The old Regent's march to the gates of the city of Misthaven was hurried but not galloping as he took time to settle his thoughts.

The road to the city through the burnt grain fields gave him an impression of all that had happened. To his right, he saw how soldiers and horses lay dead on the ground in the fields and roads, scattered like the grain spread over those lands at sowing time. The man turned his look to the left, turning his eyes to the rolling hills that reached up to a dense forest from where Hilree's elves came. Fire and blood were also seen everywhere.

Were it not for the Order's success in exposing Trelan's macabre deed, perhaps Mizuna would be embroiled in a new war. A war that it was a given that they might lose.

Revom's path wasn't lonely; he was followed by a small retinue of repentant men from the opposing side, a couple of soldiers from Mizuna and Hilree, his personal guard, and Sorika, his scribe.

The march to the city gates was down that long road, where Reber, the leader of the repentant men, accompanied him side by side. The tall man, ragged from so many days of unbathed combat, looked sideways at the man in spotless robes.

Mistrust was in the air.

"Regent..." Sorika caught her master's attention by speaking in her native Mordian. "What do you have in mind?"

The girl was sharp, for it suited her to speak a language the locals could not. That brought a smile to the man's wrinkled face.

"Sorika, my loyal apprentice," the man spoke before hiding his smile again. "It is clear that the general has his judgment clouded by sullied pride; war always causes that in men who gave their life and soul to a cause destined for failure."

"That man thinks he has you deceived, Regent," Sorika indicated as she pulled her book of pretend note taking from a saddlebag.

Revom watched his side; that girl's cunning was a virtue well acquired.

"When we arrive, you must return to the camp and alert our people to get their weapons ready."

The girl turned to her master, "Do you think they will attack us from behind?"

Revom turned his eyes at the girl, "Why did he make an effort to flee the city in hiding and now expects them to open the door for us?"

The girl noticed that absurd detail on the table, something General Ebir didn't think much of. So, the girl nodded, and when the Regent and his entourage reached where Mizuna and Hilree's soldiers were settled, a short distance from the city gates, Sorika turned her horse around and galloped quickly to the camp once more.

The Akajsis held the position to his left side with their oval shields pinned to the ground. Those shields in the front rank had a short crossbow over a slot in this one, ready to fire. Elvish regiments were easy to distinguish, for, unlike the humans who valued long lines of endless soldiers, the Elves kept smaller divisions, ready for stealthy combat.

With few exceptions, The Order of the White Flame maintained hostile relations with the Akajsis. Many saw their gods as dangerous, their customs as heretical, and their views on the Marked Ones as blasphemous. Hilree, however, fell within these exceptions, but minimally because it was known that this region in the west of the continent maintained complicated relations with the kingdom that gave birth to the elves, The Divine Kingdom of Aksadrell.

On the right side, Mizuna's men were deployed by the hundreds in lines of men armed with spears and shields, humans set against the light and stylized armor of the elves with their heavy armor of metal and chain mail. From the corner of his eye, Revom noted the discontent of these men, the faces of many could be seen through the open helmets they wore. Many looked tired, others discouraged.

The soldiers from both armies that accompanied them stayed behind with the regiments while he advanced with the repentant men and his two escorts.

"I'll go in alone; you can go back to camp," Revom ordered his escorts. "They will see you and see that I must be some kind of decoy you must protect at all costs.

Both knights, wearing black armor and spears, watched their leader with intrigue, but unquestioningly, they nodded and quickly turned toward the road back.

"Are you sure what you are doing?" asked Reber, who had kept quiet along with his men.

"Very sure." indicated Revom. "If your men crave peace and forgiveness, then nothing will happen to me..."

The Regent watched the tattered man firmly and serenely.

In a moment, the armored figures at the door made way for a much larger man in plate armor that covered him in its entirety. The man was one of Trelan's generals, wearing old general armor from Mizuna's army.

Revom saw him and stepped forward on his horse to make himself visible. The figure of that old man in white robes and a breastplate with the fiery symbol of Tisvar stood out quickly amidst the sea of people, corpses, and blood at the gates of Misthaven.

