Chapter 233: The Report and The Gathering

The lead scout spoke first.

"The guards and the patrols were the usual for guarding the farmlands," he said. "Nothing too much. Effective in its own way, but against a swift and really fast attack? They would be quickly overpowered. Only two to three guards do the night operation, guarding the pens. Personally, I think it’s just to raise the alarm. The Baron will handle the rest."

Caef listened carefully, his eyes fixed on the scout. "How composed is the Baron?" he asked.

The scout considered the question for a moment. "He’s like someone who knows what he’s doing," he said. "His face was normal. Calm. He wasn’t nervous or anxious. He moved with calmly, like he had done this a hundred times before."

Caef nodded slowly. "And no undeads were seen?"

The scouts exchanged glances at that. They had expected this question, but they still hesitated before answering.

"We saw none," the second scout said. "And we weren’t sure that it was wise that Necromancers would just leave their undeads out like it was normal. They’re not the kind of creatures you just leave standing around."

Caef shook his head. "Since he’s a Necromancer, he ought to be carrying them around... no?"

The scouts shook their heads. "No. We’re sure that isn’t how most Necromancers work. They don’t just go around normally with their summons. They keep them hidden, stored away, until they need them."

Caef went silent for a while, his fingers drumming against the table. He scratched his beard, his eyes distant, his mind working through the information.

Dross, who had been silent since the conversation started, finally spoke

"The scouting was successful," he said. "At least for the main reason it was sent. To see Percvale without going into it. And that would be hard, you know. But now, the scouts have learned information. Like how livestock was just added, pens just rebuilt. And seeing the Baron offloading livestock."

Caef nodded slowly, his mind still turning. "Yes. We’ve learned a lot. But we still need more."

He looked at the scouts. "The next scouting will be about the Baron’s Castle."

The scouts nodded.

Caef stood and walked to the window, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the settlement. He thought about what the scouts had told him. The Baron was young, confident, organized. He was building something in Percvale. The farmlands were being restored. The pens were new. The livestock was just arriving.

But there were no undeads.

Caef turned back to the table. "We need to know more," he said. "We need to know what’s inside that castle. We need to know how many people are there, how many guards, how many undeads. We need to know the Baron’s routine. When he sleeps. When he’s vulnerable."

Dross nodded. "The scouts will go again tomorrow soon. They’ll observe the castle from a distance. They won’t get too close. They’ll just watch."

Caef nodded. "Good. And if they see anything important, they report back immediately."

The scouts bowed their heads. "Yes, sir."

Caef looked at them. "This is the most important part of the mission. We only have one chance. If we fail and somehow Percvale finds who sent you two, Vrethka will be destroyed. Percvale will hunt us down, and we won’t survive."

The scouts nodded, their faces set. They understood the stakes.

Dross spoke again. "We’ll prepare for the next phase of the plan. We’ll gather our forces, make sure our weapons are ready, our supplies are stocked. When the scouts return, we’ll be ready to move."

Caef looked at him. "And if the scouts see something we don’t like?"

Dross shrugged. "Then we adapt. We change the plan. But we don’t stop."

Caef nodded slowly. "That’s what I wanted to hear."

PERCVALE:

The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting long golden rays across the Percvale, the air was cool and fresh.

Darion sat in the great hall, a plate of bread and cheese before him. He ate slowly, his mind already turning to the day ahead. There was so much to do, so much to build, so much to protect.

But today, he wanted to do something different. Today, he wanted to show his knights what they had achieved.

Garren entered the hall, his steps steady, his face calm. He sat down across from Darion, reaching for the bread.

"Morning," Darion said.

"Morning," Garren replied.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant clatter of the kitchen. Then Darion spoke.

"I want you to tell the knights that every single one of them will be following me to the farmlands today," he said. "All of them."

Garren didn’t ask why. He simply nodded and stood. "I’ll gather them now."

He left the hall, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. Darion watched him go, a small smile on his face.

Garren never mind exactly questioned his orders. He simply did what needed to be done as long as it wasn’t something that would obviously get them all killed.

