Tavak studied the bristling wall in front of him. He had expected the response but facing the bristling spear walls filled him with expectation.

Some may die...but it’ll definitely be a good fight.

The back and flanks were protected. His previous plan to simply smash through by surprise them had been foiled by their alertness.

Could they have a sensory rune bearer? Haha if its like this…

“Charles!”

“Yes, Young Master?” His highest ranked subordinate immediately saluted him.

“Order the men to rest.”

“My Lord?”

“Since we can’t ambush them, let the men recover. In any case they’re our last target.”

“Yes, My Lord.” The command was received with almost inaudible sighs of relief, causing Tavaks brows to furrow in displeasure.

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“What are they doing?” The fidgety man next to Bryan asked. His hunting spear waving in the air as he gestured wildly.

Bryan was more worried than confused. He had searched for Toale as soon as the news of an enemy reached him. His friend couldn't be found at his tent or among his usual hunting group, Olin having gone to the command group.

Maybe he’s with Captain Graveth at the central tent.

The thought was comforting, the young man was the closest thing to a family for him and the thought of losing him filled Bryan with dread.

In cases of emergency, the mercenary party had a policy where each man had to report to an assigned superior. From there the groups could be ordered much more cohesively. This concept had been in place for years, and this was the first time it was in use. Centered in the back row of his group, Bryan peeked over his fellows heads, a crimson glow accumulating around his eyes as he too wondered what was happening.

Directly opposite them was a silver army, but the surprising fact was that they were dismounting rather than launching an attack. He waited patiently, his body randomly subjected to adrenaline shocks each and every time some fool cried out in alarm. Standing there the whole night after the draining hunt, Bryan nodded off, his spear held in a death grip.

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A night of missed sleep was nothing to the men in command of the Silver Moon. Each of their runes had been tempered through countless dances and the amount of blood consolidated within was terrifying.

The actions of the enemy were a pressing concern. With Dike and the two others constant brain washing, they could not see the men opposite as anything otherwise.

“Do you think someone should go there and find out what's going on?” A bored voice broke the silent vigil.

“Are you volunteering?” Snapped Roff.

“Urgh.” The man in question shut his mouth immediately.

Dike was getting anxious.

Attack already, damnit.

The constant lying was wearing down on him. To make matters worse, the enemies inaction was giving rise to doubt among the other senior members.

“I could go.” The statement caused the gathered men to stare surprisedly at the speaker.

Keith continued, “Dike may have been mistaken about their intentions. Maybe they accidentally took out Jared. Maybe they thought it was a beast or nomad.”

Complaints and concerns quickly rose. Many persuading him not to risk it. Among them however, few of the speakers were sincere, instead using clever wording to goad him into the role.

Dikes facade slipped, barely revealing the whirlpool of sorrow. He too gave his blessing as he turned, not daring to look his compatriot in the eye.

He too knew that was necessary, to quell any suspicions. If Keith had not volunteered then someone else might have - that was the worst possible situation.

Is it worth it?

The thought left as quickly as it appeared, an image of flames scouring the sky forcefully steeling his resolve.

I wish you luck my friend. May we meet in the next life.