In a white tower on the edge of Avant, the knight known as Merdon was frowning while the witch of the tower examined a piece of black cloth the blue-scaled kobold, Sarel, had brought back from her expedition. The man was impatiently strumming his fingers on a table while watching the witch turn the cloth over in her hand, hold it up to the sunlight outside her large tower window, and then examine it more closely in the light inside the tower. She hummed and sat the scrap down before looking at the pair in waiting, crossing her arms and looking at them firmly.

“I'm no seamstress,” she said finally. “If you need something fixed, it would be better to ask one of the maids.”

Sarel's mouth hung open and she spluttered, searching for a word beyond incompetent to call the witch. Merdon spoke first and was more diplomatic about it.

“The cloth was recovered from a murder,” he reiterated for the witch, Verist. “The murder of a friend of mine. We were wondering if you knew anything about it, or if you could use magic to, I dunno, track this piece of cloth back to the clothes it came from?”

Verist hummed and shook her head. “No, nothing like that. It seems to be an ordinary scrap of black cloth to me.”

Sarel, recovering, pointed out, “One does not simply kill a member of the Returner's Guild without reason. We need to figure out who did this, and why.”

“Well, that's easier than looking at the cloth,” the witch said with a wave of her hand. “Obviously it's because she was connected to the kobold whisperer. After what he did in Avant, I'm not surprised to see the Eyes of Ethral chasing after him.”

Merdon paled at the name, while Sarel only frowned. Both were suitable reactions to hearing an elite squad of highly trained, well equipped, and relentless government-sanctioned police were tracking you down. In truth, their reactions might have underplayed the severity of what was chasing them. The knight, however, had a sudden question.

“Why would the Eyes assassinate someone? They could have just arrested Cath, questioned her,” he reasoned.

The witch laughed. “Because this case involves kobolds,” she said as if the answer were as obvious as the grass being green.

“Why does that matter?” Both Merdon and Sarel asked at nearly the same time, Merdon in confusion and Sarel with anger.

Verist looked between them and clicked her tongue a few times. “Oh dear, I suppose that's not so well known, is it?” she muttered to herself. The witch walked over to her door and opened it, revealing the green-scaled Thickhide waiting outside the door. She sent him to fetch the other two kobolds from Merdon's party, the green one agreeing with a salute, and then stepped back into her room and sat down.

The knight was feeling tense, alert. Verist calling for their companions set off every single alarm he had in his body. This was serious, more serious than just the Eyes themselves apparently. How she knew things about them the general public didn't know Merdon wasn't sure. After everything they'd been through fighting her, however, he was certain if anyone could get secret information about high-level government organizations it would have been her. So they waited, impatiently, for Skyeyes and Red to arrive.

When they did, Verist also waved for Thickhide to come in and join them, which he did with a red-tinged face. Of all the kobolds who had stayed in Verist's tower, Thickhide was the only one who was actively trying to learn more about their former captor. Perhaps some kind of hostage syndrome Merdon was unfamiliar with, but it made the green kobold act funny from time to time.

Skyeyes had a seat of his own, with Red sitting nearby, while Thickhide and Sarel opted to stand. Verist looked at them all in turn, making note of their changes in the months they'd been living in her tower. Merdon wasn't changed at all, his dark hair kept short, large body toned and ready for a brawl, she almost felt envious at how easily he stayed in shape. Sarel's cloak was different, it was one Verist herself had given the thief, but otherwise, she was unchanged as well. Skyeyes and Red were the ones that had undergone the most adjustment. Both of them being attuned to a form of magic it made sense. The white kobold priest had relaxed a lot, meditated, come to terms with himself, and whether he knew it or not his powers had grown from his introspection. Verist's tower was an isolated sort of place, like the silent halls of a cathedral, making it optimal for someone to focus.

Which left Red, the magic-user of the group, a rarity among kobolds, and easily the most changed. The red kobold wore robes now instead of the common clothes she had before, ones Verist had conjured specifically for her. Her memories had also returned, giving the kobold some small adjustments to her thinking. She was more collected now, and her easy gaze on the witch that had formerly enslaved her was proof enough. There was little grudge in her eyes as some form of acceptance had been reached during her stay. Along with that had come training with the witch, which itself led to the mage carrying herself differently. A small change in how she sat, walked, relaxed, an alertness of a practiced magician. It was a special air around her that made her more confident, thus more collected and thoughtful.

