As dawn broke, its weak light fell upon a camp of hungover soldiers. The Royal Army men groaned as they staggered out of their tents, but the Duke's soldiers—who had not joined the drinking—were already alert.
As they prepared to march, Commander Lionex, who was already patrolling on his horse, noticed something unsettling.
"General," he said, riding up to the other man. "There are soldiers missing."
"What do you mean 'missing'?" the General grunted, clearly annoyed by the early hour.
"I mean they are gone," Lionex stated, his voice tight. "There are fewer soldiers than there were yesterday."
"That makes no sense," the General scoffed. "We didn't notice anything suspicious all night."
"How many are missing from your ranks?" the General asked, suddenly looking more alert.
"In my camp, it's ten men," Lionex replied.
"And what about my soldiers?"
"I don't know," Lionex said, his frustration clear. "I can't get a clear count from your platoon leaders. They're all still drunk or hungover."
"Let me investigate," the General growled. "Bring me Kilis."
"Yes, General," his aide said, scrambling off.
A short while later, Kilis arrived, his expression calm and alert. "Yes, General?"
"You. Tell me, did anything suspicious happen yesterday? My trusted Kilis."
"No, General. At our camp, nothing suspicious happened."
"It seems people are missing," the General said, his eyes narrowing.
"I will investigate it," Kilis offered immediately.
"Do it fast. I need numbers," the General commanded. He then looked back at Lionex. "Now, sit down and wait with me."
"Don't you think it could have been the enemy?" the General asked, lowering his voice.
"It could be," Lionex answered, watching the camp uneasily.
"What should we do?"
Lionex was positively surprised that the General was finally taking the situation seriously. "Well, for starters, no more drinking for your men. And we set up proper watchtowers from now on." He paused, considering. "The demon worshippers are cruel and numerous, but they aren't strong or particularly brave. I don't think this was them."
"Then why have they pressured your forces so much?" the General countered.
"Because they caught us by surprise a month ago," Lionex admitted. "But since our last campaign, their numbers have dwindled. This should be the final push against them, and then the resettling of the villages can begin."
Just then, Kilis returned, his face grim.
"General," he said, his voice cutting through the morning air. "We lost twenty soldiers last night."
"Twenty?!" the General roared, clenching his fists. "We stay another night."
"We can't!" Lionex interrupted immediately.
"We will!" the General shot back. "We need to find the problem first!"
Kilis stepped in, his voice calm. "What if we search the entire perimeter? If we act fast today, we can find the culprits and still march by evening."
Both commanders looked at Kilis.
"Then let's act fast," Lionex said, nodding in agreement.
"Of course," Kilis replied.
The region where the soldiers had made camp was a green, hilly landscape, seemingly empty of any soul save for animals and the soldiers themselves. Or so they thought, not knowing they were being watched.
Unknown to them, they had encamped on the edge of a tribal folk's territory, a people unknown to the kingdom.
"Selir na garin nael?" one of the tribesmen, his body covered in painted runes, whispered from a concealed overlook.
"Él, serir na vathen," another, slightly younger man without runes, replied.
"Sair. Kilis nair shaelor ven."
"Are you sure he will come?" a third man, clearly not part of the tribe, added. He wore an eye patch and spoke the common tongue of the kingdom.
"Yes, I am," the younger tribesman said, switching fluently to the common language.
The man with the eye patch let out a low, wheezing laugh. "Kilis... that crafty piece of shit. He really did it. Hahahaha... bringing the tribal people of the Shrines to his side."
"Do not be so cocky," the one with the runes said, his voice a low growl. "This is all part of our agreement. We are not on his side."
"Yeah, yeah, sure," the eye-patch man scoffed.
The runed man turned his gaze on him. "Be sure you don't mess up your part of the deal."
"You'll see," the man with the eye patch replied, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You'll see."
***
"We've searched the whole area, General. We didn't find a single trace," a platoon leader reported late in the afternoon.
The General scowled. "We've wasted the entire day and found nothing. We're going back."
"Yes, Sir. What about Kilis?"
"He's already back at the camp, Sir."
"So soon?" the General muttered. "Fine. Let's go back as well."
On their way, they crossed paths with Lionex, who was returning with his own search party.
"Commander Lionex, did you find anything?" the General called out.
"No," Lionex replied, his frustration evident. "We searched for miles. Nothing unusual."
"Rally your troops. We're staying put for another night."
Lionex looked like he wanted to argue but knew it was pointless. He remained silent, his jaw tight.
They arrived back at camp and immediately began preparing defenses for the night, setting up wooden fences and erecting makeshift watchtowers.
As darkness fell, Jörn sidled up to Kilis by the fire. "So, Kilis, do you think we finally get to fight tonight?" he asked eagerly.
"Maybe," Kilis replied.
"Nah, I don't think so," Jörn grumbled, taking a swig from a hidden flask. "Now, I hope I just jinxed it!" he added with a grin.
"You're a strange one, Jörn."
Suddenly, a massive, guttural ROAR echoed through the hills.
From one of the new towers, a lookout screamed, "ENEMY SIGHTINGS! WESTERN RIDGE!"
Jörn's face split into a wild grin. "It worked!" he laughed, drawing his sword. "It worked!"
"It seems it really worked..." Kilis said calmly, his own eyes fixed on the approaching disturbance.
The soldiers in the watchtower strained their eyes, trying to discern the figures marching in the dark. "Who are they?"
Then, his voice cracked, his professional calm breaking. "These... these people look... wrong." He squinted, his face paling. "They... they have no faces."
He saw them clearly now: a horde of a thousand figures, their movements jerky and unnatural, all walking silently toward the camp.
"What is this?!" the lookout screamed, shrinking back from the tower's edge in terror.
Far behind the advancing horde, the man with the eye patch stood on a high rock, his arms spread wide as if to embrace the night air.
"Look at my creation!" he screamed, his voice ringing with fanaticism. "And be sure to give me feedback afterward!"