to Corvus'' lips. His body relaxed for a moment as the water ran down his throat. The burning inside him eased and his head became a little clearer. The coolness of the water drowned out the pain, if only for a brief moment. But a moment later, an unexpected silhouette entered his vision. Valerius Tiamat, holding a bowl. Corvus'' uncle and the next in charge after Sanguinar. His stern features and the authority in his gaze made even the air in the tent heavy.


    Valerius silently handed the bowl to Kaelyra. Without a word, Kaelyra took it and brought it to Corvus'' lips. He didn''t know what was in the cup, but he knew that he had to drink it. It tasted disgusting. It smelled bitter, sour and rotten. But after a few sips, the burning sensation inside him gave way to a sharp relief. The pain was gone in an instant. The fog in his brain cleared, the heaviness in his muscles eased. When he regained full consciousness, the first thing he asked was:


    "How long have I been asleep?"


    "You''ve been snoring for two days."


    It was Valerius who answered. He spoke coldly and clearly. Corvus'' mind suddenly started working. He had been unconscious for two days. What had happened during that time? What had the enemy done? What was the situation in Bahoz?


    But Valerius'' continued words lightened the heavy burden. The Rhazgord army had recovered and arrived at Bahoz. The enemy army had fled in panic as soon as they learned of the arrival of the powerful Rhazgord troops. When Corvus heard this, he felt the pressure that had been weighing on him for so long dissipate. His eyelids relaxed for a moment, his shoulders relaxed, the war was over. At least for now.


    "Stand up if you are conscious! Even if I have arrived, you have one last task."


    Corvus knew very well what that task was. He had to attend the funeral to honor the souls of the fallen warriors. After all, he was their commander. Despite Kaelyra''s insistence, Valerius did not change his mind.


    With Kaelyra''s support, he slowly stood up. His body was heavy, his muscles tired, but whatever Valerius had given him was taking effect. As he opened the tent flap, he was dazzled by the sharp light of the pale moon hanging in the sky. He squinted and looked ahead; he was in the middle of the camp of the huge army, but it was strangely silent. Without the normally echoing footsteps and the shrill rumble of steel, the camp seemed empty and deserted. But this silence was not the silence of loneliness, but of mourning.


    The ceremony was too big for the camp grounds; all the soldiers had gathered outside the camp to say goodbye to their fallen comrades. As Corvus took his first step, the weight of fatigue weighing on his body, he tripped and his knees buckled slightly. But before he could fall to the ground, two strong hands grabbed him. When he looked up, he met the stern but friendly gaze of Zarqa and Baldrek standing beside him. Their presence made him forget his exhaustion, even if only for a moment.


    The three friends exchanged silent greetings without the need for words. The pain shared in their gaze reflected the weight of Kragan''s loss. Each of them was carrying their own grief, but at the same time supporting each other. As Corvus made his way out of the camp and into the crowd of soldiers, attention turned to him. Everyone, friend or foe, was united around a single emotion as they looked at him: Respect.


    This young man had overcome an impossible threat, defeated an army five times larger than his own. But what was truly admirable was his courage and strategic brilliance on the battlefield. Even while he was unconscious, his stories spread by word of mouth and became legend around him.


    Suddenly, a burly man emerged from the crowd and approached Corvus with heavy steps. Corvus had to raise his head as the man''s imposing form cast shadows over him. He looked as solid as a mountain, with chiseled features, eyes full of experience and a stern gaze. The man spoke in a thick, authoritative voice:


    "Are you Corvus Tiamat?"


    Corvus did not know who the man was or what he wanted. But he did not feel fear either. Determined and calm, he gave a short but clear answer:


    "Yes. I am."


    After that single word, the man''s face softened. A deep sadness and a heavy sorrow replaced the hard gaze of a moment before. At that moment Corvus realized who the person in front of him was. The old man, his eyes fixed on the ground, spoke in a low but soulful voice:


    "I heard you wielded my son''s axe on the battlefield, and with it you gave the enemy a taste of doom and honored his soul. Thank you."


    This man was Kragan''s father. Though he had never met Corvus before, he knew well the commander his son had served so faithfully. And now he was here to show his gratitude to this young man for keeping the name of his lost son alive.


    In Rhazgord tradition, a warrior''s weapon was part of his soul. To take the weapon of a fallen warrior and triumph on the battlefield would honor his spirit and bring him to the realm of the gods. With this in mind, Corvus took up Kragan''s axe and went into battle. Now he stood before the father of the axe''s rightful owner, looking at him with grateful eyes.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The big man made way for Corvus, moving his mountainous body slightly to the side. As Corvus stepped forward, the warriors in the crowd bowed in respect, showing silent devotion. The young warriors vied with each other to see him up close and to speak a word to him. Some excitedly held out their hands, waiting for a chance to shake Corvus'' hand. But Corvus moved with dignity, maintaining the solemnity of the moment despite the attention.


    He moved slowly through the crowd and moved to a place where he could watch the ceremony from the front. The space in front of him was filled with silence, but it was a silence of respect, not of mourning.


    The lifeless bodies of the Rhazgord warriors who had fallen in the terrible battle two nights before had been carefully carried to the ceremony site. Here were the warriors who had lost their lives in Bahoz and in battle. A deep wave of sadness swept over Corvus as he faced the motionless bodies of Kragan, Tharvork and Draknar. This weight settled on his chest, stopping his breathing for a brief moment. But according to Rhazgord tradition, crying or mourning for fallen warriors was seen as a sign of weakness. In order for their souls to reach the gods with honor, it was necessary not to shed a tear for them. So everyone on the field buried their own grief in silence, keeping their trembling lips tightly closed.


    With a stern but firm command from Valerius, the shamans emerged for the ceremony. Long, resonant chants and mystical prayers in the ancient Rhazgord language filled the night. In a deep ritualistic mood, the shamans began to circle the lifeless body of each warrior, one by one. The rhythm of the chants was like a tribute, reflecting the stories of the warriors'' lives and the greatness of their souls.


    The most sacred moment of the ceremony approached. As the shamans sang the last verses of the chants, everyone on the ceremony grounds held their breath. The dead bodies were to be cremated. The purpose of this ritual was not only to end the physical body, but if there were any warriors whose spirits had not left their bodies, to free their souls so that they could reach the gods. As the light of the flames pierced the darkness of the night, this final step would be completed, freeing the souls of the warriors of Rhazgord.


    The stench of burning bodies was heavy and acrid, stinging as it filled his lungs. But Corvus did not move. The pungent odor wafting through the smoke was just one of the harsh realities of the battlefield. For inexperienced warriors, it was a different test - some could not stand it and moved to the back lines, vomiting up the contents of their stomachs and letting out their inner turmoil. But Corvus never took his gaze away from the burning bodies and the shamans circling the fire, their chants changing from whispers to howls.


    Soon the ceremony was over. The time for mourning was over; they had to move on and continue their journey. The camp was bustling again as the warriors hurried back to their posts. For Corvus, however, this was the moment when he realized once again that his body was exhausted. The medicine Valerius had given him was slowly losing its effect, the heaviness returning to his muscles. He couldn''t stay up any longer; he had to go back to bed and focus on his recovery.


    He didn''t know how long it had been between falling asleep and waking up. But it certainly must have been long. Because when he opened his eyes, the pain had subsided and he could feel the Lightstone energy coursing through his veins again. But something was different. This time he was not in a tent. Instead of soft fabric, he felt hard wood. When he lifted his head and looked around, he realized he was in a carriage.


    "I can''t understand how anyone can sleep so much!"


    The words carried a hint of amazement mixed with humor. Corvus turned his head when he heard the familiar voice. He saw the figure on the back of the horse riding beside him, Ilyada skillfully holding the ropes. There was a playful glint in her eyes, a faint smile at the corner of her lips.


    Corvus sat up, feeling his bones crunch into place. He tried to revitalize his body with a few stretches, his strained muscles tingled, but it was a sign that he was recovering. Glancing around, he once again realized the majesty of the massive Rhazgord army.


    The great army marched in a long line, moving in discipline, in perfect order. The carriages carrying logistics were heavily guarded; the warriors scanned every corner around them, alert for the slightest threat. The messenger riders were constantly moving back and forth, carrying messages between different parts of the army, while the warriors were always ready to attack.


    Corvus took a deep breath. It was time to move again.


    "Do you have any extra horses?" Corvus asked.


    Ilyada looked at him with raised eyebrows. It was one of the funniest questions you could ask an Iskat rider. She rolled her eyes and shook her head from side to side with a mocking expression. Then suddenly she whistled. Before the echo of the whistle had faded, a white horse quickly broke away from the herd and rode up beside Ilyada. Its muscular legs were planted firmly on the ground, its shiny coat gleaming in the light.


    Corvus jumped onto the horse''s back with a nimble movement. The horse was young, strong and a true warhorse. There was hidden strength beneath its muscles, but for now it moved calmly, as if surrendering to Corvus'' hands.


    Ilyada spoke, gesturing with her head to someone riding at the front of the army:


    "My father heard that your horse was killed in the battle."


    As Corvus bent down and fed the horse the apple Ilyada had thrown him, Ilyada smiled slightly and added a warning:


    "It is a very good horse. Make sure you don''t lose this one too."


    Corvus nodded his head slightly in agreement. As he stroked his horse''s neck, he imagined himself back on the battlefield. He was beginning to feel like his old self, even if he was no longer fully recovered.


    "Are we going to the Laxon capital, or have you already destroyed it?" said Corvus, reaching for the canteen tied to Ilyada''s horse.


    Ilyada looked displeased at the theft of her canteen, but said nothing. She replied in a calm voice: "Don''t worry, you haven''t missed the action. We will be in the Laxon capital before nightfall."


    Meanwhile Corvus saw the bottom of the canteen. He had been unconscious for a long time and had not drunk water. His throat was still dry. Realizing this, Ilyada handed him another canteen with a sigh. As Corvus quenched his thirst, the rumbling of his stomach suddenly echoed in the air.


    Ilyada raised her eyebrows and grinned slightly. "It seems you''re not only short of water, but also short of feed." she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a piece of dried meat. As Corvus greedily devoured the meat, Ilyada spoke in a mocking tone:


    "You better not expect this kind of treatment when we get married!"


    Corvus responded to Ilyada''s words with an annoying smile. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes and he suddenly spurred up his horse. "It''s too early to talk about it." he said, and gave a light laugh.


    Now that he was awake, he had to know all the details. And the best way to do that was to go to Valerius, who was leading the army. Ilyada joined Corvus, and the two of them rode side by side to the front of the army.

 0052 | The Fall of Laxia

    Valerius rode heavily at the front of the army. Around him rode the strongest warriors and leaders of the Rhazgord. Just to the right of Valerius Tiamat, his daughter Kaelyra Tiamat stood tall. Her eyes locked ahead, her posture full of discipline and confidence.


    To his left was Sherkhan Iskat, leader of the Iskat tribe and Corvus'' future father-in-law. For Sherkhan, however, this journey was more like a pleasant ride than a preparation for battle. The man was as comfortable on the horse as if he were sitting on a throne. A small smile complemented his characteristic air of indifference but omniscience.


    Next to Sherkhan rode Carek Nabuk, the leader of the Nabuk tribe. Next to Kaelyra, Mech Ogon, the notoriously stern leader of the Ogon tribe, was carefully watching the army''s advance.


    Following a step behind them were the highest ranking Sharazirs of the Rhazgord Army. Each of them was placed directly behind their family leader, to whom they belonged or to whom they were loyal. This order was both a display of hierarchy and a silent tradition that revealed the relationship between the leaders.


    Valerius sensed Corvus'' arrival. Without even turning around, he summoned him in a full and decisive voice. He pointed to his right and asked him to ride there. Normally, Corvus would not have had this privilege. But he had more than earned it with his courage and victories in recent days. Valerius'' gesture not only showed his appreciation for him, but also announced that Corvus was now beginning to take his place among the great leaders of the Rhazgord. Kaelyra stepped back slightly, giving way to her cousin, but without the slightest discomfort.


    Valerius''s face was his usual lazy, uncaring expression. His gaze was hard, his thoughts deep. Tharvork and Draknar had swung swords at his side for years, fought shoulder to shoulder in many battles. Now they were no more. The void left by their deaths had left Valerius with a rage that would not rest until he had destroyed the Alliance of the Three Kingdoms. Moreover, enemies had infiltrated the Rhazgord lands under his protection, plotting treacherous plans in the shadows. Corvus was breathing this heavy air when suddenly a cheerful voice broke the mood:


    ¡°Do you like the horse, son-in-law!¡±


    Sherkhan Iskat''s voice echoed with a laugh that cut through the wind. He had his usual careless, amused expression on his face. But Corvus knew all too well the true nature behind this man''s mask. The real source of Ilyada''s erratic behavior, sudden outbursts of anger and strange mood swings was precisely this man in front of him.


    Corvus bowed his head with a fake smile.


    ¡°Thank you so much for this beautiful warhorse.¡±


    His voice was measured and calm. He had always disliked Sherkhan, but he knew that the alliance between the Rhazgord and the Iskat tribe had to be preserved. Sometimes he had to play the role that politics demanded. After a few words of praise from the other leaders, Valerius finally spoke.


    The enemy forces were divided, each with their own capital. The nearest Kingdom of Laxon knew it was the first target of the Rhazgord army. They desperately begged for support from the other two countries in the alliance, but to no avail. When the people learned of the approach of the Rhazgord Army, they panicked. Villages emptied and desperate farmers and merchants flocked to the capital. The countdown to the Kingdom of Laxon had begun.


    They talked about many things along the way - old battles, heroes, even the state of the army''s supplies. But hardly a word was said about the battle that lay ahead. Because there was nothing to talk about. Against a small kingdom like Laxon, they didn''t need strategy, long discussions or detailed plans. They just had to go and crush it.


    At one point Corvus tried to talk about the Black Masked enemies. The moment he brought it up, Valerius cut him off sharply. He obviously didn''t want the subject to be discussed here. Corvus nodded slightly, without questioning its meaning, and did not bring it up again.


    As they continued on their way, several Iskat cavalrymen appeared on the horizon. The sun glinted off the metal armor on their horses. But what was striking was that these cavalrymen were not alone. Behind each of them hung captives, bound hand and foot. These men did not look like soldiers. They had no armor or weapons, but they were not dressed like simple peasants. Since the three cavalrymen did not speak Adler, they could not understand who these men they had captured were and decided it was best to let the commanders decide.


    Valerius ran his eyes over the prisoners. Then he turned to Corvus beside him and ordered, "Translate what I say into Adler language. ¡± Corvus spoke in a loud voice:


    "I am Corvus Tiamat. I speak for Valerius Tiamat, commander-in-chief of the Rhazgord army. Who is this?"


    These men, tied face down and hanging over the backs of the horses, could not see who was speaking, but they recognized both names they heard very well. The bound men struggled to raise their heads and introduce themselves. Their voices were shaky but clear:


    ¡°We are ambassadors of the Kingdom of Laxon.¡±


    The corner of Valerius''s lips curled vaguely. When Corvus noticed the concern in the envoys'' eyes, he smiled faintly. Their enemies were expecting mercy. Then one of them spoke in a tone that ignored everything that had happened, as if it had never happened:


    ¡°What is the purpose of your visit?¡±


    Corvus''s insides swelled with anger. But he gritted his teeth and calmly translated the words he had just heard, without the slightest trace of emotion on his face. Valerius nodded with a wry smile, then spoke in a booming voice:


    "I have something to discuss with your king in private! That is why we are going to your capital."


    The ambassadors, still trying to raise their heads, did not even dare to ask for their hands to be untied. One of them forced his head up and spoke in a shaky voice:A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "If it is the recent bad events you wish to discuss, I can assure you that our kingdom has nothing to do with them.We have nothing to do with the aggressive actions of the wild Galir and the Behemites."


    He added hastily, as if he had forgotten for a moment:


    "And be sure, we are considering declaring war on them for trespassing on our lands. We also assure you that we will support all your efforts to take revenge."


    Valerius'' response to the envoy''s long and desperate explanation was a single word:


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    The three envoys remained silent for a moment, stunned by this unexpected response. Their eyes shifted anxiously to each other, then one of them quickly interjected:


    ¡°Of course, we are also prepared to pay a substantial compensation for the attack on you using our territory.¡±


    These were the last words Corvus translated. But the envoys received no response. All they noticed was that their horses were slowly moving away from the Rhazgord Army. As they were tossed about with their bound bodies, they called out to the cavalry, but there was no answer. After a while the horses stopped. The cavalrymen set the messengers down hard. They carefully collected their valuables before untying their ropes. Then they quietly returned to their mission, leaving the three envoys in the middle of nowhere.


    Still not fully comprehending what they had been through, the three envoys looked at each other, robbed and helpless. The place was empty, desolate and silent. Yet one of them took a deep breath and spoke with a shaky smile:


    ¡°Even in the middle of nowhere, it''s better than in the Laxon capital.¡±


    The others nodded silently and started walking towards the nearest settlement.


    As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the Rhazgord army reached Laxia, the capital of Laxon. The red sky cast shadows on the city''s high walls, foreshadowing the coming storm. Preparations for the siege began quickly.


    But the preparations had barely begun when the great gates of the city were suddenly thrown open.


    This caused instant alarm among the Rhazgord warriors. They thought that the enemy was in the madness of attacking. With their trained reflexes, they immediately took formation, shields raised, spears thrust forward. With just one order, it was certain that it would all be over.


    But it was not an army that came out of the gate. A single horseman and a second horse, carrying a fat man with his hands tied, were advancing. This rider, dressed in fine embroidered armor, approached the Rhazgord army with heavy steps. If he hadn''t been accompanied by a man with his hands tied, looking haggard and miserable, Valerius would have dismissed him as any other envoy and sent him back without a word. But the fat man''s condition caught his attention.


    His curiosity piqued, Valerius took Corvus with him and rode towards the horseman. As they got closer, they noticed how the soldier trembled. Not just his voice, but his whole body shook with fear and anxiety.


    The man took a deep breath and spoke in a shaky voice:


    "I am Lakan, leader of the Laxia city guard. I have come to inform you that we will surrender if you guarantee that no civilians will be harmed. As a sign of our sincerity, we have captured the king who authorized an attack against you that we never supported, and I have brought him to you."


    As he finished, he pointed to the fat man on the horse beside him, disheveled and disheveled. This man was the King of Laxon.


    ¡°I am Valerius Tiamat, and I swear on my honor that I will do no harm to anyone who is innocent.¡±


    These words, translated by Corvus, caused Lakan to take a deep breath and a look of relief settled on his face. He knew well how attached the Rhazgordians were to the concept of honor. If Valerius had sworn on his honor, there was no going back.


    Knowing this, Lakan, albeit fearfully, drew his horse closer to Valerius and extended his trembling hand. The purpose of this bold gesture was clear - to seal the treaty.


    The news spread quickly through the Rhazgord army. A few seconds later, the triumphant shouts of tens of thousands of warriors filled the sky. Even the city walls shook with the power of this mighty sound. Thirty thousand civilians in Laxia, who had no chance to flee, shuddered at the deafening, wild ecstasy. But this did not affect the discipline of the warriors. The Rhazgord army began to enter the city in perfect order.


    The first troops to enter quickly took control of the city gates and the city walls. The soldiers who followed gathered everyone, armed or unarmed, in the town square. The aim was to eliminate any threat that might be lurking in the city. All the while they made sure that no one was harmed.


    Soon the huge Rhazgord army advanced to the most secluded corners of the city and Laxia was completely under their control. Valerius, along with Corvus and Lakan, came before the city''s people, who were trembling with fear. The eyes of the civilians were filled with worry. They did not know what was going to happen, but one thing they did know was that no army they had ever seen was as terrifying as the Rhazgord.


    Lakan was preparing to ask when his people would be released when suddenly he felt Baldrek''s strong hand on his shoulder. In an instant he fell to his knees. Baldrek had done this at a small signal from Corvus. At that moment, Valerius took a deep breath and addressed the crowd with all his might. As his words echoed across the city square, the moment came for Corvus to step in.


    "People of the Land of Laxon! I am Valerius Tiamat, this city is now under the control of the Rhazgord army!Those of you who hold the slightest rank in the Laxon army, or who are members of the royal family, step forward!"


    Valerius'' booming voice echoed through the square. There was a murmur from the crowd, but otherwise no movement. Valerius watched in silence for a while as people murmured and whispered to each other. But no one stepped forward, nor did anyone point to anyone else. This silence ignited a spark of anger in Valerius'' eyes. He made a brief gesture to Kaelyra.


    Instantly, five thousand Rhazgord warriors stepped forward, swords drawn. The metal sound of the weapons sliced through the tension in the square like a sharp knife. Step by step, they advanced towards the crowd, which trembled with fear.


    Lakan began to convulse with terror at this movement. He wanted to plead for Valerius'' mercy, reminding him of the agreement they had made. But his panic did him no good. As he began to cry on his knees, Valerius raised his hand. With that single gesture, the Rhazgord soldiers stopped in their tracks.


    Valerius spoke again, his voice even more menacing than before. Corvus coldly translated every word:


    "Those who hold the slightest rank in the Laxon army, or who belong to the royal family, step forward! Otherwise, we will hold you all responsible for this war and treat you accordingly!"


    These words caused instant panic in the crowd. People looked at each other in alarm. At first no one spoke, but after a few seconds fear overcame loyalty.


    ¡°This man is an officer!¡±


    ¡°This is the king''s nephew!¡±


    The shouts became louder. Without hesitation, people were ratting each other out, pointing with their hands. Some, accepting the inevitable, quietly stepped forward, heads bowed. Others, however, were writhing in the shadow of betrayal, searching with their eyes for a place to flee. The Rhazgord warriors pulled the denounced men from the crowd and brought them to the king on his knees. Their numbers were growing by the moment. Corvus asked some of the higher-ranking men questions and sent those who gave him the answers he was looking for away.


    Valerius ran his eyes over the crowd. When he was sure that no one was left behind, he calmly gave his final order. The warriors raised their swords. And with one blow, they ended the lives of everyone lined up next to the king. After making sure that the king was watching the scene closely, they sent him to join the men Corvus had chosen.

 0053 | The Cost of War

    There was no slavery in Rhazgord culture. To take away a person''s freedom was seen as a stain on their honor. For the people of Rhazgord, honor was as valuable as gold or land, perhaps even more so. But there was no law forbidding slavery. So when Corvus asked Valerius if he could take some prisoners before entering the city, Valerius was briefly surprised. But he didn''t care. He simply raised his eyebrows slightly and said, "Do what you like."


    As the crowd in the square waited in fear, a single command from Valerius set the Rhazgord army in motion. It was an order the warriors had been impatiently awaiting for a long time: Plunder.


    The Rhazgord warriors quickly spread through the narrow streets of the city. Doors were forced open, chests overturned, valuables looted. Goods hidden inside houses, gold, jewelry, even precious fabrics, were taken as booty. In some houses there were still civilians hiding. But none of them were touched. Because Valerius had sworn on his honor. And no Rhazgord warrior would dare dishonor Valerius.


    Once the loot and logistics had been sufficiently gathered, the Rhazgord army slowly prepared to leave the city and move on to their next target. Corvus personally checked the loot and logistics his warriors had collected. Everything was in order. Then he turned to the crowd, waiting in fear for their fate.


    "I will give a chance to those who are fluent in the Adler language or skilled in any craft or science."


    Corvus'' words divided the hopes in the square. On some faces there was disappointment, on others a growing hope. Everyone began to question themselves. To be a carpenter, a blacksmith, a doctor or a scribe was now the line between life and death.


    "I swear on my honor to protect and support those with these talents and their families, if they will work for me!But I will not forgive those who try to deceive me!"


    Corvus'' words were suddenly heavy. Many of those who had pinned their hopes on him had thought he respected their status and their abilities. Perhaps he would give them some money and let them go. But Corvus was offering them a job. And everyone knew what that job meant. To be at the beck and call of a barbarian, a barbarian who had robbed their city and now had turned it over to giant flames.


    No one wanted to volunteer for this fate. The silence lasted until the Palace of Laxia collapsed with a thunderous crash. The rising smoke, the crunching of stones, swept away the last shreds of hope from the minds of the people. "Either we accept now or we perish." they said to themselves. And finally, a man in his forties slowly rose to his feet under the astonished gaze of those around him. In one hand he held the hands of his daughter, too young to understand what was happening around him, and in the other the trembling fingers of his wife.


    "I am Turin the carpenter. If you can feed my child and keep her safe, I will work for you."


    Corvus watched in awe as this man stood up for his family despite his fear.


    He bowed his head slightly and motioned for him to approach. Turin did not even dare to raise his eyes to Corvus'' face as he advanced with heavy steps. It was as if he thought that one wrong move and he too would join the wreckage of the burning palace. But one of Corvus'' warriors stepped forward and held out a large pouch.


    It was full of money. Turin looked at it. He hesitated whether to take it or not. He looked at Corvus, to see if he could really accept it. Corvus had a gentle smile on his face. It dissipated the fear in the man, if only for a moment. Maybe he wasn''t so bad after all. Turin took the pouch. Just then, another warrior handed him a bag full of food.