When they were comfortable, Verist straightened herself in her seat and grinned. She adjusted herself in her own chair and began. “I'm sure you're curious why I called you here,” she commented towards the new arrivals. “These two have been asking about something that concerns us all.”

Red frowned and asked, “What exactly?”

“The Eyes of Ethral,” Verist said seriously. Once again, just the name sent a chill through the room. Except for Skyeyes.

“The artifact said to grant one the omniscient vision of the goddess?” the priest said with a touch of awe.

Merdon made a face and looked at the white kobold. “No, the military force of Avant. What artifact?”

Verist held up a hand. “They are considered one and the same, in some respects,” she told them. “It's suspected the Eyes have the artifact they are named for, hence their dogged determination and ability to track down any who stand against them. I've found it to be completely false. Otherwise, they would have stormed my tower years ago.”

The knight sat back and tapped the table again. “So, the Eyes of Ethral are named after an artifact of the same name, but they don't have it? Who does then?” Verist only shrugged in response.

“It's been lost for a long time,” Skyeyes told Merdon. “No one knows where it went, but clearly Avant would like people to believe they have it.”

“The Eyes, the group,” Verist clarified, “Are known to the people of Avant as the most highly trained and deadly group in their military. A faction one does not lightly cross, and their alleged ownership of the artifact makes it doubly dangerous to do so.”

Merdon nodded in agreement, but mentioned, “You said they don't have it, but how do you know?”

The witch smiled and told him simply, “If they did, how could they be foiled by the traps of my tower? They would know everything I've done to stop them the moment I do it. The fact they haven't come to get me is proof enough.”

Sarel gawked. “You have crossed the Eyes?” she asked, a little surprised. Being born in Ardmach, of course she knew about them, more so than the average kobold.

Verist nodded. “I've crossed them because the Eyes of Ethral are paramount to the king's subjugation of the kobolds. The Eyes handle slavers and renegades that step out of line, sending assassins to those who prove troublesome in a particular way. When it comes to kobolds,” she told them seriously.

Merdon held up his hands and shook his head. “You're telling me the Eyes of Ethral are basically a secret force for dealing with people who help kobolds?” he asked with serious doubt. “Why? Kobolds are already slaves.” It didn't make sense to have an entire force to handle something the guard already did regularly.

“Because the Eyes don't just handle people who step over the law,” Verist told him. “They also shut down rebellions and any threat to 'the stability of Avant.' Which, in my personal experience, means someone who waylays traveling slavers and takes their kobolds.”

Red looked at her curiously. “You encountered them while stealing slaves?” she asked without mincing words.

The witch nodded. “They thought I was freeing them, at least that's what I got from their would-be assassin before I gave him a new life working the fields,” she replied with a slightly demented grin. Or perhaps it only looked twisted because of the context.

“Which would explain why no one has bothered to ask questions about kobolds in Avant,” Skyeyes said to Merdon. “Every time someone questions the state of things, the government silences them.”

Merdon huffed and considered the idea while the others discussed the implications among themselves. All it said was exactly what they had figured before, it was only confirmed now. Avant had to be changed by force because they were suppressing any natural shifts in opinion through force of their own. Only now it was a much steeper mountain to climb. The Eyes had assassins, the whole weight of the Avantian government, all the resources they could possibly need, and Merdon's group had nothing. Not yet at least.

“We need a plan, a real one,” he said out loud. “Starting a rebellion over kobolds with just us is suicide.”

“What do you propose then, whisperer?” Verist said, almost teasing. “I've been trying to get you to say something about all of this for months now.”

Merdon sighed and said, “What we need are allies. Not just a small group, but a force, a faction, a nation even.”

Red nodded and added, “We will also need the cooperation of the kobolds, as many as we can get at least. The ones here in Avant would be a start.”

“Yes,” Verist said with a smile. “We can have them meet here,” she suggested.

Skyeyes frowned. “Would they?” he asked seriously. “After what you've done?”

“It's the safest place,” she argued. “As I said, the Eyes have never gotten in before, and it won't start happening now.”

Merdon agreed although it was begrudgingly. They had only gotten in because of Red's information. Without her, they might not have made it through the forest before Verist did something like change the route or uproot the forest altogether. The Eyes would have their hands full just getting into her tower and then they would be forced to compete with her once they were inside. What had once been their end goal was now their home, and their former threat was now their greatest ally. In just a few months, Merdon's life had turned upside down.

