Act 1, Part 7: A Thousand Faces

The march past Hemant had taken the Tarheeds to the frontier. Hemant was at the edge of what was considered the habitable portion of El Nath, but Riche knew that from here on, they'd encounter fewer villages and far more monsters. The journey was growing more perilous. The path ahead could only be accessed by scaling the sharp cliffs, as the ravine below was filled with jagged spikes. It was dangerous enough scaling the slippery rock, but the presence of wild monsters made it so that the Tarheeds found themselves besieged by Hectors and White Fangs.

Over the course of three days, the Tarheeds made the grueling ascent up the frozen cliffside. Riche had ordered them to take extra precautions in order to prevent needless casualties. Nevertheless, more than a few soldiers had sustained broken bones from slipping and falling. Despite his exhaustion, Riche had used his magic to heal them. He knew that in these wild lands, the Tarheeds would be pushed to their limits. Many of them would lose their will to go on, and in such conditions, it was prudent that he keep morale up as their leader.

As they pressed on over the course of another week, the forest around them grew so dense that it was impossible to tell which direction they'd come from and where they needed to go. Yetis were a common sight, though they typically kept their distance from the procession of soldiers. Riche was starting to understand why the tree spirit that they were hunting was considered ancient. There was no sign of civilization anywhere around them. The forest looked as though it had been untouched for millennia. The only signs of humanity were runestones and broken statues – relics of the First People of the snowfield.

"Ye think that woman was tellin' the truth, milord?" Lieutenant Dion asked. "The one whose brother went to the mining town?"

"Her story does seem peculiar the longer we spend here," Riche replied. "For a lone person to make it through this treacherous land is no small feat. But his journey was likely easier than ours. Our numbers slow us down, and perhaps he knew of a hidden path. Still, I'm not concerned. We shall reach our destination in due time."

Due time, however, seemed like an eternity away. As the Tarheeds continued their ascent up the sharp cliffs, they were surprised to find Yetis being mounted by Pepe monsters, which was something that none of them had ever seen before. As far as Riche knew, Yetis were untamable creatures. Neither he nor any of his soldiers had any idea about how the Pepes had domesticated such wild beasts. Though some officers brought up the idea of doing so themselves, Riche shot the idea down. Their provisions were limited, and it was critical that they reach the mining town before winter came.

Two weeks after leaving Hemant, the Tarheeds reached the top of the cliffside. It was from that vantage point that Riche was intrigued to find a tall, spired castle in the distance. There was no way that such a building could have been created by the First People, but the fact that it existed in the frontier made its existence even more mysterious, to the point that Riche thought that it was worth investigating. But to his surprise, quite a number of Tarheeds were refusing point-blank to go there.

"Lieutenant Dion. It appears that there is great resistance to the idea of visiting the castle in the distance. Explain to me why."

"Milord, that castle… it stands on cursed ground," Dion replied hesitantly.

"Cursed ground?" Riche repeated in disbelief. "Have they forgotten who I am? There is no ground that I cannot consecrate."

"This- this is different, milord. It's a Southern' legend. Me n' some o' the lads grew up around these parts. We've all heard the story."

"Then enlighten me, Lieutenant. Tell me about this cursed castle."

"That castle… it belongs to a monster. They say he was once a man. The Lion King, they called 'im, fer his mane was stained crimson. Stained with the blood o' his enemies. The Lion King… he cut down every fighter in his path. His thirst fer battle couldn't be quenched. He kept wantin' more. More power to slay anyone in his path. And when he realized that he couldn't get it through fightin' no more… he did somethin' evil. A ritual… a blood ritual. He killed his own wife. And then he summoned… somethin' unholy."

"A demon?"

"Not a demon. The devil 'imself. 'N I hope it's not impudent to say that I don't need to tell ye who that is."

"Indeed. The bogeyman who somehow made his way into this world's collective consciousness. The so-called 'beginning of all darkness'. It never ceases to amaze me how the people of this world were so quick to fabricate that archetype of evil. Sinners always hope for a larger shadow to mask theirs. They use it as a crutch, so that they need not take responsibility for their own shortcomings. It's just as I've said all along. They hand their livelihoods to corrupt spirits. They invent demons and devils as the source of all their misery. A story they tell themselves over and over again, until it has no choice but to impersonate the truth. But they are mistaken. There is no 'Black Mage'. There is no devil. There is only the Goddess, the devout, and the heathens. But I digress. Tell me, Lieutenant. What did the Lion King ask of the devil?"

"Well, er… he sold his soul to him." Dion shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his words diminished in the face of Riche's disbelief. "And with it, he bought 'imself tainted power. He corrupted his kingdom. Turned them all into monsters. Men. Women. Children. And then, he closed the doors."