Revom put a hand to his neck. Then, with a simple spell, his voice echoed louder and then proclaimed, "My name is Revom Gran, Regent of the Circle of Tisvar, knight of Halheim's crusade, the scourge of the demons and pests that dwell in Artia and sworn to exterminate them to my last breath. I have come all this way, from far away, crossing valleys, forests, and rivers to mediate for this battle that has already cost the lives of hundreds of people."

Trelan's general seemed to watch Revom, away from the armies of Hilree and Mizuna and only accompanied by Reber and his men.

Soon another general approaches him and then whispers something.

A moment of silence flooded the battlefield, many elves readied their crossbows, and other humans held their spears and swords tightly. Revom, for his part, watched with his aged and experienced eyes the black armor spot above his head, above the gates of that great wall.

Finally, Trelan's general gestured to his men and ordered the gates to open. The portcullis began to rise, and Revom, at a steady pace, advanced with his horse and the retinue of repentant men behind him into the demon's maw.

Inside the city, the ravages of combat and the sequestering of the place were noticeable. Misthaven had in its best times been the home of a proud and profligate nobleman. The stone houses and splendid buildings were always ornate with carvings and details on their corners and roofs about creatures and heroes. The place must have looked better before; for now, one could see run-down buildings collapsed by siege weapons. The guard also maintained a strict curfew, so the only people to be seen on the street were armed men or men on horseback, making sure that people obeyed orders.

From the corner of his eye, Revom watched through the dirty, almost opaque windows for residents who peered out as he arrived, people who may have heard his voice echoing off the city walls. Some, upon seeing him with his firm bearing and unblemished appearance, were hopeful that he would be the one to end their ordeal. But, in the depths of his being, the Regent also hoped to give them their chance to return to live a life of dignity and away from danger.

Revom was led through the rubble-strewn streets to the main palace, a building that in ancient times was the residence of the nobleman who owned those lands, a place full of towers that now had numerous archers and lookouts ready to shoot.

The man got down from his horse and held on to his staff to walk again. His appearance seemed to cause mixed looks among the men guarding the place and the repentant ones. Had they brought an old man to talk to them?

The castle gates opened before him, and soon he was escorted along with the repentants into the place. The palace had its better days; now, there were crates of supplies, wounded, and warriors stationed all around the main hall. At the back of the hall, an Akajsi man waited seated on a throne, surrounded by at least half a dozen warriors in heavy armor.

Trelan watched Revom enter and settle lazily on the castle throne; long and silky like his blood red eyes, his blond hair was a classic fixture among the elves.

The Regent observed the akajsi man, and he began to feel the man's aura almost without blinking. Shadows covered him; at times, his face seemed to deform and give way to another. Nevertheless, his eyes and the senses granted by the gods did not lie to him.

He was undoubtedly a marked one.

"It's an honor to have someone with such a long title before me," Trelan exclaimed with a teasing smile.

Revom planned to advance to where Trelan stood, but his generals prevented him from stepping. So instead, the man raised his dark eyes, those men who were supposed to deliver the marked one in exchange for mercy. Sooner rather than later, Revom recognized this could be a vile lie.

"I have come to negotiate a surrender," the man indicated in a serene tone.

"Oh, really?" asked Trelan. "Hilree and Mizuna's troops will surrender these lands?

Revom remained silent and took a few steps back away from Trelan's general.

Then, the Regent explained, "My negotiation is about your unconditional surrender, Trelan. Save your people from senseless carnage and return these lands to their rightful owners."

"Rightful owners?" exclaimed one of the generals with contempt beneath his helmet.

"It is difficult to know who is the rightful owner of these lands, Mr. Revom Gran," Trelan explained simply. "Some say it belonged to the family of the previous feudal lord when Mizuna was a monarchy. Others say it belongs to the men and women who farm and sell their things for a living. Still, others say it belongs to the councils of each region..."

Revom remained silent at that terse explanation.

