The conversation amidst the ruins of the castle's walls and dead bodies was quite cheerful. Fintan sat upon a bit of crumbled wall that formed a nice seat whilst he sipped on ale. Fallon sat on the ground with his knees to his chest and his head held low. Some cried and wept on each other's shoulders, particularly some of the women who had come out to find that their husbands had died amidst the chaos and fighting.

Two knights had been sharing lights jests to alleviate their feelings of anxiety that they did not know how to deal with; they were merely boys in men's armor. One of them looked beyond the vast expanse of land beyond and pointed a bony finger that somehow looked tired as it wavered in the air. Fintan's eyes followed the boy's finger and he saw a figure from afar riding on his own upon horseback, a cape flowing wildly behind him. He seemed to glide upon his steed at a fast pace.

Fintan stood and squinted his eyes and realization dawned on him. Fintan's right hand instinctually went to his large wound on his leg, but he thought little of it—pain was not amidst his thoughts at that moment. At least, physical pain wasn't.

"Is that the village boy—Randor's lad?"

Vince turned now from his spot on the ground and rose to stand taller in height than his master. It was, indeed, Vince realized. He could tell by the long trail of night wolves that followed behind him as his horse glided. There were already stories told amongst the kingdoms of Modena about the Magi Apprentice and his pack of vicious wolves. Egalo was getting closer, and quickly. His green cape fluttering in the wind.

When the victory of Weptswur was told Egalo listened quietly and intently. He lacked words but nodded comprehensively and failed to lift a smile even once upon his troubled face.

The men who had fought the great battle remained seated amongst the rubble and ruin but Egalo stood before them with his back to the setting orange sun behind him.

"What is it, boy? I've seen that look far too many a time," said Fintan.

"It's uh...there is something I must tell you, master."

Fintan leaned forward and nodded him on. Egalo paused for a long while. His mouth would open, and nothing would come out. He removed his half helm and his long black hair fell around his shoulders. Dirt covered his cheeks and face.

"It's my own master, Randor Redcloak." The words sputtered out solemnly.

"Is he dead? What's he done?" One of the boys who had seen Egalo all those miles away chimed in now, but Fintan was too invested now to hear the young knights.

"No, he's alive and well, how he always is...he leads an army north, Master Fintan. A great, big army." He sniffled his nose now as he spoke.

"An army? What army could he possibly have found south? And what's he marching north for? We have just defeated the enemy; King Steed is dead! Our enemy is dead!"

Egalo hesitated and took a long minute before he answered. He knew the words would sting.

"It is not one of our armies, he leads, master."

"What? I know it cannot be, a Magi does not have an army. It is the men of the caves he leads onward surely, but to where? Have the men of the caves declared themselves against the cause of men?" Egalo could sense the growing tension in Fintan's words. It was a bitterness, a bitterness that gnawed deep inside and made Egalo want to throw up. Vince's eyes were dilated and scared. Fear. It is all over his face. Both of them.

"It is an orc army, tens of thousands. An army of Orcs sworn to the cause of the dark lord. The true dark lord of the south, master."

A look of confusion spread over Fintan, but in Vince's face realization swept across it and his eyes welled with tears.

"So, it is true." Vince's voice was faltering, and Egalo wished Vince would say it for him, but he couldn't.

Fintan's mouth quivered and he need not ask, for Egalo knew what he pondered.

"Randor serves the true dark lord of the south. He is a traitor, master. A traitor." The last word was barely audible as he broke into tears and sobbing, and Fintan brought him to his chest, seeing the youth in him.

"I should have known. I should have known. The dark lord lives." Vince whispered the words quietly so only he could clearly hear them. He struggled himself to make sense of it, and he too fell flat to the ground and grieved. He had seen the world through the dragon of his visions. He had seen Ral'tor. He had heard the whispers. Yet, he had told no one, done nothing. And he wondered to himself, whether he should tell them now, or let them find out for themselves. He had seen it coming, had seen Randor in service to Ral'tor, but had chosen not to believe it. He was in the same position as he knew Randor had once been, and it was evident now, that Randor had given in. He had tampered with dark magic, and now he was at the service of the dark lord in the south.

Vince grieved not for Randor, but for himself. For Vince knew somewhere deep inside himself that he was not strong enough. He was not strong enough to resist the prodding of his soul. The dark magic weighed heavy, and he fought it. But for how much longer he would resist, Vince did not know. Vince tossed the dragon horn over in his hand and frowned as he looked upon it. He glanced up at the moat that protected half a castle now. He tossed the dragon horn into the moat and felt the weight off of his conscious.

"Sometimes we use bad things for good purposes," said Vince.

And so it was...Weptswur had held off King Steed and his army of Deranged Men. However, Torval Rainblood's army had been commandeered by the dark lord Elri'ktor at Mestrane and would be sent through Raideth, Torval's former home, to begin the takeover of the realm. With necromancers in place of kings, the kingdoms of the north were sure to crumble despite their feeble attempts at defending their walls.

Randor Redcloak proved to be a traitor in working alongside Dalian Dagnar for the dark lord. The Men of the Caves are now commanded by Egalo Elgamar, and they may stand as the only blockade for Torval Rainblood's army as they march through the Carnakanes to sweep through Raideth. Once past Raideth, it is the rest of the realm at their fingertips.

Terran boasts a strong hope for the realm by journeying on towards Mestrane where he will stake his claim as King of the Maldurians. It is unknown whether the Deranged Men are too far gone to change trajectory and follow their new king, but it is certain that the Maldurians who resisted the dark lord's luring who sit in captivity will answer the call from Terran the Maldur King.

Vince has seemingly done away with dark magic, but where does that leave him? It had been a curse and a tax on his mind, but it had swayed the Battle for Weptswur in their favor. Fervor must take Fallon and his men east to intercept Torval Rainblood's army as quick as he can, before they reach Raideth where Torval's brother sits with less than half an army.