Gnosis could only watch as Arctosz pushed forward, astonished by the old bear's terrifying sheer will. The moment the chief had realized the unnatural white fog was compromising his senses, he had slashed his own arm without hesitation, using the searing agony to drag his body clear of the gas's reach.
Drawing deep gulps of crisp, unpolluted air, the numbness in Arctosz's limbs slowly receded. He turned to glance back at his fallen warriors collapsed in the snow, his heart sinking into cold despair. To suffer such total defeat before a blow was even struck was something he had never imagined possible.
He had never conceived of a weapon so insidious. It defied every traditional understanding of battle and honor he had held for decades. If that mist had been filled with lethal poison instead of sleeping agents... A shudder ran down Arctosz's spine.
Was this how wars were waged beyond Kjerag's borders? Had outsiders truly shed all sense of honor and restraint? Even if one secured victory through such underhanded tricks, what meaning did it carry? How could Enciodes...
For the first time, Arctosz saw the vast, terrifying gulf between himself and Enciodes with absolute clarity. While he was still preparing to test his steel on an open field, Enciodes could quietly neutralize his elite troops from the comfort of a heated tent.
The revelation shook his core. When the very nature of warfare had evolved beyond his comprehension, were the ancient traditions he swore by completely obsolete?
Those heavy questions would have to wait. Right now, he needed to uncover the truth behind this trap—was Valais truly a willing participant in Enciodes's grand scheme? How far was she prepared to go?
Seeing Arctosz limp closer with his battleaxe in hand, Gnosis felt a flash of true anxiety. If the old chief escaped, it would throw countless variable factors back into the equation, multiplying the unpredictability of their operation.
"Archers, take aim! Shoot him down before—" Gnosis began, instinctively barking orders to the surrounding guards.
Clang.
A sharp, silver blade pressed firmly against his throat, cutting his words short and bringing him to a abrupt standstill.
"I suggest you hold your tongue," Valais said coolly, keeping her sword steady against his neck. "There are no longer any of 'your people' here. Our temporary arrangement stands, but I will not stand by and watch you execute my chief."
"Your foolish sentimentalism will ruin everything we've built!" Gnosis hissed. Even with steel resting against his windpipe, he showed no fear of death.
To Gnosis, personal survival meant nothing compared to the flawless execution of Enciodes's grand vision. The moment he had stepped foot into the Browntail Clan estate as a captive, he had already written off his own life as expendable.
"You truly have no fear of dying, do you?" Ratatos's voice rasped from behind him. "Otherwise, you would have taken your chance to bolt the moment the fog broke. So tell me... why did you stay behind?"
Ratatos stepped into view, a compact hand-crossbow leveled directly at the back of Gnosis's skull. It was an old-fashioned hunting weapon with modest range and power, but at point-blank distance, no amount of intellectual brilliant could save him if she pulled the trigger.
Positioned between two unyielding women with opposing motives, Gnosis's life hung by a thread. If he failed to navigate the moment, he would become the first casualty of this conflict.
"Valais! I need an answer!" Arctosz bellowed, halting at a safe distance across the snowbank. He glared at her with wounded, furious eyes. "Why are you doing this?!"
He could not fathom why the person he trusted most—the young woman he had groomed to inherit his mantle—would commit such blatant treachery against the Paleroches Clan.
"Chief, let me be clear: this is not an apology," Valais called back, her hand unwavering as her blade rested against Gnosis's throat. "I have no intention of betraying our people. I merely sought an answer to an old question—and wished to minimize unnecessary bloodshed in the process."
Her voice hardened as her knuckles turned white around the hilt. "I only wanted to uncover a truth that has weighed on my heart for years. A truth I know you understand all too well."
Arctosz fell silent, his grim expression faltering for a split second. He knew precisely what answer she was hunting for—the truth surrounding her father's sudden death years ago.
"My father drank the spiced mead sent directly by the Grand Elder, and he died of poison shortly after," Valais said, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed emotion. "I need to know if the Grand Elder ordered his death—and why."