    Seeing this scene, people began to stand up, timidly at first, one by one, then in waves. Some claimed to have taught math and philosophy to the nobles, others claimed to be able to make anything out of clay. Everyone was claiming their skills to survive. Soon a large crowd had formed behind Corvus, but there were still more people waiting in front of him. At some point, he realized that no more people would join him. The rest of the people either did not want to be under the command of a barbarian, or they thought they would not find a place in this new world.


    Corvus hesitated for a moment and then gave the order to withdraw. With some 300 craftsmen and scholars joining him, he left Laxia to join the rest of the Rhazgord army. Not a single Rhazgord warrior was left in the city. Smoke rose from the palace, billowing into the sky, and flames gnawed through the stone walls, spreading across the city. Soon there was terrible chaos, people rushing into unburnt houses, grabbing anything they could find to escape the impending disaster. Some tried to extinguish the fire by pouring water on the flames or trying to smother the flames with cloths, but with each passing second they grew more and more desperate. Laxia was now nothing more than a city doomed to drown in its own ashes.


    The Rhazgord army resumed camping outside the city of Laxia. This time, however, it was not a siege camp, but a temporary rest stop. Exhausted from the journey, both soldiers and horses needed to catch their breath.


    Corvus'' new workers were placed in a special area set aside to await their fate. They were carefully surrounded by Corvus'' warriors. Corvus had no intention of letting the deal be broken or letting anyone attempt to escape.


    "Tomorrow you will leave for Bahoz, your new home. I will provide work for those of you who are craftsmen, and you will work for wages under my name. The rest of you will fulfill my wishes. I will make sure you don''t go hungry, even if you don''t have an assignment from me at that moment."


    After making his statement, Corvus studied the faces of the crowd one by one. They were less afraid than before, but there was still hesitation and uncertainty. Some knew where Bahoz was and were weighing the idea of going there, others were anxious about setting off to a place they knew nothing about.


    "Any questions?"


    Corvus asked as gently as he could. He could see how frightened the people in front of him were. But these people were a critical part of Corvus'' plans to change the Rhazgord. They would be the harbingers of change. So he had to reassure them with his composure and sincerity. As Corvus expected, the questions were not delayed:


    "How long will the journey take?"


    "Will we have a place to stay?"


    "How long will we have to work?"


    "Are we slaves?"


    He listened patiently to one question after another. He gave clear and decisive answers to each one. The conditions were not perfect, but they were not as bad as they thought. For some, this new order might even be better than their old lives. For a long time Corvus cared for his new employees, trying to understand and allay their fears. But after a while, he was jarred from his thoughts by a voice:The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "My father is calling you."


    At Kaelyra''s words, Corvus made his way to the big tent in the center of the camp. When he stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was that everyone in the room was from the Tiamat family. But these were not just any Tiamat - they were all high-ranking warriors. Corvus had the lowest rank of anyone in the tent. Most of those in the room were related to him by blood. But there were a few who, though not directly from the family, had been raised by the Tiamats. These warriors, who came from small families and were recognized and trained for their abilities, had become, over time, names that were not of Tiamat blood but were accepted as members of the family. For Corvus, their presence was no different from his real relatives.


    After Corvus entered the tent, several others entered. Valerius was sitting in his assigned seat at the head of the tent. Corvus was on one side and Kaelyra on the other. All the important Tiamat members of the camp were gathered in the tent, taking their places. The fact that Valerius had invited only Tiamat members was a clear sign that what was to be discussed here was to be kept within the family.


    The dried bloodstains on Valerius'' hands glowed a dull red in the dim light of the tent. They were the scars of his recent interrogation, which had soaked into his fingers. High-ranking Laxon soldiers and noblemen chosen by Corvus had perished at Valerius'' hands. Among them was the King of Laxon, who could no longer ascend to the throne. The interrogation was designed to get information about the men from Caramasca. Corvus waited for Valerius to bring it up, even though he was curious to know what the outcome would be.


    The heavy silence in the tent was broken when Valerius spoke. His voice was like the sharp, cold sound of a sword striking a blade. "What I have to say now belongs not to me, but to my father Drakar." As that name echoed through the tent, the atmosphere grew even more somber. Drakar Tiamat... the previous Sanguinar of Rhazgord and the man who ruled the Tiamat Family in his son''s absence. Everyone in the tent knew all too well the weight that descended whenever Drakar''s name was mentioned. He was not only a leader, but a figure of unquestionable power. What he said was a source of great curiosity and unease for everyone present.


    At that very moment, Valerius'' aura permeated the entire tent. This was no simple show of power, but a wave of authority whose presence penetrated to the very marrow. An invisible but palpable pressure built in the air. A crushing weight fell on the shoulders of everyone in the room, making even breathing difficult. Valerius'' gaze traveled over each and every one of them, and finally, the commanding tone in his voice grew harsher.


    "This is my first and last warning to you! If any of you are working with enemies like the traitor Tanar, step forward! If you come forward now, I will make sure you die a painless death."


    Death literally crawled into the tent. The most frightening aspect of this threat, even more than Valerius'' power, was that it was Drakar who was the real owner. Even though Valerius was the one feeling the pressure now, everyone in the tent knew that these words had actually come from Drakar''s mouth. As the tension in the room became unbearable, Valerius'' gaze lingered on Kaelyra. Even his daughter trembled slightly under the intense pressure, averting her eyes. But no one stepped forward.


    Silence was the only answer to the truth. Valerius held the heavy atmosphere for a few more seconds, then controlled his breathing and released the pressure. The air seemed to relax, but the shadow of death still hung in the tent.


    Valerius'' voice was the only thing echoing inside the tent.


    "Surely you understand that the enemy is not just these three small kingdoms. We still don''t know how deep the enemy has penetrated. We will conduct the investigation in secret. From now on, I trust you, but I want you to trust no one but me!"


    His words fell like a sharp knife on the warriors in the tent. It was clear that this decision had been taken by the eldest of the Tiamat Family. They suspected that the enemy might have taken root not only outside but also inside Rhazgord. If this was indeed the case, it was something that had never happened before in history. The men in the tent looked at each other for a moment, overwhelmed by what they had just heard. Valerius continued.


    "As I said, trust no one! Keep your eyes open, but never act. Do nothing unnecessary until Sakhaar arrives! Is that clear?"


    The unanimous "Understood." made the air inside the tent even heavier. Valerius surveyed everyone''s faces one by one, then spoke with a short and firm order.


    "You may disperse."


    The warriors started to leave the tent as soon as the order was given. But Corvus and Kaelyra remained in their places. "Do you suspect anyone? ¡± Valerius asked, glancing at them as they left the room. Corvus and Kaelyra nodded their heads simultaneously. They had both grown up with these men since they were children. They trusted them.


    "The king of Laxson said it was the king of Galir who planned all this."


    Corvus''s brow furrowed slightly. This explanation did not make sense to him. It would be naive to believe that only the King of Galir was behind the plan. Moreover, in the battle a few nights ago, the men from Caramask were directly among the commanders of the Army of the Three Kingdoms, and it was impossible for a force that moved in the shadows to be limited to one king. The King of Laxon must have known this, but either out of fear or because he was still hiding something, he did not reveal it.


    "But the King of Galir did not make this plan alone."


    Valerius'' voice echoed through the tent. He continued, his eyes fixed on Corvus.


    "The men from Caramascus, the ones you found, devised and executed the plan. But neither the king nor the others know who they are."


    Corvus saw a certainty in Valerius'' eyes that left no room for doubt. This changed everything. An unknown enemy had crossed the borders of Rhazgord, manipulated the three kingdoms, and provoked a war for its own ends. What had at first been a possibility was now a reality.


    "We have something to discuss with the King of Galir, then."


    Kaelyra''s voice broke the silence in the room. The King of Galir might be the only one who could tell them the truth about the men in Caramask. If there was an answer to this mystery, it was hidden in Galir''s palace. But the Rhazgord army had one obstacle to overcome before they reached the Kingdom of Galir: The Kingdom of Bahem. The fall of Laxon must have sent fear through Bahem, but that did not mean they would run away from the battle. The Rhazgord army would first wipe out Bahem completely, then march on Galir.


    "I suggest we change our destination to Galir." Corvus said, his eyes fixed on Valerius. He wanted to find out who the unknown enemy was as soon as possible. But Valerius rejected this proposal without hesitation.


    "I will not take seventy thousand hastily assembled men to Galir without setting up a proper logistics corridor."


    His voice was clear and decisive. The Rhazgord army was adept at covering long distances, but here was an unpredictable enemy. And in the face of such an unpredictable threat, it would be foolish to proceed recklessly. It would have risked not only reaching Galir, but winning once there. Valerius'' short and precise explanation made it impossible for Corvus to find a point of contention. Nor was he in a position to insist.


    After a moment of silence, Valerius turned to Kaelyra. "You will keep an eye on the Nabuks." Then he turned his gaze to Corvus. "And you keep an eye on the Iskats."


    The mention of these two names cast a puzzled shadow over Kaelyra and Corvus'' faces. The Iskat had been the Tiamat''s closest allies for generations. Moreover, they did not meddle much in political matters, and had no interest in anything other than riding horses on the battlefields. It was strange to hear their name mentioned in a suspicion of treachery.


    The Nabuks, on the other hand, had been the Tiamat''s greatest rivals for centuries. But they were known to be one of the most devoted families to Rhazgord traditions. It would have been unreasonable for many to expect treachery from them as well.


    But if Valerius suspected, there had to be a reason. Kaelyra and Corvus accepted the assignment without question. Now they had to look at the people they had walked with for years with different eyes. Valerius then concluded the conversation in the tent by sharing the bits and pieces of information he had learned.


    When Kaelyra and Corvus left the tent, they looked at everything with more caution and suspicion. The world they had trusted was slowly sinking into uncertainty.

 0054 | The Burden of the Merchant

    The army was in motion before the sun had risen. Rhazgord warriors had to be ready to move before dawn. Orders echoing through the camp, carts being loaded and soldiers marching at a steady pace, signaling the approach of a new day. But the high-ranking commanders had no part in all this activity. They slept in their tents, and it was up to the Sharazirs, who like Corvus had not yet reached the top ranks, to rise early and oversee the preparations.


    Corvus'' first job was to wake his new ''workers'' and get them on their way. With his warriors in tow, he headed for the tents of the workers he had brought from Laxia. Already on their toes, they were quickly awakened by the approaching footsteps of Corvus and his men. Most of them had spent most of the night without sleep. In fear and uncertainty, they waited to see when and how their new master would call.


    Before the warriors guarding the tents entered, he told those inside to come out. Within minutes, nearly seven hundred people had gathered in front of the tents. More than half of them were women and children. Fatigue and anxiety were clearly visible on their faces. Corvus spoke, pointing to the hundred or so men waiting behind him.


    "These men will escort you to Bahoz. Do as they say and you won''t have any problems."


    He was silent for a moment to see what effect his words had on the crowd. People stood still. Some bowed their heads, others stared silently at Corvus.


    "Your journey will take a few days. You can be sure that your needs will be met along the way. When you arrive in Bahoz, you will be settled into your quarters. Are there any questions?"


    Only one person stepped forward. A middle-aged man with slumped shoulders spoke with a worried look. His son was sick and needed to take regular medication. But the journey would take more than two days and his medication was not enough for the duration.


    Corvus sent word to the physicians in the camp. The competent physicians quickly prepared a duplicate of the medicine the boy needed, and the man thanked Corvus with tears in his eyes, while the rest of the crowd waited in silence. With the problem solved, the caravan finally set off.


    Horse-drawn carts carried food and other essentials for the workers. But in the middle of the convoy, there was one particularly protected cart. This cart carried Corvus'' share of the spoils of the Laxon raid. This wealth of gold, precious stones, fabrics and embroidered weapons was the initial capital for Corvus'' future business.


    The task of building this business would be entrusted to Baral Durin. The merchant, whom Corvus had forcibly made his advisor in Sorbaj, had been waiting for a long time when he would come back to haunt him. Corvus had sent word to him with Belisarius while he was still in Bahoz. The reason why he had summoned Baral to Bahoz at that time was different, because at that time he had not decided to forcibly recruit the craftsmen and scholars in Laxon.


    A few days earlier, Belisarius had returned to Sorbaj, accompanied by Corvus'' warriors. After the exhausting journey, he planned to rest here for a few days. Then he would return to his own country by a different route. While the hundred kilos of Lightstone promised by Corvus were being prepared, Belisarius went to the inn where he had stayed the first day he arrived in Sorbaj. This was Baral''s inn.


    Baral greeted him, grinning broadly, as always, with the business courtesy of a stocky and shrewd man.


    "What an honor to see you, my lord Belisarius. I hope you have not been affected by the bad events in Bahoz."


    Belisarius looked at the other man''s feigned friendliness with a subtle sneer. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he bowed his head slightly and said, "Thank you for your concern, but I am unscathed by the events in Bahoz. I cannot say the same for you."


    Baral''s grinning face suddenly faded. For a man who had come this far by his cowardice and cunning, these words sent him into a deep anxiety. A thousand scenarios ran through his head, trying to understand what had happened. His hand went to his chin, listing the possibilities one by one, his eyes darting in and out of his thoughts.


    Belisarius enjoyed watching him, but the fatigue of the journey was still weighing on his shoulders. He rolled his eyes slightly and spoke with a short sigh.


    "Don''t worry, Baral. When I left the city, Bahoz was already under control. By now the Rhazgord army should be arriving in Bahoz as well. Corvus wants you to go to Bahoz and organize things with Rasur, the new leader of the city."


    "Do you have any idea what kind of things I should organize?" Baral asked in an almost pleading tone. Although Belisarius'' words put him at ease, as a merchant it was one of his biggest habits to be prepared. He wanted to know what to expect. But the fatigue was evident on the face of the man before him. "All I can say is that Bahoz belongs to Corvus now." Belisarius said, breathing heavily, and then added wearily, "I and my men are tired. If you have spare rooms, I would like to rest."


    Baral was momentarily distracted from his thoughts. He put all his worries aside and focused on the necessity of hosting his guests. He immediately prepared the best rooms in the inn for Belisarius and his men. But his mind was already weighing Corvus'' moves. When he finished his preparations and set off, he still had no clear answer to the questions swirling in his mind. He knew a little about Corvus'' plans, but it really surprised him that he had taken such a big step so quickly. Moreover, Belisarius'' last words opened up a thousand different possibilities in his mind. He couldn''t understand what ¡°Bahoz now belongs to Corvus¡± meant?¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    If Corvus was in control of the city, it meant an enormous commercial opportunity. Bahoz was a stopping point for all the money coming in and out of Rhazgord at least once. It was not only a center of trade, but also a source of finance, and if Corvus could shape it to his own ends, it was a golden opportunity for Baral. As his thoughts swirled around these possibilities, he didn''t even realize when he had arrived in Bahoz.


    When he arrived in Bahoz, most of the city was still empty. Most of the people had fled because of the plan of the men in Black masks and had not yet returned. The streets were quiet, the marketplaces empty. The stately mansion on the north side of Bahoz, formerly owned by Tanar, now belonged to his son Rasur. He had moved quietly into his father''s seat, taking his position in a natural transition, without any show or pretense. The townspeople were aware of this, but they were not interested in opposing this man who had walked beside Corvus. Rasur was already a popular man in the city. Unlike his traitor father, he had grown up among the people and earned their trust.


    When Baral first met Rasur, he thought how much he looked like him. He was trapped in the hands of Corvus, just as he was. A man condemned to act in his shadow.


    The reason Baral was called to Bahoz was obvious: to solve the city''s economic problems. As a result of the black-masked men''s plan, Bahoz''s commerce had changed completely. The shops and inns that used to be at the heart of the city had been bought by merchants from the kingdoms of Galir, Bahem and Laxon and turned into logistics warehouses. But now none of these merchants could return to their places of business. The Rhazgord army had given them their deserved punishment.


    Rasur explained the situation to Baral without saying much.


    "Corvus said you would rebuild the city''s economy. You can stay here in the meantime. If you need anything, you are free to come to me."


    These were the only decent words Rasur spoke to Baral. He then asked Baral to leave his room, saying he had work to do. Baral was left in the middle of Bahoz with a few servants, not knowing what to do. He was a good merchant, but creating the economy of an entire city from scratch was a very difficult task.


    For days he wandered the streets of the city, inspecting the ruined marketplaces and empty shops, only to realize that it was impossible to rebuild the economy with what he had. The return of the people, and the return of some of them to their old jobs, had revitalized the city, but that was not what Corvus wanted.


    He didn''t just want the city to recover, he wanted to change it completely.


    One day, as Baral was walking the streets again, he noticed a group of people entering the city. These were the people Corvus had taken as forced laborers from Laxon. The Rhazgord warriors leading the group called out Baral''s and Rasur''s names to the guards as they entered the city gates.


    Hearing this, Baral quickly approached and introduced himself to one of the warriors. Surprised that a stocky and cunning merchant was the man they were looking for, the warrior raised his eyebrows and called out to his friends. Within seconds, another warrior came up to Baral holding a letter and handed it to him.


    Baral examined the seal on the letter. It was the seal of Corvus. But when he opened the letter, it was immediately clear from the typefaces and mistakes that Corvus had difficulty writing the Adler language. Although he had no trouble speaking, he had made many mistakes in writing.


    Baral began to read the letter on the spot.


    "I hope you have obeyed my order, traveled quickly to Bahoz and started to take care of the city''s economy. Luckily for you, my plan succeeded; I managed to capture Bahoz and just before I wrote this letter we captured the Laxian capital.


    The Laxon people that my warriors brought with them are the craftsmen and scholars that I put under my command in Laxia. You are now in charge of these people. If one of them escapes, I will take one of your fingers. If two run away, I will take the other finger. And if I hear that they are working in conditions worse than they deserve or that you are using them to line your own pockets, I will take your head.


    I''ve sent money with these people. Rasur will take care of all their needs. Whatever you do, use these people to change Bahoz''s economy and to serve my future purposes. Build a school for the scholars to pass on their knowledge. We will soon capture the kingdoms of Galir and Behem and I will send more craftsmen, scholars and money. I expect good results from you!"


    Baral paused several times as he read the letter. The threatening sentences flowing from the lines made him feel the enormity of his responsibility. But, at the same time, the opportunity Corvus offered him was enormous. Hundreds of skilled workers, good craftsmen and scholars... Bahoz had everything he needed to revive his economy.


    Baral wasted no time. First, he found a suitable place for these people to stay. Their quarters were arranged to be watched day and night by Rasur''s men. One by one, Baral spoke to each of the craftsmen and learned their skills: blacksmiths, carpenters, stonemasons, scientists and teachers. Each one was valuable enough to shape Bahoz''s future.


    Dozens of opportunities immediately appeared in Baral''s mind. Soon, he had decided on his first project. Baral decided to build a large and magnificent market that would shape the future of Bahoz. This market would not be just temporary stalls; it would be made of stone, sturdy and long-lasting. Here the craftsmen Corvus had brought would produce, sell and receive regular wages. But at the end of the day, all the profits would flow into Corvus'' coffers.


    With the spoils sent by Corvus and unlimited support from Rasur, Baral started the work without delay. Moreover, the architects and builders brought in by Corvus were the ones who would bring it to fruition.


    To build the new market, some buildings in the center of the city had to be demolished first. But this was not a problem. Because most of the places that needed to be demolished used to belong to merchants from Laxon, Galir and Behem. Since their owners were no longer alive or had no chance of returning, the demolition of these buildings would not be questioned by anyone.


    At the same time, the construction of the school ordered by Corvus had begun. The face of the city was changing rapidly. Buildings were going up, craftsmen were working feverishly, roads were being widened, new commercial areas were being identified. As Baral watched the construction from a high vantage point, he envisioned bigger plans. These were only the beginning. This was the biggest step towards transforming Rhazgord. But this transformation would not be limited to markets and schools. If he made the right moves, Bahoz could become not just Rhazgord''s commercial center, but the continent''s largest economic hub.

 0055 | Taking Bahem Down

    By the time the Lakson artisans and scholars arrived in Bahoz, the Rhazgord army had gathered outside the walls of the Bahem capital. The siege camp was set up and the warriors were already tired from the journey.


    As Rhazgord advanced, no envoys were sent by Bahem. This was a clear sign that the King of Bahem had no intention of surrendering. Clearly the king knew that Rhazgord could not contain his rage and understood that if he did not defend his city, it would be burned to the ground like Laxia. But instead of giving in to fear, he decided to defend his country and his people with unexpected courage.


    In siege warfare, the attacking side was always at a disadvantage. If Valerius had time, he could have besieged the city for days, waiting until his supplies ran out. But he had to act fast. So he built a few catapults and pounded the city walls through the night. But Bahem''s thick stone walls proved impervious to catapult blows. Neither the walls collapsed nor the resistance of the people was broken. The only option now was to attack directly.


    At dawn, the massive Rhazgord army, with their shields raised, marched in perfect symmetry towards the city walls. Among the soldiers were warriors carrying long ladders. Under the protection of shields, these warriors made their way, dodging the rain of arrows from Bahem archers. When the Rhazgord warriors were close enough to the city walls, the troops at the front quickly leaned their ladders against the walls. The most dangerous moment of the battle had begun.


    While some warriors tried to climb the walls using ladders and thrown hooks, the bulk of the army was still waiting behind. This was only the beginning. Bahem''s fate would be shaped by the outcome of this attack.


    With difficulty, the troops led by Corvus managed to reach the top of Bahem''s walls. In the chaos of battle, the warriors climbed up the stairs, trying to break through the enemy defenses in the face of death. As soon as Corvus set his feet on the stones of the ramparts, he charged forward, releasing all the Lightstone energy within him.


    As he tore through his enemies like a piece of paper, an insurmountable obstacle suddenly appeared in front of him. This warrior, whom he could not knock down with his first blow, was no ordinary man. The man radiated Lightstone energy and wore heavy armor. He was a head taller than Corvus, big and muscular. In his hand he held a war hammer whose destructive power was frighteningly great.


    The giant warrior began to advance towards Corvus, striking relentlessly with the hammer. With each thrust, his heavy weapon sailed down like a shadow in the air, shattering the stone pavement and tossing the warriors around him. Corvus had nowhere to retreat as Rhazgord warriors climbed the ramparts behind him. When the man swung his huge hammer with deadly speed, Corvus ducked at the last moment to avoid the attack. The hammer struck two Rhazgord warriors just behind Corvus, throwing them over the ramparts to their certain deaths. Anticipating the next attack, Corvus avoided the blow, this time leaping into the air. Landing on the ground, he brought his twin swords down on his opponent with all his might.


    But with great effort the warrior defended the attack by raising his hammer. The force of both collided in the air, sparks flying as metal rubbed against metal. Before Corvus could make his next move, the ramparts suddenly shook. This unexpected tremor threw the giant warrior off balance. Corvus took the opportunity to quickly slide himself between his opponent''s legs and get behind him. His sharp eyes spotted the open spots at the joints of the armor.


    His twin swords landed like lightning behind the man''s knees.


    With a deep roar, the man fell to his knees. He could no longer move, no longer parry the next attack. A Rhazgord warrior, coming ahead of him, swung his heavy axe swiftly. With the blow of the axe, the giant warrior''s life ended on the spot.


    Corvus regulated his breathing and looked to the spot where the trembling had come from to see why the walls were shaking. The battle raged on, but there was something there, something powerful enough to move the walls. It was Valerius Tiamat. He stood in front of the massive gates of the city. In his hands, two big Lightstones glowed. But as he prepared for his second blow, he drained them of every last drop of energy. In the blink of an eye, the Lightstones darkened and crumbled to dust in his palms.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Valerius took a few steps back. Turning his body slightly, he concentrated all his strength in one spot and delivered his next blow. Most of the soldiers who had been supporting him behind the door were thrown back by the force of this single blow. Even though they were holding the gate with all their might, they were still trying to understand how one man could have such a power of destruction.


    Meanwhile, the Bahem archers and warriors on the top of the rampart were throwing everything they could to stop Valerius. Arrows, spears, stones and boiling oil rained down on him. But nothing was working. The Lightstone energy that surrounded Valerius'' body prevented any attack that came close to him from even touching his skin. He didn''t stand in front of the walls, he rose up like a harbinger of disaster. On his fifth blow, the door swung open, almost groaning in pain.


    The thick planks and chains were crushed by Valerius'' blows, the supports that sealed the door shattered. At that moment, the warriors, led by Corvus and the other Sharazirs, had gained the upper hand on the walls. The fate of the city was now sealed.


    Valerius drew his double-handed sword from its point and turned to the Bahem soldiers in front of him. There was terror in the eyes of the men as they stared at him in fear. They had already realized that their weapons were useless in the face of a force they could not understand.


    And Valerius rushed forward to cover the city in blood. Behind him, waiting for the gates to open, the Rhazgord warriors charged into the city with war cries. The gates opened, the walls fell, and the Rhazgord army plunged like a knife into the heart of Bahem. The Rhazgord warriors, already vastly superior in numbers and experience, showed not the slightest mercy to their now completely defenseless enemy.


    Unlike the relatively orderly and controlled surrender of the city of Laxia, this time it was a scene of utter destruction and terror. The Rhazgord warriors unleashed their rage and the savagery of battle, advancing like barbarians. They showed not the slightest mercy to their enemies who stood before them and begged. Swords, spears and axes slashed relentlessly, screams filled the streets.


    The civilians they captured were dragged out of their homes and taken to the city square. In the streets, another rivalry was taking place. The warriors of the Rhazgord were racing each other for glory, vying to be the first to reach the king''s palace and capture it.


