In the tent, the commander looked grim. He was seated in front of a map as his lieutenant read the report.

“We lost 66 men. A further 107 were injured. Out of our supplies and wagons, three were damaged beyond repair. Another 5 have received major damage, but they should still be operational.”

“Tell me the good news.” The commander mumbled.

“The enemy suffered 227 casualties. Of those casualties, 44 were cave trolls, 5 were armored wallcrawlers, and the rest were kobolds.” The commander and everyone present felt better hearing the losses of the enemy, but that still doesn’t answer a few questions that some of them have.

“How were they able to get so close before the signal was raised?” Commander Basache asked Yeriel and Vincent. Vincent felt all the eyes of the high-ranked individuals in the tent look his way.

“It was my mistake.” Vincent finally spoke up. “I wasn’t able to tell that what I was hearing were cave trolls.” He began to explain how he heard the faint rumbling, but couldn’t make the association. “In my confusion, I notified Yeriel, and she sent the signal.”

“Is this the truth?” Commander Basache turned to Yeriel.

“That’s the truth.” Yeriel also recounted from her point of view, and it was the exact same story.

“*Sigh*” The commander felt the rage escape from his body. “Why are cave trolls out here in the forest edge? They damn well got us.”

“What do you mean?” Vincent couldn’t help but speak up. A few officers shot a glare his way for speaking out of turn, but the commander stopped them and answered.

“Cave trolls are solitary monsters. They also live deeper in the forest within the hills and valleys. This attack was obviously pre-planned.” Commander Basache shot a look at the archbishop.

“The Church of Light will naturally reimburse the Kingdom of Eidolon for their losses. Thaesis is a fair and just god. He rewards good and punishes evil.” The archbishop bowed.

“Will he bring my dead men back to life?” retorted Commander Basache. The archbishop didn’t reply, and apologetically smiled and shook his head. “Please forgive me, Your Grace. I lost a lot of good men out there.” Commander Basache massaged his temples.

“I understand. No harm was done. The church has also lost some men, but we take care of our own. They have gone to serve with our god, Thaesis, in the afterlife.”

“I hope that is the truth.” Commander Basache calmed down and began to relay orders to his lieutenants. “Gather the supplies and repair the damaged wagons. We’ll try to fill the rest of the wagons with the supplies from the broken ones. What we cannot carry, we’ll use or destroy.”

“Then are you saying we’ll stay here for a time?” Locke spoke up. He felt responsible for the failure of his people to detect the advance of the enemy.

“That is the plan.”

“That can’t be…” A bishop at the side spoke up.

“Hush.” The archbishop silenced his subordinate.

“If the Church as a better plan, let me hear it. Or would you like to go on ahead without the supply convoy?” Commander Basache coldly berated the bishop. Right now the Church of Light was on thin ice.

“We accept your decision, Commander.” The archbishop worked to calm down the mood in the tent. “Then, with this, is there more to say?”

“Next time something like this happens, I expect the templars to help my men. The Church is responsible for these events, so I expect them to put just as much effort in dealing with them.” His words held a hidden meaning that everyone in the tent clearly knew without a straightforward answer.

“I understand.” The archbishop assented but added on, “I would like to reiterate that a worse future awaits the continent if she were allowed to go free. Please keep this in mind the risk the Church of Light will be taking if we decrease her guards.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Commander Basache wasn’t perturbed by the archbishop’s threat.

“Then, so be it.” The archbishop said and left the tent.

Once the mood in the tent settled down, the commander turned to Locke and his Forest Stalkers.

“I expect that the events of today have taught you guys something.”

“We’re reflecting on our lapse in concentration. It won’t happen next time.” Locke sounded apologetic as he answered.

“Good. You may leave.” Commander had a lot of work to do. He had to account for every fallen soldier and relay the news back to base. He also had to talk to his men.

Outside the commander’s tent, Locke also berated Yeriel for her failure to detect the enemy in time. Instead, it was the greenhorn, Vincent, which noticed the oddity.

“I’m sorry, Leader.” Yeriel looked tearful as she bowed.

“What’s wrong with you these days? I feel that you aren’t yourself,” lectured Locke.

“I have no excuse. You may punish me however you wish, Leader.”

“Enough. I still need you for the mission, but when the mission is over, go to the punishment hall.” Locke waved her away and left.

Vincent looked over at Yeriel and felt a bit of pity for her, but when he remembered how she abandoned him, the pity went away.

“You must hate me, huh?” She meekly asked with her head down. “I mean I just left you behind like that. Anyone would act like you.”

“…”

“I’m sorry, alright?” She tearfully apologized. Her hands pulled at her vest. “I knew I messed up, so I wanted to warn the camp as soon as possible. I forgot you aren’t like us.”

Vincent felt like her words were reasonable, but he still felt guarded by her pitiful figure. Yeriel wasn’t a character introduced in the novel, but he still remembered a particular girl. She liked to use her beautiful face and acting skills to play men and take advantage of them. The prettier the girl, the more dangerous her fangs.

“It’s okay. I accepted these dangers when I accepted the mission.” He answered back and returned to his tent to rest. Emet landed on his outstretched arm and cooed softly to comfort him. Yeriel watched him depart and also went off on her own.

The convoy spent the day treating the injured and repairing the wagons. The battlefield was cleared, and the corpses were buried; the monster carcasses were burnt. The commander and the fallen soldier’s companions paid their respects, and nighttime fell.