They agreed to meet again the next day, at the top of the tower, to plan more about where they would go and how they would convince those that needed convinced. While Red and Skyeyes went their own way, Sarel was walking beside Merdon back to his room. The white halls of the tower were more relaxing now, but Sarel still felt off moving around it freely. She pulled her cloak around her tighter as they walked despite it being perfectly warm inside. Anxiousness bubbled in her chest every time she came back to Verist's tower, and she would never openly admit that was why she volunteered to leave it in the first place. As much as she loved Merdon, her mate, her verakt, the tower set her teeth on edge after everything that happened in it. Both of them would be leaving next though, and soon, so she would put those feelings aside.

When they reached Merdon's room and were perfectly alone, the thief commented, “This is quite a serious plot, verakt. You mentioned changing minds by force, but this is a war.” It was easier for her to speak her mind here, even though Verist could easily see them. Merdon hadn't settled into the tower, his room was still largely unadorned, and it made her feel more comfortable with her own feelings about the tower.

Merdon nodded, sighed, and sat on the edge of his bed. “I know, but I've already taken things too far,” he told her. “The night in Ardmach where I … when I saved you, was the night my fate was sealed. This was inevitable, on some level.”

The thief nodded and walked over, sitting next to him on the bed. “Perhaps it didn't need to be, and still doesn't,” she told him. “We could run, verakt. The border is right there.”

“No,” Merdon insisted. “You know that wouldn't help anyone. Besides, Ardmach has assassins killing its own citizens on top of everything else. A rebellion like this needs to happen, and if it's not headed by us who knows what the next guys think.” It was better they fought for themselves and made the changes they wanted, rather than hope someone else picks up the mantle.

Sarel agreed but said nothing. “Sarel just does not want to see you change,” she told him quietly. “War changes people.”

“I know,” Merdon assured her. “I don't know if it can be avoided, either the war or the changes it brings, but it's necessary now.”

“What of the Eyes?” she asked. “How do we deal with them?”

The knight shook his head. He didn't know. Perhaps they just needed to deal with them in time. They were an obstacle to consider though. More information was needed. Who were they, what were their goals, simple questions like such as those were unanswered, but of great importance.

For the time being, Merdon laid back on the bed, his legs half dangling off, and sighed again. Sarel laid her head on top of his chest, her whole body fitting in the same space that only part of his took up, and tried to think about it herself. What they needed, what her thief instincts told her they needed, was more information about the Eyes. If they knew their goals, their reach, anything other than hearsay, they would have something to use against them. At that moment, they were shadows, ghosts, whispers on the wind of people rather than actual beings they could handle. To succeed there, they needed to go to Ardmach again, a trip none of them were keen on making.

“We'll figure something out,” he assured her quietly. They always did.

Across the tower, Red and Skyeyes were speaking together quietly. Their voices carried a good ways in the silent corridors, but it wasn't like the witch couldn't use other means to listen in on them if she wanted. Red had her doubts about the venture they were going to undertake, which Skyeyes couldn't understand.

“Uniting the humans and kobolds against a corrupt government is exactly the kind of thing that would lead to peace between us,” he told her emphatically. “Some of us may suffer,” the priest admitted, averting his gaze from the stern look of the red-scaled mage, “But the end goal is worth it.”

Red shook her head and folded her arms. “You assume everything goes well. What if our war never leaves the planning stage?” she asked him critically. “We would sacrifice the lives of many kobolds, possibly start a war between Avant and another nation, all for nothing?”

Skyeyes took a deep breath and told her, “We fight for the freedom of our kin. Is that not reason enough?” Just as it was reason enough to risk their lives to fight Verist in the first place.

“Not if it makes things worse,” she told him. “We should think about this more carefully.”

Which, at least, the priest agreed. “It would be prudent to know more about the Eyes of Ethral and how much control they have in Avant.” He wondered if they could cripple support for the slavery of kobolds simply by taking out the shadowy organization. If the assassinations stopped then humans who opposed the government would be free to step forward.

Red shuffled awkwardly for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Skyeyes' hand. She held it tightly, blushed, and looked him in the eyes. “I just don't want anything happening to us,” the mage whispered, and her proclamation caused Skyeyes to redden as well.

“Yes, I know,” he replied, just as softly.