    Corvus was oblivious to all this. Once he was sure that his warriors had fulfilled their mission, he turned his attention to the civilians gathered in the square. As he had done with Laxon, he made them an offer. This time, however, things were much more difficult. The people of Bahem were more stubborn. They had seen how their own people had fought for the city and they wanted to believe that their blood had not been in vain. No matter how much Corvus tried, only twenty people accepted his offer.


    This was enough to test his patience. In anger, he decided to resort to a harsher method. He started threatening the people. He ordered them to point the finger at artisans and scholars, making it clear that anyone who hid or lied would be severely punished. Corvus was not happy with this method. But it was effective. Soon, even more people rallied behind him than in the city of Laxon. Sometimes leaving no choice was the most powerful persuasion.


    When Corvus was finished, the event that would spell the end of the city took place. The palace of Bahem was engulfed in flames and a huge fire spread through the streets of the city. Driven by the wind, the fire was moving even faster than in Laxia.


    By the time the Rhazgord army had completely left the city, the people had not even had a chance to run to the unburnt buildings and gather what they would need for the difficult days ahead. While the Rhazgord warriors gathered the lifeless bodies of their comrades who had lost their lives in battle, the people of the city could do nothing but watch in misery as their city was reduced to ashes.


    The Rhazgord army stayed a little longer this time. Unlike Laxia, the Bahem army held out to the end. Although victory was certain, the Rhazgord army did not come out of this battle without casualties. The wounded were quickly treated and the fallen warriors were given a traditional funeral. As night fell, huge funeral pyres rose in the center of the camp. The warriors sang hymns to say goodbye to their comrades for the last time, and the Rhazgord warriors stood tall and watched the send-off as the flames rose like giant pillars cutting through the darkness. When the sun rose the next day, the Rhazgord army was already moving its massive body.


    The wounded warriors, along with the few thousand soldiers who had been left behind to ensure their safety, regretted that they could not follow the army, but their mission was now complete. They would stay here for another day, then return to Bahoz, the nearest Rhazgord city, to recuperate. Most of them knew that they would not be fully recovered until the next battle. But this was not a shame for them, but a badge of honor. They couldn''t wait to show their wounds to their families like medals of war, to boast of their victory.


    After several days of advance, the Rhazgord army was close to their next objective. The capital of Galir was now only a few hours away. But just as the army was about to reach their objective, Iskat scouts, speeding ahead of them, carried extraordinary news. The flag of another country was flying over the Galir capital. Smoke billowed from the city and clouds of soot could be seen rising into the sky on the horizon.

 0056 | Falling Masks

    As the Rhazgord army crested the last hill in front of them, the Galir capital of Greuth loomed before them in all its glory. But this was not what they expected to see.


    Smoke billowed from all corners of the city, and heavy damage to the stone walls made it clear that Greuth had been captured after a long and difficult siege. But the most striking detail was the flags flying from the city walls that were still standing. These flags did not belong to Galir. The flags of Brihmond waved proudly in the wind.


    Brihmond was a powerful state, just beyond Galir, Behem and Laxon. Although they called themselves an ¡°Empire ¡±, they were not yet as big as a real empire. But they were not as small as a kingdom either.


    If you wanted to go from Rhazgord to the Kingdom of Adler as Belisarius is doing now, or to any other part of the continent, you would have to pass through Brihmond territory whichever way you chose. That is why relations between Rhazgord and Brihmond have always been strong. Rhazgord mercenaries used Brihmond territory to access job offers from other parts of the continent. Therefore, there had been a crossing agreement between the two sides for many years. What''s more, when a demon attack on Brihmond''s capital Seburg took place a few years ago, the Rhazgord army came to the rescue unreservedly. This further strengthened the ties between the two countries.


    Now, however, the flags of Brihmond were flying on the walls of Greuth, an unexpected development. Valerius spurred his horse as soon as he saw this sight. With his sudden movement, the head of the huge beast called the army of Rhazgord was thrust forward. And when the head moved, the body had to follow at the same speed.


    Arriving on the outskirts of the city, the Rhazgord army was in full battle formation. Although Brihmond was a friendly country, Valerius would not let his guard down until he knew the truth. With the arrival of the Rhazgord army, movement began on the walls of Greuth. Soon, the city gates slowly opened.


    .


    First, the head of a beast that looked like the army of Rhazgord appeared. Then its body glided through the city gates and settled in front of the walls. This monster looked bigger than the Rhazgord army and carried the flags of Brihmond.


    As the two huge armies stared at each other in silence, Valerius waited patiently to see what this great force would do. His wait was not long. The leader of the Brihmond army, accompanied by a few warriors, rode on horseback towards the Rhazgord army.


    Valerius took Corvus and some of his most trusted warriors to meet the approaching column. The two great armies met in the center of the battlefield, stretching as far as the eye could see. The leader of the Brihmond army quietly dismounted. The warriors behind him dismounted simultaneously as soon as his feet touched the ground.


    Valerius, Corvus and the warriors with him dismounted in the same way and came face to face with the man before them. With an affectionate smile, the leader of the Brihmond army approached Valerius and extended his hand. As he did so, he said "Hello ¡± in Rhazgord, accented but clear.


    The questioning look in Valerius'' eyes was still there. But he had seen this man many times. He knew him well. And without hesitation, he shook the outstretched hand with his huge ones.


    "Hello ¡± was the only word the leader of the Brihmond army knew in Rhazgord. So in came the translator, who spoke Rhazgord with an incredibly bad accent. The translator began to speak in an overly dramatic tone, puffing out his chest:


    ¡° My lord, Millan Mirones, supreme commander of the armies of Brihmond, Ironbringer, enemy of tyrants, friend of the oppressed, and last but not least, crown prince of the great Brihmond Empire, salutes Valerius Tiamat, the honorable and great warrior of the Rhazgord, and his honorable soldiers.¡±


    Valerius narrowed his eyes slightly. He did not understand a significant part of this pompous and extravagant salute. The titles and exaggerated adjectives sandwiched between sentences seemed to him an unnecessary waste of time. Turning his eyes to Corvus, he gave him a brief glance. He didn''t want to hear any more of this disgusting and incomprehensible accent, so he asked Corvus to speak in Adler Language.


    Valerius'' voice was as clear and firm as ever. Corvus spoke in the same tone.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    Valerius'' directness caused a slight discomfort on Millan Mirones'' face. However, he recovered quickly and continued unperturbed.


    "If you don''t mind, let''s discuss these matters in a better place. In the city of Greuth, if you wish, or in your camp when you have set up your camp."


    Corvus translated his uncle''s response to this offer in the same or even more angry tone as his uncle.


    ¡°Why are you here!?¡±


    Millan Mirones could no longer ignore this question. He knew that Valerius Tiamat''s patience was not to be tested. And this was a known fact on every battlefield.


    With a single gesture, Millan Mirones summoned one of the men behind him. The Brihmond warrior stepped forward, carrying a bag dripping with blood. Without hesitation, he threw it at Corvus'' feet. The contents of the bag fell to the ground with a harsh thud and rolled to Corvus'' feet.


    It was a head. And this head belonged to the King of Galir. His bloodied face stared into the void with dull eyes. Millan Mirones was silent for a moment, as if gauging Valerius'' reaction. Then he spoke in a calm but impressive voice.


    "We have not forgotten that you came to our aid three years ago and fought with us against the demons. That is why we could not remain unresponsive to the treacherous attack on you by the kingdoms of Galir, Behem and Laxon. We wish we could have destroyed these three worthless states instead of you. However, with your superior skills, you beat us to it."


    Valerius looked at the head on the ground for a moment. His stern expression did not change. With a cold, emotionless face, he said something short but sharp. But Corvus did not translate it. Because his eyes were on the man who had just brought the bag. The Brihmond warrior had returned to his post and disappeared among the soldiers in front of him. But Corvus followed him with his eyes. Something was wrong. When Valerius realized that Corvus was not translating, he was about to turn to him and nudge him to repeat his words when Corvus'' voice was heard. Corvus'' voice echoed harsh and angry, like a knife cutting through the air. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Move.¡±


    This single word was a command that penetrated to the very bones of his interlocutor. When the intervening soldier, feeling the weight of Corvus'' pure rage in his bones, involuntarily shifted a step to the right, Corvus'' vision cleared completely. Before him stood the warrior who had brought the bloody sack.


    His face was hidden in the shadow of his helmet, but his eyes and the sword hanging from his belt said it all. Corvus understood everything at that moment. This man was the leader of the Black Masks, soaked in the blood of Kragan, Tharvork and Draknar, who had given him a brush with death in the battle on the Black Plains, who had started this whole war. This could not have been a coincidence. Every fiber, every cell of Corvus was sure of it.


    The rage inside him began to rise like an uncontrollable flame. The energy emanating from his body radiated around him as the oppressive aura typical of the Tiamat lineage. Focused first on his enemy, the intense energy soon descended upon everyone around him, choking the air. Cold sweat trickled down the forehead of the man Corvus was staring at, while the warriors around them clenched their fists unconsciously. Even the distant soldiers of the two armies instinctively sensed that something had changed and gripped their weapons, ready for battle.


    This abnormal situation brought the tension to its peak. Everyone gathered here were experienced warriors at the highest echelons of battle. At Corvus''s age, it was almost impossible to master this level of Lightstone energy. But he was breathing like a predator, ready to tear his opponent to pieces, with a burning desire to kill. This threatening movement alarmed the Brihmond soldiers. They drew their swords to protect Millan Mirones. But as quickly as they moved, the Rhazgord warriors responded just as quickly. Shields were brought forward, axes gripped tightly, the battle was about to explode in an instant.


    When Corvus decided to fully unleash the fire within him, there was no turning back. With his energy at its peak, he charged forward, locked on a single target. As soon as he was off his feet, he felt huge hands gripping his wrists like an iron vice. Valerius had caught him in mid-air with all his strength, pinning him in place.


    Corvus wriggled like a chained predator, trying to break free from Valerius'' arms, but in vain. Valerius stood before him like a mountain, unmoving like a rock that intimidated him. But Corvus'' gaze was still locked on one point. He could not afford to lose sight of his enemy.


    The desire for revenge coursed through his veins like blood. His whole body trembled, his breathing became erratic, and he foamed at the mouth. He was so angry that he had even forgotten how to speak in Adler. Between the sharp, harsh sounds of the Rhazgord tongue, a single sentence echoed, beginning as a delirious whisper, but gradually turning into a battle cry.


    "I''ll take your fucking life!"


    Valerius'' capture of Corvus relieved some of the tension. If he really wanted war, he would not have stopped Corvus from attacking. But seeing Corvus in such a frenzied state for the first time was surprising even for him. No matter how angry he was, it was unusual for Corvus to lose his temper in such a frenzied way. Valerius knew he wouldn''t do such a thing without good reason, but he couldn''t understand what had happened. Who had Corvus looked at that had made him so furious? His breathing was ragged, his eyes bloodshot. The more he realized that he could not get past Valerius, the more his anger did not diminish, but only sharpened.


    ¡°It''s him! It''s the leader of those Black Mask sons of bitches!¡±


    Corvus'' voice, trembling with rage, caused Valerius to loosen his grip for a moment, but still he did not let him go. He followed Corvus'' gaze, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. But where Corvus'' eyes were focused, there stood an ordinary Brihmond soldier. The energy of the battlefield suddenly changed as he tried to understand if this man was indeed the leader of the Black Masks. Corvus''s aura, uncontrolled and wild, was crushed in an instant. His aura was overwhelmed by a much larger, sharper and more directed force.


    Spreading like a crimson mist, Valerius'' energy dominated the battlefield in a single instant. But unlike Corvus, this pressure was not uncontrolled. Anyone who knew what Tiamat power was realized that this energy was not unleashed in anger, but was meticulously directed. Only the soldiers of Brihmond and Corvus were the targets of the pressure. The Rhazgord warriors did not feel the weight, but the Brihmond army lined up against them felt as if they were being crushed under a giant mountain. Even the rearmost soldiers felt the pressure of an invisible hand at their throats, while the Brihmond warriors standing directly in front of Valerius were the real victims of this burden.


    Corvus fell to his knees. His breathing became ragged, his arms heavy as stone. He felt as if tons of weight had been dropped on his chest. He tried to lunge forward but could not move. His own aura was soon overwhelmed by Valerius''. He realized that no matter how strong he was, he could not stand up to Valerius'' authority. In contrast, the warriors of Brihmond were subjected to the same pressure, but they struggled to stand, supported by their swords. Still, none of their faces remained expressionless. Contracted muscles, trembling fingers, betrayed that many of them were shaking in their knees at the force.


    Millan Mirones, however, seemed unaffected.


    When Valerius turned his eyes to him, the pressure in the air intensified. The crimson light in his gaze flared into flames, a huge fire seemed to burn in the place of his pupils. The entire battlefield was dominated by his furious aura. But Millan Mirones still did not retreat a single step. When their eyes met, it was as if two titanic forces were facing each other in the center of the square. Valerius'' controlled but terrible rage on the one hand, and Millan Mirones'' cool and indifferent stance on the other. The silence concealed the invisible battle between the two.


    The shadows on Millan''s face were not enough to hide his anger. Valerius'' words echoed through the translator. The translator, barely able to stand, translated with a trembling voice, adding to the tension in the air.


    ¡°Millan, do you have soldiers lurking behind black masks and shadows, plotting dirty plans in my country?!¡±


    Millan answered quickly, shaking his head from side to side. Not for a moment did his eyes leave Valerius'' glowing red flames. Pointing to Corvus, still struggling on the ground, he tried to keep his voice as calm and even as possible.


    "The young man must have misunderstood something. Brihmond soldiers do not lurk in the shadows and plot against their friends, Valerius."


    The aura in the air was heavy, like a gloomy fog. The two men locked gazes that said more than words. Valerius'' overwhelming presence, which had suddenly filled the entire space, receded just as quickly. He was gone like a shadow, but the weight he had left was still weighing down on Millan''s back.


    He turned away without a word. Corvus, who thought he had seized the opportunity, wanted to charge forward once more, trying to get to his feet, still full of ambition. But Valerius grabbed him with one arm as easily as if he were lifting a child from a cradle. Despite Corvus'' resistance, he threw him over his shoulder and began to march towards his army.


    ¡°We will camp here for a few days to rest.¡±


    These were the last words Valerius spoke to Millan that day. There was command in his voice, but there was also a sense of indifference. What had happened was a closed matter for him.


    As Millan watched Valerius'' back, the nails of his clenched fists dug into his flesh, blood seeped between his fingers. He swallowed his anger, but his body could not hide it. The general of the Brihmond army was like a man who had torn himself apart to withstand Valerius'' aura.


    Finally, once he was sure that the Rhazgord leader was truly gone, Millan turned and began to walk slowly towards the city of Galir. Soon after, his massive army poured through the gates of the city, marching silently behind him.


    The sky was an ominous gray in the silence that remained as the Rhazgord army once again set up camp.

 0057 | The Heros Delusion

    Corvus was chained in Valerius''s tent like a rabid dog. Fury boiled in his veins, his muscles tensed, and with every movement, as if trying to break free from the chains, deep cuts opened on his wrists. Yet, no matter how much he struggled, the merciless strength of the chains held him firmly in place. When he realized his strength was not enough, his rage gave way to a deep silence. He had no idea how long he had been there. He had lost all sense of time. The only thing he knew was that the seething anger within him had not gone anywhere.


    When the tent flap opened, Valerius and Kaelyra entered. Valerius''s upright posture and shadow-like, imposing presence shifted the atmosphere inside the tent. The moment Corvus saw him, he went mad again. The red light in his eyes flared like flames, his breath quickened, and his muscles tensed with rage. He lunged forward as far as the chains would allow and spat at Valerius''s feet.


    "You forgot the deaths of Tharvork and Draknar, you did nothing against the enemy! You cowardly dog!"


    His voice was so sharp and thunderous that the air inside the tent seemed to tremble. Kaelyra''s eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively stepped forward. But Valerius acted faster than a blink. The slap he delivered was as heavy as a warhammer strike on the battlefield. Corvus''s head snapped to the side, the muscles in his neck locking momentarily. Blood trickled from his jaw as the destructive waves of anger within him paused. But Valerius''s words were even harsher than the slap:


    "You bark too much for a fool who falls for provocations!"


    Corvus''s consciousness was struck by a sharp, icy realization. Provocation? What provocation? He had been on the battlefield facing the enemy and had done what he thought was necessary. But what if he had truly been manipulated like a pawn? Lightning-like thoughts began to flash in his mind. The enemy had been there... but why? Why had the enemy revealed themselves so openly? Why had they risked facing their strongest warriors head-on? Corvus''s breathing became erratic, his eyes no longer fixed on the chains but on Valerius''s cold, emotionless gaze. At that moment, he understood the weight of Valerius''s words.


    Something had gone wrong... and worst of all, he had failed to see it.


    Noticing the change in Corvus''s expression, Valerius spoke with a cold demeanor:


    "Finally understood, brat?"


    His voice echoed inside the tent, calm yet crushing like a heavy boulder. Corvus clenched his teeth, and under the weight of Valerius''s words, the chaos in his mind began to clear.


    The true intentions of Millan, the commander of the Brihmond army, were now clear. Their first move had been to seize Galir. By doing so, they had not only expanded their territory but also eliminated those who knew something about the Black Masks. But the most dangerous part was that they had justified their actions by claiming to honor their so-called friendship with Rhazgord.


    This clever move legitimized their aggressive advance while undermining the legitimacy of any potential retaliation from Rhazgord. Even if Rhazgord found a reason to go to war, they would not be able to justify their stance on the international stage. The most terrifying part was how Brihmond had provoked Corvus.


    Corvus''s actions had served Millan''s plan perfectly. Brihmond had gathered a force equal to Rhazgord''s army and presented a threatening stance. Their goal was not to start a war but to force Rhazgord to be the first to attack. If Corvus had succumbed to his rage and acted, sparking a war, even if Rhazgord emerged victorious, their strength would have been severely weakened.


    Most of the Rhazgord army was currently fighting demons under the leadership of Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat in a distant part of the continent. If Valerius''s army suffered a heavy blow here, Brihmond could quickly rally allies under the pretext of being unjustly attacked and form a new army to invade the weakened Rhazgord territories.


    Corvus felt as if a fist had lodged itself in his throat. The anger and ambition within him had given way to a painful awareness. Now everything was clearer. He had been someone''s pawn. The enemy had tried to use his rage and aggression as a weapon.


    When Valerius saw the change in Corvus''s expression, a faint, mocking smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "Did you have to be chained up to understand this?" he said, his voice both stern and disdainful.


    Corvus''s mind was a storm. He couldn''t find a way out. The man responsible for the deaths of his friends and countless Rhazgord soldiers was just a few hundred meters away, but Corvus''s hands were tied. It was as if they had captured not just his body but his soul. The anger within him swirled like a whirlpool, going nowhere. As his thoughts drowned him, he didn''t even notice the words slipping from his lips.Stolen story; please report.


    "What are we going to do?"


    These words were no longer just a question in his mind; they echoed in the silent tent. But Corvus wasn''t even aware of it. He didn''t feel the chains being removed either. It was only when the weight on his wrists disappeared that he realized Kaelyra had come to his side and freed him.


    Valerius spoke, his voice as hard as stone and as sharp as a blade:


    "What we''re going to do is simple. We''ll retreat and wait for your father to arrive. After that, your father will decide what happens next."


    Corvus lifted his head from the whirlpool of his thoughts. Valerius''s words should have angered him further, but there was nothing he could do. The enemy was there, but even if Corvus reached out, he couldn''t touch them. All his warrior instincts screamed at him to attack, but his mind told him to stay silent.


    His eyes turned to the only motionless figure in the tent: Valerius. The man was eating the food in front of him with ease, savoring each bite as if he were at a banquet rather than on a battlefield. While his nephew was chained up, raging with fury, Valerius''s calm demeanor only fueled the fire within Corvus.


    There was a voice inside him that demanded rebellion, that urged him to protest, to slam his fist on the table. But he couldn''t say anything. No matter how much he thought, he couldn''t find a point to argue against Valerius''s words.


    It was then that he realized the chains on his wrists were truly gone. He slowly moved his hands; there was a slight ache in his muscles from being restrained for so long, but he ignored it. He moved not to shout or challenge Valerius and Kaelyra but simply to sit beside them.


    He looked at the food in front of him. His stomach growled. He was starving, his vision blurring from hunger, but he had been so consumed by his thoughts that he only now realized it. He needed to clear his mind first. But he couldn''t think on an empty stomach. He reached for the food. Soon, the tent was filled only with the sounds of spoons and plates.


    For two days, Brihmond sent gifts and requests for meetings one after another. The parchments were sealed, the envoys respectful. But Valerius rejected each one with the same determination. He saw no need to speak with them. The message was clear: Rhazgord would not fall for Brihmond''s games.


    Now the army was ready to return home. The tents were dismantled, the soldiers making their final preparations. Some Rhazgord warriors carried a faint disappointment on their faces. Some of them had not found the great battle they had sought. Yet, despite this, the spoils they had gained, the experience they had earned, and the stories they would tell had soothed their hearts. Every warrior had gained something from this war.


    But there was no doubt that the name that had left its mark on this war was Corvus. He had halted the advance of the Three Kingdoms Army, standing against fifty thousand enemy soldiers with just ten thousand cavalry. As if that weren''t enough, during the siege of Bahem, he had personally killed one of the enemy''s strongest warriors and led his troops from the front to capture the walls.


    These achievements had multiplied the respect he commanded among the warriors. He was no longer seen as just a young and talented fighter but as a true war hero. Yet, what everyone talked about wasn''t just Corvus''s victories. They had sensed that the power he possessed was far greater than anyone had known. Despite his youth, he had displayed a strength on the battlefield that transcended human limits. And this had resonated deeply among Rhazgord''s warriors. When Corvus returned to Sorbaj, everyone agreed on what he would do. He would challenge his rivals, rise in rank, and officially take his rightful place.


    When the Rhazgord army reached the outskirts of Bahoz, it was time for another farewell. The Iskats were preparing to leave the army and return to their homelands. Horses were bridled, saddles checked. For Ilyada, it was also time to return.


    Like Corvus, she had achieved great victories in this war. But the most significant change was in her spirit. The girl who had first arrived in Bahoz was not the same woman who was leaving now.


    The two said their goodbyes quietly, contrary to expectations. No grand words were spoken, no unnecessary emotions displayed. Both their fates were clear. Their destinies and the agreement between their families had bound them together. No matter what, their paths would cross again. At the very least... they would meet again at their wedding in a few years.


    When Corvus returned to Sorbaj, he stormed through like a tempest. Not just on the battlefields, but throughout all of Rhazgord, he moved like a hurricane. Every day, he challenged warriors far older and more experienced than himself, emerging victorious each time. Even Rhazgord''s toughest warriors had no choice but to kneel before Corvus.


    But these challenges were not just victories. Each fight made Corvus stronger than before. His experience grew, his mastery of the art of war sharpened, and with each victory, he drew closer to becoming one of Rhazgord''s greatest warriors.


    Finally, when he completed his challenges, Corvus earned a great privilege: the right to command five thousand warriors. This was an honor reserved only for the highest-ranking warriors. Now he held the same rank as Kaelyra. He had long surpassed Ilyada. There were now ten ranks between them. Corvus had entered the ranks of Rhazgord''s top thirty warriors. And no warrior his age had ever achieved this before.


    After completing his duties in Sorbaj, Corvus knew he had another task to attend to. This time, he didn''t have an army with him. By his side were his brother Volmir Tiamat, the master sculptor Neratius from Rax, who had come to create a statue of Corvus''s father, and his men. Volmir and Corvus sparred frequently as they made their way toward Bahoz.

 0058 | Back to Bahoz

    Even before Corvus arrived in Bahoz, he could feel the city changing. Even the air smelled different - the city was undergoing a major transformation to erase the scars of the war.


    The first thing he noticed was the massive construction going on outside the city. The foundations hadn''t even been laid yet, but looking at the materials scattered around the construction site, the scaffolding going up and the feverish work, it wasn''t hard to see what was being built. The new city walls were rising.


    The old, ragged walls were nothing more than rotting logs and rocks worn down by the years, riddled with cracks. Instead of protecting Bahoz, the old walls were a burden that could easily collapse in a disaster. But now new ones were coming to replace them.


    Bahoz was far from Sorbaj, the capital and military center of the Rhazgord, and close to dangerous borders, so it had to be able to defend itself. The new walls, though not as thick and high as those in Rax and other major cities, were an important step in strengthening the city''s defenses.


    The second change Corvus noticed was the military activity around the city. Patrols that used to hardly ever move around Bahoz were now more frequent and more organized. The number of fighters guarding the city entrances had also increased noticeably. What used to be controlled by a few sentries was now tightly guarded by dozens of fighters.


    Although there seemed to be no more bandits around the city, Rasur was determined not to allow new threats to arise.The recent events had painfully demonstrated how vulnerable Bahoz was. No one could now enter or leave the city unchecked.


    When Corvus arrived at the city gates, he found long lines of merchants and travelers waiting to enter the city. But his and Volmir''s red eyes were enough to prove without question who they were. The guards cleared the way without a word and Corvus and his entourage entered the city unhindered.