"You know I cannot simply stand by and let you tear Kjerag apart for personal answers!" Arctosz barked, though his tone lacked its earlier fury. "If you wanted the truth, I would have helped you demand it! But this... this is nothing short of treason against Kjerag!"
Realizing the white fog in the basin was rapidly thinning and Enciodes's armored patrols would soon converge on his position, Arctosz ground his teeth in frustration. He turned on his heel and sprinted back into the pine forest.
He needed to return to his estate, gather every remaining warrior, and march on the town. This setback was severe, but the Paleroches Clan was far from defeated.
"He just left me here to face them alone?!" Ratatos muttered under her breath, glaring at Arctosz's retreating back. "That insufferable brute... he sure knows how to make a quick exit when his own skin is on the line!"
"Now then," Gnosis said, his eyes tracking Arctosz's vanishing figure as his heart bled over the missed opportunity to capture the chief. "Will you two kindly lower your weapons?"
"Valais can do as she pleases," Ratatos replied smoothly, her crossbow still leveled at his head. "As for me... you need to answer a question before I decide whether to put a bolt through your skull."
Though she cursed Arctosz for abandoning her, the Zalak chief maintained a terrifying composure.
"Tell me," Ratatos demanded, her tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Was targeting my sister part of your grand plan?"
With the full strength of the Browntail Clan search party incapacitated by the gas, she was no longer speaking as a clan chief, but as Sciurus's protective older sister.
"Well..." Gnosis hesitated, his sharp mind racing to fabricate a response that wouldn't provoke her into pulling the trigger.
"Save your breath. Your face tells me everything," Ratatos cut him off, her eyes narrowing into cold slits.
Gnosis held his breath, unable to gauge her intentions as she slowly lowered the crossbow. Relief washed over him—until a sharp split-second later.
Thwack! Thwack!
Two iron bolts buried themselves deep into the fleshy muscle of Gnosis's thighs. The agonizing shock sent his legs giving out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the frozen snow with a sharp gasp of pain.
" You—!" Gnosis snarled through gritted teeth, clutching his bloodied legs.
"I never said I was letting you off scot-free," Ratatos said coolly, stowing her crossbow into her cloak. "You are undeniably brilliant, Gnosis, but your arrogance is your undoing. Your greatest mistake wasn't plotting against the Browntail Clan—it was putting Sciurus in harm's way. Threatening my family is something you will never be forgiven for."
She looked around at the surrounding guards. None of them moved to assist the fallen scholar; their loyalty belonged strictly to Valais, and Gnosis's physical well-being was none of their concern.
"Besides, I doubt Enciodes will hold a minor flesh wound against me," Ratatos added with a faint, bitter smile. "You're getting off far easier than anyone else today. Count your blessings."
Turning her back on the groaning Liberi, Ratatos straightened her cloak and marched down toward the valley encampment. She could see Enciodes stepping out from behind a fortified shelter in the distance. It was time for a dialogue that only clan chiefs could conduct.
Meanwhile, miles away, Arctosz and his handful of surviving guards pushed through the dense, snow-laden pine forest. Relying on their intimate knowledge of the crags, they successfully evaded Enciodes's outer patrols and reached the boundary of their family estate.
"Listen to me!" Arctosz panted, leaning heavily against the wooden perimeter fence as he addressed his battered men. "Rouse every man in the compound who can swing an axe! Have them march to the edge of the valley town immediately!"
"Chief! What about you?!" a young warrior called out frantically. "Let us send a squad with you!"
"No! I must secure the Saintess's safety personally!" Arctosz ordered, his eyes burning with urgency. "Enciodes's next move will undoubtedly target the Vine-Bear Court! Gather everyone in town—we must unite our strength before his forces arrive!"
Without waiting for a reply, the old bear turned and sprinted toward the settlement, his mind racing as he calculated their remaining options.
At that very moment, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the high passes, Saintess Enya was assisting Jeanne and the Doctor in distributing basic rations to the displaced locals.
As she handed a bowl of warm broth to an elderly worker, a young monk from the Vine-Bear Court hurried through the crowd, breathless and pale.
The Grand Elder, having just returned to town and barely rested from his journey, had summoned the Saintess for an urgent private audience.