Everyone knows the kingdom of Kryon has two forbidden forests, and that only the dead ever return from them. No one knows whether those who enter are captured and left to pray relentlessly for one more day of life, or killed without even realizing it. The truth is, not even their souls can leave. At least, not if they are human.
Today, the word spreads through the kingdom. The King's army will return the lost from the dark forest of the east. A battalion marches in that direction, passing through countless villages along the way. In the capital, Bonesses, the villagers are praised for providing shelter and food to the army, and the soldiers are lauded for their courage. Yet no one knows whether any of them will ever return.
Before reaching the forest, they move over rolling hills, traveling for six days and stopping only four times, for three hours each. The line where true danger begins lies just beyond a five-meter river. Across that line, bears and boars roam among the trees—large, furry predators with enormous, sharp teeth. The people admire the soldiers' bravery, but they fear the journey may only shorten their lives.
The forest stretches endlessly. Villagers say you know you've crossed half of it when you see the white Path of Death. Only one man has ever returned to tell the story—and he chose not to step on it. That choice, combined with luck, is said to be what spared him.
What they do not know is what the army is truly about to face.
The battalion reaches the white path and walks across it as though it were nothing. Nothing seems capable of frightening the King's army. Or perhaps, there is nothing to fear at all.
Normally, the army would be spotted immediately after crossing the river, then ambushed long before reaching the plain in front of the fortress. This time, they are not.
The dwarves see them too late. Most of their units are busy tending fires in the fields. By the time the army steps from the shadows of the trees, the fortress is already in sight.
The soldiers stand proud, morale high, feeling unbeatable. Trusting their commander, seeing only small men within their stone castle, they let their guard down completely. An easy victory, the promise of gold, and the chance to be honored as knights—what more could a simple soldier want?
While the dwarves discuss their strategy, the king's soldiers prepare for an easy battle. Inside a dim tent that holds only a table cluttered with old maps of the region stand the most influential knights of an army 7,500 strong. Sir Camillo has been chosen by the King to lead the battalion — and he intends to do so.
A knight enters the tent. The meeting has already started without him — not surprising...
- Ah, Sir Raddick, my dear brother. Your squad will take the left flank among the trees. You will atta—
- Those weren't His Majesty's orders! We are expected to negotiate the release of the hostages, Captain.
- And that is exactly what we are doing...
- A threat is not the same as a negotiation, Sir. His Majesty does not want war with the dwarves.
- Not yet...
Sir Camillo's words slip out like a faint mockery — a whisper sharpened with irony. The only knight who can oppose Sir Camillo is Sir Raddick — the illegitimate son of the Camillo family, the second most influential noble house in the kingdom. Though bound to them by blood, he bears neither their name nor their privileges. A bastard by name, not by blood, his lineage was cast aside when his mother, widowed from her first marriage, aligned herself with a wealthier house.
Among nobles, his birth is whispered of behind closed doors. His parents married only seven months before his birth, and his father's death barely a year later stirred even greater suspicion. When the widow remarried after a mere two months, tongues wagged throughout the court. Some claim Novick Raddick is the true first heir of House Camillo, for his mother had been seen in the lord's company long before her marriage to Lord Raddick. Others murmur darker tales — that she hastened her husband's death to wed the man she truly loved.
Whether or not those rumors hold truth, one thing is certain: Sir Raddick's courage and loyalty to the crown are beyond question. It is this sense of honor — so unlike his half-brother's ambition — that often sets him against Sir Camillo, both in council and on the battlefield.
- The king is a merciful man. We'll try to negotiate, and if I see there's no other choice, I shall order the men to raise their swords into battle.
- Sir Camillo, His Majest—
- We are ready. We demand you approach the walls.
Before Sir Raddick can reply, a loud voice cuts through the air — rough, deep, echoing from atop the fortress walls. A stout dwarf with eyes and beard as dark as coal shouts toward the camp. It is Darian. His booming voice carries even into the tent. The knights rush outside.
Seeing them finally in his sight, Darian continues.
- The hostages will be released, under certain conditions!
- No. We will not negotiate this way. If you don't release them immediately, we will attack.
The dwarf's heavy brows draw together in fury at Sir Camillo's threatening words. He jerks his arm and drags someone forward — a girl shrouded in coarse sackcloth. He makes her kneel before him, gripping her tightly by the neck, a small, worn axe pressed to her throat.
- Stand back! It seems you don't care much about your precious nobles. The heir to the crown will be executed if you raise even a single weapon against us!
- Princess Claudette Anes?! Release the Princess at once!
The first daughter of King Jullius Hernefesto Kryon Bonesses and Queen Raphysis Irenne DehLorange, Claudette is the rightful heir to the throne of Bonesses. Beautiful, wise, and proud, she embodies the royal ideals her mother instilled in her — discipline, strength, and unwavering authority. Her long, golden hair and light green eyes grant her an almost ethereal beauty, as if sculpted to be the living image of nobility itself.
For a brief instant, Camillo's jaw tenses. He hadn't expected them to have the Princess. His plan — silent and unseen — now risks turning against him.
- Captain, please speak with your head and not your heart. We are not sure she is th-
- Shut it, brother!
Sir Camillo snaps. A sharp glare and a rough push silence Sir Raddick, who had stepped forward in disbelief at the hostage's identity. The girl is covered from her head to waist, only her dress shows through the cold, tense air. Half torn, stained with blood. There is no way to be sure she is the princess, but her dress — the finest silk, shimmering faintly beneath the dirt — leaves no doubt she is from the palace.
Sir Camillo unsheathes his sword and calls for his horse. The dwarf tenses.
- Don't you dare invade these walls — or the Princess's head will be the first thing we release.
- Don't you dare! Don't even think of laying a hand on a single hair of the Princess, you insolent barbarians!!
- I shall open the gates for only three knights. We expect to discuss calmly the terms of the hostages' release...
The gate begins to open as three horses are brought to the knights.
- Sir Raddick, prepare your men for a surprise attac—
- ...Any suspicious movement, and you'll see your precious Princess's head roll.
- Tsk... Brother, come with me and bring another one.
- You shall leave your arms at the gate. You will be searched so you better not resist or try to trick us.
The dwarf retreats, furious, his axe resting heavily on his shoulder, and the girl at his side, held firmly by her arm. Sir Camillo halts his order — he can't risk losing the princess. For now, he agrees to negotiate.