His cloudy orbs remained glued on the slopes of the Arendine. The Goblin stared. Beneath those blind eyes of his, he could tell that the man knew many things. What these things were, he did not know. All he knew was that the old man was strange and that he just asked them to do something impossible. He looked at Riel, her emerald eyes were locked onto the old man's seat. She had a nervous expression and tensed shoulders. The old man let out a soft laugh as shook his head.

"Apologies. Interesting events distract me easily. Where were we again?"

The old man said as he talked to the wall. Stefan coughed and shifted in his seat while the old man whirled his head towards the source of the sound.

"Kidnapping someone?"

"Kidnap?! Heavens no! No! No kidnapping will occur on my watch. We're actually helping someone escape from their captors."

He lifted a piece of paper from the table and handed it to Stefan.

"This paper will secure you not just a ship to the Illyrian Empire, but good provisions and quarters for the length of the journey."

"How read if eyes not work?"

"Sirius!"

"Shut the fuck up, Sirius!"

Riel and Semilia barked while Stefan moved to apologize for his rude words. But the old man simply laughed.

"It's alright. All of my past and present students and visitors had the same thought when they first met with me. Sirius here is but one of a few who said his thought out loud."

"Sorry."

Merithain smiled as he leaned on the arm of his chair.

"But you are correct. My eyes are blind, physically, that is. I was born blind, yet I have sight. A sight that was given to me by my Mystic Eyes."

He tapped his temple with his long finger.

"Riel and Lho'thrain here should be familiar with it since there are a few who possess the same Blessing as I in the academy. Although there are Lesser and Greater Mystic Eyes, I possess one that cannot be given to any other people unless its current holder dies. What was given to me by the Goddess Illyria were the Mystic Eyes of the Present, a gift that I have hoarded for centuries."

His white eyes glimmered with arcane power as he adjusted his seat. Riel jumped from her seat, a surprised and shocked look was in her emerald-green eyes as she excitedly stared at the old man.

"Mystic Eyes?! I-I've met a few people in the A-Academy but most of them have Lesser Mystic Eyes. S-Sir, what does your Mystic Eyes do?"

Riel fumbled over her words as she spurted them out. Merithain laughed and stroked his long, white beard.

"Do not take Lesser Mystic Eyes lightly, young Mage. All Blessings are powerful in their own right. The Mystic Eyes I possess allows me to see events all around me, no matter how far they are. I cannot see the future nor the past, and my sight cannot see through powerful wards and magic and I can only focus on one place at a time otherwise all I see are blurry shapes that scatter about in my periphery. But the cost of such power is that I was born blind in both eyes."

"S-Sir Merithain..."

"What is it, Riel?"

"I'm over here sir."

Merithain blinked at the lamp before Lho'thrain pointed a finger at Riel.

"Ah. Apologies. Anyway, my Mystic Eyes allow me to watch over the world in this lonely tower. Of course, there are other kinds of Mystic Eyes and Blessings in the world, but I make do with what was given to me. I guess even in this form, old age still impairs me."

"Form? What form?"

"I was flesh and bone when the first stones of the Arenwatch were placed. I died on my 77th summer, but I was able to bind myself to this watchtower to fulfil my solemn oath to watch over the city that slowly grew under the Arenius' dutiful watch. The shape before you know may be solid, but it is nothing more but mana and clay shaped in the likeness of man to serve as a vessel for the soul that held a gift too precious to be wasted with the passing of a Human's life."

"In other words, he doesn't want to part with his beloved talent."

Lho'thrain said with a slight smirk. Merithain laughed.

"Well, I cannot argue with that. But I have sworn an oath to not abuse my power and not have a direct hand in events that concern the world."

"But the mission, doesn-"

"It does not. I will not have a hand in this, just a paper trail."

The old man said as he reached for a letter on the table.

"You may walk away from this. Continue on your journey and forget that this ever happened."

He handed Stefan the sealed letter. Stefan stared at it and then back at Merithain.

"But the two of us know that your "code" will not let you. Open that letter and read its contents."

Stefan said no words. He glared, but that's all he did as he opened the letter. Stefan read the letter in silence. His eyes followed each line, each letter, closely and carefully. His brows furrowed as his fingers began to clench. They stared at him while he folded the paper and handed it back to the old man, a scowl on his face as he did so. Stefan pulled out his flask. It let out an audible pop that was followed by droplets of ale dropping onto the table.

"Give us a month, we'll get her out of there."

"A month? You have two weeks at most to get her out of there and somewhere safe."

"T-Two weeks? Fine. We'll see what we can do."

"This is not a matter of failure or success. You must succeed in this quest for the lives of thousands hang on the outcome of your mission."

"A bit of a tall order..."

Stefan glanced at them, at their uneasy faces.

"But I think we can handle it."

"Good. Far too many pieces are being moved that not even I can keep up with them. It's good to know that one of those pieces will be brought back to its rightful place..."

The old man's eyes glowed white. He turned his head towards the window, at the large mass of men that brought packed up their tents and their camp.