"Just like that?"

"No one knows why. But the path to the castle is unbreachable. The unholy things inside remain locked behind the walls."

"I see… forgive me, Dion, but I must say, I thought the Tarheeds had more mettle than this. A man who sold his soul to an ancient evil, an impenetrable castle, and the horrific creatures inside waiting to be unleashed. It's something only a child could come up with. Do you know what I believe? This castle is the ruin of a poor old kingdom whose inept king allowed his people to starve to death. Their ends were so pitiful that the kingdom's neighbors made up a sufficiently horrific story to villainize him and turn the deceased into martyrs. But I will not allow this story to deter us from a plethora of resources that will aid us on our crusade. We shall march towards this castle and claim it in the name of the Tarheeds."

That decision was perhaps Riche's first major blunder since becoming leader. The trek through the desolate moor had cost them two days of rations. The castle was cracked and crumbled, but nevertheless, they'd encountered a powerful barrier at its entrance. Riche and his magicians had unleashed the full force of their powers, which hadn't made a single dent in the castle's defenses. After nearly four hours of futile attempts, Riche had finally come to realize that Dion had been right.

The pointless trip had cost Riche a small portion of his reputation, and he knew it too. That, more than any resource, had been the steepest cost to him. As their expedition continued, he knew that it was only the loyalty that he'd earned which was keeping his troops from deserting. Hardly any of them truly cared about killing the spirits – they were originally a small gang, after all. But they were smart enough to know that it was only through him that they'd gain the notoriety and power needed to become more than what they started out as.

Nevertheless, he hadn't lost enough that his more superstitious troops had fled. They continued on and began making the trek across the perilous cliff heights. They were surprised to find wooden bridges that they could use to go from one cliffside to the next. Considering the presence of Werewolves and Lycanthropes in the area, it clearly wasn't something that could have been made recently. Riche suspected that the bridges had been made by the First People, magically reinforced to withstand decay.

Judging by many of the broken bridges, however, they clearly hadn't been created to withstand monsters. This was the crucible, he thought, that would determine the outcome of his mission. Werewolves and Lycanthropes were not to be taken lightly. With the exception of the dragons of Leafre, these were the most dangerous monsters in all of Maple World. Though a handful of Tarheeds wore their pelts, the sheer number of wolves in the area meant that death was certain, should they make even a single mistake.

"Dion, tell the men that we travel single-file. Have five people each tied at the waist with a rope to prevent falls," Riche ordered.

"Yes, milord."

Having the soldiers in a rope team was risky. On one hand, it would help prevent individuals from falling. But on the other hand, there was a chance that all five of them would plummet if the weight distribution was off. And a single mistake would result in plunging thousands of feet to the ground. But Riche trusted his men to be careful. Which meant that the only real danger was the monsters. The wolves were a real threat, and there wasn't much known about their weaknesses.

Riche knew what he had to do. To gain back the trust of his men, they all needed to make it out alive. He raised his staff and slammed it into the ground. A large beam of light shot out into the air. Two sprites appeared holding a large golden chalice. As they tipped the chalice, golden energy rained down over the entire Tarheed army. The soldiers immediately felt the warmth of Riche's blessing surge through them. Riche began panting as he attempted to catch his breath. Giving a holy benediction to such a large group of people was no small feat. But this was necessary.

The privates quickly distributed the ropes, which the squads used to tie themselves together. Riche chose to tether himself together with Dion and his squad of three. For some reason, he was still feeling winded, and it wasn't getting better. He ascribed it to having spent much of his energy on his spell. He'd never cast magic on such a scale before. And he'd been walking quite a lot over the past few weeks. That had to be it.

Two hours later, however, he was starting to feel the exhaustion. Dion had noticed it too. Riche's breath was coming out haggard and he was dragging his feet.

"We can take a break, milord," Dion suggested.

"No. I can keep going," Riche replied, waving a hand casually. "It is imperative that we make as much progress as possible. The trees cast sinister shadows. That itself is an ill omen. If we make haste, we may find ourselves out of the wolves' territory before nightfall."

Dion attempted to retort, but stopped himself. There was no use in arguing with Riche when his mind was set. Besides, he was right about the trees. Though Dion wouldn't call them ill omens, he could at least acknowledge that the thick foliage was keeping out the sunlight. It was already dark enough as it was, but sunset would mean that they would be stumbling blind. And the wolves, being nocturnal, would soon follow.

It was close to sunset when Riche finally collapsed.

"Milord? Milord!" Dion cried.

