Dust trails swirl behind the marching column as the sun bleeds over the horizon. The once-golden light turns pale on the soldiers' dirt-caked armor. None of them wear insignia, no banners fly, and no flags either. Just men moving in silence with their exhausted and injured bodies, in search for a settlement nearby.
At the front walks Kaelion Vairex, draped in a half-torn cloak, sword at his hip, hand resting lazily on its hilt. His white-blond hair catches the sun just enough to glow faintly, the same way his light magic sometimes does. Even in this state, his gaze is as sharp as an hawk. His men are following behind him not in a strict formation, but with the tension of survival.
Behind them lies a battlefield they have left with glory but at the cost of several hundreds of their comrades. Hunger, pain, grief, helplessness fills the atmosphere, but it still doesnt faze the man leading them whom they trusted with all of their being.
Soon the scout returns with a good news which brings a light into everyone's eyes including kaellion's.
"Reporting to the General!, ahead looms the northern checkpoint—a border city tucked between black cliffs and pine-covered ridges. A thin column of smoke rises from its walls. Torches flicker even in daylight. It seems to be a city with very high vigilance, sir"
Kaelion halts.
"Well, there are so many monsters here also the threat of foreigners, it only makes sense they have such tight security" he ponders for a bit and says flatly.
One of his older and grizzled captains , steps forward and says "Should we signal them, sir?"
Kaelion raises a small orb from his satchel—a message stone. It hums faintly, glowing with mana.
"I sent the message an hour ago," he mutters. "But it's slow. They won't know who we are yet."
He looks up at the watchtower. Figures shift behind arrow slits.
"They'll treat us as enemies."
On the Wall
Rhagor Velmire leans forward against the crenellated edge of the wall, sharp eyes narrowed on the strangers below. His bow rests near his feet, unstrung. He doesn't need it—yet.
Seeing the they don't carry enemy flags, but he noticed that they don't carry imperial ones either.
"Rogues?" he asked himself but he quickly denied the possibility because they are too disciplined to be rogues. As he was thinking about what to do, he hears someone calling him out.
"Scouts say they've come from the east," murmurs his second-in-command, a hawk-faced woman named Thalia.
"Or they're trained Rogues or a discarded soldiers of some army" Rhagor replies with his voice low and gravelly. "We've seen worse."
Thalia nods and asks "Should we confront them at the gate?"
Rhagor doesn't answer immediately. His fingers trace the worn metal on his vambrace, the engraving long faded.
"No. I'll meet them myself."
At the Gate
The gates don't open in full yet, Just a slit wide enough for one man.
Rhagor steps out in full gear—leather armor reinforced with plates, no helmet, bow on his back now strung, arrow notched but held low. Gazes at the visitors with an expressionless face.
Kaelion's men instinctively raise hands to weapons.
Kaelion lifts his arm once. They stop.
"I am Commander Kaelion Vairex of the—"
"I don't care what you call yourself," Rhagor interrupts. "You're unannounced, unsignaled, and unknown."
It is rude to cut him off before he reveals his identity but in a place like northern city where there are very scarce visitors, he had to be strict to these visitors of unknown origin because who knows they maybe criminals who ravage people of their money, food and water. Everything has a value in this region.
Kaelion's eyes flicker. Not with anger, but in calculation as he replies,
"I've already sent a message to the capital. You'll have your confirmation soon."
"Soon," Rhagor repeats. "And what if your message never arrives? Magic is fickle. Especially this close to the northern lines."
Kaelion smirks slightly. "So is bureaucracy."
They lock eyes. One carries the quiet weight of grief-aged violence. The other, with a radiant arrogance of strength and pride.
Then Rhagor's eyes shift, narrowing.
He notices something Kaelion didn't mean to reveal: the man is hurt. Beneath the cloak, just above the ribs, blood is seeping through.
"Why are you really here?" Rhagor asks with increasing vigilance.
Kaelion's smile fades due to impatience and annoyance. He steps forward as he replies: "I am commander of 3rd legion of the Great Valedorn empire, we are here searching for provisions after completing a mission from the emperor".
Rhagor goes silent for a second and responds, "Can I see the order with imperial seal or any kind of proof of your designation?"
"If I had it then why would I still be here, you old fool"
Rhagor narrows his eyes at the snarking comment and he says, "Lets talk once you get a "response" from your magic toy" then he turns his back to him and proceeds to leave.
With his men in a tight situation, kaelion grows more anxious and impatient as he yells,
"I don't need your permission, a mere border guard, go call your superior. I'd prefer not to break through your gate."
Rhagor tilts his head slightly turns back and smirks "You'd like to try, kiddo?"
Kaelion's hand brushes the hilt of his blade.
"If forced."
This marks the beginning of the confrontation that shakes not just the empire but the entire world.