The next day dawned cold and frosty, a sign of the encroaching winter, and leaving the forest outside coated with a sheen that made it shine with the morning sunlight. Even though it was warm inside the tower the sight was enough to make the inhabitants shiver from instinct. Merdon woke up early and, after a look outside his window, went about what his normal days had become living in Verist's tower. Only now, Sarel was there, and she followed him curiously. They hadn't seen each other in months and the thief was interested in seeing what her verakt got up to. His first stop surprised her, as he met up with the green kobold and practiced the basics of swordsmanship with him. Sarel had never studied proper sword technique, given the largest thing a kobold could possibly hold was a shortsword and even those were too unwieldy for her job. What she gleaned from Merdon's training, however, was that he'd never taught anyone himself before. The advice he gave seemed very straightforward and almost recited, like Merdon was reading from a book rather than imparting a personal lesson. Corrections to form and technique he gave felt more genuine, but the basics were strangely forced. Thickhide was a quick study, thankfully, adjusting himself as the knight suggested but not being afraid to make changes he felt necessary for his size.

No kobold would ever beat a human in brute force, but what they lacked in strength they made up for with impossible agility and precision. Thickhide could block a blow and then twist Merdon's blade in an uncomfortable way. Which worked well considering Merdon had to strike low to aim for the kobold in the first place. He used his natural advantages to make battle with him difficult, but it wasn't enough to topple the seasoned knight. What Thickhide had yet to pick up was that combat didn't end with a sword, it was much more of a full-contact thing. When Merdon stumbled and winced from Thickhide's twisting, his foot lashed out and knocked the green-scaled kobold over, getting him to drop his sword and easily pinning him to the ground with a foot. That was the kobold's next lesson, to think beyond his equipment.

“A sword is only as useful as the brain of the man holding it,” Merdon told him. “Folks who go for brawn use clubs or axes, like an orc.” Swords, he had seen, were an almost exclusively human weapon. Kobolds and halflings favored knives, while there was no one better with a bow than an elf, the lycans preferred their own claws, and the orcs largely used clubs.

Thickhide nodded, simply taking in the advice the knight was giving him. Their day then wrapped up with some exercise around the large empty floor of the tower that the golem had once occupied. The green kobold was able to keep up with Merdon surprisingly well during those, despite him breathing much harder than the human. Merdon was clearly doing things to keep himself in shape above all, but it worked well for pushing Thickhide and was giving him more muscle and definition than most kobolds ever managed. How muscles would help him when the average kobold survived by being lithe and quick-witted, Sarel didn't know, but it certainly made him unique, even among their group.

Following the morning workout, Merdon went to a bath, one of the few amenities in the tower he felt was going to make him soft once they started traveling on the road again. He felt refreshed after a soak, and the use of Verist's soaps didn't hurt him any. Sarel, however, found this change to be agreeable and the only good thing about the white tower. Many kobolds lived in dirty squalor, so the use of a bath was always welcome to the thief. She had always considered the possibility that different kobolds had unique properties, such as the possibility her ancestors had been some kind of river or lake based kobolds, while Red's might have lived somewhere hot, explaining her affinity for setting things on fire. There was no proof of this, of course, but it was fun to imagine her ancestors tipping over boats and stealing whatever they could.

Merdon didn't need to ask questions like those when he soaked in the bath. Rather, he focused on the future. He knew the elves wouldn't listen to the plight of kobolds. They were convinced the kobolds were a threat, nothing more than domesticated monsters that needed to be slain before things got out of hand. The orcs to the north would listen, but it would be a challenge to even speak to their Chief of Chiefs. Avant had sent an envoy to them decades ago and the ambassador had been returned in a sack no bigger than a head and wet from the man's own blood. And the only other human kingdom, Rastar, was more harsh on kobolds than Avant itself, forcing them into slavery with no hope of freedom. Their options were slim, and Merdon was getting the idea they would have to try and open talks with the orcs. He didn't find their prospects to be any warmer there than it was in Avant.

“Sarel should apologize for last night,” the blue kobold said as she slipped out of the large bath to dry off. “We spoke of fighting to change hume minds long ago, after Ardmach. She should not be surprised at her verakt's dedication.”

Merdon shook his head and told her, “No, you were right. Talking about it is one thing, saying I'll change minds by force is one thing, planning to start a war, possibly even dethrone the king? That's another issue altogether. You were right to question me. This isn't something we should tread lightly on.” They should go all in, mentally prepared to do anything, or step back.