His squad immediately pulled hard on their ropes, stopping Riche from falling off the cliffside. They heaved and hoisted him back up. Dion shook Riche, who barely registered what was happening. He put a hand to Riche's head. The Huntsman King was burning up with a fever.

"Halt!" he roared. "We camp here for the night. Medic!"

An hour later, a medical tent was pitched up for Riche, who was sleeping inside. Dion sat by his side the entire time, watching the medic mix up a fever medicine with herbs and potion. The medic carefully ladled out the concoction into Riche's mouth. A few moments later, a small bit of color returned into the Huntsman King's face.

"He'll live," the medic told Dion. "He's exhausted from his earlier spellcasting and the journey. But he'll be fine in the morning."

Dion nodded before stepping out of the tent. The men had already started the campfires. The smell of smoke and salmon clouded the air as they prepared their meals. Dion made his way to his squad's campfire and sat down.

"How's he?" Aspen asked. He held out a bowl of soup to Dion, who grunted in thanks.

"He'll be fine by mornin'," Dion replied before tilting the bowl down his throat.

"Looks like the climb was too much fer our fearless king," Mari snickered.

"Watch yerself," Dion warned. "That kinda talk is treason."

"And who's gonna tell 'im? Ye?" Mari challenged. "Don't tell me ye've gone soft, Dion."

"He's our king," Dion said simply. "Our leader."

"Leader, maybe. But he's no king," Wren said haughtily. "And there's no point looking at me like that. We all know it. Hell, he knows it too. You think he tries that hard for show? He's nothing without us."

"Surprised that ye'd be sidin' with us, Wren. Ain't ye a Northerner like His Majesty?" Mari teased. "Figured that royals would stick together. After all, ye both got that posh way o' speakin', and the attitude to go with it."

"Royals. Don't make me laugh," Wren snorted. "I ain't got that Southern accent, but I grew up in El Nath, same as you. The real El Nath. You think our 'Huntsman King' ever spent a night hungry? He was a lord's son, I'll swear to it. He can call himself a hunter all he wants. He ain't never killed in his life. Probably went to some fancy school on his daddy's coin. Probably where he learned them fancy words he likes to spit out, all big 'n grand. Bet he don't even know how stupid he sounds. Northerner, my ass. Far as I'm concerned, he ain't one o' us."

"'Ear, 'ear," Mari cackled as Wren spat at the fire. "Ye still gonna bend the knee to 'im, Dion?"

"That's what we agreed to," Dion said shortly. "When we handed the Tarheeds to 'im."

"We did that 'cuz we thought it'd be good fer us," Aspen corrected. "Havin' a priest like 'im on our side, even if he is a ravin' lunatic. We just wanted to get off the streets. We never figured we'd get so big, did we? I mean, just look at us. We're a whole army. The whole snowfield, ours fer the takin."

"And you know what? It might be time to take the Tarheeds back," Wren said. "How many of these men even care about him and his crusade? Dion's our leader. That's what the four of us agreed to. And that's what everyone here will agree with once Riche's buried in the snow."

"No," Dion said sharply. "Ye don't understand. Riche's right 'bout the spirits. If ye knew him like I did, ye'd agree too."

Mari paused and started at him in disbelief. "Please tell me yer jokin'," she said. "I knew ye'd gone soft, but don't tell me ye've gone soft on him. That's what this is 'bout, ain't it?"

"Dion, fearless gang leader of the Tarheeds, falling for the posh priest?" Wren snickered. "You can't be serious. This is too rich."

The two women cackled loudly, while Dion said nothing. Aspen remained silent, watching Dion intently. "Finished?" Aspen asked finally.

Mari and Wren finally managed to quiet down, though they continued giggling nevertheless.

Aspen turned to Dion. "I won't pry if ye don't wanna answer. But tell me this, at least. This spirit business… do ye actually believe it?"

Slowly, Dion nodded. "Riche's tellin' the truth. The spirits… one killed my ma n' pa."

Mari and Wren immediately sobered up.

"But… ye said they died in an avalanche," Mari said.

"That's what I tell people," Dion explained. "Because no one wants to hear it. The spirits have been in El Nath since before the First People. They're sacred. Ye think anyone would believe that they'd be anythin' other than good? They called me a liar. Said I was a dumb kid who didn't know what he saw. So I learned to keep my trap shut. Told 'em what I told ye. But when I met Riche… he was the first one to understand. To make me think I ain't crazy. 'Cuz what happened to me… the same thing happened to 'im."

"What?" Aspen asked.

