The landscape changes dramatically. The lush forest fades away, replaced by a sick land. The trees are twisted, their black, leafless branches clawing at a perpetually gray sky. The ground is a grayish mud from which only a sparse, sickly grass grows. There is no birdsong, no sound of animals. Just the oppressive silence of a land that is dying. This is the Forgotten Frontier.
We can feel it even before we see it. A pressure in the air, an unnatural vibration, like a dissonant note played constantly just at the edge of hearing. It is the energy of the Void seeping into our reality.
We finally find the Kryndal forces. It is not an army on the march, but a fortified camp, entrenched behind blackened wooden palisades and trenches. The royal banner hangs limply from a flagpole, its purple and gold colors looking faded in this lifeless light. The soldiers we pass have tired faces, haunted eyes. They have been fighting here for weeks, perhaps months, pushing back an endless tide.
Our arrival is expected. A captain, a man with a scarred face named Gregor, greets us. His gaze passes over Roxis and Elian with respect, then lands on me with unconcealed confusion.
"Lady Heart, Sir Elian. And... you must be the King's special agent." The word "special" is spoken with a hint of sarcasm. "The general is waiting for you in the command tent."
We follow him through the camp. The atmosphere is heavy. Wounded men groan in medical tents. Blacksmiths repair dented armor. This is no glorious battlefield. It is a siege, a slow war of attrition against an enemy that knows neither fear nor fatigue.
The command tent is a large structure in the center of the camp. Inside, maps are spread out on a massive table. Several officers are gathered around it, looking grave. And in their midst, a figure I recognize with an icy shiver.
Lord Tybalt Burix.
He is in full battle armor, his face as hard as granite. He is the general in charge of this front. The King has sent me straight into the wolf's den. It is a cruel and complex game.
Tybalt looks up as we enter. He ignores Roxis and Elian and glares at me. His hatred is a physical presence in the tent.
"So, here he is," he says, his voice a low rumble. "The sewer rat His Majesty sends us as a savior. Tell me, boy, do you plan to kill the Howler chief by throwing garbage at him?"
The other officers snicker nervously.
"Lord Burix," Roxis intervenes, her tone glacial. "We are here on the King's direct orders. Reinhardt is the leader of this mission."
"Leader?" Tybalt laughs, an unpleasant sound. "This vermin won't even command the latrines in this camp as long as I'm here. You two are Holy Knights. Your place is on the front lines, with your brothers-in-arms. Not playing bodyguard for a low-life assassin."
"Our orders are clear," Elian says, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Your orders have changed," Tybalt retorts, pulling out a scroll sealed with the royal seal. "A new decree, arrived this morning. All Holy Knights present on this front are placed under my direct command for the defense of the camp. Your infiltration mission is... postponed. Indefinitely."
A trap. A perfect trap. The King gave me an order, then he gave a counter-order to my companions, leaving me alone, isolated, and under the direct authority of my worst enemy.
Roxis and Elian are stunned. They look at the royal seal, then at me, their faces a mixture of confusion and helplessness. They are bound by their oath. They cannot disobey.
"You are relieved of your escort duties," Tybalt continues with a wicked smile. "Go join Captain Gregor on the west palisade. We are expecting an attack at dusk." He turns to me. "As for you... since you are so good at hunting in the dark, you will have a special mission. The scouts have located the entrance to their nest. A crevice in the heart of enemy territory, about five kilometers from here."
He stabs a dagger into the map, marking a point in a blood-red area labeled "The Gorge of Shadows."
"You will go alone. You will infiltrate. You will kill their leader. That is the mission the King gave you, is it not? So, carry it out."
It is a death sentence. He is sending me alone into the heart of enemy territory, without support, without hope of return.
"That's a suicide mission!" Roxis protests. "You're sending him to his death!"
"He's an adventurer," Tybalt says, his eyes gleaming with a triumphant light. "It's his job to take risks. Or perhaps he's afraid? Has the great Hobgoblin slayer finally met his match?"
He is provoking me, pushing me to accept so as not to lose face. Elian and Roxis look at me, their eyes begging me to refuse, to see the trap.
But I see something else. I see Tybalt's expression. He is so sure of himself. He thinks he has me cornered. He thinks I have only two choices: refuse and be branded a coward, or accept and die.
But there is a third option. To succeed.
To succeed would be the ultimate humiliation for him. To return alive, with proof of my victory, after he sent me to certain death.
Gluttony vibrates within me, excited by the challenge. The leader of a horde of creatures from the Void. What flavor would its essence have?
"I accept," I say, my voice calm and firm.
Roxis's face falls. Elian clenches his fists, helpless.
"Very well," Tybalt says, his smile widening. He has gotten what he wanted. "You will leave in one hour. Don't expect us to send a rescue party if you're not back by dawn. We'll be too busy burning your corpse."
I leave the tent, closely followed by Roxis and Elian.
"Reinhardt, don't do this!" Elian pleads once we are outside. "This is what he wants! He's manipulating you!"
"I know."
"Then why? Why accept?" Roxis asks, her voice breaking.
I turn to them. I see their sincere concern, their friendship. And for the first time, a horrible thought, an insidious doubt, creeps into my mind. Is their concern real? Or are they part of the game? The King placed them under my command, then took them away. Are they pawns, like me? Or are they actors?
I push the thought away. That is paranoia speaking. These are my friends.
"Because it's the only way," I tell them. "The only way out of this trap is to go through it. Do as he said. Defend the camp. Stay alive. I will go kill the snake in its nest. And I will be back."
I don't give them time to answer. I walk away, heading for the supply tent to prepare for my solo expedition.
As I walk, I feel their eyes on my back. I feel terribly alone. The King, Tybalt, this mission... it is all a charade. A complex setup with the sole purpose of crushing me.
I am a rat in a maze designed by cruel gods. And the only way out is to devour the maze itself.