    He had last been in Bahoz a little over a month ago, but the city had changed a great deal since then. It was clear that Baral and Rasur had done their job well. Even the mood, the layout and the rhythm of the city was different.


    The first thing Corvus noticed was that the population had dwindled. The streets, which had been lively and crowded before the last war, now seemed quieter and more orderly. The reason for this was clear. Most of the people of Bahoz had gone to Sorbaj for safety during the war. But many of them had not returned, joining the Rhazgord army or joining groups that catered to its needs. In particular, recruitment had increased dramatically to replace the warriors who had lost their lives in the last war.


    As Corvus made his way through the city, he noticed architectural changes. Many old buildings and shops were no more. The previously random, irregular structures made of mud and stone had been removed. Instead, it was clear that a more planned, more organized city was being built.


    One of the most noticeable changes was the road from the city entrance to the center. Formerly narrow, muddy and paved with makeshift stones, it was now much wider and more solid. Paved in the Adler style with smooth stones, the new road was both grand and practical.


    As Corvus looked out towards the town square, he could see construction in full swing. Workers, stonemasons and soldiers were working together, striving to make Bahoz a stronger city.


    Corvus'' eyes fell on the people working feverishly on the construction site. He changed his route to go to Rasur''s mansion and headed towards the center of the city, because he wanted to see the work being done there up close. Even before he reached the construction site, he noticed the large number of warriors standing guard. This detail immediately told him who the workers were. The artisans he had forced from Laksia and Bahem were now the architects of the renewed face of Bahoz. But they were not alone; many Rhazgordians worked among them.


    Ever since he had entered the city, he had sensed people''s interest, but as he approached the construction site, the stares grew in intensity and the whispers grew louder. Many Rhazgordians recognized him immediately, especially the artisans from Laksia and Bahem. Corvus'' name had echoed across battlefields, over tables of strategy, in bloody skirmishes, but now, in the middle of a city, there was something different in people''s eyes than the admiration of warriors. Suddenly he was surrounded by a crowd. Young people vying for a few words with him, old people bowing their heads with gratitude in their eyes. Corvus had represented the destructive power of the Rhazgord, but now, in the eyes of this people, he was not just a warrior, but a leader.


    The artisans from Laxia and Bahem were content to watch Corvus from afar. But this time there was no fear in their gaze. He had brought them here by force, yes, but he had also kept his promises to them. Now they were either starting their own businesses or had regular jobs. And if they lacked anything, Baral and Rasur immediately filled it. The fear that had been imposed on them gave way to acceptance, even if grudgingly.


    Corvus was more interested than usual. He exchanged a few words with the young people around him and greeted the elderly with respect. But he could not afford to waste time. He had to move on and take care of business. Moreover, the little Volmir next to him had heavy eyelids and the shadow of fatigue on his face. His brother needed to rest, and Corvus still had matters to resolve.


    Realizing that Corvus was trying to break through the crowd, the warriors quickly stepped in and made way for him. As the flood of people parted to either side, Corvus kept moving forward. He nodded slightly to the warriors who greeted him along the way, but he did not stop to speak. His mind was full of work to do and he did not want to waste time. When he finally arrived at Rasur''s mansion, Rasur himself met him at the door. He was slightly flustered and anxious to receive an unexpected guest.


    "I didn''t know you were coming," he said hurriedly.


    "If I had known, I would have met you at the gates."


    Corvus ignored Rasur''s words and held out his hand. His gaze traveled over Rasur as much as over the entrance to the mansion. From the outside, everything looked orderly and well-managed. And that was something he had expected.


    "You have worked well," he said in a short but firm tone. "Well done."


    Rasur grasped the extended hand respectfully, bowing his head slightly. But this was no ordinary handshake. The hand that squeezed Rasur''s palm no longer belonged only to Corvus Tiamat. It was the hand of the man who ruled his life, his breathing and his future. He shook Corvus'' hand with the submission of a slave who has found his master. Then he looked at little Volmir standing beside him. He sensed the clarity and nobility in the young boy''s eyes, despite his age. With the same reverence, perhaps instinctively, he shook Volmir''s hand.


    Volmir could not hide his surprise. Here was the leader of the Bahoz, and he was treated with respect not even by men his own age. His eyes shifted to Corvus, but his brother was as expressionless as ever. Rasur''s behavior was natural and expected for Corvus.


    Corvus spoke, gesturing to the sculptor Neratius and his men waiting behind him.


    "They need a place to rest."


    Without wasting any time, Rasur summoned the staff of the mansion and ordered them to get everyone who had come with Corvus settled in their rooms. The servants moved quickly and with discipline. There was not even the slightest hitch that Corvus noticed. It was clear that Rasur was controlling this mansion, not just running it. He had been careful in choosing the men who would carry out his orders.


    After the preparations were completed, Corvus and Rasur went upstairs to Rasur''s study. As soon as they entered the room, Rasur indicated the large chair behind his desk.


    "Please sit down," he said, without the slightest hesitation.


    This chair had once belonged to Tanar, Bahoz''s former master. Now, on paper, it was Rasur''s chair, but Rasur knew that the real power was in the hands of Corvus. The city was named after him, its walls were raised at his command. Rasur was only a shadow, the new owner of Bahoz was unquestionably Corvus.


    But Corvus turned down the offer, despite all insistence. He sat down in the ordinary chair in front of the table and waited with an erect posture, not leaning back. While Rasur tried to interpret this refusal, the staff of the mansion quietly entered and placed a variety of food and drinks in front of Corvus. Everything on the plate, every pitcher on the table, was presented without the slightest mistake. Rasur''s orders to his men were clear: Corvus was to be treated with the utmost respect and there was to be not the slightest flaw in the way he was served. Corvus remained silent as he surveyed what was placed before him. Inside the room, actions spoke more than words about how the balance of authority and power had shifted.


    "Where is the rascal?"


    Rasur knew who Corvus meant by these words. Baral, in charge of Bahoz''s trade and finances, was a man Corvus did not trust, but whose absence would cause great losses. Corvus was always wary of merchants and their games. But Baral had exceeded his expectations and played a major role in the city''s recovery.


    "I''m sure he heard you coming."


    Rasur said calmly, resting one hand on the edge of the table. ¡°He will be here soon. But I can send someone if you like.¡±


    Corvus raised his head slightly and looked at Rasur. He had a cold expression on his face that made it clear he found the idea unnecessary. With a slight wave of his hand, he declined the offer. They talked about the journey for a few minutes. After taking a few bites of his food, Corvus got straight to the point.


    "Report to me about the city."


    Rasur, expecting this order, immediately took some papers out of his desk drawer. As he placed them in front of Corvus, he paused for a moment, gathered his thoughts and began to speak.


    "The new construction and the recruitment of more skilled fighters has put a financial strain on us," he said, running his hands over the papers. "But we are in the process of recovering."


    Corvus took his eyes off the papers and looked at Rasur''s face. When Rasur noticed Corvus'' gaze, he continued without hesitation.


    "We have also greatly increased security around the city, and now have regular pickets all the way to the border line. There is no threat to the merchants now."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    As he spoke, he held up a sheet of paper to Corvus, showing a map of the city. The map was marked with patrol points. As Corvus studied the map carefully, Rasur continued.


    "Baral has several plans for this, but our current financial resources are not enough to realize them," he said with a slight frown.


    He paused briefly, waiting for Corvus to look up from the papers, but when Corvus continued to read silently, he continued.


    "Due to the recent war and Baral''s attempts to keep prices at fair levels, the number of merchants coming to the city has decreased slightly," he said, taking a deep breath.


    "But despite this, the economic situation of the people of the city is much better than it used to be."


    As he spoke, his eyes were trying to gauge Corvus'' reactions. When Corvus continued to listen expressionlessly, Rasur breathed a sigh of relief and finished.


    "Moreover, the construction started by Baral has created jobs for many people. The more people earned, the more taxes were collected. This is speeding up our recovery."


    Corvus was silent for a short while after Rasur finished. He looked over the papers once more, then tapped his fingers on the table and weighed his thoughts. Rasur unconsciously moved his hand to the edge of the table, waiting for his master to say something. The air in the room was heavy. Corvus finally put the papers down and turned to Rasur with an expressionless face.


    "It is bad that the number of merchants is declining," he said in a calm but firm tone.


    "But it is a good sign that the people''s situation is improving."


    Rasur nodded. He tried to gauge Corvus'' reaction, but he couldn''t quite tell what he was thinking. This man''s thoughts were always several steps ahead and it was not always easy to tell what was more important to him. Corvus leaned back against the table and rested his elbows on it.


    The expression on Rasur''s face was one of obvious reservation. Frowning slightly, he folded his hands on the table and searched Corvus'' eyes, but he didn''t seem to know exactly what to say. Finally, taking a deep breath, he spoke.


    "I would actually like to increase the number of warriors in the city," he said, choosing his words carefully.


    "But as you can imagine, there is a problem."


    Corvus knew what that problem was. In the Rhazgord, governance was focused solely on the capital, Sorbaj, and the number of warriors that could be housed in other cities was strictly limited. This was a drastic measure against a possible rebellion. The fact that the families ruling the cities, such as the Bahoz, had far more resources than other tribes could shift the balance of power and threaten the central authority. That''s why strict restrictions were imposed.


    Corvus thought for a moment, then nodded silently. He had been thinking about this issue for a long time. "Don''t be in a hurry" he said in a slow and confident voice.


    "I will take care of it."


    Rasur bowed his head slightly, but the hesitation on his face was not gone. Corvus understood his concern. But he needed a little more time to resolve this matter. He had to show his grandfather Sanguinar some tangible achievements he could take back to him, some evidence of a fundamental change in Bahoz''s leadership. And for the moment, he didn''t want to attract too much attention. The leaders of Rhazgord were already aware of what was happening in Bahoz. So any talk of the city''s rise to power could bring unwanted attention to him.


    The two continued to talk about city affairs for some time. However, their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a ''thing'' that rushed in. It moved so quickly and uncontrollably that it almost rolled over and landed at Corvus'' feet.


    Turning his head, Corvus immediately recognized the short, chubby and, as usual, sweat-soaked figure. This round and ugly thing clinging to his legs could be none other than Baral.


    Baral was clinging tearfully to his legs, trembling as if he had thrown his life at Corvus'' mercy. Corvus, with an involuntary look of disgust on his face, shook his leg slightly, as if he was trying to get rid of some filth stuck to his foot. Baral immediately shook himself up and straightened up, suddenly crossed his legs and bowed ninety degrees.


    "O my lord! My great Lord! Your faithful servant is here!" he cried, his voice trembling.


    Corvus leaned back in his chair, indifferent to Baral''s theatrics. He knew that the sticky energy filling the room would soon intensify. Rasur, used to Baral''s behavior, grimaced and frowned as if trying to suppress nausea.


    "What an honor to see you again, rising star of Rhazgord, Lion of Rhaz, war-"


    "Stop sucking up and sit down!"


    Corvus sharply cut off Baral''s exaggerated greeting and flattering entrance. Trying hard not to roll his eyes, he gestured to the chair opposite him. Without a second''s protest, Baral jumped up on his knees and took his seat.


    In a month his belly had grown as big as the gold in his coffers, and the excess had even changed his gait, making him even rounder. But Baral, though famous for his deceit, had not really cheated this time. When the city was being rebuilt, he sold the materials needed to Tanar for only a small profit margin, and made a fortune in the process. But along with his wealth, his buffoonery seemed to have increased.


    Suddenly, he jumped up and spread his arms wide, his huge belly jutting forward. He pointed his finger first at the food in front of Corvus and then at Rasur, who was watching him in amazement.


    "Rasur, you shameless bastard, how dare you put this filthy food in front of my lord!"


    Rasur, of course, knew what kind of man Baral was, but he could not imagine that anyone could be such a shameless lackey. Everything that was placed in front of Corvus had been chosen and prepared with great care. The finest meats, the freshest breads and the finest wines adorned the table. But for a moment, Baral''s theatrical display of anger created doubt in Rasur''s mind. What if he had really made a mistake? What if Corvus felt the same way?


    Rasur hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say, and then Baral grabbed Corvus'' feet. He sank to the ground as if in prayer, his body trembling and shaking with a dramatic sigh.


    "''O my lord! Oh, great master! Please excuse this animal! Feeding you such simple food is beyond the greatest of sins! Come on, let''s get out of this filthy place and let the mistress set you the best table in the land!"


    An indescribable expression settled on Corvus'' face at Baral''s demonstration. On the one hand he seemed amused, but on the other he was grumbling inwardly that he had to put up with all this nonsense. Rasur squinted and looked at Baral as if examining an insect.


    Corvus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Cursing that he had found himself in this mess, he felt that in a few seconds he would be clinging even tighter to Baral''s legs. "Baral," he said when he opened his eyes again, his voice sharp with patience.


    Baral raised his head and looked at him with wide-open eyes.


    "If you grab my leg one more time, I''ll send you to work as a laborer in the city''s construction site."


    Baral jerked back, the false sadness on his face giving way to a panicked grin. But he was still brave enough to keep sweet-talking.


    "Oh, yes, my lord, as you wish! But shouldn''t you be entertained at a table more worthy of you?"


    Corvus raised his eyebrows and glanced at the food on the table. "This food is enough" he said coldly. Then he glanced at Baral and bowed slightly.


    "But you talk too much."


    Baral sealed his lips in a second and sank softly into a chair. Rasur took a deep breath and relaxed, hoping that at the end of this demonstration Baral would at least be silent for a few minutes.


    "But something you said intrigued me, Baral."


    Excited by Corvus'' words, Baral was tempted for a moment to throw himself at Corvus'' leg again, as was his old habit, but stopped himself at the last moment. Blinking his eyes, he thought quickly, weighing what kind of answer he should give. But when he saw the threatening look in Corvus''s eyes, he knew the best way was to confess.


    "I had no idea you had an inn in Bahoz. You obviously make good money."


    The smile on Baral''s face vanished in an instant. His whole body began to tremble with fear. His swollen cheeks contracted and sweat broke out on his forehead. His eyes immediately turned to Rasur, obviously looking to him for help. He knew that Rasur''s explanation would sound more convincing to Corvus, because Corvus trusted Rasur''s word more than his own. But Rasur had realized the situation and was enjoying watching Baral struggle a little more.


    It was a picture of desperation as Baral crumpled the hem of his robes with shaking hands, opening and closing his mouth but unable to utter a single word. Seeing Corvus''s brow furrowing, Rasur finally took pity on Baral and intervened with a sigh.


    "It is true that Baral has made money," he said calmly.


    "But I can assure you it is not by cheating. We buy most of our building materials from him and it is indeed much cheaper than from other merchants."


    This support was like the kiss of life to Baral. His eyes instantly lit up and he quickly pulled himself together. This was exactly why he had wanted Rasur to speak in the first place; he knew Corvus would not take his word for it. Now he had to take the opportunity to explain himself.


    "My lord, it''s true that I made money, but I didn''t open the inn solely on the money I made," he said, his voice still trembling slightly, but not as panicked as before.


    "I decided to invest here by selling the lady in Sorbaj, I saw the potential for trade here and took such a step to serve the growth of the Rhazgord."


    Corvus turned his gaze to Rasur. Rasur acknowledged Baral''s words with a slight nod. Corvus'' expression did not change much, but he leaned back in a way that at least suggested he accepted the explanations.


    "Well, then give me your report," he finally said.


    As soon as he received this order, Baral summoned his servants at the door. The young man who entered was carrying several papers and maps in his arms. The meticulously prepared documents were laid out on the table. Baral puffed out his chest, took a deep breath and smoothed the maps with his hand, as if to show that he was as prepared as ever.


    "As I''m sure you noticed when you entered the city. We have built a wide Adler-style road, and of course we plan to organize other roads and streets, but this is the most important one. Because it leads both to the center of the city and to the market, which is about to be completed."


    He put his hand on the map and pointed to where the roads met.


    "Most of the shops have already been built and the rest will be finished in ten days at most. These shops will be staffed by artisans from Laksia and Bahem who you brought with you, but they will not be the only ones. I have made sure they have apprentices from Rhazgord as well, so our people will learn new trades and become economically stronger."


    Baral turned his eyes to Corvus. He was trying to gauge the impact of his words. Corvus remained silent as he studied the documents on the table. Baral wanted to take the upper hand by speaking a little more.


    "They are already making a profit." he added, his eyes shining with ambition and excitement.


    ¡°And this is just the beginning!¡±


    "I asked you to build a school for scholars. Where is it?"


    Under Corvus'' stern gaze, Baral quickly pulled out another map and began to explain. His excitement was written all over his face and his grip on the paper was a little too tight, although his hands were not shaking.


    "Sir, as you know, you have hired a lot of scholars," he said, his voice as enthusiastic as ever, but with a cautious tone. "We need a large area of land to build a proper site to employ all these men. So even though the site for the construction has been chosen, we are still in the demolition phase."


    Baral pointed to the designated area on the map with his finger. "Here" he said. "There are old and decaying buildings, we are removing them. But we need time to get this place completely ready."


    Corvus glanced at the map for a moment, but his knowledge of city planning and academic regulations was limited. He had grown up with military training. He had no direct experience of academies or schools in other countries. So he had recruited all those who were educated and self-proclaimed scholars. But as Baral hinted, Corvus had a staff large enough to run not one, but at least three academies. But the young man was not yet aware of this.


    Corvus''s brow furrowed slightly. "How long will it take?" he asked.


    Baral answered, his voice a little more cautious. "An estimated three to four months."


    This was too long for Corvus. But laying the foundations of an academy was not something that would happen overnight.


    After a moment''s hesitation, Baral raised the real issue.


    "Our biggest problem right now is money. I have many plans in mind, the projects are ready, I have even arranged workers for some of them, but we don''t have enough resources."


    At this point Corvus silently took a deep breath. Unfortunately, he had no solution to this problem for the moment. Lack of resources was delaying everything and there was no magic solution to speed up the delay. The only cure for the problem was time.


    After studying the papers for a while longer, he turned his gaze back to Baral.


    "Tell me what''s on your mind."


    With this order from Corvus, the meeting of the trio that would last until morning officially began. With maps spread out on the table and pages of calculations and plans, a long night awaited them.

 0059 | Volmirs New Education Life

    By morning, everyone in the room was red-eyed. The meeting that had started in the darkness of the night had lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and the hours of intense discussions and calculations had exhausted everyone''s minds. Corvus'' body was the most tired. He felt the burden of the days in Sorbaj, then the exhausting journey to Bahoz and now this meeting that had lasted until dawn.


    The plans Baral presented were detailed and logical. Each project was intelligently thought out, built on long-term strategies. But Corvus sensed that not all of these ideas were Baral''s. The plans involved not only Bahoz, but Sorbaj as well. He knew that such a comprehensive plan could not have been created without a team of experts in urban planning, economics and trade. Baral''s real achievement had been to bring together people who understood these things and use their intelligence to present them as his own ideas. But Corvus did not question this. After all, what mattered was not who thought it up, but whether the plans would work.


    Meanwhile, the effects of the deal with Belisarius were becoming visible. Corvus'' trade for a hundred kilos of Lightstone had enabled the Adler merchants to bring in the goods they wanted. This greatly improved the economic situation of the people of Sorbaj. And not only Sorbaj, but also the merchants in Bahoz. With the introduction of Adler goods, other foreign traders were forced to reduce their prices. Those who refused to lower their prices incurred the impatient wrath of the population and many were beaten.


    However, this agreement had its problems as well as its positives. The Lightstones given to Belisarius had exhausted Corvus'' resources. He no longer had access to his father''s coffers and was in no position to seek outside support. If he wanted to finance new projects in Bahoz, he had to rely solely on his own income. According to Baral, once the new market was completed, it would be a major source of income. This would mean a revival of trade in the city, an increase in Rasur''s taxes and a strengthening of economic stability.


    Baral expected these increased revenues to be placed directly under his control, but Corvus disappointed him. He ordered that all revenues be transferred to Rasur''s coffers and that city projects be funded from this common budget. As much as Baral did not want this, Corvus'' decision was final. Bahoz''s future depended on the whole community, not just one man.


    Corvus woke up from his few hours of sleep fully refreshed. Fatigue had been erased from the depths of his body. Even after the challenges in Sorbaj, the journey to Bahoz and the last all-night meeting, his body felt ready to return to the battlefield. But there were other thoughts in his mind beyond the battle. The first thing he did when he woke up was to check on his younger brother Volmir. But Volmir''s room was empty. His younger brother had woken up early, like someone who had been raised in army discipline for many years. When he asked the mansion staff, he was informed that Volmir was practicing in the backyard.


    Corvus took heavy steps into the garden. Standing in the doorway, he surveyed the garden. Despite the early hours of the morning, the sun was already rising in the sky, casting a golden light on the earth. But Corvus'' eyes were focused on only one person. Volmir, drenched in sweat, swung his sword with patient and steady movements. His younger brother was practicing fighting with two swords, having idolized his older brother. This was against the traditions of Rhazgord. Young warriors were not allowed to use a different weapon until they were twelve. But Volmir had obviously continued to train in secret, breaking the prohibition.


    Corvus watched in silence for a while. There was purpose in Volmir''s every move. His sword strokes were delivered with discipline, not childish enthusiasm. Volmir was less skilled than his peers. But he certainly had more willpower.


    Corvus''s mind went back a moment, a month ago. He was standing in the same spot in this garden. Only then he had come here to say goodbye to the lifeless body of his fallen friend Kragan. Now, on the same grounds, his brother, the future of Rhazgord, was training. Life continued its relentless cycle, but Rhazgord''s warrior spirit was never extinguished.


    Corvus finally stepped into the garden. Hearing the sound on the gravel, Volmir moved quickly and threw one of the swords in his hand. The sword flew through the air involuntarily. But Corvus'' hands and feet were quick; he darted forward and caught the wooden sword in mid-air and held it tightly.


    "I didn''t know there was such a technique" Corvus said, raising his eyebrows slightly and showing the sword in his hand. His voice was mocking, but his gaze was still hard.


    Volmir said nothing. Instead, he turned his head to the side and turned his cheek to his brother. The meaning of this gesture he had learned in the Rhazgord army was clear: "I accept my punishment." His younger brother accepted his punishment without question. But instead of slapping his cheek, Corvus smiled, slowly lowering the sword in his hand. Seeing Volmir''s stubborn spirit dissipated the discontent that had been brewing inside him. His brother had broken with tradition, but it was not for lack of discipline, but for ambition and admiration. As Corvus thought about how to respond, he realized that deep down he enjoyed this small rebellion.


    Corvus spoke with a small smile as he weighed the sword in his hand. "I used to train with different weapons in secret too." he said. This was not entirely true, but he felt that this little lie would do more good than harm. In truth, he had started using a double sword at the age of twelve. His master at the time, Montis, had suggested he try the double sword technique when he noticed Corvus'' physical attributes. However, Montis did not teach him a specific technique, but merely guided him.


    Corvus'' body was designed more like that of a god of war than a human being. He could control his left hand as perfectly as his right, make decisions with extraordinary speed and anticipate his opponent''s moves with his keen eyes. His body was as flexible as rubber and explosive in power. These abilities did not escape Montis'' notice, and made him decide that Corvus should not stick to traditional fighting styles. Within two years, he had blended the fighting techniques of the Rhazgord with his own style, creating a fighting style that even his masters admired.


    Each of his swords served a different purpose. The long, narrow sword in his right hand was purely offensive, designed to cut down his opponent. The sword in his left hand was a few centimeters shorter and wider, used for both defense and finishing attacks. But what made Corvus'' technique so frightening was that he could change the role of these swords at will. He could switch from defense to offense in an instant, or mislead his enemy to deliver a deadly blow from an unexpected angle. This made it difficult for his opponents to read his movements and allowed him to keep the upper hand during battle.


    But the real lethality of his technique was not only in his swords, but also in his movements. As a result of his collaborative work with Montis, he optimized his footwork. He circled the enemy by constantly changing angles and surprised them with unexpected attacks from unexpected directions. This technique required a level of mastery that only the most skilled warriors of the Rhazgord could fully grasp. For Corvus, it had become a natural instinct.


    Volmir''s eyes lit up as he listened to his brother''s words. He had watched Corvus''s skills over and over again, in challenges and on the battlefields, but this was the first time he had heard so clearly how Corvus had developed his own technique. Along with the admiration that grew in him for his brother, so did his determination to improve even more.


    Corvus was sure that Volmir had no aptitude for the double sword technique. It was not only because his brother was behind him in skill. The real issue was that Volmir''s body was not suited for this kind of fighting. He was even smaller than his peers and struggled even with standard training swords. But despite these disadvantages, he surpassed his peers and even many experienced warriors in one thing: Agility. Volmir''s speed and flexibility were almost supernatural. He had reflexes so fast as to be almost incomprehensible, and his body could glide almost like a shadow.


    An idea flashed through Corvus'' mind. He immediately called out to the staff to bring him a short sword. In a few minutes the weapon arrived, only a few centimeters longer than an ordinary dagger. Corvus took the sword in his hand, weighed its balance and told Volmir to watch carefully. Then for a few seconds he tried to get his feet in the right position and straightened his stance. It was clear from his movements that he had not fully mastered this stance. Volmir had been watching his brother for years, but he had never seen this technique before. It was not one of the traditional stances taught in the Rhazgord army.