Dion shook his head. "That's between him 'n me. I won't betray 'is confidence. But I'll say this. Whatever the Tarheeds started out as, we're somethin' bigger now. However far we gotta climb, whatever places we gotta torch… we're doin' it for El Nath. And me? I'm with Riche all the way."

Aspen paused for a moment, then laughed. "Heh. Ya know, I had to ask. I had to see fer myself where this was comin' from. I think yer mad to fall for him. But… I know ye well enough to know that this crusade is real fer ye. I don't like Riche. If I gotta be honest, I hardly respect him either. But if ye trust him… then I trust ye."

"I still think it's hilarious," Wren said. "But I'm with Aspen. The four of us started this together. We'll follow you to the end."

"Yer our leader, no matter what anyone says," Mari agreed. "Riche can call 'imself what he likes. But I'll follow yer lead… even if I gotta bend the knee to 'im."

By morning, Riche's fever had broken. Whether it had been because of his blessing or some other reason, the wolves had left their camp alone. The soldiers immediately began packing up at first light and prepared to head out as soon as Riche gave the say so. The cliffside path was finally beginning to lower to ground level, opening up to a lush forest of evergreens.

"Lieutenant, I have something to ask," Riche said.

"Yes, milord?" Dion asked.

"The soldiers… how is morale at the camp? Between my incapacitation and the danger of the forest, I fear that some may have lost their resolve."

"I wouldn't worry, milord. The men were in good spirits last night. Yer blessing probably had somethin' to do with it, I'm sure. They haven't forgotten what you done for 'em."

"That is a relief to hear. And… what of yourself?"

"Me, milord? I'm much the same. I still believe in the cause."

"I see," Riche said. He then paused. "I know I don't say this as much as I should, but your loyalty is everything to me. After all, you were the founder of the Tarheeds long ago. It must be difficult watching someone else lead them. But these men all respect you… in a way that they'd never respect me."

Dion opened his mouth, but Riche held up a hand. "No, please. I'm not blind to what the situation is. But I'm grateful to you, Dion. We find ourselves kindred spirits. This world doesn't see the danger that we do. But thanks to our partnership, we will open their eyes to the truth," Riche said, putting a hand on Dion's shoulder. "And at the end, your unwavering faith in me will be rewarded."

Riche smiled before continuing on. Dion stood transfixed for a moment. He put his hand on his shoulder, right where Riche had put his. After all these years, he was numb to the touch. He'd sufficiently trained himself not to feel at moments when he should. Riche's words were finally just words to him. But today… he didn't know whether it was because of last night's conversation, but Riche's words were bouncing around in his chest. Partnership. Unwavering. Rewarded. It was almost enough to feel brand new to him.

Two weeks later, the Tarheeds reached the foot of Mount Abrup. The mining town – Astafi – was larger than Riche had thought. The woman from the other town had mentioned that the tree spirit was the reason why it had prospered. The trees around them were indeed large and verdant. Riche wondered which one of them housed the spirit.

The Tarheeds quickly seized the town, eager to release all their pent-up frustration from the long journey. Riche had forbidden them from torching the buildings, however. They were at the end of El Nath as they knew it, and they would need every resource that they could get their hands on for the journey back. Instead, he had the Tarheeds simply gather the citizens at the town square, where he would give them his usual address.

"People of Astafi. In this hidden alcove, I know not whether you have heard news of the wider world, and so allow me to introduce myself. I am Riche, the Huntsman King of El Nath. I have led my royal army, the Tarheeds, on one mission – the destruction of every spirit in this world. I seek to unify the people of the snowfield under my holy banner. For this reason, I have traveled through the wild frontier in order to reach every corner of this land. Here, I seek the destruction of a most dangerous fiend. An ancient tree spirit that dwells somewhere in the bowels of Astafi."

"That fiend has protected our village since before the First People," a man shouted. "We don't acknowledge you, pretender!"

The other townspeople immediately began crying in agreement and raised a chorus of protest. Riche sighed in irritation. This was getting tiresome. He slammed his staff and shot a stream of holy arrows at the crowd, though they dissipated before they could make contact. The townspeople screamed in fear and attempted to flee, though the Tarheeds quickly surrounded them.

"Silence!" Riche roared. "Please, do not force my hand. The journey here has been tiresome and my patience wears thin. I will not harm a single soul here. However, I will have my justice. Tarheeds, search the forests, the mine, anywhere the spirit may be hiding. We will not leave until this spirit has been found and destroyed."

Over the next several weeks, the Tarheeds seized control of Astafi. Though they kept their camp separate from the town, the soldiers didn't hesitate to take whatever resources they wanted from the people. Despite the protest of the villagers, the Tarheeds began cutting down the trees in the forest in an attempt to draw out the spirit. Riche used the opportunity to extort its location from the residents, though it soon became clear to him that no one in living memory had seen the spirit.