Then, Revom asked suspiciously, "Tell me then, to whom does this land belong?"

Trelan rose from his throne, taking a couple of steps towards the man across the marbled floor of that palace.

"These lands belong to your people and those who have lost everything. Akajsis, humans, it is all equal. Everyone and no one owns these lands."

"Each region has its laws and rulers," Revom pointed out.

"When was the last time the Thornstone council visited these lands?" asked Trelan aloud, both to the Regent and the men in that room.

There was a sentencing silence. Then, finally, Revom turned his gaze to where Reber stood, who remained crossed-armed and with a steady look.

The old man sighed at those words, "What you propose is noble, but we both know that these lands will not be given to the people who farm them. I have seen this before..."

"Oh, sure, such an old man must have seen many things..." Trelan indicated with a teasing smile.

Revon continued, "In the end, lands become the property of warlords and criminals who satiate their lust for power, and murder or force to flee those who think differently."

"What is the difference between that and what your Order does, Regent Gran?" asked Trelan.

"No one is a stranger to mistakes. I have made so many in my lifetime that I could consider myself a failure. But every failure is a new experience in our journey. That is why I know that my presence here isn't to come to peace."

Revon turned to Reber.

"Dragging an old man to your boss's feet, I could expect nothing less from a bandit..."

Reber smiled, "You are another piece on the board, old man, a piece to snatch what it know..."

Revom then turned to the generals, who grabbed his staff from him and took it from his arms.

The Regent didn't even flinch. The plan had been as stupid as he had imagined.

"You fight for a lost cause with a lost chief," exclaimed Revom. "Show your true face if you have the courage, demon..."

Trelan took a step forward as his face began taking different aspects. First, he took on the appearance of an akajsi man with black hair, of a human child with a look full of freckles, then to that of a blonde woman and a seductive demeanor to return again to his elven appearance.

"It doesn't matter what face you possess; what matters is the message you deliver to people..."

"The message of sending hundreds or thousands to their deaths?" replied Revom in a quiet voice, struggling slightly from the grips of those men.

"The message to fight to the end for a cause."

"Your cause, you selfish, manipulative demon, damn your own."

"It's a little late to be saying such things, Regent," Trelan explained. "My men saw you coming through the woods, and you led them to the camps on the steep hills."

"I know. That's why my congregation will be waiting for your men," Revom indicated.

Reber opened his eyes slightly, for, at that moment, he remembered the girl who had returned to the camp.

Trelan looked at that bandit and then at the old man.

"I'm going to take your knowledge from you, one by one," Trelan threatened.

"I'm going to take you out of this world, demon."

The sound of crossbows firing echoed throughout the room, and it was in that manner that a small shower of bolts struck among those who held Revom captive. The bolts embedded themselves red-hot into the generals, piercing their armor.

A cry of desperation from one of those holding Revom quickly allowed him to retrieve his staff, which with a quick slam to the ground and a shout from him, caused a shockwave that dragged all those around him away.

Trelan was thrown off, but he rolled over to land on his feet like a cat. Then, disturbed and paranoid, he searched for where the bolts came from, and even with his men's pleas, he escaped through that castle.

Reber and his men were thrown back several meters.

"Get him!" the man bellowed as he stood up and charged Revom.

As his men tried to follow him out of the darkness of the room's ceiling, several people fell upon them. All were dressed in light armor and hooded, and they dropped down on the bandits with daggers and crossbows.

Reber dodged the one that would fall on him and tried to defend himself from her attacks. But, the slim, small figure was quick and calculating; she glided like water and quickly climbed over him and pierced the neck with her dagger with a fine, delicate movement.

The bandit opened his eyes as he felt that sharp pierce his throat, and with blood gushing from his mouth, he soon fell to his knees on the ground.

The figure turned away from Reber, and loading another bolt into her crossbow, she finished off one of Trelan's generals who kept shouting.

"Good timing, Lady Myra," Revom indicated the figure. "But you missed that one."

The girl removed her hood to reveal her long brown hair and dragged her mask to smile at the old man before watching Reber agonize on the ground.