Sarel nodded and then turned to another question. “Do you think Verist has any ideas today?”

“Not more than I do,” he confessed. “We'll have to go deal with the orcs and try to convince the kobolds. Meanwhile, Avant sits on a treaty with the elves, a human queendom, and their own overwhelming military.” No matter what, they were outnumbered and overpowered.

The blue kobold stayed quiet after hearing that. She didn't know much about military planning, not at all like Merdon would have with his background, but if he was gloomy about their prospects then she figured it was an accurate assumption. “The orcs will at least listen to kobolds,” she assured him. “More than they will humes.”

That was their one beacon of light with the warrior tribes to the North. The orcs hated the humans of Avant, and thus tried to be friends with anyone who hated them equally. This almost naturally extended to the kobolds, given both races were treated like dirt by the Southern nation, both races were almost universally considered more monster than civilized, and those things were backed up by the elves and other humans. Lycans were ambivalent to the orcs, some agreed, others didn't. With Sarel, Red, and Skyeyes with him, Merdon might have a chance at convincing the orcs to help them. In the worst-case scenario, they might persuade them to let him live, which is more than most humans got from them. Either way, it was a risk they had to take, and Merdon was sure of his as he got out of the bath behind Sarel and dried off. Despite all the time they had to wait, with the winter months upon them, Merdon was still going to go speak with Verist about their plans. They all needed to.

Thickhide was already in the witch's room when Merdon arrived with Sarel, as well as Skyeyes and Red. Plans had to be made, and as the knight sat down at the table in the middle of the room he knew there was only one course he could suggest. Sarel sat beside him while the others had their own seats. Verist was already waiting for them with the green kobold, and she looked rather excited. Probably because it was the first time all of them had gathered completely willingly in her presence. Her almost fetish for kobolds set the human knight on edge, but they needed her skills and knowledge. Starting with his first idea.

“What more do you know about the Eyes of Ethral?” he asked the witch outright. “You said you've dealt with them before.” Perhaps she knew of their main location, a specific place in Ardmach, or their leader.

Verist merely shook her head. “I know that when kobold rebellions have risen in the past they have been the ones to put them down, and their presence when it comes to kobold slavery is abundant, but who leads them, or where they may plan other than the castle, I have no ideas.” It was an open admission, and Merdon had suspected it.

“I want you to try and find out,” he asked of her. “It may be important one day.” The Eyes were an elite group. Crippling or removing them from the equation would help immensely.

Skyeyes wondered aloud, “Why do they seem so intent on keeping kobolds in chains? What do they really gain?”

“Suppression of information about kobolds and their past, most likely,” Verist replied with a casual shrug.

Merdon frowned. “What information, and why would that matter?” he asked her. She was hiding something then.

The witch looked at him quizzically and then giggled. “Oh, of course. You didn't have any real powers in the end,” she said, almost a taunt. “So you wouldn't know what I do. That kobolds were created by humans.”

A visible shock passed through every single one of them. Their eyes widened and mouths hung open as they stared at the smirking witch. Sarel broke this staring contest by slamming her claws on the table and demanding, “Kobolds were what?!”

“A long time ago,” Verist started, “A human wizard was faced with a predicament involving the local wildlife. Kobolds at the time were savage beasts, no better than goblins, and possibly even related.” The group shivered at that notion, but the witch pressed on. “Given the great deal of kobolds around, he wondered if there wasn't something better to do with them than kill them. So he experimented. Spell after spell, month after month and, eventually, he succeeded.”

“He made them smart,” Merdon guessed. Some spells raised intelligence, temporarily. The long term side effects were devastating. To have succeeded in permanent intellect enhancement...

“Not quite,” Verist said carefully. “Ultimately his attempts at making them smart failed. They could be enhanced for a time, as most creature can be, but it was never maintained and the once again feral kobolds shown a distinct disdain for whatever they had done under the influence.”

Red huffed and glared at the witch. “Enough with the storytime, get to the specifics,” she demanded. “What did he actually do?”

The witch smiled at her and said simply, “He managed to infuse the kobolds with humanity.”

Merdon's mouth hung again and he attempted to form many sentences, get across any sort of idea or question before finally spilling out a struggling, “What?”

Red agreed, but more articulately. “What does that mean?”