However, the search in the mine had yielded an un expected fruit.

"Milord," Dion said as he entered Riche's tent. "I have the latest report on the search team in the mine."

"Proceed."

"The townspeople 'aven't provided no aid, but the search team's found somethin'. Ores. Lots o' 'em. Gold, silver, crystals o' all sorts. It's a treasure trove, milord."

"Indeed? And how deep does this mine go?"

"Deep, milord. The team's been down there for almost three weeks 'n they've reported no end in sight. They were right 'bout this town bein' prosperous. And it's all ours fer the takin'."

Riche rested his chin on his fist and began thinking. Dion stood in silence, waiting for him to formulate his thoughts. After a few moments, Riche sat up.

"This is indeed an unprecedented opportunity. Do you have a report on every ore encountered so far?"

"I think so, milord. Here ye go."

Riche took the report and began skimming through it.

"Silver, dark crystals… standard materials for alchemy. We could make use of these."

Suddenly, he paused and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But wait…"

"What is it?"

"Lidium," he breathed. "How is this possible…?"

"Lidium, milord?"

"An ore that forms only in desert heat. It shouldn't exist here. This must be a mistake."

"I can bring back a sample if ye want, milord," Dion offered. "Just to make sure."

"Yes, please do. I need to be certain."

Twenty minutes later, Dion returned with a sack full of glittering ore. He handed the sack to Riche, who dumped the contents on his desk. He picked up a sample and began examining it intently.

"Do you see the shimmering purple mineral here?" Riche asked. "Touch it."

Dion picked up one of the ore pieces and grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

"It's warm," Dion said. "And it's stayin' warm, even in my hand."

"I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself," Riche marveled. "But there is no mistaking this. That heat is solar energy. It is what make Lidium a superior power source. It is the only substance strong enough to power the intensive magical nexus of alchemy. I am astounded that it somehow formed in the snowfield."

"They say El Nath was once a desert," Dion explained. "Until the spirit o' snow froze the sand."

"More Southern folklore?" Riche asked in amusement.

"This one even the North knows. Been passed down fer ages from the First People."

"Hmm. Forgive me for being less than impressed. I'm sure that I don't have to say this, but I'm rather an expert on spirits. And from my experience, I've yet to meet a spirit with such power."

"She's no ordinary spirit, milord. They call 'er an Archspirit."

"An Archspirit? I don't believe I've come across the term before."

"They're rare, them. 'N I doubt there'll ever be more. Archspirits are the kids o' gods 'n men."

"Gods? You mean the blasphemous gods of old? They are a myth. The holy texts are quite clear. There is only the Goddess of a Thousand Faces. Whatever fables the First People passed on, they were mistaken. There is only one deity, not three hundred, four hundred, whatever they believe. The Goddess wears the face of snow and sand, of light and dark… of everything in this world. To think that she would sire a child with a mortal… it is sacrilege, plainly."

Dion stopped himself from sighing. There were many qualities that he liked about Riche. His zealotry was not one of them. Riche had no appetite for any religion but his own, despite the fact that the followers of the Goddess were merely one sect amongst many. Nevertheless, Dion knew Riche well enough that there was no point in contradicting him.

"Just a story, milord," Dion said simply. "But gettin' to the point, what do ye think 'bout the Lidium? Ye think we can use it?"

"Use it, perhaps. But the question is, how?" Riche replied, drumming his fingers against his desk. "If it is true that we've come across a small fortune, we must put it to good use. I myself have only a theoretical understanding of alchemy, and I suspect that we shall find no expert within the ranks of the Tarheeds. However, that is of no consequence. Not when we have Magatia."

"The alchemy town?"

"The very same," Riche said, pulling out a map. "See here, Lieutenant. This area here can be built into a port." He traced a path from there to Magatia with his finger. "This opens up a shipping lane from here to northern Nihal. From there, it would be no more than a two-day journey into the city. The round trip would take no more than a week."

"I see…" Dion said, furrowing his brows in concentration. "'N ye wanna sell the Lidium to 'em?"

"Sell… or more. Like I've said, I have a limited, theoretical understanding of alchemy. And I've developed some schematics over the years for certain machines. The kind that would greatly aid us in our goal to destroy the spirits, and to unify El Nath."

"Ye wanna commission alchemy projects?"

"One step at a time, Lieutenant. For now, it would be sufficient to simply trade with them. The profit would greatly aid our crusade. But yes. In time, I foresee a great partnership between the Tarheeds and Magatia. Our kingdom will grow in size and splendor, enough so that we may be able to finance a rebuilding effort across our land. And once we bless the people of the snowfield with our benevolence, I am certain they will find themselves more sympathetic to our cause."

