The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the marquise's conference room, casting long golden beams across the polished wooden table. Around it sat a dozen of Marquise Donovas Ross's most trusted retainers and the commanders of the garrison from each of the cities in his territory. The air was thick with unease—an invisible pressure settling on everyone's shoulders.
At the head of the table, Marquise Donovas stood with his arms crossed, surveying the room with a gaze as sharp as a dagger. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but it held the weight of authority.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he began. "Yesterday morning, I received a letter from the capital. A direct order from the king."
A ripple of murmurs moved through the room. The capital rarely involved itself in this remote southern region. That it had now turned its eye southward set everyone on edge.
"The king intends to launch an expedition into the forbidden forest," Donovas continued. "He is sending an army of ten thousand men, led by the crown prince himself. They may already be on the march."
The silence that followed was absolute. The older retainers exchanged grim looks; the new ones stiffened, unsure how to respond.
An elderly man with silver hair cleared his throat and leaned forward. "My lord… venturing into that forest is folly. Does His Majesty understand what he's toying with? Shouldn't we persuade him to cancel?"
Donovas gave a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. "When has the king ever cared for consequences? No—this meeting isn't to stop the expedition. It's to prepare for what may follow when it fails."
He stepped forward and unfurled a parchment map, smoothing it over the table. "Should a retaliatory beast wave be triggered, the first to fall will be Hul Town. It contributes twenty percent of our yearly revenue and sixty percent of our iron ore. It's our industrial heart and a trade nexus."
He tapped the town's location with his finger. "It lies two days from the forest—less than one by horseback. If the creatures retaliate, they'll strike Hul first."
During the expedition, there were no survivors, so we never obtained any firsthand information about that place. However, my predecessors documented that the beings within appeared to follow a structured chain of command and maintained a clear hierarchy
The marquise turned his attention to a burly man seated to his right. "Sir Tenber, what is the status of Hul Town's defenses? And how many soldiers are currently fit for combat?"
Sir Tenber straightened in his seat. His voice boomed like a drill sergeant addressing his troops. "My lord, the town is fortified with high, reinforced walls. Our garrison numbers twenty thousand strong—infantry and archers combined. I assure you, no beast wave will breach our defenses."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the retainers exchanging wary, incredulous glances. Marquise Donovas, seated in his high-backed chair adorned with the crest of his lineage, raised a single brow. Internally, he questioned whether the man before him truly possessed the competence to command an arm of twenty thousand one of his most critical holdings.
Suppressing a sigh that threatened to betray his irritation, he leaned forward slightly and asked his voice calm but edged with authority.
"Very well," he replied. "I want a thousand soldiers from each city reassigned to Hul town immediately. And dispatch your best aura users and mana users as well. We need strength, not numbers alone."
A man at the far end of the table raised a hand. "My lord, what of siege weaponry? Trebuchets, catapults… they could make all the difference behind the walls."
Donovas nodded. "Excellent point. I'll have my engineers and quartermasters oversee the deployment. Begin preparing for long-term defense."
He let the words sink in, then moved to the next matter. "Now, we must prepare for the crown prince's arrival. You all know the temperament of the royal family. No expense is to be spared in his reception."
One of his advisors leaned in. "Was an arrival date specified in the king's message?"
"No," Donovas said. "But the prince would have departed the same day the letter was sent. An army of that size will take time. I estimate four weeks, at most."
A brief wave of relief passed through the room. Time to prepare was rare—and precious.
Just as the marquise began to dismiss them, a quiet voice spoke up from the table's edge.
"My lord, if I may."
Everyone turned toward the speaker—a man dressed not in noble robes but in the plain, practical garb of an administrator. He sat beside Sir Tenber, composed and steady.
Donovas frowned. "Who are you?"
The man stood and bowed. "I am Anwar, acting administrator of Hul Town, currently managing civic affairs until a new mayor is appointed. I came at Sir Tenber's request."
The Marquise's frown deepened, a shadow crossing his expression. It was rare—unheard of, even—for a commoner to be permitted into such a gathering, especially one attended solely by nobles. The breach of protocol grated at him. His voice, cold and clipped, cut through the silence.
"Get to the point."
Anwar inclined his head. "There is one matter I feel compelled to report—though it was long neglected by the previous mayor. North of the forbidden forest lies a place known as the Village of the Tarnished."
A shadow passed over Donovas's face. "I've never heard of it. Are you saying such a place exists in my territory?"
Sir Tenber began to sweat. Anwar continued, unshaken. "Yes, my lord. The village has existed since before Hul Town was even founded. It's a haven for outlaws, criminals, and fugitives. Officially, it does not exist on any records. Successive mayors chose to ignore it, deeming the cost of purging it unjustifiable."
Donovas's gaze turned icy as he looked at Tenber. "You kept this from me?"
"M-my lord, it was deemed insignificant!" Tenber stammered. "Fewer than a hundred people live there. Most are too weak or scattered to pose a threat."
Anwar spoke again. "That may be true, but with the coming of the crown prince and the proximity to the forest, I thought it prudent to mention it. The village could be used as a temporary camp… or a liability if beasts approach from that direction."
Donovas was quiet for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well. We'll inform the prince of its existence. Let him decide what to do with it."
He stepped back from the table, signaling the end of the meeting.
"You are all dismissed. Carry out your tasks. Four weeks may be all we have."
As the room emptied, Marquise Donovas remained behind with his butler, staring again at the map. His fingers hovered over the shaded edge of the forbidden forest… and just beyond it, then he took a pencil and wrote on it:
The Village of the Tarnished.
Then he turned to his butler, his voice low and deliberate.
"I want you to open an investigation on Sir Tenber—quietly. If he's the one protecting that place, judge him accordingly."
He paused for a moment, then added,
"But wait until this storm passes."