    As Volmir suspected, this was a different style of fighting. It was a technique Corvus had only had the opportunity to observe a few times, but instinctively grasped its essence: The technique of the Black Masks.


    After taking a deep breath, he suddenly jumped up and began shadow fighting. His movements were fluid and deadly. Every step was in perfect flow, as if he were fighting an invisible opponent. The short sword flashed in his hand, striking at the weak points of his imaginary enemy with every turn. His footwork was so fast and mind-boggling that a spectator could feel him disappearing into the shadows. He used his body with extraordinary precision, bending, leaping and calculating his next move.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    It was a movement that was more of an art than a fight. He had realized how deadly the Black Masks'' fighting style was the night in Bahoz, the night that led to Kragan''s death. Now he planned to use it not only to hone his own skills, but also to open a path that could guide his brother.


    Volmir watched his brother with wide eyes. He had never seen a fighting style like this before. Corvus'' every move seemed to melt into the shadows, disappearing and reappearing. It was a technique based on speed and agility, and it suited Volmir''s nature much better. As he memorized each step his brother took, he felt the warrior spirit stirring within him with excitement.


    Corvus made a few more moves and then stopped. He deliberately executed his final strikes a little slower so that Volmir could see the movements more clearly. He wanted to give his brother time to grasp the technique. When he was finished, he handed the short sword to Volmir. The young warrior took it with a hesitant expression. He felt that this technique was right for him, but it was very different from the ''honorable'' fighting styles his instructors had taught him for years. It was too fluid, too sneaky compared to the fighting traditions of the Rhazgord. And how effective could he be on the battlefield with such a short sword? It was more like a fighting style developed for assassins or one-on-one duels.


    Corvus sensed what his brother was thinking. Smiling slightly, he spoke in a determined voice:


    "They questioned my technique too. Then I beat them all, and now no one dares to talk about my technique!"


    He took a few steps back, giving Volmir space to try out the new technique.


    "You can use a double sword like me. Fight with your cane like Master Montis, or carry a huge axe like Kragan did. The only thing that matters is whether you can bring down your opponent."


    Volmir felt the encouraging effect of these words. He shook all hesitation from his body and stepped forward. He began to perform the movements Corvus had demonstrated with great ineptitude. But even so, he could feel how much his instincts were in favor of this technique. As he let his body flow, his steps became more and more natural.


    Corvus pointed out and corrected her every mistake, but deliberately did not give him a precise direction. His goal was not for his brother to copy the technique exactly, but to create his own unique style. He knew that martial arts had to suit the individual''s body and instincts. Volmir would eventually find his own path.


    They practiced until the sun was high in the sky. Volmir''s arms were tired, his breathing quickened. But the determination remained on his face.


    "That''s enough for today. Go and wash up. I will introduce you to your new teachers."


    Volmir paused for a moment at these words. Teachers? He thought he had only come to Bahoz for a short time. But Corvus had different plans. He had obtained a full month''s permission from the army for Volmir. Without further question, the young warrior put down his sword and tiredly went to wash. He returned a short time later.


    Corvus and Volmir moved with heavy footsteps and reached the area where the new workers were billeted. This too was heavily guarded by Rasur''s men. When they entered a large house, Volmir''s eyes widened in surprise. Here before him, as he had imagined the training he would receive from Bahoz''s skilled warriors, were grizzled old men. Most of them were well over fifty, scholars with the weariness of years on their faces. But the greatest disappointment for Volmir was that he could not sense in any of these men the deadly aura he had felt in his instructor Montis. These were not men forged in steel on the battlefields; they were inhabitants of books and rooms full of knowledge.


    Corvus'' presence changed the atmosphere in the room in an instant. The old men turned their eyes to him in fear and instinctively retreated to a corner of the room. They were all scholars forced by Corvus, and they were here because of his will. For days they had been sitting idle because the construction of the academy had not been completed. But now that Corvus had come here, it could mean one of two things: Either they were finally going to be given a job, or it had been decided that the Rhazgord warriors did not really value education and science and they were no longer needed.


    Corvus broke the silence and spoke with a stern but indifferent expression. "I have heard that you have been bored for a long time." These words, spoken in Adler, were difficult for Volmir, who had not yet mastered the language, to understand. Corvus took a step back and pointed at his brother.


    "So I have brought you something to deal with. This young man is my dear brother Volmir. He will stay here for a month."


    The scholars immediately grasped the meaning of these words. Normally they were not in the habit of teaching children, for their teachings would have seemed heavy and unnecessary to someone without a certain basic knowledge. But here, in this land where even books were hard to come by, they were bored out of their minds. Pushing aside their fear of Corvus, they excitedly surrounded Volmir. For them, this young warrior was more than just a student - he was also an opportunity to make use of their time.


    The scholars suddenly surrounded Volmir and began to talk excitedly. Normally dignified, wise men, they acted like children, excited to meet a young mind. Each of them wanted to draw Volmir into their domain, to satiate his thirst for knowledge with their own discipline.


    A short, chubby man, stroking his beard, stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice. "First of all, we must teach the boy geometry! The secret of the universe is hidden in shapes! Look at these parallel lines-" he quickly spread a parchment in front of Volmir and began scribbling a few drawings on it with trembling hands.


    "This is the basis of everything! You cannot understand the order of this world without angles, proportions and perfect equations!"


    But before he could finish his sentence, another scholar with a long, bony face and a perpetual frown interrupted him. "Nonsense! The child must first learn basic math! What is geometry without numbers? The universe is meaningful as long as it is measurable and calculable!" he snapped, pulling a small abacus out of his pocket, and began to move the beads rapidly with his fingers. His eyes had the ecstatic expression of a man steeped in numbers.


    At this moment, an older but energetic man with a slightly hunched back interrupted the discussion with a wave of his hand. "Enough!" he roared, straightening his heavy robe and stepping forward. "What good are your numerical calculations to a child! He must first learn the true spirit of the world! A person who is not educated in philosophy will believe whatever is handed to him! He must be taught to think, to question!" and with a deep sigh he folded his hands across his chest. He shook his head serenely from side to side, as if meditating in a temple.


    "True knowledge begins with skepticism."


    But just then, a younger, stern-looking scholar stepped forward angrily. "Don''t teach him nonsense and confuse him!The real world is ruled by material power, not logic! The child must be taught the rules of alchemy! Without understanding the nature of matter, he cannot unravel the secrets of anything!" he said, pointing to a small glass vial he carried with him and shaking the dark red liquid inside in front of Volmir''s eyes.


    "Look, son, this may look like a simple liquid, but combined with the right ingredients, it can melt a sword!Geometry? Numbers? They don''t change reality! But alchemy does!"


    An older man with a stooped posture and a thin beard crossed his arms and took a step forward. "Enough! You are all talking nonsense! The boy needs to learn history first!" he said, sighing deeply. "If he doesn''t know the past, how will he shape his future? He must learn about the great wars, the mistakes of kings, the reasons for the collapse of ancient civilizations!" he added, opening a large hardcover book with the inscription ¡®History of the Adler Empire¡¯ and placing it in front of Volmir. The smell of old ink from the dusty pages filled the room.


    But another scholar was not amused by this claim. An elegant man dressed in an embroidered robe, his face completely covered in wrinkles, waved his hand in the air. "History is nothing but tales of the past! The child must first learn the art of oratory! If he cannot use his words correctly, he cannot be a leader or influence people!" he took a deep breath and continued. "Even kings have not been the strongest warriors, but the best orators! Young man, you cannot succeed without the art of rhetoric!" he said, bowing ostentatiously to Volmir.


    Hearing this, another scholar, agile despite his age, gave a harsh laugh. "Rhetoric? Talking? Nonsense! The boy should learn battle strategy!" he said, leaning over the table and pointing a finger at Volmir. "Even the strongest warriors are ruined by bad strategy! Tactics, the formation of armies, the art of trapping the enemy... A man who doesn''t know these things has no sword!" He took out a small wooden game board from the inside pocket of his robe and began to demonstrate a battle scenario by arranging the pieces.


    But he was interrupted by another scholar, who held up a thick scroll with a serious expression on his face. "No, no! He must learn law before all this! If one day he has to rule the city, he must know the law! The sword alone is not enough to rule! The most powerful way to win people''s respect and loyalty is to be just!" The old man''s eyes shone with excitement as he unfolded the scrolls in his hand and showed them to Volmir.


    Meanwhile, another scholar chuckled sarcastically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen down the bridge of his nose. "War, oratory, law... You are all talking nonsense! The first thing a leader must learn is the art of diplomacy! Even the greatest battles have been won at a table! If you can deceive your enemy, you don''t even need to draw a sword." he said with a sly smile, interlocking his long fingers.


    "Wit and cunning are sharper than the sword!"


    As the arguments that filled the room grew louder, Volmir did not know what to do. Someone handed him a book, another opened a map, another handed him glass bottles with different contents. Volmir could not understand the conversations in Adler. Corvus was silently watching, standing in the corner with his arms crossed, smiling slightly. "I guess my brother won''t have a boring education." he thought.

 0060 | Return of Sanguinar

    The harsh, sharp tones of the Rhazgord language left a wild, ear-splitting echo, like desert winds rasping the rocks. Every word was spoken with the rigidity and precision of orders on a battlefield. It was as if the speaker was trying to gain the upper hand even with his voice. The words tore from the lips like stabs of a knife: ''Mirren'' (death), ''Agiar'' (fire), ''Xwean'' (blood). Sentences were not run-on, verbs piled on top of each other, every speech was quick and clear, like a command to survive on the battlefield.


    Adler language was the opposite; it was melodic and fluid, like the meandering flow of rivers. Words fused softly with each other, sounds danced in rhythmic harmony. Words like ''Serenissima'' (peace) and ''Luminara'' (light) had no equivalent in Rhazgord. Because for the Rhazgordian, peace was only a space between war, and light could be nothing but bloody swords shining in the hands of warriors. The language of Adler was the language of trade, diplomacy and gilded court speeches; the language of Rhazgord was the language of war, death and the instinct for survival.


    The people of Rhazgord had long since ceased to be a people who fought for themselves, but a people hired to fight in wars. Many of their armies were mercenaries when not at war, and rulers across the continent lined up to hire Rhazgord''s famed warriors to protect their castles, cities and thrones. That is why the Adler language was a vital tool for the Rhazgord. Customers often spoke the language, and failure to understand an order on the battlefield could result in death. But despite all efforts, most warriors could not speak the language and could only understand it at best. But they, too, had not been exposed to the language for long enough to forget many of the words that would not be needed on the battlefield.


    For this reason, Rhazgord warriors were taught the Adler language, but their training did not stop there. A warrior had to be sharp not only with his sword, but also with his mind. They underwent a variety of training, depending on their age, ability and rank. At the most basic level, warriors memorized the laws of Rhazgord, learned the rules to be followed during battle, and practiced survival skills. A Rhazgord warrior had to know not only how to fight, but also how to hunt, track, build shelters and treat wounds.


    But these trainings were not compulsory. Some warriors refused to learn the Adler language, ignoring the law and preferring to speak only their sword. But such warriors usually could not become mercenaries and had to serve only in the army within the Rhazgord. Because the way to the world was not only through steel, but also through words.


    And at the heart of it all was the mastery of the Rhazgord language. Literacy in this language was taught not only to warriors, but to the whole population. Although the lessons were usually held in the camps, the people had the right to attend these lessons.


    In Rhazgord, the training for skilled warriors was much deeper. It was not enough just to be a strong warrior, young men with the potential to become a Sharazir had to learn how to lead armies. Those who knew that war was not won with swords alone had to grasp complex strategies, tactical maneuvers and military hierarchy.


    Those who studied cartography learned to see the battlefield as a chessboard, able to exploit even the smallest terrain advantages. Those interested in logistics learned how to manage supply lines, the most important factor in determining how long an army could fight. Those interested in medicine had to learn how to keep warriors alive as they walked the fine line between life and death.


    But there was no other educational institution in the Rhazgord lands other than the army. Education was entirely part of the military structure. Large tribes could entrust their young ones with high potential to private tutors, and those who wanted to become shamans could learn directly from shamans. But even these were not outside the military training. Craftsmanship, like everywhere else, was based on the master-apprentice relationship.


    So young Volmir suddenly found himself in a great unknown. He hadn''t even gotten used to swinging a sword on the battlefield, yet he was trying to cope with the complex information that was suddenly pouring in. Dozens of Adler words poured into his ears and washed over him without his understanding. Before he even understood what was happening, he was suddenly surrounded by excited scholars.


    The scholars spoke as if they were competing with each other, one saying that he should learn philosophy, another shouting that alchemy was more important. Another argued that nothing was possible without mathematics, while another said that literature would truly elevate a warrior. Volmir''s head began to spin.


    Corvus had only been gone a few minutes. The confusion had increased in his absence. Finally, one of them asked Volmir a question. He tried to understand the question in Adler language, but the words were clashing in his mind and meanings were slipping away. With difficulty he mumbled a few meaningless words, but this only caused the scholars around him to grimace.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    At that moment, an air of disappointment filled the room. Wasn''t this boy a prince? Wasn''t he Corvus'' brother? Was it possible that a young man who was supposed to be one of the future commanders of the Rhazgord army could be so uneducated?


    Volmir could feel the silent judgment in their eyes. But they, too, were ignoring Volmir''s age and the culture in which he had grown up. He was still very young. He hadn''t even completed his Adler language education at the camp. He had learned to read and write in Rhazgord only months ago. If it had not been for the special lessons he had received from the Tiamats, he would not have been able to speak a single word of Adler.


    The scholars'' resolve was not broken. Volmir''s lack of knowledge of the Adler language was a deficiency, but it could be remedied.They quickly devised a plan and decided to train the young man as soon as possible. A month is normally not enough time to learn a language, but the men in this room were no ordinary teachers. They were all masters in their field and knew exactly how quickly a young mind could acquire knowledge.


    Volmir''s training began at that moment. Before he even knew what was happening to him, word after word was being memorized and sentences were being formed. Some of them patiently taught him new words, while others suggested supplementing his education with games. After a brief discussion, everyone agreed on one point: Volmir would speak only Adler for the rest of his time here. Not a single word would be spoken to him in Rhazgord, his whole day would be in Adler language, so that he would be fully immersed in the language.


    Meanwhile, Corvus wandered the streets of Bahoz. Baral and Rasur were still asleep and with no one else he knew in the city, he had no choice but to wander alone. He spent most of his time around the construction sites, asking questions of the workers and chatting with those who were resting. He was interested in everything that was being done, trying to learn even the smallest details about the rebuilding of the city.


    Corvus'' interest did not go unnoticed by the people. He was not just a passer-by, but someone who questioned the labor behind every stone, every beam, every plastered wall. The builders, warriors and merchants who were proud to work alongside him were seeing for themselves what kind of leader this young man would be for his people.


    He had long conversations with the Rhazgordians who came up to him as he traveled , watching the young warriors in training and giving them advice. But he soon realized that the more people he talked to, the more came. Like an avalanche, the crowd around him was growing by the minute.


    Recent events in Bahoz had made him the most popular man in the city. People still talked about the way he had prevented Rasur''s fighters and the people from clashing. But it wasn''t just about that. Corvus acted like a man of the people, not just a leader. He was unpretentious, sitting and talking with the warriors and workers, listening to their troubles, not refusing a drink from them.


    Some brave young men, moved by the enthusiasm, challenged Corvus. They raised their swords and wanted to fight against him.These challenges usually ended with a single blow from Corvus, the challenged warrior accepting defeat and bowing his head in respect. But each fight ended not with animosity, but with the bonds of friendship.


    Soon, the surrounding area became a fairground. People brought drinks and food, sang and laughed. Corvus did not refuse these drinks, and joined in the fun. He wanted to change the country and to do that he had decided to change himself. This was the greatest sign of the kind of leader he would be for his people. He knew how to command respect among his people as well as on the battlefield .


    As the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon, an excited whispered report began to spread through the streets of Bahoz.The scouts had spotted an approaching army. But this news did not cause fear or anxiety. On the contrary, it brought an excited smile to the faces of the townspeople. For it was not an enemy army, but the greatest power of the Rhazgord. The army under the command of Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat was finally returning home, having completed its long-standing mission.


    That was one of the reasons Corvus had come to Bahoz. Although he wanted to observe the changes in the city, to start Volmir''s new educational journey, his real goal was clear. He wanted to meet his father before anyone else, tell him about the latest events and get his support for his grand plans.


    As soon as he received the news, he jumped on his horse and set off. As he galloped off, his blood boiled with the fire of youth. It was not longing that made him want to meet his father so quickly. He had plans for the future, plans that would shape the future, to tell him as he bowed his head before the most powerful man in Rhazgord . His impatience drove him to drive faster than ever.


    At last, fluttering banners appeared on the horizon. The army of Rhazgord was approaching in clouds of dust. The blood-red banners glittered in the last rays of the sun as they filtered through the armor.


    And finally, he saw the man riding calmly on his horse. Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat. The figure leading his army was neither large nor intimidating in muscle mass. Like Corvus, he carried an indestructible will in a body hard as steel but flexible.


    But the most distinctive thing about Sakhaar , even from a distance, was not his size, but his eyes. That frightening redness radiated dominance over his surroundings now as it had on the battlefields.


    And those eyes were now locked on Corvus.


    <hr>


    End of Season One

 End of the First Season

    Hello everyone!


    I¡¯m Cyaxares, the author of The Fall of Everything. As I mentioned in the last chapter, the first season has come to an end! In a way, you could think of it as one long prologue. My goal was to introduce the main characters, their motivations, and a bit of the world they live in. There are definitely parts I¡¯m not entirely satisfied with, but overall, I think it served its purpose well.


    Is the second season starting right away?


    Technically, I could start posting new chapters tomorrow if I wanted to. But I won¡¯t. Because if I don¡¯t go through the first season and fix the things that bother me, I¡¯ll probably lose my mind.


    But don¡¯t worry! I won¡¯t be making any major changes to the story itself. The things I want to fix are mostly related to writing style.


    First, I want to make the dialogues feel more natural. Since English isn¡¯t my first language, I sometimes feel like they sound a bit stiff.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Second, I need to find a better balance in my narration. The story is heavily focused on politics and war, which means I need to include a lot of details. But sometimes, my chapters get too long or are packed with unnecessary information. On the other hand, when I cut things short, I don¡¯t feel satisfied either. So, I¡¯ll be working on getting that balance right.


    fixing typos, grammar mistakes, and awkward wording.


    So don¡¯t worry¡ªnothing about the actual story will change. But I want to make the reading experience smoother and more enjoyable.


    I¡¯d really appreciate any feedback, especially on my writing style and realism of the story! (Seriously, even a small comment helps a lot!)


    Would you be interested in special chapters that focus purely on worldbuilding?


    For example, I could write separate sections explaining the history, politics, or important elements of the world in more detail. That way, I wouldn¡¯t have to cram too much information into regular chapters, and those who want extra details could check them out separately. Let me know what you think!


    That¡¯s all for now! Thank you so much for reading and supporting the story. See you soon!

 0061 | Sakhaar Tiamat

    Sakhaar Tiamat. The undisputed ruler of Rhazgord. Supreme commander of the largest and most seasoned army on the continent. A leader forged in blood, steel, and fire. He was neither as savage as his father Drakar nor as innately gifted as his son Corvus. What elevated him to the pinnacle was not innate superiority¡ªit was his iron will, unrelenting discipline, and the power etched into his body by the Lightstone.


    There was only one word to define Sakhaar: Soldier. He was a soldier in every sense. Each day followed a martial rhythm. He rose before dawn, marched to the training grounds with his unchanging, firm strides, sweat for hours, then attended to his warriors. At sunset, he reviewed drills, ate the same rations as his men, pored over reports by night, and slept at the same hour, always. Not a single day strayed from this routine. Neither victories nor betrayals could disrupt his order. He was born in discipline, raised in discipline, and bent the continent to his will through discipline.


    His mere presence instilled fear. Silence fell wherever he stood. In rooms he entered, soldiers bowed their heads to speak; commanders weighed every word. On battlefields, he advanced like a god¡ªshowing neither pain nor mercy. He ignored his own wounds, returning to drills even before cleaning his blade after battle. Sakhaar had no time for weakness. He was Rhazgord¡¯s sword.


    Though one of the strongest men on the continent, he still tested himself daily, practicing martial arts to keep his body stone-hard, rolling in the same mud as his warriors. Unlike his son, Sakhaar was no visionary. He was a cog in the machine. Change was a threat. Rhazgord had grown under ancient laws, built upon old rules. Sakhaar¡¯s duty was to strengthen this order, not disrupt it.


    So when he faced his son¡ªunseen for months¡ªhe did not ask how he was. No paternal warmth softened his gaze. His face betrayed no longing. When Sakhaar fixed his eyes on Corvus, he saw not a child of his blood but a soldier. To him, Corvus was no son¡ªmerely a warrior.


    Corvus did not flinch. His father had always been this way. He mirrored the emotionlessness shown to him. In his father¡¯s eyes, he saw not a son but a subordinate reporting to his commander.


    ¡°I have matters to report.¡±


    Before Sakhaar¡¯s brows furrowed, his eyes carefully studied his son. Corvus¡¯ voice was harsher, sharper. Yet nothing could surprise Sakhaar. Crossing his arms, he inhaled briefly.


    ¡°I already know everything worth reporting,¡± he said indifferently.


    ¡°Valerius¡¯ letter reached me.¡±


    Corvus¡¯ gaze flicked to Valerius¡¯ loyal warriors riding nearby. Though Sakhaar claimed omniscience, Valerius¡¯ letter held only fragments. What Corvus had to say would not fit on parchment.


    ¡°There are matters the letter omitted,¡± he stated, voice unyielding.


    ¡°Matters concerning our family.¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s sharp eyes locked onto his son. Silence fell¡ªbrief but heavy. He sensed Corvus¡¯ change, not just in words but posture. Yet it was not only his character that had shifted. His power had grown. Sakhaar felt his son inching closer. They had long spoken not as father and son but commander and subordinate. But the fire in Corvus¡¯ eyes now reminded him of his own youth.


    With a flick of his hand, Sakhaar dismissed the surrounding warriors. None protested. Gripping his saddle, he glanced at the army trailing behind. Assured none could hear, he spoke without turning: ¡°Speak.¡± His voice carried its usual weight of command. Corvus hesitated¡ªa son raised in his father¡¯s shadow, feeling the gravity of standing before him. But it lasted only a breath. The man before him was both father and his nation¡¯s greatest general.


    ¡°It concerns the Lightstone,¡± Corvus said, voice sharp as wind, solid as stone.


    ¡°Certain merchants in Sorbaj collaborate with major families to trade it.¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s eyes narrowed, shadows hardening his face. The Lightstone, Rhazgord¡¯s lifeblood, was meant to be earned in battle¡ªnot bartered by merchants. That a warrior¡¯s blood-bought power could be sold reeked of weakness, treason. Worse, Sorbaj¡¯s families meddling with the Lightstone threatened Rhazgord¡¯s fragile balance. The stone¡¯s control kept their blade¡¯s edge honed. It belonged to battlefields, victories, blood¡ªnot merchants or tribes.


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    Most Lightstone harvested from demons remained under the Tiamats¡¯ control¡ªSakhaar¡¯s grip. Disrupting this order stabbed Rhazgord¡¯s heart. He could not ignore such a threat. His brow furrowed, voice icy: ¡°How many know this?¡±


    ¡°Only me,¡± Corvus replied instantly.


    Silence. Sakhaar¡¯s glare sharpened. A soldier¡¯s duty was to report all intelligence to superiors. Orders, rules, discipline¡ªRhazgord¡¯s foundation.


    ¡°Why did you not inform your grandfather or Valerius?!¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s voice cracked like a whip. The air thickened, his presence a threat. Corvus felt the weight of his father¡¯s wrath. Once, it would have crushed him. Now, he endured. Yet instinct whispered Sakhaar¡¯s rage was a blade¡¯s edge. Corvus breathed deeply, meeting his father¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Because I have a man inside.¡±


    The words gave Sakhaar pause. Corvus pressed, voice hardening: ¡°Had I told Valerius or Grandfather, they¡¯d have acted rashly and ruined everything.¡± His eyes gauged Sakhaar¡¯s reaction.


    ¡°And with enemy spies infesting our lands, I trust no one.¡±


    The words unsettled Sakhaar. ¡°No one¡± included his own family. Yet¡­ Corvus was right. Valerius¡¯ unchecked fury would have burned all to ash. Drakar, clinging to tradition, would have crushed Corvus¡¯ only opportunity. Sakhaar stared at the horizon.


    ¡°And you¡­ Do you control the stones?¡±


    The question struck like an arrow. Corvus didn¡¯t blink. He knew his father would unravel the truth. Sakhaar, who¡¯d spent years mastering Rhazgord¡¯s political chaos, missed nothing.


    ¡°Not all,¡±


    Corvus answered flatly.


    ¡°But my support has grown my agent¡¯s share. Through him, I learned the merchants¡¯ identities. Yet¡­¡±


    He paused, eyes unwavering.