Dion nodded in understanding. Though Riche was still motivated by his religious ravings, the plan wasn't a bad one. Almost as though he could read Dion's mind, Riche's eyes softened.

"No more hunger. No more senseless deaths. No more children left freezing in the cold." Riche held out his hand. "Tell me that you're with me, Dion, one more time. Break the chain with me."

Dion didn't hesitate to take his hand. He looked Riche square in the eye. Grey, like the moon. He wondered if he kept looking, whether he would get pulled right into that cloudy night. He wondered what he would find on the other side. He hoped for the same sincerity that had coaxed him to obediently follow it here. He hoped for things that he shouldn't have. The courage to pry just three words off his tongue. Words that he almost said before he watered them down.

"All the way."

. . .

Grendel hadn't been to Leafre in quite a few years now. It had been a nice excuse to visit Tatamo, at least. The Halflinger chief had been quite happy to have him over as a guest. At his insistence, Grendel had over stayed for three days – two more than he'd originally planned. Tatamo had tried to convince him to stay even longer, but Grendel had shot him down. As nice as it felt to see an old friend again, he wasn't here on vacation.

He made his way through the dense forest. Minar was much different from Ellinia. It was much more humid, like most of Ossyria. It made him wonder whether the stories of Ossyria once being a desert were true. Leafre was verdant enough, but it was a much different story the further one got from the Halflinger town. Traveling westward led to the Dragon Forest – a land where the grass withered and burned.

Grendel had been there several times before and he knew that it wasn't for the faint of heart. Despite the constant lightning, it never rained. In the distance, one could see an enormous stone statue of a petrified dragon. Bones and weapons littered the ground. Traveling even further west led to a lifeless canyon, where the strongest dragons nested and warred.

The Halflingers never ventured that far, and neither had Grendel himself. From the stories he'd heard, however, the entire region was a bloodbath. Tatamo had mentioned that there was an ongoing civil war between the two Great Kings, Horntail and Nine-Spirit.

"It troubles me that war echoes as it does across our world," Grendel had told Tatamo. "The shattering spreads fractures, always."

"Indeed, my friend. And who among us is left to put the pieces back in place? The Onyx King was the great arbiter. Such was the rule of three. And with the third Great King gone, I fear that the violence will tear this land asunder."

Grendel couldn't help but agree with Tatamo. Three were needed to maintain the balance. These weren't arbitrary rules that they'd come up with, after all. They were written into the very fabric of their universe.

Numerology was one of the founding disciplines upon which all magic had developed. It asserted that certain numbers held significant magical value. Two, for instance, symbolized duality and opposition. Light and dark. Day and night. Good and evil. The rule of two foretold conflict.

Three, on the other hand, symbolized stability. Three worlds, three laws, and three keepers. The rule of three was the essence of balance. It was no coincidence that two and three existed right next to each other. Take just one element out from the three, and the balance fell apart instantly. The loss of the Onyx King, for instance, had led to the war between Nine-Spirit and Horntail.

There were other such significant numbers in numerology, such as four, five, seven, and nine. A surprisingly curious number was 365. Opinions differed on its meaning. Most numerologists agreed that it symbolized fullness, like the days in a calendar year. Some argued that it went beyond just fullness and symbolized omniscience, or even godhood. Many popular legends suggested that there were 365 gods at the dawn of the universe. Those same legends had inspired some to believe that the number signified chaos, enough so that it diametrically opposed the rule of three.

Grendel shook his head from his thoughts. Now wasn't the right time to ponder on such matters. He was on a mission, and he was nearly at his destination. The Valley of the Antelope was where small ram-like creature called Birks lived. Though they were fairly cute, they were also rather dangerous, and so Grendel kept his distance as he made his way through. In the distance, he spotted what he was looking for – a hollowed out tree trunk in the shape of a Yeti face, which radiated magical energy.

It was innocuous to most, but he knew that It was where Heinrich was performing his research. He'd come to see the boy to check on his progress before his trip to Magatia. It had been four months since the conference with the Sultan and the situation had escalated more than they could've imagined. Time was of the essence if they were to survive what was to come.

He entered through the hollow, and immediately upon emerging through the other side, he entered a small clearing in the forest. The entire area felt serene, as though it was consecrated. There were large petaled flowers and strange-looking trees everywhere, including a tall vine with glowing butterfly wings.

"Master Grendel, it's good to see you," Heinrich beamed.

"Hello there, my boy," Grendel smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes, indeed."

