The warlord

Border of the Kingdom of Vornath,

Near the Whispering Woods,

Year 1174,

Two strangers, riding their horses, traversed a desolate path toward the Whispering Woods. Occasionally, they rested along the way, drank something, or allowed their horses to recover before resuming their journey.

The path was not well-known; in fact, it had been years since anyone had passed through it. So, human traces were rare, and sometimes fallen trees and bushes blocked the route.

Nightfall brought with it a biting wind that whispered through the trees, laced with a faint, ominous tang of fear. In the shadows, nocturnal creatures stirred, their unblinking eyes gleaming as they silently claimed the hidden trails of the forest.

The two strangers pulled out lanterns to light their way. One of them, dressed in a long cloak, had just turned sixty. His face was significantly wrinkled, and his thick eyebrows had turned gray.

The other was a young villager guiding him. He was a local, familiar with the area, and had agreed to guide the old man in exchange for a few coins.

At first, the young man was indecisive, but the glint of coins quickly convinced him to seize the opportunity.

The old man had described the ruins near the forest's border, which most locals knew about. Though the young man couldn't guess his purpose for going there, guiding someone to the ruins was certainly worth two gold coins—especially coins minted in the Luminous Empire, which were highly valuable at the time.

The "Asryndor Ruins" were popular among adventurers and explorers. However, this fame did not result in a flood of people rushing to investigate or perform archaeology there. The elves, true inheritors of the forest, were not a sociable race, and even with the permission of their king, entering this region remained extremely dangerous.

But the old man had no intention of venturing deep into the ruins. He only needed a guide to lead him to the "Forgotten Gate," a peaceful spot cherished by many locals.

Eventually, the old man and his companion arrived at a ruin whose crumbling pillars and stone-paved ground caught the eye of any onlooker. Runners grew around the polished, half-destroyed columns, and annual weeds sprouted through the cracked pavement.

The young man approached, bowing slightly. "Sir, this is it."

The old man nodded and took a deep breath. "Indeed, this is the Forgotten Gate of Asryndor. Here… take these two extra coins to ensure our little journey remains a secret."

The young man, thrilled, bowed quickly. "Yes, sir! Please take care of yourself. This is the Whispering Woods; anything here can put your life in danger."

With that, he mounted his horse and swiftly returned the way they had come.

The old man removed his hood, letting his gray hair feel the fresh air.

Harold Golden Shrine, who had spent two years tracking the Dark Order, was now surveying the ruins of Asryndor before finding a place to rest.

"This spot should do… I'd best be ready to greet my guests when they arrive."

He smiled faintly and tied his horse to a nearby tree. Retrieving the silver sword from the saddle, he also took out a lute strapped to the back of his horse.

His gaze lingered on the instrument as he gave a tired smile.

Sitting on a tree trunk, he used magic to ignite a small fire.

"This should be enough to draw attention…"

The sound of birds flying in the distance caught his attention.

At first, he couldn't understand why the Dark Order had kidnapped an apprentice from the Magic tower. But further investigation revealed that the disappearance of these apprentices wasn't a new accident. All of them had vanished at irregular intervals, never to be found again.

His visits to various Magic Towers across the Midragon made it clear that the scale of the incident was far beyond what he had initially imagined.

Yet, what had brought him to the Asryndor Ruins?

On the surface, it was tied to a client's request to hunt a monster but the real reason was far more complicated than this.

---

Kingdom of Vornath,

City of Verdantia,

Year 1134,

The streets were bustling with people. Clad in long, colorful robes, they sought relief from the dry, hot weather of Verdantia. Despite being in the northeast, Vornath's proximity to the Great Eastern Wall—a tall mountain range in the eastern part of the continent—gave it a dry, warm climate. This stood in stark contrast to its western neighbor, the Celestial Kingdom of Sernin, where cold winds froze the land for most of the year.

The Foehn winds came from the southern borders shared with the Kingdom of Drak'thul was one of the reasons for this unbearably hot weather. Lacking greenery, Drak'thul was dominated by dry plains and high mountains, significantly impacting southern Vornath's climate. However, the southern Broken Mountains, shaped like a tall crescent, prevented Drak'thul's extreme dryness from engulfing all of Vornath.

In a bustling corner of the city, noise erupted from a modest brothel—a mix of shouting, breaking porcelain, and clanging pots. Though it drew attention, the sweltering heat sapped the townsfolk's patience. They quickly moved to the shade, paying no heed to the commotion.

Among them, a knight approached on horseback. Using ice magic, he cooled his body, creating a halo that shielded him from the sun's heat. He also used wind magic to keep himself cool, allowing him to wear the heavy, gleaming armor of a knight.

The armor's brilliance irritated many, but they merely muttered curses under their breath and chose alternate paths.

The young knight carried a large sword on his back, with a mage's staff hanging from his saddle. Beside the staff were a bow and a battleaxe.

Unable to find a proper inn due to the annual Sun Festival, the knight reluctantly turned to the noisy brothel for accommodation. After tethering his horse, he inspected the two-story wooden building, its worn appearance resembling an unused relic.

"I suppose this will have to do… better than sleeping outside," he muttered.

"In the name of the Order of Light, Knight Harold Golden Shrine seeks lodging!"

Hearing no response, he repeated himself, louder this time.

"By the authority of the Order of Light,..." Harold declared, his voice cutting through the stillness, "Knight Harold Golden Shrine requests lodging!"