A section of the handrail tore off of the log bridge and plunged into the deep chasm below.

"Damned! I'm..," a desperate voice cried out.

Astor grabbed the railing in front and stuck an arm out towards the source of the voice, bracing himself for the impact. As the man fell against Astor's shoulders, he felt the weight of their packs, combined with the flailing of the individual, overwhelm his balance. Their descent would have been inevitable had he not also wrap his foot around the support beam of the railing. Torquing his abs to prevent his foot from sliding along the circumference of the pole, both of the figures teetered on the edge of the wooden platform before Astor felt a multitude of hands reach out and recenter their balance.

"Ah! Thanks the gods!"

Astor breathed out a sigh of relief.

Why did I decide to cross a bridge that was only three feet across?

"What sick bastard builds a railing that doesn't work!" yelled the panicked individual.

"You shouldn't have relied on it so much," Astor replied irritably.

The distressed man muttered something under his breath and brushed past his saviors to the end of the bridge.

Astor helped a few cross the gap before another individual gestured to take his place. As he stepped off the deteriorating piece of lumber, Astor looked up to gauge the time left before nightfall. The sun was beginning its descent down the peaks of the mountains that they had just left behind.

After the last few individuals had crossed the bridge safely, Marshall Dingrege signaled them to stop in order to assess the terrain.

"Where to next Astor?"

"This way. If we cut through here, the path ahead should be much clearer."

At least that's how he remembered it to be.

Sir Dingrege looked at him skeptically before urging his men forwards. As the dozen of men bumbled through the thickets of the forest, Astor started to feel the strain of every effort in his movements. The group has traveled for several hours through the mountainous terrain with very short breaks in between. Delving hip-deep through a myriad of sharp thorns was not a welcomed effort by anyone.

"Quite the path you've taken us through Astor," Dingrege called out.

"My apologies everyone. This is the first time I've led a group this large."

"It shows, be more careful."

"I'll try," Astor replied, swallowing his embarrassment.

He hadn't expected their pace to be this slow. Nevertheless, Astor noted that they were still on time to make it to their first checkpoint on the route. After trudging their way through to an elevated plateau, the group soon spotted the rectangular tops of a series of stone buildings behind a wall of soft-brown lumber.

"Up ahead is the monastery. I'll ask if we can stay the night."

Walking up to the gates, Astor watched as a man, from the single, exposed watchtower, quickly scrambled to his feet

He reached out to a dark, flat object and began hitting its sides with a small drum. The subtle, yet distinct sounds of wood colliding on wood echoed out onto the distant hills and valleys, causing an endless cacophony of cackles and cracks.

"Hello!" Astor called out, attempting to stop the annoyance.

The man stopped and stared cautiously from the tower.

"What do you want from here?"

"We were hoping for a place to stay the night. Is it possible for us to be let in?"

The man nervously looked around.

"Just wait there for now."

Judging from the man's demeanor, Astor could gather that he was probably just a volunteer from one of the local villages not too far from here. The company waited in anticipation when they heard the shifting of footsteps approach the gates from within. There was an exchange of whispers behind the thick walls before the wooden gates were released from its hinges. From inside, three men in auburn cloaks appeared before them. They motioned forward as the gates began to shut behind them.

"My humblest greetings good sirs. What can we do for you today?"

Astor stepped forward. "My group and I need a place to stay for the night. If it's not too cumbersome, may we ask for your hospitality today?"

The man in front took off his hood, revealing a kind, elderly visage. Despite the years wearing down on his complexion, his eyes still beamed with youthful vigor. His hair was as distinct as the fleece from a newly-sheared sheep, and his chin had what seemed like laces of snow that enraptured his boyish smile.

"Of course. We would be delighted to house your stay, but if I may ask, what is the purpose of your excursion?"

Dingrege stepped forward. "We have special orders from the leaders of this nation to settle the matters of crimes being committed in these parts. Here are our documents."

Dingrege handed out a scroll with a yellow and purple insignia. The senior man released the ribbon that bound the paper and peered into piece of parchment.

"It seems to be done very well," emphasized the kind-looking man.

A scraggly voice rebutted, "How can we be sure that they're not with the Brotherhood? This could have been stolen, or a forgery for all we know."

The other man spoke up. "This is too much of a risk. We cannot accept these men into our wall. Let us just quickly retreat while we still can."

Astor waited as the white-haired man glanced up from the parchment to examine their group before looking back down with a conflicted expression. Suddenly, the man eyes' darted back at Astor. His face displayed signs of a startling revelation.

What is it? Why is he staring? Perhaps its... ah, that's right.

"Excuse me, if that is not enough to quell your suspicions, then I have a proof of my identity with me." Astor pulled out a scroll with a cerulean, tree stamp and handed it towards the man.

The man went to grab the scroll but stopped halfway in order to examine Astor's face once again.

Confused, Astor urged the man to take it by gesturing toward the scroll with his eyes.

The man, breaking from his immersion, took the scroll and opened it. He looked up one more time before reading the form.

"My name is Astor of house Jacobs. By my honor, I will promise you that no harm will befall on those who reside here."

"This is authentic," whispered the man on the right.

The elderly man smiled. "I hope you will forgive us. Times are dangerous, and we must know, for certain, that you will bear us no ill-intentions. Please come in Sir Jacobs. You and your guests are always welcomed here."

"I thank you for your kind homage."

As the doors to the monastery opened, waves of relief washed over Astor. Walking into the tightly-enclosed property, Astor spotted out the dozen of uniquely shaped buildings that lined the inner walls of the property. Most of the buildings had wooden roof tiles and were built out of cobblestone. The roofs varied from hexagonal to triangular, depending on the size of the house. One specific construction, located towards the center of the abbey, had a rectangular, stone-stepped roof with a segmented, brick archway running along its middle. The three men led Astor's group here and invited them inside.

"We will have some bedding prepared shortly. Please feel free to leave your equipment here," the elderly man said, pointing at a bench.

The room inside was a large hall with small, oblong doors strewn about the side of the walls. Astor began to unfasten the belts and knots on his leather harness. He removed his arm guards, grieves, and helmet before untying his gambeson. Leaving his thigh armor on, Astor stretched his neck out and sat down on a nearby chair. The weight of the new gear had given him a headache. Soon, a different individual came scuttering back to them with a handful of blankets.

"Here are the beddings. We have some leftovers from dinnertime if there are still those with hunger."

Astor watched as seven of his groupmates stood up and followed the cloak-clad monk towards the refectory. Confining himself to sleep, Astor laid out on his mattress. Reflecting on what had happened earlier, Astor wondered if he had met that kind-looking monk before. The only individuals that Astor has had contact with prior to his deployment were a few relatives that now live far away.

Did I meet him at Aricia's birthday celebrations?

Astor heavily doubted that. He didn't want to entertain the idea of a monk leaving his sacred duties to attend a non-religious celebration. Yet, the look that that monk gave him was extremely unsettling.

Closing his eyes, Astor, soon, began to hear the singing and prayers of a distant choir. It was too far for him to make out the meaning of the words. He listened intently as the voices reverberated off the stone walls inside the building. After they had finished, the soothing highs and lows continued to play out in his mind as an eerie silence fell upon his surroundings.