"Was the journey long? I'm sorry for making you come all this way on foot, only you said that you wanted this place to be secret."

"No trouble at all. Tell me, how goes the work?" Grendel asked.

"Very good, sir. There's someone I want you to meet." Heinrich said. "Gritto, Legor!"

Two people emerged from the clearing. The first was a young woman with long, moss-colored hair and a purple cloak. The other was a young blond man in green robes wearing a green blindfold over his eyes. Grendel was surprised to see that both their ears were pointed.

"Gritto, Legor, this is Master Grendel the Elder," Heinrich introduced. "Master Grendel, these are Gritto and Legor."

"A pleasure to meet you both," Grendel said politely.

"Likewise," Legor said. "It's nice to put a name to the face. Or well, metaphorically speaking," he laughed, pointing at his blindfold.

"Heinrich has told us a lot about you," Gritto said. "It's an honor to meet a master of magic."

"These two have been working with me to do what you've asked," Heinrich explained.

"We'll leave you both to talk," Gritto said. She and Legor bowed before heading back to the clearing.

"I couldn't help but notice that they're both part-fairy," Grendel said.

"They're both half-Nymphs. They lived in Orbis, so I know them fairly well. I wrote to them, asking if they'd be willing to help me with my research here."

"I'm curious to know, what is it that you're doing here? This place is strong with magical energy, but it also seems different somehow. More sacred."

"To explain that, I first need to explain this."

Heinrich carefully unwrapped the bandana around his head. The cloth fell away, revealing pointed fairy-like ears. "You don't seem surprised," he grinned.

"I did suspect as much," Grendel said amusedly. "Is that why you've sought out fellow half-Nymphs for your work?"

"Well…" Heinrich said hesitantly. "There's a bit more to it than that. I don't know how much you'll believe me if I say this, but… I'm not half-Nymph. I'm human. Completely."

Grendel paused. "Are you?"

"I know that it must be hard to believe," Heinrich said quickly. "But if I could just explain-"

"My boy, there's no question of whether I believe you. I've known you long enough to trust what you say," Grendel assuaged. "Although, I do believe that an explanation is in order."

"Of course," Heinrich said, his face relaxing. "It's just, no one's believed me before, except for the Nymphs. That's why I wear this," he said, holding up his bandana. "Keeps away awkward questions. But how I got these ears is pivotal to what I'm doing here."

He took a deep breath.

"I was born in a small village in El Nath. When I was seven years old, monsters attacked us. We were small and by the wayside, probably no more than thirty of us. I managed to escape and eventually found myself at the entrance to Orbis Tower. I knew it was off-limits for a reason, but I was being chased and I had no choice. There were small round machines that attacked on sight. Pepes and Leatty monsters. I spent a week trying to scale up the tower without food. The only water I had was the snow I grabbed through the windows."

Grendel nodded. "That sounds harrowing enough for a trained Explorer, let alone a child."

"I barely made it to the eighth floor when I collapsed. There was a statue in front of me. A woman with giant wings holding a harp. I was half-delirious from hunger and thirst, so I had no idea what was going on. I thought that she was a real person, and I called out for help. Just as I passed out, I thought I saw her moving. I heard her strum on her harp and I was filled with this warmth. The next thing I knew, I woke up at the top of Orbis Tower, where some Nymphs found me."

Heinrich pointed at his ears. "They saw my ears and though I was a half-Nymph at first. When I told them that I was human, they took me to the elders. That's where they told me that I had the Goddess' Blessing."

"The Goddess' Blessing?" Grendel asked.

"They said that the statue I saw was the Goddess. It's extremely rare, but people have been blessed by her before. They told me that the blessing leaves a mark. For some, it's invisible. But for me, it changed my appearance."

"Did they say why?"

"They believe it's because I was blessed by the Goddess in her Nymph form. I'm sure you know this, but they call her the Goddess of a Thousand Faces. One for each of her creations. Humans, fairies, dragons… some even say demons."

"The legends of the Goddess are many and varied," Grendel said. "Some say her essence lives inside the maple trees. Some believe she once incarnated as a mortal, to correct a great imbalance. Others say that our world is merely her dream."

"And every culture has a different name for her," Heinrich added. "The Nymphs call her Minerva. The elves called her the Great Spirit. I've heard the humans call her Rhinne, or even Ariel. The stories have gotten mixed up over the ages, but what's certain is that she wears a different face for each of her children."

"And you believe that your fairy ears are an indication of worship in her fairy form?"

