We emerged into daylight on an idyllic cliffside. It was almost too narrow for the trolls, but we got everyone out. We'd lost so many of the sick that the trolls were able to carry a single plank between them up the roots.
I tried not to think about what I had seen. We could forget about my uncle for now. I would ask the Queen's assassin the cost to put my widow in the ground before she undermined us any further.
To my delight, I found the prelate and my new wife waiting for us. We had people ready to receive the refugees this time. The wheat had begun to grow already through some arcane wisdom of the dragon.
The fire-holding troll would take the sick to quarantine at Volcano Manor, but the archer wished to stay and observe the meetings which would take place. He spoke the common language of the Order more thoughtfully and articulately than any of the nobles I'd had to suffer.
While we waited for the Prince of Death, I walked about the grassy cliff. There was a surviving Erdtree sapling here. Strangely, the Gloam-Eyed Queen was tending to it. I wanted to ask many things but left her to it. We are all entitled some mystery.
My captain never rested. Even here, he had quickly briefed the knights and was now making plans with the prelate. My bodyguard and the assassin were bickering over something. It didn't look serious, so I left them alone as well. The archer had taken a chip from the slab of bark and was whittling a charm or something.
Fortunately, my uncle had left. Something about not being presentable.
There was a ruin with an old stone roundtable on a protrusion from the cliffside. This would be where we discussed our alliance once all parties had arrived. For now, there was an old tree and shade. I sat with my wife and talked about less terrible things. She'd used sorcery to keep real food warm for me all that time. I vowed I would cast out the next noble who made a joke about being cold-blooded.
Long after the refugees had left, the light changed to blue, and a shadow fell over us. The archdragon descended. From below, a troupe of skeletons emerged bearing an effigy of the Death Prince. His voice boomed from it, greeting us and the leader of the other group of survivors.
Of course. The Witch of Chaos.