Seren entered the hall a few minutes later, her hair still damp from washing. She sat down across from Darion, reaching for a piece of bread.

"What’s the occasion?" she asked. "Heard it’s gathering all the knights to the farmlands?"

Darion smiled. "I want to show them what we’ve built."

Seren raised an eyebrow. "That’s it?"

"That’s it," Darion said. "They’ve been working hard, fighting hard, sacrificing so much. They deserve to see what their efforts have achieved."

Seren nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

—

The knights gathered in the courtyard, their armor polished, ready.

They stood in neat rows, their faces curious, their voices low. They didn’t know why they had been summoned, but they were ready to follow their Baron wherever he led.

Garren walked among them, his voice calm, his instructions clear. "We’re going to the farmlands," he said. "All of you. The Baron wants to show you something."

The knights exchanged glances. Whispers spread through the ranks. Why were they going to the farmlands? What could the Baron possibly want to show them? Did they want to farm? The questions hung in the air, unanswered.

But they didn’t question their orders. They fell into formation, their boots echoing against the cobblestones as they marched out of the courtyard.

Darion rode at the front, his horse moving at a steady pace. Seren rode beside him, her face calm. Garren rode on his other side, his eyes scanning the road ahead.

Behind them, the knights marched in perfect formation, their steps synchronized, their faces set.

The road to the farmlands was familiar, worn smooth by countless journeys.

The fields stretched out on either side, green and vibrant. The crops were growing, their leaves reaching toward the sun. It was a sight that had once seemed impossible.

The knights watched the fields as they passed, their eyes wide with wonder. They had seen these fields before, when they were barren and dead. Now they were alive, full of promise and potential. The transformation was almost impossible to believe.

They arrived at the farmlands. The pens were visible in the distance, their wooden frames dark against the bright sky. The animals were there, grazing peacefully, their bodies healthy and strong.

Darion dismounted, his feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. He turned to face the knights, his voice carrying across the field.

"Come," he said. "I want you to see this."

The knights followed him to the pens. They stood in a loose semicircle, their eyes fixed on the livestock, their faces a mix of wonder and disbelief.

They had seen many things in their lives: battles, deaths, victories, defeats, but this was something different. This was something they had never expected to see.

The cattle grazed in the main pen, their coats glossy, their bodies strong.

The goats bleated and darted, their energy boundless. The chickens pecked at the ground, their feathers ruffled. The Moatts stood still, their massive bodies swaying with each breath.

Darion stood in front of them, his face calm, his voice steady. "A little over a month ago," he began, "I was banished to this place to die. That’s what Percvale was, a place where you came to die. A hopeless barony, a dying territory, a place that everyone had written off."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "But I didn’t die. And neither did Percvale."

He gestured to the fields, the pens, the animals. "Look at what we’ve built. The farmlands are restored. The livestock is here. The pens are built. We have food, we have animals and we have hope."

The knights listened, their eyes fixed on him. They had been with him through so much, the wars, the battles, the struggles. They had seen him fight, seen him lead, seen him sacrifice. And now they were seeing the fruits of those efforts.

"I think of the Gonnb war," Darion continued. "When we faced an enemy that thought we were weak. We showed them otherwise. We burned their village, took their livestock, and freed their prisoner. We won that war."

He paused, his eyes scanning the faces of his knights. "And I think of the Valdenmoor war. When we faced a kingdom that thought we would crumble. We infiltrated their barracks, captured their king, and forced them to surrender. We won that war too."

He gestured to the farmland, the soil dark and rich. "And now look at this. The soil where nothing could be planted is now producing crops. The pens where there were no animals are now filled with livestock. The barony where there was no hope now has a future."

The knights were silent, their faces full of emotion. They had been with him through so much, and they were seeing the results of their efforts.

Darion raised his voice, his words carrying across the field. "This is what we’ve built. This is what we’ve achieved. And this is only the beginning."

The knights erupted in cheers. Their voices rose to the sky, a sound of pure joy and pride. They had fought for this. They had bled for this. Some had died for this. And now they were seeing the results.