Having left the slumbering ruins of Vrant behind, Tirrellda and Daroon emerged from the cave into an atmosphere utterly different from before. The warm air that had enveloped their bodies and the lingering scents of flowers and foliage in their memories faded into the distance, replaced by the chilling aura of a winter forest as the sun gradually set.
"The sun is almost down."
Tirrellda said, gazing up at the sky.
Faint orange sunlight filtered through the branches, casting long shadows over the frozen snowfield. More time had passed than they realized.
"In that case, we must hurry. The Moonlit Citadel is still quite a distance away."
Daroon replied, scanning their surroundings.
"Yes, let's go quickly."
Tirrellda nodded and carefully checked the Vrant fruit she held close to her chest. The purple fruit and the engraved stone fragment given by the Aornn remained intact. She tucked them deep into her pocket for safekeeping.
Tirrellda and Daroon walked along the forest path. Daroon's heavy footsteps left deep imprints in the soil, while Tirrellda glided lightly behind him. It was the nimble, silent gait characteristic of elves.
"A little while ago... I was thinking about the Vrant tree."
Tirrellda opened the conversation.
"Hmm? What thoughts crossed your mind?"
Daroon turned to look at her. With the twilight at his back, his face was etched with even sharper shadows.
"Interestingly, the Vrant fruits have no seeds."
Tirrellda continued in a contemplative tone.
"The Aornn have been scattering these fruits throughout the forest for ages, yet no new Vrant trees have grown."
Daroon pulled one of the fruits given by the Aornn from his pocket and examined it. Its deep purple surface, tinged with red, was rough, and it emitted a faint glow in the palm of his hand.
"Now that you mention it... indeed. Does that mean planting them won't yield growth?"
Tirrellda nodded.
"It seems the tree in the cave where Vrant slumbered is the only one. Without seeds in the fruits, reproduction is impossible. But... perhaps there's another way? Maybe a special method to sprout them using the fruits."
As they walked the darkening forest trail with the fading sunlight, Tirrellda's voice brimmed with the curiosity of a scholar.
"Perhaps a particular ritual is needed to plant the fruits, or specific soil or conditions..."
Daroon pondered for a moment before responding.
"I found that little Aornn fellow a bit pitiable."
Tirrellda looked at him.
"In what way?"
"Having spent hundreds of years with its master asleep... that tiny creature diligently carried Vrant's fruits throughout the forest, waiting for its master to awaken."
Daroon's voice carried a tinge of melancholy.
"In a way, it seemed sorrowful. All that time, alone..."
Tirrellda paused, lost in thought. What would it feel like to wait for centuries? Was it loyalty to a master, the heart of waiting for a friend, or a sense of duty to protect the forest?
Their footsteps continued along the snow-covered forest path. The surroundings grew steadily darker, and the first stars began to twinkle in the sky, revealing themselves one by one.
Suddenly, Daroon halted. He lifted his chin, drawing in a deep breath as if sensing something in the air.
"Wait a moment."
He whispered to Tirrellda in a low voice.
Daroon closed his eyes slowly, his nostrils flaring subtly as he inhaled deeply. Like tracing the weave of the air, his nose twitched, filtering out each minute scent.
Remaining utterly still, even his ears unmoving in the silence, he stood motionless for a time. Then, as his nose tip quivered ever so slightly, a subtle shift crossed his expression.
"What's wrong?" Tirrellda whispered softly.
"There's a strange scent."
Daroon replied quietly.
"An unfamiliar smell... a mix of leather, blood, and iron..."
He slowly lowered his halberd from his shoulder, gripping it firmly as if reacquainting himself with its weighty texture.
"Follow me. Quietly."
With Tirrellda behind him, Daroon advanced cautiously.
They moved carefully between the trees and hid behind a small hill. Daroon slowly raised his head to peer ahead.
"Over there..."
He pointed forward with his finger.
Tirrellda also cautiously lifted her head to look in the direction he indicated. At a small clearing just barely visible in the dim light, three massive shadows loomed.
Even in the twilight glow, their silhouettes were unmistakable. Their heights easily exceeded 4 cubits (2m), nearing 6 cubits, with broad shoulders and thick hides revealing pronounced muscles. Curved horns grew from either side of their heads, and their skin bore a reddish-brown hue.
The beasts from the western lands, the savages of the dry earth—they were minotaurs.
Daroon and Tirrellda concealed their presence, crouching low in the tree shadows, watching as the three minotaurs came into sharper focus in their view.
The first minotaur was large and well-built. His height towered over Daroon by at least a head, with thick brown fur covering his entire body. His mighty bull-like head featured large horns extending sideways, their tips as sharp as spears. He wore armor of heavy leather and chains, adorned with spiked iron protrusions that made his colossal frame even more menacing. In his right hand, he held a massive axe, and a crudely made shield was strapped to his back.