"I'll deal with him in a moment," Lady Myra indicated, "He was spying on me in my tent last night; that's not very polite. But first, we must go get Trelan..."

"I'll go, don't worry, we'll have company any time."

Shouts and doors began to open, and it was then that dozens of Trelan's men peeked out in search of getting rid of the invaders.

"Very well, I understand, Regent," Lady Myra indicated as she gave with a nod an order to her spies. "Be careful on the stairs. You could hurt yourself."

Revom sighed and soon stepped across the threshold of the doorway through which Trelan had slipped out.

Lady Myra donned her hood and mask once more and, along with her men, waited for the assailants. Each took from their tool belts what appeared to be a small portable jar.

When the enemies were close, each dropped the jars, and so it was that a thick cloud of gray smoke flooded the room, and soon screams of pain and stabbing could be heard.

Horses began to emerge from within the dense forest near the Gollow River. Hundreds rode in a deadly manner in the direction of the camp where generals, wounded, and a sparse garrison guarded the place that was supposed to be far from the battlefield.

The camp looked unprotected, as if there was only an unwary victim in every tent who would not know what would happen to him.

However, nothing was further from the truth.

Sorika alerted her brothers and sisters and prepared for the attack in synchrony. Even at the cost of the ignorance or denial of the Miznian and elven generals. The elves were the first to accept that possibility. Still, Ebir, with his incredulous mentality to the attack of a "battlefield colleague," was skeptical until the very end, when the gallop of the riders was heard, and the ground trembled under their feet.

The surprise effect had been eluded. Yet, it would be an easy victory. Quickly the warriors of the Order came out of their hiding places to take down as many riders as they could with their spears and improvised traps with ropes to bring down the horses.

Eizell soon lashed out at the fallen horsemen, who, with their colleagues and Revom escorts, had a fierce battle against the riders. From the palisade of the camp, elves and humans settled down to propitiate a rain of mighty arrows while the prayers of the most steely priests blessed the battlefield for their colleagues. Thus, the clouds dissipated over the place, and morale rose as they felt bathed by the sun's rays that revitalized them and made any fatigue in their bodies a passing thing.

Dozens reached the barrier, but humans and elves repelled them from the heights with a hail of arrows that prevented them from climbing with ladders or their hands.

Hardel was one of them, but with Sorika's conjurations, he repulsed dozens of them with arrows that mystically knocked down their enemies in a deadly way.

It wouldn't be a clean victory; the Order and the sparse garrison put up a good fight, and they began to take casualties. The horsemen charged at the soldiers, who were sliced and stabbed by their weapons. Others fell after taking several steps with arrows embedded in their bodies, while a few others died a quick death by losing their heads.

Morale among the Miznians was low, General Ebir was conspicuous by his absence on the battlefield, and Tanniar had fallen from the palisade inside the camp after being hit by an arrow. However, the morale of the Order members was intact as one phrase seemed to rumble like thunder in the combat.

"Our flame purifies!"

Order's morale was strong, so much so that Eizell took his job very seriously, especially against the elves who belonged to Trelan's side. Hardel saw from the wall clearly as his fellow apprentice buried his sword almost gladly in the neck of a dying warrior.

The Order would lose dozens of brave men and women that day, but with the bath of the sun's rays, those who died knew that their task had been accomplished, and they closed their eyes with honor.

Almost as if Revom was a prophet, the battlefields were once again filled with fighting and blood. The Trelan warriors advanced on the human and elven formations from their sides, slowly forcing them to retreat until both Mizuna and Hilree's armies collided their backs as they were locked in a circle.

Revom had to advance faster through the castle as he pursued the resonance of that marking, the thin lines shedding the innate magical body possessed by those demons more noticeably than the body of an ordinary human.

At times, Revom encounters trouble on his way, but he soon paralyzes his opponents with a conjuration from his staff. This almost imperceptible discharge stiffens the muscles of those people. Some tried to go after him as he climbed the stairs, but with a mighty shout, he conjured a psychic blow that stunned their minds and made them fall down the stairs, holding on to their own heads.