    ¡°I¡¯ve not uncovered which family brokers this.¡±


    As he spoke, he watched for even a flicker in Sakhaar¡¯s gaze. His father remained stone-faced. Corvus softened his tone: ¡°All profits from my agent flow to your coffers, of course.¡±


    A lie. Baral skimmed some; Corvus funneled the rest into his projects. Only scraps reached Sakhaar. Corvus sensed his father knew¡ªbut Sakhaar showed nothing. He merely tilted his head, eyes briefly scanning Corvus¡¯ face. The silence told Corvus enough. Sakhaar saw his son¡¯s skimming as a reward¡ªtolerable if the mess was contained. But Sakhaar¡¯s mind snagged elsewhere.


    ¡°You spoke of enemy spies in my realm.¡± His voice chilled.


    ¡°My intelligence noted spies only in Bahoz¡ªalready dealt with. Explain.¡±


    Sakhaar asked not out of concern but to probe Corvus¡¯ mind¡ªto see how his son analyzed threats.   Corvus gazed at Bahoz¡¯s distant silhouette, tone cautious yet certain: ¡°I doubt the Lightstone trade could grow this large without outside aid. No family in Sorbaj alone could manage such scale.¡±


    He watched Sakhaar¡¯s brow twitch. No comment. Corvus pressed, voice sharpening: ¡°And we only purged Brihmond¡¯s spies in Bahoz. If even Brihmond infiltrated us¡­¡±


    ¡°The Sizat or Muasset Empires won¡¯t sit idle.¡±


    Sakhaar knew Rhazgord¡¯s foresight into demon movements was a prize for any power. No nation was foolish enough to ignore its value. Had Rhazgord sold this knowledge, empires would lay treasures at their feet. But the Tiamats were not bought with gold. Their wealth lay in their land¡¯s stones and their warriors¡¯ steel will. No great power had dared test Rhazgord¡¯s patience¡ªuntil now. Sizat envoys once offered fortunes, only to retreat at Sakhaar¡¯s refusal. But this was no mere bid for knowledge. Sakhaar¡¯s instincts warned that empires now probed Rhazgord¡¯s weaknesses. A misstep would drown the continent in blood. Corvus tugged his reins, pointing to Bahoz. Sunset cast long shadows over its stones.


    ¡°My agent in the Lightstone trade is there,¡± he said coldly.


    ¡°If you want details, hear them from him.¡±


    Sakhaar studied his son¡ªyoung but assured, clever but not yet dangerous. Corvus¡¯ words rang true. Yet one question lingered: What is he truly plotting?


    With a deep nod, Sakhaar growled: ¡°We ride.¡±


    He barked orders. Tens of thousands marched toward Sorbaj, their steel clashing like echoes of Rhazgord¡¯s might. But Sakhaar did not follow. He rode ahead with Corvus, side by side, toward Bahoz.


    Corvus had already won¡ªhe¡¯d seized his father¡¯s attention, redirecting it to Rhazgord¡¯s hidden rot. But this was only the first step. As they rode, he plotted his next move. Yet their calculations diverged. Where Corvus wove long, intricate plans, Sakhaar¡¯s mind held simpler, bloodier solutions.


    It was time to remind the continent what kind of beast Rhazgord truly was.

 0062 | The Wall

    Sakhaar felt the change in the air as he stepped into Bahoz. The streets vibrated with an energy different from the gloom of Rhazgord he was used to. People walked straighter, a faint glimmer of hope on their faces. Warriors looked around with unusual discipline, patrolling soldiers with their hands on their swords, ready to move at a moment''s notice.


    In every corner of the city, scaffolding, walls built by the meticulous hands of stonemasons and freshly dug foundations showed that Bahoz was being rebuilt. As darkness fell, the sounds of hammers and chisels fell silent, but the smell of stone and timber still hung in the air. It was a sight Sakhaar was not used to. The land of Rhazgord was a place of destruction and decay; it was rare to see scenes of rebirth.


    The people of Bahoz knew Corvus well. The entire city had watched Tanar''s execution and had seen his death as a badge of Corvus'' authority. But it was different for Sakhaar. He had spent his entire life in Sorbaj, leaving the city only for mercenary duties. Even though he had arbitrated between the tribes of Rhazgord several times, he never went anywhere. If someone wanted to meet Sakhaar, they had to come to him.


    Nevertheless, word of Sakhaar''s arrival in the city spread by whispered rumour. First a few curious glances, then silent beckoning hands, and suddenly the streets of Bahoz were bustling with activity. People came out in front of their stores, peeped out of their houses, sellers in the marketplace raised their heads from their stalls. The gazes of those who saw him for the first time fluctuated between admiration and fear. Children, hiding behind their parents, tried to understand this frightening man, while the elderly gazed at him for a long time as if to memorise his face.


    Especially the religious community interpreted Sakhaar''s arrival as a sacred omen. They murmured among themselves, whispering that he was a blessed man. Some rushed forward to touch him, others knelt in reverence. For these people, who saw the order of the Rhazgord as a reflection of the will of the gods, Sakhaar at its head was a sacred figure. To see him, to be in his presence, was almost an act of worship.


    Sakhaar looked at the crowd around him with an indifferent face. There was no expression of surprise or enthusiasm on his face. Admiring glances, whispered blessings, prayers, outstretched hands... He did not care about any of them. But that did not mean that he considered them unimportant. They were his people. The people he had to protect, guide and, if necessary, fight for. He had grown up for it, lived for it, taken countless lives for it. But he knew that a leader cannot rule by love alone; he must appear to his people as an impenetrable wall. Power breeds respect only when it is inaccessible. Weakness only begins with intimacy. And Sakhaar had been Sanguinar too long to even think of weakness.


    His eyes stared straight ahead. He did not pick out the faces in the crowd, ignored the sighs, the hands reaching out to touch him. When his shadow fell on the few who dared to approach him, they recoiled with instinctive respect. Some bowed as if a stone had touched his path, others remained motionless as if mesmerised. But he walked on without a moment''s hesitation. He neither stopped for them nor answered their prayers. He greeted those who blessed him with silence, just like those who cursed him.


    But Corvus... He was different.


    Until a month ago, Corvus thought like Sakhaar, acted like Sakhaar. Cold, inaccessible, unshakable. He had fought for the people of Rhazgord, killed for them. But to be part of them, to feel their pain, to understand their fears... That''s what he didn''t want. He was a wall, but not an impenetrable wall like Sakhaar, but a wall that expanded like a shield, enclosing his people... And now, Corvus had changed.


    Sakhaar watched Corvus mingle with the people. This man, once like himself, was now close to the people. He held the hands that blessed him and answered the prayers. There was still the determination of a warrior in his eyes, but the compassion of a leader now sparked within him. He didn''t just want to be a protective shadow for his people; he wanted to walk with them, to share their feelings, to show them that they deserved to be understood.


    Sakhaar realised this, of course. But he was not surprised that Corvus had changed so quickly. He knew how Corvus'' view of the Rhazgord had changed since his mother had died. He sensed that his son, who had once lived only to keep order, no longer wanted to be part of it, wanted to be more than a protector watching from afar. But Sakhaar did not care about that. The only thing that mattered to him was whether Corvus was a threat to order. Nothing else, no emotion, no bond, was of any interest to him. Emotions clouded judgement. And Sakhaar must never see blurred.


    Soon they arrived at Rasur''s mansion. As night fell over the city like a shadow against the stone walls, the breaths of a group of people gathered at the entrance to the manor hung in the air like a silent prayer. Rasur and his family were awaiting Sakhaar''s arrival. But there was no customary expression of respect or curiosity on Rasur''s face - only the intense shadow of tension.


    For the first time that night, Sakhaar was genuinely surprised. He had not expected Rasur to be here. For a moment his eyes studied the dull expression on the man''s face. Rasur intended to come forward with heavy steps, preparing to greet Sakhaar. But then his eyes met Sakhaar''s - and the world stopped for him in that second.


    Her whole body convulsed as if held captive by invisible chains. His instincts screamed at him to run, to escape, to survive, but he could not take a step. His muscles were petrified, his breath caught in his throat. He was struggling with his own body, but he felt he was losing. He had never tasted such a deep fear until that moment. A primal whisper echoed inside him, screaming: Run!


    Sakhaar''s voice cut through the air like a sharp knife. But there was no threat in it - he was so calm that he spoke as if he did not even realise the darkness that had fallen over Rasur:


    "Isn''t that Tanar''s son?"


    When Corvus heard the coolness in his father''s voice, he felt a knife that wasn''t there, running along the back of his neck. Without saying a word, Sakhaar was running the cold fingers of death down Rasur''s spine. Corvus knew what that felt like. How many times had he watched his father make his enemies feel the shadow of death, how he stalked them like a predator, freezing them in terror?


    Sakhaar''s aura hung over Rasur like a heavy mist. This was the tactic he knew best. First silence. Then the instinctual instilment of fear. Then death.


    Corvus knew he would make a mistake if he rushed. He took a deep breath and spoke, trying to match his father''s composure:


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    "Yes, he is, but--"


    Sakhaar had no intention of hearing more. When the hand on his back grasped his massive sword, even the stone floor creaked as if it felt the weight of the movement. Slowly he raised his sword into the air. The blade was engraved with blood-red runes that glowed in the moonlight - but it was different from Corvus'' elegant twin swords. His was made to cut; Sakhaar''s blade was made to slice. Its sharp surface was full of indentations and ridges, a killing machine that would tear through flesh and bone with a single blow, destroying everything it swung at.


    A wave of panic rose in Corvus'' heart. If he took one step, all his plans would be ruined. But if he stopped, Rasur and his family would be wiped from this world. And that would be a major blow to his plans. As he was wondering what to do, Sakhaar took his first step.


    And in that moment, the world turned into hell for Rasur and his family.


    Even the stone floor beneath Sakhaar''s feet crackled slightly as if yielding to his weight, while Rasur and his family collapsed to the ground. Against their will, they fell to their knees with an invisible weight on their throats. They felt as if all their bones were being crushed under a mountain, unable to move under a pressure that penetrated to their bones. Their breathing stopped, their pupils dilated. Every muscle was being crushed under the invisible force.


    This was the gift Sakhaar''s blood and the Lightstone had bestowed upon him. It was the legacy of the Tiamates.


    Not a cry or a plea was heard. Fear descended upon the entrance to the mansion, not like thunder, but like a heavy silence. Sakhaar ran his eyes over the poor wretches on the ground. Without the slightest tremor in his voice, he spoke in a deep, steady tone:


    "I am Sakhaar Tiamat."


    It was as if these two words had made the air heavier.


    "Tanar Laraz has betrayed the Rhazgord. By Rhazgord law, the entire Laraz family is to be executed."


    His eyes locked on Rasur''s fearfully dilated pupils.


    "I am Sakhaar Tiamat. I will execute this punishment now."


    And his sword rose into the air. But it didn''t come down. It was neither a hand nor a shield that stopped Sakhaar''s blade. It was a voice that broke the silence and blended its power with defiance. Corvus'' voice was as loud as a war horn and as sharp as a sword stroke.


    "You have no right to judge them! I have judged them in the shadow of the Black Banner!"


    The name of the Black Banner, the most sacred relic, the most absolute authority of the Rhazgord, had a heavier impact than the sword raised in the air. As those kneeling there held their breath at the impact of those two words, even more frightening than the shadow of the sword, Sakhaar made a momentary assessment behind his expressionless face. The Black Banner. The symbol of absolute authority to which all laws bow, to which even orders and noble names are overshadowed. The moment it was unfurled, the order of the Rhazgord, laws and customs became secondary, and the power of judgement rested solely with its bearer. Its judgement was more valid than laws carved in stone, for the Black Banner was only unfurled when the very existence of Rhazgord was threatened. Every judgement made under its shadow was a timeless command, an unquestionable destiny.


    But the powers conferred by the Black Banner were not gratuitous. When the banner was flying, the decisions made under it were considered absolute, but when the flag was lowered and the danger disappeared, the judgements made could be held to account. Because the Black Banner did not only make people live or die; it also sealed the fate of those who carried it. Every decision made in the shadow of the banner had a price, and that price would be paid sooner or later.


    Sensing the determination in Corvus'' voice, Sakhaar turned his eyes to his son. As a former bearer of the Black Banner, he knew the weight of this burden best. He did not question his son''s reasoning behind executing only Tanar Laraz and freeing the others, for only one thing mattered to him: Did this decision pose a threat to the order of the Rhazgord? If it did, the fact that it had been taken under the Black Banner made no difference.


    Nevertheless, Sakhaar did not lower the sword in his hand as he made his judgement in the moment. Impatient to descend upon the enemy, the massive weapon, adorned with runes and having shattered countless bodies over the centuries, hovered in the air, ready to spill blood at a single command. Sakhaar''s eyes scanned the Laraz family kneeling before him. Their eyes were filled with nothing but fear, and no matter how hard they tried to hide, they could not hide their despair, their helplessness and the emptiness that came with accepting the inevitable.


    Sakhaar knew the thoughts going through the minds of these people. He knew that the weight of the invisible mountain that loomed over them made them feel that escape was impossible, that their bones would betray them if they even attempted to flee, that their instincts would fail them. But still he weighed Corvus with his eyes. He tried to realise that his son had truly forgiven these people, had truly freed them, and that he would stand by his decision. Because the Black Banner did not only decide who would live and who would die; it also tested whether the person who made that decision could carry the burden.


    "Can you bear the weight of this decision?"


    Sakhaar''s voice was hard and sharp, like the scrape of a steel blade on stone. As the words hung in the air, echoing in Corvus'' ears, an invisible pressure fell on his chest. He took a deep breath, but it was like a cold dagger filling his lungs. As his eyes disappeared into his father''s dark gaze, his lips moved without thinking.


    "Yes!"


    The determination in his voice was not enough to hide the uneasiness inside. His palms were slightly sweaty and his fingertips began to tremble imperceptibly. At that moment, he caught the change in Sakhaar''s face. Vaguely, like a shadow, but it was there. It was difficult to distinguish whether he was standing as a father or as a judge. But Sakhaar did not let him think.


    "One. Two. Three... Twenty-three."


    As the numbers echoed in the air, a deathly silence fell over the streets of Bahoz. There was only Sakhaar''s voice. Each number was heavy like a judgement, each word like an execution. Corvus scanned his father''s counting with his eyes and saw: the Larazes, huddled on the ground, unable to shake the crushing weight. Twenty-three people. Rasur''s brothers, uncles, uncles, uncles, children. They all formed the core of this tightly knit community of family ties.


    Sakhaar took a step. Those on the ground struggled to breathe, as if even the air around them had become heavier. Some were completely still, their eyes wide with fear, their lips trembling. Some wanted to run away, but their legs would not listen to them. It was as if they were nailed to the ground with invisible chains.


    "Twenty-three blows for twenty-three lives. Agreed?"


    Sakhaar''s voice fell on Bahoz like a rock breaking from the summit of a huge mountain. It was a judgement from which there was no escape.


    Corvus'' teeth clenched tightly. He looked at his father without blinking his eyes for a moment. At that moment, everything froze. The whole city, the whole world seemed to fall silent. There were only the two of them. Two men. One as unshakable as a wall, the other a storm trying to break this wall.


    "Agreed."


    The word fell from his lips like a heavy seal. At that moment, the pressure on the Laraz was suddenly lifted. Some of the survivors jumped up and ran away without a second thought, while others fell to the ground and breathed deeply. A few were sobbing and shaking, as if still teetering on the brink of death. Some were trying to hide their tears, while others felt the shame of fleeing, even leaving their own families behind.


    But Corvus'' eyes were still on Sakhaar.


    Sakhaar slowly replaced the huge sword on his back and then clenched his fists. His muscles twitched slightly, like a mountain moving. An invisible pressure built up in the air. Even the movement of his muscles vibrated the air around him. The power radiating from his body was like a weight that was not impossible to recognise.


    This was not a test. This was an execution.


    A shudder ran through Corvus. No one knew the power of Sakhaar''s bare hands. No armour or shield was enough against a man who could shatter rock walls with a single blow. To meet those blows was to dance with death.


    Sakhaar''s eyes locked on Corvus. And the movement began.

 0063 | Family Reunion

    Volmir had completed his first day of training and set out toward Rasur''s mansion. Throughout the day, he had encountered teaching methods unlike anything he had experienced before. The scholars were not harsh or crude like the instructors at the military camp. Their approach focused not on rote memorization of words but on understanding the melody, grammar, and logic of the Adler language. Some of them even knew Rhazgord, and whenever Volmir struggled, they stepped in to help him internalize each piece of knowledge. He couldn¡¯t claim to have made significant progress on the very first day, but he already felt himself improving.


    Yet the bag he carried, stuffed with papers, weighed on him. His lessons were few, but the assignments were overwhelming. Still, having grown up in a military camp, he was disciplined. No matter what, he would complete everything flawlessly.


    As he neared the mansion, he sensed something was wrong. A crowd had gathered nearby, whispering and staring at the estate. No one dared approach, but their eyes remained fixed on it. The massive holes in the walls and the surrounding damage sent a chill through Volmir. His first thought was that the black-masked ones had returned and attacked Corvus. Panic surged at the possibility that something had happened to his brother. Clutching his bag tightly, he broke into a sprint toward the mansion.


    Warriors cleaning up the damage, their eyes burning from the dust, tried to stop him, but they noticed him too late. Determined, Volmir pressed through the courtyard, now dominated by the stench of blood and dust, until he froze in place. For a moment, he couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. The colossal holes stretching through the walls laid bare the devastation. But what truly halted him was the silhouette visible through the wreckage.


    His father¡¯s back¡ªthe powerful, upright posture, the sharp lines of his shoulders, and the eerie calmness of his presence suspended in the air¡ªwas unmistakable. Volmir knew Sakhaar would return soon but hadn¡¯t expected him in Bahoz. A spark of joy and relief flickered inside him, only to be smothered by dread. The moment he saw his father, his fears about the black-masked ones vanished. Where Sakhaar Tiamat stood, no one dared harm the Tiamats¡­ except himself. This truth replaced the threat of the masked assailants with a far greater terror.


    This destruction could only be Sakhaar¡¯s doing. And when Volmir realized whose body lay stretched at his father¡¯s feet in the ruins, icy horror pierced him. Corvus. His brother. Covered in blood, struggling to breathe, his eyes open but eyelids trembling under the weight of pain. His contorted body on the ground seemed like a momentary pause amid battle and fury. Volmir¡¯s entire frame trembled involuntarily. Corvus was alive¡­ but for how long? Was this punishment? Or execution? Would Sakhaar stop here, or was he waiting to deliver the final blow? As his mind spiraled with these questions, Sakhaar¡¯s voice thundered like a storm, cutting through the chaos with a single sharp strike.


    ¡°How old are you now?¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s voice was deep and accusatory. Volmir¡¯s knees nearly buckled. He couldn¡¯t recall his father ever addressing him this way. Amid the wreckage, confronting his bloodied brother, Sakhaar¡¯s question wasn¡¯t about age¡ªit carried the weight of duty, burden, and trial.


    The young man took a deep breath, throat tight, but bowed his head before kneeling. His voice quivered with fear, unease, and hesitation:


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    ¡°I am Volmir Tiamat¡­ I greet the exalted Sanguinar. I will turn nine soon.¡±


    Sakhaar studied his son a moment longer. His eyes seemed to pierce Volmir¡¯s very core, yet his expression held neither affection nor rage. His face was as stony and inscrutable as when he had faced Corvus hours earlier.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll be nine. Then what does this state of yours mean? Are you not taking your training seriously?¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s voice slid over Volmir like a sharp blade¡ªdeep, resonant, and probing. The young man felt the weight of his father¡¯s gaze, which had already dissected his frail body, lagging far behind his peers. Volmir¡¯s innate weakness was known to all, but Sakhaar saw no excuse. A Tiamat could not be weak. *Should* not be. To him, this was not a birthright flaw but Volmir¡¯s own inadequacy.


    Sakhaar reflected. He, too, had once lagged behind his siblings and peers. But he had never surrendered to that gap. The supremacy of Tiamat blood had gradually fused with his body through relentless training and blood-soaked struggles, propelling him to Rhazgord¡¯s pinnacle. Yet Volmir¡¯s reality was different. The boy trained tirelessly, never neglecting his lessons. But no matter how hard he pushed, invisible chains seemed to bind him to stagnation. His frail body and lack of talent confined him. A shadow of disappointment flickered briefly in Sakhaar¡¯s eyes.


    Under his father¡¯s judgmental gaze, Volmir drew a shaky breath. His chest tightened, heart constricted. But he forced his voice steady, stifling his fear.


    ¡°I will focus more intently on my training, sir.¡±


    Sakhaar tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. Was that mockery or impatient fury? His words boomed:


    ¡°And will you do so here, in Bahoz?¡±


    The voice echoed off the stone walls. Volmir instinctively stepped back.


    ¡°Why are you here?! Shouldn¡¯t you be in Sorbaj, at the military camp?!¡±


    A shiver crawled through Volmir. Sakhaar¡¯s anger surrounded him like a blade. The young man withered under his father¡¯s piercing stare, lips parched. He needed to explain. But what could he say? Sakhaar tolerated no excuses¡­


    ¡°I brought him here.¡±


    The trembling voice came from Corvus, who was struggling to rise, gripping his swords. His breathing was ragged, face pale. The remnants of Lightstone energy in his body accelerated his healing, but it was slow and insufficient. Every movement of his broken bones sent agony ripping through him, yet he forced himself upright, refusing to appear weak.


    ¡°Reason?!¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s voice boomed, a single word heavy as a verdict. Corvus couldn¡¯t answer immediately. Pain wracked his muscles as he finally steadied himself, breathless. He inhaled deeply, the air itself seeming to burn his lungs, then spoke in a weary but resolute tone:


    ¡°The boy is untalented.¡±


    The words sent a glacial tremor through Volmir¡¯s bones. He felt as if scalding water had been poured over him. But Corvus ignored the disappointment and sorrow trembling in his brother¡¯s eyes. His gaze held no mercy, no hesitation¡ªonly cold truth.


    ¡°He lacks the physique to bear our combat skills.¡± Corvus¡¯ voice sharpened like a judge¡¯s. ¡°But his mind is sharp. I brought him here to learn the Adler language so he can prove useful in mercenary affairs. I¡¯m also devising a fighting style suited to him. Even untalented, I¡¯ll ensure he grows strong enough not to disgrace our family.¡±


    Sakhaar¡¯s brow furrowed. His eyes lingered on Corvus, face unreadable. Corvus¡¯ merciless stance toward his brother aligned with what Sakhaar demanded. He spoke like a soldier, openly stating his intent to mold Volmir into a useful asset despite his shortcomings. Yet Sakhaar remained unsatisfied.


    ¡°Do you take responsibility?¡±


    The word ''responsibility'' was the very reason Corvus now stood bathed in blood. But his eyes showed no hesitation. Locking gazes with his father, he answered without pause:


    ¡°If he tarnishes our family¡¯s name even slightly, I will offer my head.¡±


    The vow sliced through the courtyard¡¯s air like a death oath. Silence magnified Volmir¡¯s helplessness as Sakhaar¡¯s expression remained impassive. Was he deliberating, or devising another test? The answer lay shrouded.

 0065 | Silent Cry of the Night

    Baral and Corvus had known this day would come. That¡¯s why they had prepared in advance. As Baral knelt, recounting the details of the trade in Sorbaj, his words did not contradict Corvus¡¯s explanations. Yet he trembled with fear. Corvus¡¯s wounded state and the mansion¡¯s devastation had filled the portly merchant with horror.


    But that night, nothing to fear transpired. Sakhaar listened silently to the merchant¡¯s account. He asked no questions, showed no surprise. When Baral finished speaking, Sakhaar accepted the gifts he had brought and dismissed him without a word.


    Much of the mansion remained intact, including Rasur¡¯s study. After Baral¡¯s departure, Corvus and Sakhaar were left alone. Corvus¡¯s wounds had already begun healing. Thanks to the Lightstone energy, he no longer struggled to stand.


    ¡°Settle your affairs in Bahoz by the time the sun reaches its zenith tomorrow. We depart at noon.¡±


    It was an order, so Corvus offered no reply. He merely nodded and left the room. As if his physical pain weren¡¯t enough, his mind gnawed at another concern: the impact of his words about Volmir. Tormented by this thought, he strode swiftly to Volmir¡¯s chamber, only to find it empty.


    Despite the day¡¯s exhaustion, Volmir was training in the rear garden. He practiced a technique Corvus had copied from the Black-Masked Ones. Under the pale moonlight in the cool night air, the boy repeated the same movements, falling each time. His body was covered in cuts and bruises. His clothes were stained with dirt and blood, his knees shredded. But he didn¡¯t stop. His determination strained the limits of his frail form.


    Watching this scene deepened the sorrow in Corvus¡¯s heart. Volmir had crashed to the ground dozens of times, his body battered by the brutal training as he mimicked half-remembered techniques. He gripped his short sword so tightly that his palms had split, leaving them bloodied. His breathing was ragged, his eyes blurred with fatigue. Yet he stubbornly persisted.


    He was so focused that he hadn¡¯t noticed Corvus¡ªuntil the blood-slicked sword slipped from his grasp. The clang of metal striking stone echoed like a bitter warning in the silent night. Volmir stared at the fallen blade, lips trembling but resolve unbroken. Witnessing this heart-wrenching sight, Corvus clenched his fists. This boy wasn¡¯t just weak¡ªhe was a stubborn warrior battling his own weakness.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Volmir. This was the only way to convince the Sanguinar.¡±


    Volmir¡¯s hazy eyes, accompanied by shaky breaths, searched for the voice until they found Corvus. Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the blood at the corners of his eyes and leaving salty trails down his cheeks. Struggling to straighten his slumped shoulders, he bent down, trembling fingers clutching the fallen sword. His cut palms twitched with pain, but the boy ignored it as he stood. He wiped the blood on his soiled tunic with a harsh swipe, then raised the blade again.