"Leaving already. Lord Arwin truly is a person who does not waste time. And it seems more pieces move in the West. Lho'thrain, send a message to our Dwarven neighbors and to the Dwarves of the Black Peaks. Write a letter to our friends in Avel, Lethuan, and the Giant Kingdom. Have a message delivered to Draukr as well. To the four of you, I wish you good luck. I must cut our brief yet pleasant meeting short for pieces on the board have begun to move."

Lho'thrain was already writing a second letter as the old man stood up and lifted his hand.

"We will meet again. Somewhere in the future, I know we will."

Merithain glanced at him, his piercing orbs as white as snow tugged at him. He looked away to avoid his gaze.

It was a gaze that unnerved him.

"That Goblin is strange, isn't he?"

Merithain said as he watched them descend down the stairs of his tower. Lho'thrain scoffed.

"Strange that he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet."

"Don't be like that, my old friend. I could say the same with you and that Low-Elf girl."

There was a silence between the two of them while Lho'thrain continued to write with quill and ink. Merithain furrowed his brows while he stroked his beard. Once, he felt the sensation of his fingers while they combed through the long strands and its soft tugs and pulls that sometimes plucked a few strands of long, white hair. Now, it's a habit he cannot stop. Merithain sighed. His body cannot tire, but he felt exhausted and tired. Drained.

"That Mage was right to ask that question."

"Which one? The one about my Blessing or my body?"

"The one about that shell of a person you call your body. You push yourself too hard, friend."

"Because I must push myself. If I don't, the world will inevitably slip further into the darkness and the depths. The invisible hands that move the pieces on the board and those who oversee this great game is moving towards the end game."

Merithain turned towards Lho'thrain. The tips of the High-Elf's brows drooped as the old man weakly stood up from his chair. He smiled at Lho'thrain. He always reminded him of himself when he was still a student. An ambitious one, at that. He looked out of the window and towards the setting sun while the strong winds blew against his face. With narrowed eyes, he watched the sun closely as it dipped behind the unnatural peaks that lined the vast lands touched by Demons to its west.

The Sundering of Arunos, the tragedy of the continent of Illyrica, happened thousands of years before he was born. Still, the actions of a single man for the good of the world he lived in carried consequences that haunt and scar the world even now. He looked at the lands filled with misshapen plants and earth mixed with ashes, dust, sand, and the bones of those who fought over it. The dessert at the heart of their continent hid the City of Demons. The corners of his lips curled into a deep frown.

"They move each day. Each passing day the Demons gather their strength through war. To the north, they move and gather as well. A horde whose number swells in the depths of caves and caverns in the mountains. Along the lands covered by shadow and darkness, they begin to muster their fell forces of Undeath. In Esuryien, ancient Kings rise from their tombs while nations wage war in the name of their Kings and God. And there is a foul song that lingers above all of it."

"And sending these... four misfits out on a quest will help them? It was your idea to gather those strong adventurers in the region. Look what happened to them! A few lay dead in the dungeon while many lay wounded in-"

"I gathered them because they must be gathered. Some pieces were meant to be sacrificed so that others will grow and be reminded of what lies ahead of them. And now that I have the pieces, I will move them according to the Gods' will."

Merithain said in a low, serious tone.

"And now, the Gods have made their intentions clear. In a few months, the pieces will move north and east. You, my old friend, will head off to the lands of the Distant East and to bring this letter to the Headmaster of the University of the Eastern Arts and Higher Mysteries. Azalia will head back to her homeland in Esuryien to advise the promising student in the Solariez School of Magic and the Arts and Sciences."

"Then who will oversee the Library?"

"Me, of course. Lord Terius will need my counsel for the times ahead and-"

"You can't even write properly with your eyesight. Who will sign the documents and who will take stock of the new inventory? Some-"

"I have my helpers to help me. My friend, do not worry about this Library that I have dedicated my life to. Worry about transporting that letter safely."

The old man stood up, his hair whipped behind him as the wind rushed into the room.

"Lho'thrain. I will be fine. Lord Terius has recalled our army to help with the reconstruction, but I fear that there are still problems that he must overcome himself. With your presence, I doubt that he would be able to do that."

"Problems?"

He smiled once again. Despite how bright his greatest pupil is, the man was dense when it came to the fickle hearts of others. He looked at the blurry shape in front of him and the bright colors of his clothes. He is a man of learning, of great wisdom and knowledge, yet he would brute force the answers and solutions of his problems with his overwhelming strength. A bad choice. He will not be the piece for this problem. Merithain looked at the Merchant's Guild and the warehouses beside it.

"Lord Terius is experienced when it comes to commanding troops and battles. He is a great warrior. But his skills when it comes to managing his own city is yet to be tested. In this regard, I want Lord Terius to stand on his own and to hold his ground against internal problems."

"... I see. Very well. I shall make preparations for temporary stewards in my absence and the preparation of templates for important paperwork."

Merithain nodded while Lho'thrain stood up and brought the parchments with him. With a curt nod, the ever-graceful High-Elf walked down the flight of stairs while the old man that stood watch over the city continued to wistfully watch it from a distance. He let out a sigh as he looked at the haze in front of him. The blur, fuzz, and faint colors were hard to appreciate without the help of his Mystic Eyes. He let out a final sigh as he returned to his duty of watching over the world.