“It means that kobolds aren't just lizards or part dragon as many of them have come to realize. They are, in effect, an offshoot of dragonkin,” she told them. “There's less human in them, yes, but functionally it's the same idea. Though the original kobolds came about through magic and not biology.”

“And the Eyes know this?” Merdon asked, deflecting from all the other things that clicked in his brain about kobold biology, such as their shapes and sweating. “They're intentionally keeping this from the public.” Verist nodded.

“It makes sense,” Skyeyes interjected. “If it were common knowledge we and the dragonkin were roughly the same, the aristocracy would have a lot of troubles.” Kobolds would be considered some kind of special, dragons were mythical, immortal, all-powerful in the minds of some sects, creatures on the verge of godliness. Imprisoning their offspring was a fast way to get a lot of backlash.

“If it can be proven,” Sarel noted. “We have only the witch's word for this truth. And she is one to hide behind illusions and lies.” Verist gave an indignant pout but didn't verbally dispute the insult.

“Maybe the Eyes have proof,” Skyeyes proposed. “If they are actively hiding the information, there must be something they are hiding.”

Merdon considered it and nodded. “It's worth looking in to when the time comes,” he admitted. “For now, we have to focus on getting to that point.”

Verist nodded in agreement and said what Merdon was thinking, “There are really only two places we can look for help. The orcs to the North, and the kobolds themselves.”

“The kobolds won't be easy,” Red warned them. “They fear slavery, and as much as they want freedom, they have enough of it in their villages. It's not worth the risk to them.”

“We have to make it worth the risk,” Skyeyes told her. “Remember Ardmach, there are kobolds living there in complete squalor.”

Red's face flashed anger for a moment and her claws dug into the table, but she recovered and reminded Skyeyes, “I would never forget.”

The priest flushed and looked away, but Sarel came in to mention, “The ones that live in villages need to be reminded they are not safe, even there.” Slavers could find them, eventually, given enough time. “We need to be proactive.” The group silently agreed, but the question still hung in the air: who would they go after first?

Verist straightened in her seat and said, “Then it's settled. I believe Merdon and Quickclaw should head to the North. The orcs like kobolds and they respect strong folks, and given what he did in Ardmach there's a chance they'll listen to him.”

The red-scaled kobold looked at her curiously. “Just them? What are we doing then? And when did we say you made these decisions?”

“Details,” the witch waved her hand, brushing the comment aside. “You, Skyeyes, and Thickhide can go to the kobold villages. Having Merdon around they would be less likely to help you, so it makes sense to send him off at the same time. That way, he doesn't need to be sitting around here anymore.”

Merdon frowned at Verist taking the reins, but she made sense. It really upset him when she made sense. “The faster we do this, the better off we'll be,” he admitted.

Skyeyes, however, expressed more worries. “You will be without a healer, Merdon. If the orcs injure you, or if you get ambushed on the way there...”

Verist was a step ahead. She grinned and produced several small tokens, sliding them along to the party in packs of four each. “These will take you back to the tower,” she told them. “And another will return you to where you were.”

“So two trips,” Red noted, looking the tokens over.

“They're not so easy to make,” Verist admitted. “That's potent magic which will bring you in through all my defenses without breaking them.”

Merdon then guessed, “And you'll stay here to keep us all in touch if we need it.”

Sarel, however, took the coins and beamed at her mate. “This trip will be much easier than our last one if we can return here to stock up.”

“But only twice,” he reminded her. They were for emergencies only, and he figured the witch wouldn't want to put too many of them out there in the world. In case they lost them or had them stolen. If that happened, they would be stranded wherever they were to boot.

“We should start planning routes,” Verist said excitedly, conjuring a map on the table in front of them. “It won't do to just go wandering after all.”

Merdon sighed and sat back in his chair, idly toying with one of the tokens he'd been handed. Once more the witch had a point. They should try to match up their trips to be as close to the same length of time as possible. It was clear they had a lot of planning to do before spring came. Routes, packs, supplies, equipment, everything had to be ready to go as soon as the snow stopped. If they waited too long, they'd have to deal with more Ardmachian soldiers at the forest, too early and they could get caught in a late-season snowstorm. The knight grumbled internally as he sat forward and started pointing on the map to the location Ardmach had figured was the capital of the orc lands. Their plans had to start somewhere after all, and it was easier to trace from the ending to the beginning than the other way around.