    ¡°You spoke no lies, brother. There¡¯s nothing to apologize for.¡±


    His voice was weary but sharp. Despite his pain, he fought to stand tall. He took one step, then another. Raising his sword, he tried to steady his breath and continue. But Corvus felt no peace.


    ¡°No!¡± he barked, his voice as sharp as an order.


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    ¡°What I said wasn¡¯t what I believe. I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll become a great warrior, even without my help! The Sanguinar just can¡¯t see it. You know what he¡¯s like¡ª¡±


    ¡°I no longer care what the Sanguinar thinks, brother.¡±


    Volmir¡¯s voice sliced through the night. His fatigue, pain, and helplessness all burned to ash in a flare of rage. His chest heaved, teeth clenched. Drawing another breath through cracked lips, he continued:


    ¡°The only thing that matters is that we can¡¯t even call him ¡®father¡¯!¡±


    Moonlight sharpened the shadows of fury on his face. He suddenly raised his sword, pointing it at his brother. His eyes held far more pain than a child¡¯s should.


    ¡°The other children in the military camp, their fathers wouldn¡¯t last a second against the Sanguinar, yet they still strive to train their sons!¡±


    His breaths grew erratic, chest rising and falling with anger. But he didn¡¯t stop. Years of pent-up screams echoed into the night.


    ¡°And what about our father?!¡± he shouted. ¡°Rhazgord¡¯s greatest warrior, the exalted Sanguinar! what has he ever done for us?! We can¡¯t even call him father! When has he ever truly seen us?! When has he ever taught us?! Despite being his sons, we¡¯re nothing more than soldiers, tools to him! And you! You staked your own neck to convince him! Spent your blood, your life, for this! Why?! Does that man truly deserve it?!¡±


    Tears welled in his eyes as he screamed the final words, but he refused to let them fall. Bloodied and breathless, he glared at Corvus. The ache in his chest dwarfed the pain in his hands. Corvus felt his brother¡¯s bitterness, rage, and disappointment to his core. But he had no answer.


    Volmir knew his brother had no reply. He had seen how the Sanguinar¡¯s cruelty and rigid discipline had weighed on Corvus for years. But their situations differed. Corvus was hailed as the most talented Tiamat in generations, a name that brought victory on the battlefield and made enemies tremble. Volmir, however, was seen as the Tiamat bloodline¡¯s shame, the weak link, a flawed gem. Though only nine, the burden he carried was immeasurable.


    Gritting his teeth, Volmir reset his stance. He raised his sword and resumed his strikes. His labored breaths echoed in the silent night. Corvus stood frozen, unsure what to say. So he voiced the first thought that came:


    ¡°I need a little time. But if you endure a while longer, I can free you from Rhazgord. I can send you to Adler, let you live as you wish.¡±


    But his words didn¡¯t feel like an offer of mercy. To Volmir, they rang with condescension, fanning the flames inside him. His hands shook, eyes brimming, but he lacked the strength to hold back. Gripping his sword tighter, he whirled toward his brother.


    ¡°Are you telling me to run?¡± he whispered, voice cracking with rage.


    ¡°Do you also doubt me? Do you also see me as weak?! You want me to flee and live under your shadow in foreign lands?!¡±


    Corvus stepped forward, hands raised.


    ¡°No, Volmir! You misunderstand¡ªcalm down and listen!¡±


    But Volmir had already erupted. Every muscle in his face tensed; his eyes burned crimson with fury. His brother¡¯s words had unleashed years of poison festering within.


    ¡°I won¡¯t run!¡± he roared. ¡°I won¡¯t flee like mother and die in some corner! I¡¯ll stay here and grow stronger! I won¡¯t leave Rhazgord until I crush everyone who sees me as weak and inept! And I¡¯ll do it for myself! Not for the Sanguinar, not for you, not for anyone else!¡±


    The words echoed into the night, marking the end of the conversation. Corvus realized he had stoked his brother¡¯s inner fire of rage, but there was no turning back now. His eyes traced Volmir¡¯s heaving, ambition-trembling frame. The brother he once saw as fragile had transformed into someone entirely new. Perhaps one day, Volmir would stand before him as an enemy¡­ But at least he would no longer be a dim, smothered flame.


    With a quiet sigh, Corvus turned away.


    ¡°We return to Sorbaj tomorrow. We leave at noon. Come if you wish, or stay here and continue your studies with the scholars. Rasur will provide for your needs.¡±


    Without a word, Volmir raised his sword, eyes still blazing, and resumed his training. Corvus vanished into the dark corridors, his mind echoing with Volmir¡¯s words, a burden even for him. But there was no going back.

 0067 | Exile

    The first light of dawn filtered through his chamber window as Corvus opened his eyes. He could still feel his body healing, though he had absorbed enough Lightstone energy to stand without difficulty. The faint ache in his muscles and lingering wounds were reminders of recent events. But his mind was too occupied to dwell on physical fatigue.


    He was to leave Bahoz by noon. Yet his original plan had been different¡ªhe¡¯d intended to stay a few more days to strengthen ties with the people and warriors, to earn their trust. He had hoped to meet not just soldiers and merchants but also Bahoz¡¯s scholars. He knew knowledge was as sharp a weapon as any blade, and defeating enemies required strategy as much as strength. But Sakhaar¡¯s order was clear: they had to return to Sorbaj.


    Suppressing his frustration, he swiftly moved to the writing desk. Pulling out papers, he dipped his quill in ink and began meticulously drafting orders for Baral and Rasur¡ªsteps crucial to Rhazgord¡¯s future. These two men were cornerstones of his plans: Baral would manage trade routes and merchant strategies, while Rasur would implement reforms to reshape the city¡¯s inner workings.


    But this task was harder than wielding a sword. The enemy wasn¡¯t only external but internal. Traditionalist warriors would resist change, and younger fighters would need time to grasp the new order. Corvus demanded precision in his commands; even the slightest error could prove costly. Each line was a step toward transforming Rhazgord. Yet Corvus knew every revolution demanded blood and sacrifice. Hours passed before he finished and sealed the documents, carefully tucking them into a box for delivery. Glancing at the sky¡ªthe sun nearly at its zenith¡ªhe realized it was time to depart.


    He hesitated. He wanted to see Volmir before leaving. Last night¡¯s confrontation gnawed at him. He needed to speak to his brother, to say goodbye. But Volmir had already left at dawn for lessons with the scholars. A strange feeling washed over Corvus. This was Volmir¡¯s choice. Last night¡¯s rage wasn¡¯t just an outburst¡ªit was a decision. Volmir was carving his own path. Corvus didn¡¯t know what his brother would become¡ªa warrior or an enemy.


    Pushing aside his thoughts, he took a deep breath. Before mounting his horse, he cast a final glance at Bahoz¡¯s stone walls, dusty roads, and banners fluttering in the wind. This place would not be the same when he returned.


    As Sakhaar and Corvus strode through Bahoz¡¯s stone streets, a large crowd surrounded them, just as it had on their arrival. But this time, curiosity and tension filled the air. The city had learned of the previous night¡¯s clash. Whispers spread like wildfire, each person weaving their own tale. Some accused Sakhaar of excessive harshness toward his son; others dismissed it as discipline, refusing to make it a spectacle.


    Sakhaar remained stoic as ever, indifferent to both angry glares and respectful nods. Corvus scanned the crowd¡¯s faces¡ªsome pitied him, others mocked. Some believed he was crushed under his father¡¯s shadow; others admired his defiance. But Corvus was most unsettled by his own emotions. The fight¡¯s echoes lingered in his mind as much as his wounds.


    They pressed onward in silence. The pair didn¡¯t speak a word until nightfall. Wind whipped dry leaves across the earthen paths, and Sakhaar¡¯s horse trotted with its usual heavy, deliberate cadence. But something else stood out: Sakhaar was moving slower than usual. Though Corvus wondered why they lingered, he didn¡¯t ask. He matched his father¡¯s pace. If Sakhaar did something deliberately, there was always a reason. As stars kindled in the sky, Sakhaar finally halted.


    ¡°We camp here,¡± he declared, his voice cutting through the wind like flint.


    Corvus paused. He and his father had traveled through countless nights. With Lightstone energy, they could easily push until dawn. And there were no threats here¡ªno hunters without prey. He didn¡¯t understand the order but obeyed without question. Choosing a wooded area, he quickly prepared the camp, gathering dry branches to light a fire. Flames leaped, casting orange and crimson light. The crackle of fire filled the silent night.


    He was hungry. Food would dull his muscle fatigue, physical pain, and mental chaos. As he turned to hunt, Sakhaar¡¯s voice stopped him.


    ¡°Unnecessary,¡±


    Sakhaar said curtly. Meeting his father¡¯s gaze, Corvus sensed something¡ªnot weariness, but a deliberate wait.


    ¡°Dried rations will suffice,¡±


    Sakhaar added, his tone flat. Yet Corvus detected something unspoken beneath the words. Confused but compliant, he sat by the fire, its sparks deepening the questions in his mind.


    Flames danced, their light etching Corvus¡¯s sharp features. He drew a sword from his belt. The blade gleamed in the firelight. Though his weapons, forged by Rhazgord¡¯s finest smiths, never dulled, sharpening them was a lifelong habit¡ªa way to order his thoughts, trapping chaos in rhythmic motion. Silence fractured by crackling flames. Faces frozen on either side of the fire. The grating scrape of whetstone on steel echoed into the night. Finally, Sakhaar spoke, his voice as sharp as the blade.


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    ¡°Upon our return, you will lead the Tiamat Guard.¡±


    Corvus¡¯s hand stilled. The scraping ceased. He stared at his father, but Sakhaar kept his eyes on the flames.


    The words struck like a blow. The Tiamat Guard served only the Tiamat bloodline¡ªtheir loyalty lay not with Rhazgord but familial authority. Their purpose was to protect the tribe from external threats, severing all ties with Rhazgord¡¯s main army. Leading them meant Corvus would no longer be a Sharazir. His rise in Rhazgord¡¯s military would end. His soldiers disbanded, his authority stripped¡ªhis access to Rhazgord¡¯s greatest force severed. This was an ancient balance. Every tribe had such units, none holding direct power within the central army, preventing internal wars from spilling into Rhazgord¡¯s forces.


    Corvus stifled his rage. This wasn¡¯t a promotion¡ªit was exile. His father sought to neutralize him, reducing him to a family guard. But why now? Just as he began gaining influence?


    Sakhaar¡¯s expression shifted as he sat across the fire. He had noticed the impact of his decision on Corvus. It was impossible to miss the fury blazing in his son¡¯s crimson eyes. The way Corvus slightly swung his sword toward the flames before pulling it back seemed like an attempt to quell the rage boiling inside him.


    Sakhaar softened his tone slightly and continued:


    ¡°I know you wish to change Rhazgord. You¡¯ve already begun molding Bahoz into something resembling other kingdoms.¡±


    Corvus narrowed his eyes. He knew his father wasn¡¯t offering praise. On the contrary, the words filled him with unease. Sakhaar had always viewed change as unnecessary. For years, he had opposed anything that threatened the established order. Without taking his eyes off the fire, Sakhaar spoke again:


    ¡°Do as you please once you become Sanguinar. But for now, we must preserve order¡ªand you are one of the few I can trust.¡±


    Corvus¡¯s face tightened. This was exile. Yet Sakhaar framed it as trust. How could leading the Tiamat Guard help? A horrifying possibility struck him. Before he could suppress the shudder rising within him, his voice spilled out:


    ¡°Do you want me to crush the other tribes?¡±


    His voice was hoarse, laced with shock, fear, and anger. The Tiamats hadn¡¯t warred with other tribes in years. Was he being asked to destroy, not reform? Worse¡ªwas Sakhaar, the staunchest defender of order, now seeking to shatter it himself?


    Sakhaar turned his gaze to him, his face cold and unyielding, but his voice carried a trace of impatience:


    ¡°No. Do not indulge such absurd notions!¡±


    Corvus clenched his teeth, struggling to rein in his anger.


    ¡°Then why? Why strip me of all my power?!¡±


    His voice rose. The firelight flickered in his crimson eyes, casting distorted, menacing shadows. He felt mocked, as if his father were playing a cruel game to humiliate and break his will. Years of silent obedience shattered. This time was different¡ªhis fury eclipsed his fear.


    Sakhaar¡¯s voice cut through the night, heavy and sharp as a blade:


    ¡°You do not yet lead the family, so you cannot know¡­ The Tiamat Guard¡¯s duty is not solely to protect our bloodline.¡±


    Corvus gritted his teeth unconsciously. There was weight in Sakhaar¡¯s words¡ªnot mere information, but the shadow of a long-concealed truth.


    The Tiamat Guard had many responsibilities, and Corvus was aware of them. They guarded not only the Tiamat lineage but also the sacred Mount Rhaz as the leading tribe. The mountain housed ancestral tombs, monks, and some of Rhazgord¡¯s most ancient secrets. They also trained young Tiamats, teaching Rhazgord¡¯s deadliest combat arts. Internal disputes, blood feuds, rebellions¡ªall were suppressed by the Guard. But Sakhaar was hinting at something beyond this.


    Corvus studied the shadows on his father¡¯s face. Sakhaar¡¯s expression remained inscrutable, but a sharp glint flashed in his eyes. A sliver of doubt pierced Corvus¡¯s mind like a thin blade. He dreaded what his father would say next but forced himself to wait. Sakhaar continued, his eyes fixed on the flames:


    ¡°The Guard has another duty¡ªunknown to all. To monitor the other tribes and ensure they pose no threat.¡±


    The night¡¯s cool breeze seemed to still abruptly. The forest¡¯s whispers fell silent. Even the crackle of the fire dimmed beneath Sakhaar¡¯s voice. Corvus narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°Gathering intelligence¡­¡±


    The words felt strange even as he uttered them. Rhazgord had no formal intelligence unit. But clearly, the Tiamats did. This implied other tribes might have their own spies. Sakhaar¡¯s revelation followed recent turmoil. Rhazgord¡¯s lands were more vulnerable than ever. Greed and ambition had driven some tribes to collude with external forces, secretly trading Lightstones. But the betrayal ran deeper¡ªenemy agents had infiltrated Rhazgord¡¯s heart, nearly costing them Bahoz. The gravity in Sakhaar¡¯s eyes underscored the mission¡¯s importance. Clearly, he believed Corvus was the only one capable of untangling this web.


    Corvus fell silent for a moment. The firelight cast trembling shadows across his face as he gauged the atmosphere. Collecting his thoughts, he broke the silence with a deep, resolute voice:


    ¡°What would you have me do?¡±


    Sakhaar answered without blinking:


    ¡°Find the Lightstone traders. Observe or detain anyone involved¡ªno matter who they are. But all of this must be done in secrecy. No attention, no noise. And remember¡ªthe entire Guard is now under your command.¡±


    Corvus wasn¡¯t surprised. He had expected to lead the Guard, but this authority was no mere transfer of power.


    The Guard were not just Rhazgord¡¯s warriors. For years, they had operated as a covert intelligence network. Their eyes lurked in shadows, their ears caught every whisper. While the Tiamats were known as fearless battlefield champions, the Guard were different¡ªthey eradicated internal enemies before war could even begin. Now Corvus held this shadowy web in his hands. What he had initially seen as a punishment, he was determined to wield as an opportunity.


    Corvus locked eyes with Sakhaar. His voice was dark and steady, like deep, powerful waters:


    ¡°I request your permission to expand the Guard¡¯s influence and numbers.¡±


    He pressed further, his gaze hardening:


    ¡°And I will not limit myself to internal affairs. We¡¯ve seen how enemies rot us from within. I cannot allow this to repeat. Grant me leave to gather intelligence beyond our borders.¡±


    Sakhaar weighed his words in silence. Only the crackle of torches filled the air. This was no simple investigation¡ªit was the start of a far greater maneuver. If permitted, Rhazgord¡¯s shadows would stretch into distant lands.


    Perhaps it was now a necessity.

 0068 | Territory of the Tiamats

    As soon as he returned to the capital of Rhazgord, Sakhaar made two critical decisions. These decisions sent shockwaves throughout the entire nation, sparking different reactions among various factions.


    The first decision was to appoint Corvus as the new head of the Tiamat Guardians, replacing his cousin, Cortas. The news was met with silence from within the Tiamat ranks¡ªno objections, no protests. The influential members of the Tiamat clan would have preferred Corvus to remain within the army, strengthening both his own influence and their family¡¯s standing. However, none dared to challenge Sakhaar¡¯s authority. His decision was absolute.


    But the same could not be said for the Rhazgord Army. Corvus was not just another warrior; he was a figure of respect, a Sharazir who was as strict as he was just. Soldiers looked up to him, not just as a leader, but as a symbol of discipline and strength. His reputation had only grown after recent events, turning his very presence into a source of motivation for young warriors. The thought of losing him to the Tiamat Guardians was deeply unsettling for many. The Sharazirs and warriors wanted to protest this decision, but before they could act, a second announcement changed everything.


    Sakhaar had ordered the immediate preparation for the Tribal Council.


    The mere mention of this event sent ripples across the land. The Tribal Council was an age-old tradition, held every year on the night that bridged Summer and Autumn. It was a grand gathering, where the leaders of all the major clans, legendary warriors, and esteemed figures convened before the Sanguinar himself. It was during this assembly that the state of the nation was assessed, tribal demands were heard, and crucial decisions were made. Discussions ranged from military strategies to resource allocation¡ªhow large the Rhazgord Army should be, how much each clan should contribute, and what new alliances or rivalries had formed.


    But beyond all the politics, there was something even more significant. Because once the council ended, the true event began. The Challenge for Sanguinar¡¯s Throne.


    For three nights following the council, any warrior bold enough could challenge the Sanguinar for his position. And as long as the Sanguinar remained standing, he was obligated to accept every single challenge.


    But the throne was not the only position at stake. The two highest-ranking advisors of the Sanguinar¡ªhis closest and most trusted allies¡ªwere also vulnerable to challenges. These individuals held vital roles within the kingdom and could not afford to engage in constant duels throughout the year. However, during these three nights, they too could be challenged, and if defeated, replaced.


    With this declaration, the nation¡¯s focus shifted. Whispers filled the streets, warriors sharpened their blades, and ambitious challengers steeled their resolve. All eyes were now set on the upcoming Tribal Council.


    The real issue was timing.


    With months still remaining until the traditional date of the Council, Sanguinar¡¯s sudden decision to bring the meeting forward raised many questions. For the warriors preparing to challenge his rule, this was an act of weakness¡ªa sign of fear. Their greatest advantage had been time¡ªtime to prepare, to gather strength, to plan. And now, that time had been taken from them.


    But those who understood the game of power knew the truth. Sanguinar wasn¡¯t doing this to protect himself. Something was wrong. To those with insight, this was no ordinary gathering. It was a war council. This summons was a response to an impending storm, a crisis that even Sanguinar himself could not ignore. And he refused to face it unprepared.


    As warriors, leaders, and emissaries began their journeys toward the capital, Corvus set out on his own mission. But his destination was neither a golden throne room nor a blood-soaked battlefield.


    He was returning to the shadows of his past¡ªto the southern district of Sorbaj.


    This part of the city was a labyrinth of hundreds of stone houses, all belonging to the Tiamat Tribe. Corvus had been born here, yet for years, he had barely set foot in these streets. He had been raised as the son of the Sanguinar, growing up within the walls of the Red Manor. But here, in these back alleys, lived the real Tiamats.


    As he guided his horse through the narrow streets, the air around him began to shift. And then, he saw them. Red-painted messages scrawled across the walls. Some were simple territorial markings:


    ¡°Tiamat Territory.¡±


    But others carried a far more venomous message:


    ¡°Stay Away, Nabuk Bastards.¡±


    The words made it painfully clear¡ªold grudges still burned hot. The past had not been forgotten. Nor had it been forgiven. Corvus inhaled deeply.


    And now, the only thing Corvus could see was not just the crimson writing on the walls. It was the crimson eyes.


    They glowed in the shadows of the alleys, peeked from behind windows, and watched from doorsteps. Everywhere he turned, Tiamat blood¡ªmarked by those unmistakable crimson irises¡ªstared back at him.


    Whispers spread like wildfire. People rose to their feet, nodding in acknowledgment or stepping forward to watch him closely.


    Corvus did not live here, but these people were not strangers to him. Many of them were his kin by blood. The rest were his comrades from the Rhazgord army. These streets were as familiar as they were foreign. Then, the first wave came¡ªthe young ones.


    They recognized him immediately. They surrounded him, expressions a mixture of admiration and anger. To them, Corvus was not just a leader; he was a symbol. And now, that symbol had left the battlefield. The questions came like a storm.


    ¡°Why did you leave the army?!¡±


    ¡°Have you given up being Sanguinar?¡±


    ¡°Are you going to live here now?¡±


    The streets were narrow, and the crowd pressed in. Voices rose. To these young warriors, Corvus had been a source of pride. And now, to them, it felt like he had abandoned that pride. But Corvus did not waver. He stood tall, met each gaze, and answered them¡ªone by one.


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    ¡°It was our leader¡¯s command.¡±


    ¡°I have not abandoned being Sanguinar, of course not!¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be living here, but I will be here often.¡±


    His horse could no longer move. The street was too packed, and his path was completely blocked. Then, the elders stepped in. They parted the crowd¡ªnot just to clear a way for Corvus, but to speak with him themselves. Their faces held no anger. But they were filled with questions. Unlike the young, they did not care only for the thrill of war. They understood power.


    Answering the reasonable questions of adults and the sincere, curious inquiries of relatives, he pressed forward. The streets overflowed with people, the constant echoes in his ears sometimes swelling into a suffocating hum. He was nearing his destination when one of the rare individuals who could roam these streets freely¡ªeven without crimson eyes¡ªsuddenly blocked his path.


    Zarqa.


    Corvus paused briefly upon seeing the man before him. Even in the dim light, he was unmistakable. Zarqa stood as upright and calm as ever, but his eyes held an unusual hardness.


    Though not a Tiamat by blood, Zarqa had been raised among them. He had eaten, fought, and been shaped by them. He was a brother without shared lineage.


    Corvus had only been in the city for two days and hadn¡¯t yet found time to meet Zarqa. He hadn¡¯t expected him here. But if Zarqa stood in this place at this hour¡­ there could only be one explanation. Corvus furrowed his brow.


    ¡°Did you leave the army?!¡±


    His voice cut like a blade. Shock mingled with anger.


    Zarqa was a few years older than Corvus, but his talents had propelled him far


    beyond his peers. He was hailed as a prodigy of his generation. He could have risen swiftly in the ranks, even earning the title of Sharazir by now. But he hadn¡¯t. He had chosen to remain at Corvus¡¯s side.


    There were two reasons. First, his bond with Corvus¡ªdeeper than friendship, stronger than brotherhood. Second, the Sanguinar¡¯s order. But now¡­ If Corvus had left the army, Zarqa¡¯s obligation was void. Nothing barred him from ascending the ranks. Yet here he stood. He had followed. Zarqa replied with his usual calm but firm tone:


    ¡°Not just me. Baldrek left too.¡±


    Corvus narrowed his eyes. Baldrek? Zarqa shook his head slightly and continued:


    ¡°You should¡¯ve seen how furious he was when he heard the news. It took everything I had to calm him down.¡±


    Corvus¡¯s chest tightened further. Baldrek¡¯s temper was legendary, but he was a disciplined man. He never questioned orders and remained loyal to his decisions.


    Corvus fired another question:


    ¡°Did you get the Sanguinar¡¯s permission?¡±


    A shadow flickered across Zarqa¡¯s composed expression. His eyes briefly darted to the surrounding crowd. He didn¡¯t want to speak here.


    ¡°Come.¡±


    His tone was short and final¡ªnot an order, but not open to debate.


    ¡°We¡¯ll discuss this at the Guards¡¯ headquarters.¡±


    The two moved swiftly through the dark streets. Corvus¡¯s gnawing curiosity quickened his steps, while Zarqa¡¯s silence hung like a weight. Worse, Corvus was displeased. Had he not been occupied these past two days, he would have met Baldrek and Zarqa immediately to discuss their plans and urge them to stay in the army. Both were skilled; their discipline and intellect would inevitably propel them to Sharazir rank. But now, they¡¯d left without consulting him. This altered the cards in his hand, and his inability to steer this change himself ate at him.


    As they slipped free of the crowd, Zarqa abruptly changed direction. Corvus hesitated. They were supposed to head to the Tiamat Guards¡¯ headquarters, but Zarqa had veered into a secluded alley. The street narrowed progressively, shadows stretching between buildings. No one was here. The wind echoed off stone walls, thickening the atmosphere. By the time they stopped in a spot shielded from eyes and ears, Corvus¡¯s patience was fraying. He gathered his breath to unleash a barrage of questions, but Zarqa¡¯s voice split the air like a cold blade before he could speak:


    ¡°I know why the Sanguinar pulled you from the army and made you head of the Tiamat Guards.¡±


    The words froze Corvus¡¯s blood. This was information only Sakhaar and he should have known. His brow furrowed, his eyes locking onto his friend with suspicion. *What else did Zarqa know?* Zarqa swiftly scanned their surroundings before continuing in a low voice:


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I never told you before, but I¡¯ve been part of the Tiamat Guards from the beginning.¡±


    His words dropped between them like cold truth. But the real blow came next.