The Regent avoided murdering people, for everyone would receive their respective punishment, whether divine or mortal.

Every step he took put him closer to Trelan and his goal. He knew he could try to throw every person, every man, woman, and child in the castle as an obstacle, but he knew that would be in vain.

Lost in his own castle, the marked one reached the front wall, and when he saw his path cut short by a heavy locked gate, his fates were sealed.

To his right, a free fall to the castle stairs.

To the left, a drop to the castle courtyard.

His front exit was locked, and as he turned toward the door through which he came, Revom was there.

Revom watched Trelan intently; the trickster who moments before was confident was now terrified, ready for anything to get out of there.

"I'll give you anything if you let me go!" exclaimed Trelan, "I have wealth, weapons, an army! I'll give you anyone, any woman! anyone!"

Revom took a step forward and then another. Slowly he was cutting distance with that man.

"I see your soul, demon," Revom exclaimed. "I see the crimes you have committed, the horrors you caused with your demonic wiles, and every face you stole and how you use it to your advantage. Yet, you can deliver nothing to me but your divine judgment."

Trelan drew in a shaky breath and soon began to grin cheekily.

"Divine judgment? The gods are going to execute me?" asked Trelan.

"They are the only ones who can determine what you are; guilty or innocent."

Revom turned his gaze to the horizon, where he soon saw a circle form in the cloudless sky, an example of the gods aiding them in their crusade.

"It's over, boy," the man expressed serenely. "You could have gone into hiding and lived honestly somewhere until sooner or later they would find you, but you chose to commit crimes against humans and non-humans."

"Hide?" asked Trelan incredulously. "Why should I hide? Why should I be the one hiding, not people like them, humans, akajsis, creatures living in fear in a meaningless life? Oh no, I don't plan to live an empty life just because a damn mark on my hand tells me I must."

Revom sighed and sentenced him, "Then, you have made your decision. It only remains for the gods to decide theirs."

"The gods will not take me, you decrepit old man!" exclaimed Trelan.

Trelan charged with a dagger in hand to run over Revom. However, the man with serene look had only to slam his staff against the ground for the branding to stop. In doing so, the old man's eyes glowed with the golden radiance that showed the bond he possessed with his gods. A Regent Tisvar's Circle, a warrior entrusted to the gods with his sins and his successes, a man who placed himself at the disposal of the gods for that divine judgment.

"Bow down," exclaimed Revom in a voice of thunder.

The old man bowed his staff, and in that manner, Trelan turned to that man and knelt.

"S-Stop!" exclaimed Trelan with fury on his face.

"The judgment of the gods is about to begin," exclaimed Revon, his voice taking on multiple timbres that blended together.

"Enough!" cried Trelan, who soon began to plead. "Please don't do this to me!"

"I am only a tool of the gods; the divinities will determine your just punishment."

The sky above them opened, and a bright glow of a blazing sun waited over them and the battlefield at the gates of Misthaven.

"Trickster demon, marked heretic who by the mere fact of your presence in this world has condemned thousands to suffer for your sins. I commend you to the gods and their judgment against your heresy."

Revom slammed his staff into the ground again, and the last thing he saw was Trelan's face being bathed with an incandescent light that fell like a flash of lightning in a mighty storm.

The flash of light and sonorous road caused by its impact was so powerful that almost instantly, thousands stopped fighting at the city's gates and stopped fighting at the gates of the camp.

Horsemen fell from their horses, and archers loosed their bowstrings as that powerful flash of light fell upon Misthaven.

The weakest felt their legs tremble at the incomprehensible, those who had been Trelan's allies now knew what they were up against, having helped him.

From the palisade, General Urionna watched in disbelief as the elves around her shared her stupefied state.

The members of the Order, for their part, shocked by the flash, were several who buried their swords in the ground to pray for that sacred light, Eizell being one of the first.

Sorika and Hardel watched the flash undaunted and soon knew it was all over.