The second minotaur was slightly smaller than the first but appeared more agile. Though leaner, his body was etched with solid muscles. His fur was brown speckled with black spots, and his horns were sharp. He wore light armor only over his chest and shoulders. In his hands, he gripped a keen double-bladed axe, with several smaller axes hanging from his waist.
The third minotaur boasted an enormous bulk unlike the others. A hulking mass of flesh and muscle, his fur was reddish and sparse in patches, covering his skin unevenly. His face twisted as if embodying the wrath bestowed by a god of war. One horn was broken halfway, while the remaining one curved threateningly forward. He wore only loose leather pants, but in his hands, he wielded a ponderous double-bladed axe. The blade was already stained with blood.
"Kyphe pā heman?" (Can we fight today?) the first minotaur asked in a low, guttural voice.
"Khos, Dávī kai Mua en Kístralon eisi." (Yes, the citadel of the Dawi and Muwa is nearby.)
The second minotaur replied. Tirrellda's eyes widened as she looked at Daroon.
"What are they saying?"
She whispered. Daroon, straining to listen to the minotaurs' conversation, answered in a low voice.
"It seems they're searching for the Moonlit Citadel."
"I'm surprised you know the minotaur language."
Daroon flashed a slight smile toward Tirrellda.
"Knowing the enemy's tongue is an essential skill for one who commands soldiers. It's worth the time invested to learn."
They continued eavesdropping on the minotaurs' dialogue. The third minotaur's axe bore vivid dried bloodstains. His nostrils flared wide as he inhaled deeply, his eyes alight with uncontrollable excitement.
"Thar vak porchon... ghlýki haímatos..." (That boar I killed earlier... the taste of blood...)
The third minotaur licked the blood from his axe and laughed.
"Haíma dynátōs poiei Nókaron..." (Blood makes Nokar strong...) the first minotaur said, his nostrils flaring.
"Kyphe! Hēgemon Rák Thun phylēs hēmās nikēsei!" (Today! Led by the great warrior of the Rak Thun tribe, we shall surely triumph!)
The third minotaur swung his axe and bellowed.
"Tēlei tous Mua!" (Kill the Muwa scum!)
The first minotaur laughed.
"Trýpson tas kephalás tōn Dávī!" (Splitting the heads of the Dawi scum would be fun too!)
The second minotaur chimed in.
"Pýrthe Kístralon, kai epibáinōmen Dámou!" (Burn the citadel, then advance to Damu!)
The third minotaur said, drooling.
"Sklēptei tōn mikrōn kōmōn, meta prós Dámou pólin..." (Pillage the small villages, then march on the city of Damu...)
In an instant, the minotaurs' booming laughter cut off as if muffled by an unseen hand. As if sensing something, all three widened their eyes, scanning their surroundings and falling silent.
"Nouthe... estin osmē xenē..." (But... there's a strange scent...)
The third minotaur suddenly began looking around.
"Ti theōreis?!" (What do you see?!) the second minotaur asked.
"Pneuma... Dávī... osmē..." (In the wind... Dawi... scent...)
The third minotaur snorted, sniffing.
"Damn! It seems they've detected us."
Daroon said in a tense voice.
"Osmē eláphou ouk estin?" (Isn't it just a deer's scent?)
The first minotaur laughed.
"Zētēsōmen! Eite Dávī eite ou!" (Let's hunt it down! Whether Dawi or not!)
The third minotaur snarled, wrinkling his snout deeply.
At his words, the other minotaurs burst into loud laughter, their guffaws echoing through the forest.
"Hopou eisin, heurēsoimen autous! Anaménete!" (Wherever you are, we'll find you! Just wait!)
The first minotaur roared.
No sooner had their words ended than the three minotaurs nodded to each other, tensing their muscles across their bodies, and charged toward the direction where Daroon and Tirrellda were hidden.
Daroon looked at Tirrellda. His gaze was resolute.
"Tirrellda, I'll handle them. You stay back."
Tirrellda stared at him with wide, startled eyes.
"But... you can't face three minotaurs alone!"
Daroon gripped his halberd tightly and smiled. His face held a composed grin.
"Don't worry. I can manage three minotaurs."
He adjusted the straps of his armor on his shoulder and continued.
"It might not be silent, but... it's better to eliminate them now."
Tirrellda started to say something but stopped. She could see the firmness of his resolve in his eyes.
"Be careful." she said to Daroon as he rose from his position.
Daroon nodded, then stood up, halberd firmly in hand. His massive frame rose imposingly in the twilight light.
"I'll be back shortly."
Before his words even finished, he was already charging toward the minotaurs, swinging his halberd.