    ¡°Part of its unseen branch.¡±


    Corvus¡¯s face turned to stone. He literally stopped breathing. It didn¡¯t take him long to understand. He knew the Tiamat Guards weren¡¯t just a warrior unit¡ªthey were an intelligence network that slithered through shadows, excavating the secrets of tribes. But he hadn¡¯t known Zarqa was part of it.


    A cold wave of anger flooded him.


    ¡°Were you spying on me all these years?! I trusted you! I thought you stayed by my side because you were my friend!¡±


    His voice echoed in the dark. Though he clenched his teeth to control his rage, he couldn¡¯t hide the betrayal tearing through him. This shattered everything he knew.


    Zarqa understood Corvus¡¯s fury but didn¡¯t defend himself. He held his gaze, knowing evasion was impossible.


    ¡°Believe it or not, I never betrayed our friendship.¡±


    His voice remained calm, but beneath it lay regret.


    ¡°I refused countless offers to leave your side. But this is my duty, and I won¡¯t apologize for doing it.¡±


    Corvus¡¯s fists tightened. He forced himself to suppress the anger and disappointment, knowing neither would help now. Through gritted teeth, he hissed:


    ¡°What about Baldrek?! Is he scheming behind my back too, like you?!¡±


    Zarqa shook his head.


    ¡°He knows nothing.¡±


    Corvus studied Zarqa¡¯s face, searching for lies. But only truth stared back. This didn¡¯t simplify things¡ªit made them infinitely more tangled.


    Corvus¡¯s hand rose to grip his hair. He was already drowning in challenges, and now his trust in his most loyal man lay fractured. The anger and disappointment gnawing at him pressed like a weight on his soul. He sank into silence, thoughts colliding violently. Trying to smother his doubt, he finally snarled through clenched teeth:


    ¡°What the fuck ever! Take me to the Guards¡¯ headquarters so I can learn whatever other secrets you¡¯re hiding.¡±


    Zarqa nodded. He¡¯d anticipated this reaction but knew their trust would never fully heal. This rift was irreversible.


    Instead of retracing their path, Zarqa led them deeper into the alley¡¯s darkness. Corvus followed without question. The cold wind echoed through the streets, their footsteps unnervingly loud. With every step, Corvus realized this city held far more beneath its surface.


    Soon, an iron door¡ªuncommon in Sorbaj¡ªmaterialized in the alley¡¯s most secluded corner, nearly swallowed by shadows. The cold, black metal gleamed menacingly in the dim light. It was nearly invisible unless you knew where to look. Clearly, this place was accessible only to the initiated.


    Zarqa paused before the door and spoke softly to Corvus:


    ¡°Listen carefully. Memorize this rhythm. You¡¯ll need it every time you come here.¡±


    He raised his hand and knocked in a precise pattern¡ªsharp, deliberate strikes that echoed in the silence. A code. A signal to distinguish friend from foe.


    A few seconds passed. The door cracked open, but instead of a towering Rhazgord warrior in armor or a stern-faced guard, an ordinary man stood there. Unremarkable, with features blending into the crowd¡ªsomeone you wouldn¡¯t glance at twice. He didn¡¯t look like a warrior, but the sword at his belt warned of lethal capability.


    The man¡¯s eyes quickly swept over Corvus. Then he bowed slightly and said:


    ¡°We''ve been waiting for you.¡±

 0069 | Meeting the Shadows

    Thirty men stood rigidly before Corvus, emerging from the shadows. Zarqa had quietly taken his place among them. All were resolute, alert, and warrior-spirited, but their physiques bore no resemblance to typical Rhazgord fighters. They lacked broad shoulders or bulging arms. Unlike the warriors he¡¯d observed for years, these men were shorter, leaner, and more agile. Yet Corvus could tell at a glance their bodies served a different purpose¡ªhoned not for brute strength but for speed and cunning. Every movement betrayed years of disciplined training.


    Rhazgord warriors naturally thrived on raw power and physical dominance to claim victory on battlefields. But these men were different. They had been trained to walk in shadows, move undetected, and kill silently when necessary. While Rhazgord¡¯s hulking warriors crushed enemies with their intimidating presence, these men chose invisibility. They were molded for intelligence, assassination, and a kind of power Rhazgord had never openly acknowledged.


    Yet something unsettled Corvus. None of these men looked familiar. When Darkan began introducing the warriors one by one, his suspicion deepened. None hailed from major tribes. All had been taken under Tiamat¡¯s wing as children, raised in secrecy. If so, why had Corvus never seen them in Rhazgord¡¯s training grounds or among the Tiamats¡¯ elite forces?


    Only Zarqa was an exception. He¡¯d fought shoulder-to-shoulder with Corvus for years. But the others? Their paths had never crossed, even in the fiercest battles. So who were these men, and how long had they been part of this covert operation?


    As Corvus narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing each face, the biggest question burning in his mind concerned Lightstone energy. Rhazgord¡¯s power peaked through the Lightstone. Did these men wield it? For a few seconds, he focused deeply, trying to sense the energy around him. But he detected nothing¡ªno ripple of light. Among the warriors filling the room, only Zarqa emitted the familiar pulse of Lightstone energy.


    Frowning, Corvus growled in a low voice:


    ¡°Does anyone here use the Lightstone?¡±


    The question echoed through the chamber, but not a single warrior¡¯s expression flickered. The silence grew oppressive. Corvus¡¯s eyes glinted in the dark, impatient for an answer.


    When Darkan¡¯s voice finally rang out, Corvus fixed his gaze on him intently:


    ¡°No, my lord. As you know, suppressing Lightstone energy is difficult. It draws attention. For our work, it would hinder more than help¡ªso we do not use it.¡±


    Darkan¡¯s words were calm but carried a hidden confidence. Corvus immediately recognized him as the highest authority here. He wasn¡¯t old, but the lines on his face betrayed years of experience and a life steeped in shadows. Yet what truly caught Corvus¡¯s attention was the threat Darkan radiated.


    Corvus had faced death countless times on battlefields. He¡¯d lost track of the moments he¡¯d felt its breath on his neck. But now, standing before someone without Lightstone power who still emanated danger set off alarms deep in his mind. His instincts warned that this man could be lethal even to him, yet his eyes argued otherwise. Darkan appeared strong but ordinary.


    At that moment, the energy around Corvus shifted abruptly. His Lightstone power dimmed like a flickering flame, its faint glow vanishing from the room. All the warriors¡ªeven Zarqa¡ªstared at him in shock. Darkan¡¯s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, muscles tensing. Silence engulfed the chamber.


    But the moment didn¡¯t last. A few seconds later, Corvus¡¯s energy resurged, waves of light radiating anew. His eyes bore slight fatigue, but a faint smile tugged at his lips.


    Darkan stepped forward without hesitation, his voice vibrating with the thrill of a mystery they¡¯d agonized over for years:


    ¡°My lord¡­ may I ask how you did that?¡±


    His gaze sharpened as he studied Corvus. For years, they¡¯d wrestled with this problem. Lightstone energy granted immense power, but its greatest weakness was the near-impossibility of concealing its presence. What Corvus had just done¡ªif replicable¡ªcould revolutionize their shadow operatives.


    Corvus tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with Darkan. His voice was icy and unyielding:


    ¡°The Black-Masked Ones used Lightstone energy but suppressed it to a degree. Though I can¡¯t fully mimic their technique or sustain it while moving, I¡¯ve¡­ deciphered parts of how they did it.¡±


    Darkan¡¯s eyes widened. The Black-Masked Ones. He¡¯d heard their name, of course. But to unravel their methods, to analyze their abilities? Astonishing. Corvus and the Black-Masked Ones had clashed to the death on battlefields. No prisoners had been taken, no secrets seized. This meant Corvus had deduced their technique through observation alone.


    Corvus¡¯s genius was legendary in Rhazgord, but this was something else entirely. A transcendent skill.


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    Corvus continued, his gaze razor-sharp:


    ¡°I haven¡¯t had time to perfect it, but I¡¯ll refine it soon. Then I¡¯ll teach you.¡±


    The room¡¯s atmosphere shifted instantly. Until now, a few warriors had doubted Corvus¡¯s competence. He was young, and for many, respect for the Tiamat name outweighed faith in his abilities. But now¡­ now all doubt had evaporated.


    Corvus was the apex predator in this room. And everyone knew it.


    But another problem lingered. Corvus¡¯s brow furrowed faintly. The thirty men before him were woefully insufficient. A quiet but sharp unease darkened his expression.


    ¡°Is this all of you?¡±


    His tone was steady, but the dissatisfaction beneath was unmistakable. The warriors exchanged glances. Most dared not speak, but Darkan sensed Corvus¡¯s displeasure instantly. He¡¯d anticipated this.


    Bowing slightly, Darkan explained:


    ¡°Twelve are currently on missions. Twenty are dispersed across Rhazgord¡¯s other cities. In total, we number sixty-three, my lord.¡±


    His voice betrayed no tremor, but he knew Corvus wouldn¡¯t be satisfied. After a brief pause, he added:


    ¡°We monitor potential recruits. Another twenty are in training.¡±


    Yet Corvus¡¯s gaze remained unchanged. His discontent lingered like shadows on his face.


    Sixty-three. This number couldn¡¯t even monitor the seven tribes in Sorbaj. But Corvus¡¯s vision was far grander. He wanted an intelligence network spanning not just Rhazgord but the entire continent. He understood the value of knowledge better than anyone. A mighty army meant little without sharp intelligence. If he could shroud his enemies in darkness and predict their moves, victory could be claimed before battle even began. But this? Sixty-three agents to blanket a continent? The thought deepened his unease.


    He had nothing left to discuss with these warriors. Darkan could provide all necessary details. Corvus turned his piercing gaze to the group, his voice cutting through the air with authoritarian edge:


    ¡°Dismissed.¡±


    The men began to withdraw without a moment¡¯s hesitation. As they left, their faces bore an inscrutable mix of emotions¡ªadmiration, fear, or perhaps the shame of failing to meet Corvus¡¯s expectations? Even he couldn¡¯t quite decipher it. But for now, it didn¡¯t matter.


    As the warriors filed out, Corvus turned to Darkan.


    ¡°Is there somewhere we can speak privately?¡±


    Darkan answered without hesitation:


    ¡°Let me take you to your quarters.¡±


    Corvus nodded faintly and followed. When the door creaked open, only one thought echoed in his mind: This handful of agents will not be enough.


    The room was not the opulent chamber of a leader. Its walls were bare and cold, shadows trembling restlessly in the dim light. Every detail betrayed its rarity of use¡ªsparsely furnished with an old desk, chairs, and a few cabinets tucked into corners. This was a place for business, nothing more.


    Corvus strode in with heavy steps, while Darkan closed the door silently and stood guard. Corvus settled into a chair, but Darkan remained standing¡ªuntil Corvus raised his hand, not as a commander chastising a subordinate, but as a leader addressing an equal.


    ¡°Sit.¡±


    Darkan paused briefly. Though he barely knew Corvus, he¡¯d earned his respect. Standing like a mere soldier would be pointless posturing. He sat without protest.


    After a weighted silence, Corvus spoke. His voice was sharp, like steel carving stone:


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard of me, Darkan, but I¡¯ll speak plainly. I came here through a deal with the Sanguinar. My task is to purge enemy spies from our lands and obliterate anything threatening Tiamat supremacy. In return, do you know what I received? You.¡±


    Darkan listened unblinking. Corvus¡¯s words thickened the air.


    ¡°From this moment, you are tools in service to my goals. Understood?¡±


    Darkan dipped his head slightly. He¡¯d anticipated this. For years, he¡¯d observed Corvus¡ªnot just through Zarqa, but other sources. He knew Corvus sought to reshape Rhazgord. He even knew Rasur had sworn him loyalty. Darkan understood Corvus¡¯s ambitions as well as the man himself.


    But Corvus demanded more than silent compliance.


    ¡°To serve me and fulfill my mission, there are things I must know.¡±


    What followed was a lengthy exchange. Corvus questioned; Darkan divulged everything.


    The first revelation: this unit had no official name. It existed in Rhazgord¡¯s shadows, known only to a select few. Most doubted its very existence. Even tribal leaders who suspected its presence remained blind to its workings.


    Yet one truth stood clear: these were no ordinary warriors. Few in number, their skills were extraordinary. Despite lacking Lightstone energy, each had undergone elite training. They melted into shadows, moved without trace. Deploying them on open battlefields would be a mistake¡ªbut in the realm of intelligence, they were Rhazgord¡¯s deadliest weapon.


    Moreover, they were linguistic masters. They could read, write, and speak Adlerian fluently. Their talents extended to flawless report-writing, deciphering enemy correspondence, and cartography.


    Corvus absorbed every detail. Their numbers were insufficient, but their potential was immense. If he could harness this shadow army, he could dominate the battlefield in an entirely new way.


    But time was slipping away. The Tiamat Guards were not limited to these covert operatives. There were also the visible warriors¡ªthose who wore the Tiamat crest openly. Corvus needed to fully grasp the scope of his new authority.


    Finally, he shattered the silence with a command:


    ¡°Compile a report of all critical incidents by tomorrow.¡±


    A pause, then he added:


    ¡°And I must meet the real Tiamat Guards. Summon Zarqa to guide me.¡±


    Darkan bowed wordlessly and exited. As Corvus watched him leave, his mind already overflowed with plans.


    Moments later, Zarqa appeared at the door. When he entered with resolute strides, Corvus turned to him.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. I want to see what the true Tiamat Guards look like.¡±

 0070 | Meeting the Shadows

    After a long, silent walk, they finally reached their destination. The structure rising before them was one of the city¡¯s oldest buildings. These stone walls, dating back centuries, had stood here even before the Rhazgord tribes united into a federation. Back then, this place had not just been a shelter or fortress¡ªit was the Tiamats¡¯ home.


    Now it served a different role. This was the Tiamats¡¯ secondary stronghold and the heart of the Tiamat Guards. It typically housed the elderly members of the Tiamat dynasty, a mark of respect for their legacy. But the rest of the compound belonged to the Guards. Anyone stepping inside sensed this was no mere building¡ªit was a symbol of tradition, authority, and power.


    The man awaiting them at the door was someone Corvus had idolized since childhood: Cortas Tiamat.


    Cortas was not just the former leader of the Guards. He was Corvus¡¯s cousin and, most importantly, his idol. The eldest son of Valerius, he appeared young¡ªas if still in his twenties¡ªthough he was well past thirty. He was a near-perfect replica of Valerius, but this copy was even more intimidating in stature and presence. Towering over two meters tall, his mere existence could crush those who stood before him.


    But years ago, everything had changed. Cortas, once believed to be the next Sanguinar, now stood far removed from that position. The reason was not Corvus¡ªit was a wound that would never heal.


    When Corvus was thirteen, his mentor Montis had sent him on his first mercenary mission. For Rhazgordians, entering battle at that age was unheard of; most warriors didn¡¯t see real combat until fifteen. But Montis believed Corvus was different.


    ¡°He¡¯s ready,¡± Montis had declared.


    ¡°He¡¯s not a child. He¡¯s a warrior.¡±


    And Corvus, eager to prove him right, had marched to the front without hesitation. But Cortas forbade it. He refused to let Corvus face the demons on the frontline, ordering him to observe from a safe distance. He believed Corvus wasn¡¯t ready¡ªnot strong enough to endure the battlefield¡¯s brutal truths. As demons¡¯ massive claws crushed warriors trying to shatter their armored hides, Cortas saw no guarantee Corvus would survive.


    For Corvus, defiance wasn¡¯t an option. Back then, he had no authority¡ªhe was just an apprentice. Cortas, meanwhile, was already one of Rhazgord¡¯s five strongest warriors. His command was absolute. Though Corvus burned to throw himself into the fray, he was forced to watch from the city walls.


    Below, Rhazgord warriors trapped the demons with unthinkable tactics, shattering their thick shells. At the forefront was Cortas, felling creatures twice his size. His combat style, the lethal precision of his strikes¡­ Corvus watched, spellbound. This was one of Rhazgord¡¯s greatest warriors.


    Then it happened. A banner rose¡ªa crimson standard. A momentary pause rippled through the Rhazgord ranks. That banner had only one meaning:


    The leader has fallen.


    The battlefield froze. The second-in-command swiftly took charge, and the battle resumed. But Corvus¡¯s blood turned to ice. The moment he saw the banner, he lunged forward on instinct. He refused to believe Cortas had fallen. But the warriors beside him restrained him.


    ¡°Let me go!¡±


    His fury shook them, but they too had seen the banner. Their hearts ached, but their duty was clear: Corvus could not enter the battlefield.


    Victory came much later. The battle was won. But Corvus could wait no longer. The moment the victory flag rose, nothing could hold him back. He sprinted onto the field, scrambling through wounded and corpses to find Cortas.


    He couldn¡¯t be dead. And he wasn¡¯t.


    Ahead, a group of warriors clustered around a body lying in a pool of blood, surrounded by dozens of dismembered demons. Corvus¡¯s eyes locked onto the figure instantly.


    Cortas.


    Warriors were shouting orders around him, pressing against his wounds. But even when Corvus heard them, he felt it was in vain. Cortas had survived¡ªbut at a cost.


    The healing took a long time. Even the energy of the Light Stone could not fully repair his damaged body. After months of treatment, his muscles looked the same, but his breath never recovered.


    He could no longer fight. Or rather, he could only fight for a few minutes. After those few minutes, his breath would fail him, and he would collapse. The man once seen as the future of the Tiamats was now drowning in his own blood.


    Despite everything, Cortas remained a trusted warrior. He never bowed to those who belittled him. Even with blood clogging his throat, he kept fighting. But a warrior was not defeated by his enemies¡ªhe was defeated by the decision of his own people.


    And in the end, that order came.


    Sanguinar decreed that Cortas be removed from the army and placed at the head of the Guards.


    For him, it was a kind of exile. But Cortas was loyal to his Tiamat blood. Even though he had lost his strength, he still had the heart of a warrior. So he obeyed the command. He fulfilled his duty with honor. He led the Tiamat Guards for years. But now, an era was ending.


    Today, as he welcomed Corvus, the wide smile on his face carried no trace of bitterness. He embraced the cousin he had not seen for a long time. To him, Corvus was no different from his own sister, Kaelyra. He knew of Corvus¡¯s admiration for him and had always been one of the young Corvus'' greatest supporters.


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    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Zarqa, but from here on, this is for Tiamats only.¡±


    Cortas¡¯s words did not bother Zarqa. It was something he already knew. Though he had been raised by the Tiamats, he was not one of them. And beyond these walls, only Tiamats could pass.


    Zarqa bowed his head and stepped back. But just as he was about to turn away, Corvus¡¯s voice stopped him.


    ¡°Tell Baldrek to find me.¡±


    Zarqa nodded. He knew that things would never be the same with Corvus again. But he still served him. Swallowing his sorrow, he disappeared into the dark streets.


    Cortas, his massive smile unwavering, gestured to the door.


    ¡°Come on, cousin! Let me introduce you to the geezers!¡±


    First, they entered the courtyard, then a spacious room. Inside, six warriors stood tall. Their eyes glowed with a fiery red light. This crimson glow was a clear sign of their Tiamat lineage. Most of them were past their middle years, yet their bodies were still strong enough to challenge young warriors. The deep lines on their faces were not marks of weariness but the traces of countless battles and struggles. They were men forged in war, raised alongside death. With the experience of years, they seemed to already know who would live and who would die the moment they stepped onto a battlefield.


    These six warriors were the commanders of the Guards. Like every warrior under their command, they were all Tiamats. Each one was at least as powerful as a Sharazi. Two of them were women; the remaining four were men. Each commanded five hundred warriors, all of them elite soldiers bearing Tiamat blood.


    Corvus recognized most of the warriors standing before him; some had trained him in his childhood, taught him how to fight, and shared meals with him. These were not ordinary soldiers¡ªthey were among Rhazgord¡¯s most formidable fighters.


    The Guards were not here because they had lost their strength, like Cortas. On the contrary, they were the finest warriors of the Tiamats. From the outside, they might seem like a mere security force, but in truth, they carried great responsibility on their shoulders. They were the main force of the Tiamats.


    The reason they commanded only a small number of men was precisely because of these immense responsibilities. The Tiamat tribe had a smaller population compared to other great tribes for the same reason. They were not just responsible for protecting their own members¡ªthey were also tasked with maintaining order throughout all of Rhazgord.


    It was their duty to prevent conflicts between tribes, resolve disputes, and uphold balance. However, not every issue could be resolved easily. Sometimes, tribes would resist decisions and rebel. That was when these warriors would step in. It was their duty to bring order to those who defied it, and many Tiamats had died on the battlefield for this cause.


    The bloody shadows of the past still loomed over them. Over the centuries, tens of thousands of Tiamats had perished in the name of maintaining order. Now, their numbers were fewer than those of the other great tribes. But their reduced numbers had not diminished their strength.


    Among the Rhazgord people, Tiamats were considered superior. Most Rhazgordians believed that they carried the blood of gods and that their eyes glowed red because of it. Even in childhood, they were compared to the adults of other tribes. Their blood granted them an unparalleled power. This was why they had never lost their leadership position for centuries.


    ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t need to introduce everyone one by one, do I?¡±


    Cortas was right. Corvus already knew who everyone in the room was. As he took a seat, the other warriors followed suit. However, Cortas remained standing. As Corvus wondered why he had not taken a seat, the answer came quickly.


    ¡°My work here is done, Corvus. If you ever need help, you know where to find me.¡±


    There was a faint but profound sorrow in Cortas¡¯s voice. He had never liked this duty, yet he had carried it out for years. Until now, he had seemed indifferent to it, but now that the moment of departure had come, the melancholy within him surfaced. Without even allowing Corvus to protest, he turned his back and walked out of the room with heavy steps.


    Corvus scanned the six warriors remaining before him. Though they were his kin, blood ties held no importance in this room. As their new leader, the first thing Corvus had to do was prove his authority.


    ¡°Does anyone object to my appointment, or believe they should be sitting in my place?¡±


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    Corvus wasn¡¯t sure if he could defeat every warrior in the room during this challenge. But he had no other choice. He hadn¡¯t expected any objections¡ªyet something unexpected happened. All six warriors requested to speak.


    He turned to the woman seated to his right¡ªhis aunt, one of the oldest and strongest warriors in the room. In her youth, she had even challenged Sakhaar. Respected by all, she spoke on their behalf.


    ¡°I believe we all share the same opinion, so I will speak for everyone.¡±


    The other warriors nodded in agreement. After ensuring their support, she turned to Corvus.


    ¡°My dear nephew, Corvus. The problem is not your skill. It¡¯s that this mission is beneath you.¡±


    Corvus had anticipated some resistance, but deep down, he had hoped for something different.


    ¡°Even if this was ordered by my brother, I fail to see how your presence here benefits our family. If you stay in the army, you¡¯ll reach the highest ranks in a few years. We refuse to let you waste away here.¡±


    As soon as she finished, the other warriors showed their agreement. To them, Corvus was too talented for this place.


    He took a deep breath.


    ¡°I appreciate your concern, Aunt. But despite what many believe, I have not been exiled here. On the contrary, I have an important mis¡ª¡±


    One of the elder warriors slammed his fist on the table.


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re skilled! But don¡¯t think we can¡¯t handle a mission without you, Corvus!¡±


    At that, the other warriors sprang from their seats. Though they agreed, they began arguing loudly among themselves. The room descended into chaos, their crimson eyes burning with anger, fists ready to strike. The tension spread like wildfire.


    Corvus watched silently for a moment. Then, gathering all his Lightstone energy, he slammed his fist onto the table. The carved stone surface cracked deeply, a visible dent forming where his blow had landed. The thunderous sound stunned the warriors into brief silence.


    ¡°As I said, I have a mission here¡ªone given to me personally by Sanguinar!¡± Corvus declared. His gaze swept across the room, his voice unwavering with authority. ¡°If you have objections, take them to Sanguinar! Now, shall we get to work, or do we all march to his presence?¡±


    A tense silence filled the room¡ªnot of fear, but of internal conflict. Though unwilling, the warriors slowly sat down, their dissatisfaction still visible in their eyes.


    ¡°Fine,¡± one of the elders finally said, crossing his arms.


    ¡°What is this important mission?¡±


    They had heard rumors about Bahoz but didn¡¯t know the full story¡ªespecially about the secret and unauthorized Lightstone trade. Corvus revealed the situation carefully, omitting certain details. As the truth sank in, their objections faded. They realized he wasn¡¯t just another commander¡ªhe was the embodiment of Sanguinar¡¯s will. His presence wasn¡¯t a mere assignment but a strategic decision.


    ¡°Now,¡± Corvus leaned back.


    ¡°Shall we get to work?¡±


    The warriors exchanged silent glances before nodding, one by one. The matter was settled. They began briefing him on the state of the Guards, recent events, and the challenges ahead. Corvus listened intently, mentally noting every detail.