"Possibly. That's the best theory I have, if I'm being honest. But what this means is that the Goddess is really watching over us. These ears are proof of it. And I think it might be the reason why my magic runs so strong. I already know that I can share that power to others, I've tested it with Legor and Gritto. They haven't just gotten stronger. It's like that spark triggers something in them. They've invented new abilities in just the few short months that we've been here. Imagine what they could do if they got the Goddess' Blessing too. The skills they'd make, their blessings, all of it could be taught to the Explorers. To make them stronger."

"I see… I was wondering why a bowman was here alongside a magician. But I have one more question – why did you pick half-Nymphs to aid you?"

"They've both learned about the Goddess from the Nymphs, and they're both devout believers. And part of it is… they remind me of myself. With one foot in the human world and one with the fairies. Their lives feel intertwined with mine, and that makes me believe that they have the best chance of receiving the Goddess' Blessing."

Grendel nodded in impressment. Heinrich was young, but he was brilliant. If he kept this up, if others gained the favor of the Goddess, then it just might be possible that the Explorers would stand a chance.

"I've said it before, but I'll say it again. You are one of the most exceptional mages I've ever met."

Heinrich's ears went pink. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot, coming from you."

"This good news comes at an opportune time. You may not have heard in your seclusion here, but the situation has escalated dramatically."

"What do you mean?"

"One month after you came to Leafre, the Huntsman King led the Tarheeds to a remote mining town called Astafi, at the base of Mount Abrup. He came with the intention of purging an ancient spirit, but he has instead chosen to plunder the mine for its riches. Among his treasures, he has come into a large supply of alchemical materials… including Lidium."

"Lidium?" Heinrich asked in shock. "But how?"

"I don't know myself. But he has opened up a shipping lane to Magatia in an attempt to sell the ores for profit, and to commission future projects."

"I thought that the Sultan wanted Magatia to himself?"

"Yes, and you can imagine how he's taken this turn of events. Those who opposed Abdullah's plan are now looking to the Huntsman King as a means of escape. They see him as an alternative option to prevent Abdullah from having a monopoly over Magatia."

"What's Abdullah planning to do about it?" Heinrich asked, though he already knew the answer.

"He is planning to declare war on the Tarheeds if they do not desist. As of today, they have two days to do so. The Huntsman King has shown no indication of complying."

"Which means that the situation is going to escalate beyond El Nath."

"There's more. And what I'm about to say must remain strictly confidential. In fact, I've been cautioned against telling you, but I feel that you deserve to know the truth."

"The truth?"

"About Ereve. Just a few days ago, Athena Pierce had been given an invitation to meet with Shinsoo. There, she learned the reason why her petitions had been denied for months now. It is because there is no ruling Empress in Maple World. It is something that they've been keeping in the strictest confidence. Enough so that they've shut their borders to all but a precious few."

"What?" Heinrich asked blankly. "But then… who's governing us?"

"The Senate has been passing laws in her absence. The Noblesses have been kept on standby, watching the conflict from a distance. Their numbers have been dwindling substantially over the years and the Senate fears that sending them into the conflict at their current strength will result in eradication."

"I…" Heinrich couldn't find the words. "I had no idea that the situation was this dire."

"Nor did we," Grendel sighed. "Fortunately, however, the Explorers have been sanctioned to reinforce the Noblesses. Our allies in El Nath have been hard at work in assisting us with training new Explorers. And with the developments you've made here, I believe that we stand a good chance at bringing a swift end to the conflict."

"What will you do in the meantime, sir?"

"I came to Leafre to look in on your progress. Tatamo was quite hospitable, perhaps a bit too much. He wore me down enough that I agreed to stay longer than I'd been planning. But from here, I'm going to Magatia, as the official delegate of the Explorer Guild. Alcaster will need my help in keeping the peace, when Magatia is as turbulent as it is."

"I see… will you be staying there for a while?"

"While I certainly hope not, I cannot say. Unfortunately, however, this means that this will be the last time we see each other for some time. Though perhaps…"

"What?"

Grendel shook his head. "Nothing for now. A rather unusual development in Ereve, but perhaps outside my jurisdiction to say. If the time comes, I'll reach out with more. But I think I'll stay the night, just for today. It's getting late, after all."

Heinrich smiled. "I'll have a bed ready for you."

As Heinrich left to make preparations, Grendel watched his shape grow smaller until it disappeared behind the clearing. He sighed in exhaustion. His bones were starting to hurt. A storm was coming. Five hundred years of peace wasn't small by any means. But war had a way of feeling infinite, pushing away that peace as though it had been only a fortnight. He hoped dearly that it wouldn't end like the last one.

"Goddess, if you're watching us… deliver us swiftly back to safety, for our peace is fragile, and I fear that one more tear will be irreparable."