Everyone was on edge ever since the attack. That night, no one slept. The sentries were increased, and everyone was prepared for another night raid, but none came. The next morning hundreds of puffy eyes greeted the morning sun, and the convoy moved out. The caravan left behind a dozen marked graves and a large portion of burnt trees. Vincent saw the consequences of his action of lighting up the leaves to stall the attack. He was glad the fire didn’t spread any further.

---

The rest of the journey was peaceful. Ever since the attack on the first night, they didn’t run into anymore massive coordinate attacks. This might be a sign of relief or maybe the calm before the storm, but Commander Basache didn’t want to find out. He increased the pace of the supply train.

The convoy finally arrived at the outskirts of Northgard. Off in the distance, a lone castle stood. The ground was matted with dried blood, giving off an air of desolation and death. However, when the castle spotted the caravan, the horns of the castle sounded out. Not long after, the gates of the castle opened, and the convoy was let inside.

As Vincent passed by the soldiers of Northgard, he felt a crushing pressure assault him. These men were hardened veterans. The church’s men also felt the pressure, and their expressions frowned. Commander Basache left to meet with the logistics officer of the garrison. The rest of the supply troops also began unloading the supplies.

The Church of Light departed to a different section of the castle, away from the soldiers. Vincent watched as the church’s men left. He kept a close watch on the most luxurious carriage, where the elf princess was riding.

“C-crown P-prince? Is that you?” A shaky voice called out from the side. Vincent turned to look.

‘The crown prince is also here?’ He thought as he looked around. Suddenly, a weathered man approached Vincent.

“Crown Prince Valencia? You’re alive?!” He performed a strange salute and kneeled down, drawing the attention of a few more veterans of Northgard. The majority of the men were confused, but a few more also ran forward.

“Prince!”

“You’re alive!”

“Bless the heavens!”

Vincent was confused by this point and pulled up the kneeling man.

“What’s going on? I’m not a prince.” He coldly asked the man. It looked like the soldier finally came to his senses.

“What was I doing? You’re too young to be him.” He studied Vincent’s face and asked, “Mayhap, I know your name?”

“Me? I’m Vincent Silverlight.”

“Silverlight?!” The man studied Vincent's face one more time before he once more kneeled down, the others behind him also followed. “Greetings to Young Master Silverlight!”

“Just what is going on?” Vincent nervously looked around as more and more eyes started to look his way.

“Young Master. I’ve long wanted to meet you.”

“And you are?” Vincent felt incredulous at the strange development.

“I am Drugal. I served under Grand Marshall Vincent Silverlight.”

“What?!” Vincent’s brows shot up. This man served under his grandfather? Then it all came back to him. The Kingdom of Valencia. The kingdom that fell to the demons after the Goddess of Darkness, Dova, opened up the gates to the demon realm.

He remembered reading about the lore behind Valencia when the MC journeyed to the north to quell the demons. However, that was much later in the novel. Then wouldn’t that mean that his grandfather was from Valencia? Wouldn’t that make him and his mother a resident of Valencia? What more, his grandfather was the Grand Marshall, the person in charge of all the military of Valencia. His grandfather was also the holder of Aion’s Ring, how could he have fallen so easily? Something about this smelled fishy.

“Ever since Valencia fell to the demonic invaders, we retreated to Eidolon. However, our loyalty to our kingdom still remains strong, so we've decided to stay and keep watch over our border.” The soldier explained. “It’s an honor to meet the descendant of our Grand Marshall. I can see his features in you, Young Master.” The man grew tearful as he vehemently shook Vincent’s hand.

“I-I see.” Vincent grew embarrassed as person after person came up to him and shook his hand. He could easily tell that these men were strong. Their aura reminded him of Vice Head Julia Flambert, the crazy fight maniac. Doesn’t this mean that every one of them were equivalent to A-Rank warriors? He felt more secure knowing these men were protecting the northern border of Eidolon. He also felt a bit of pride at the strength of the people of Valencia.

“Young Master, if you have time, please drop by the barracks in the evening. We must celebrate this fateful encounter.” The soldier excitedly plead.

“If I have time.” There was just too much for him to take in right now, so he didn’t give a direct answer.

“I’ll see you there.” The man grinned sheepishly and returned to his post along with the rest. Vincent also went to rest in the barracks.

“Grand Marshall Reginald. The Church of Light humbly thanks you for offering shelter to its followers.” The archbishop humbly spoke towards a weathered old man.

“Did I have much of a choice?” Grand Marshall Reginald grumbled. “I’ll say it once again. None of my men will be taking orders from the church. Hurry and do what you came here to do and get out of my sight.” He wasn’t subtle in his way of handling relations.

“Naturally.” The archbishop maintained a pleasant smile and left.

“This damned Church of Light… If they helped during the invasion years ago, would Valencia have fallen? Fucking two-faced twats.” Grand Marshall Reginald cursed and returned to his paperwork.

Grand Marshall Reginald, otherwise known as Duke Reginald. He was a landless noble, tasked with the defense of the north. During the demon invasion nearly two decades before, he held the northern bastion of Northgard against the horde of demons. Even to this day, he and his men have a firm grasp over the region. Many of his men were Valencia’s loyal heroes, and he had gotten close to them over the years and sympathized with their loss.

The Grand Marshall wasn’t a simple man. He had been serving under the king for over half his life. Now at the ripe old age of 87, he was at the end of his life; a life of war and battles has hastened his aging. Everyone in Eidolon admired this stalwart figure, because of his dedication to the kingdom. Even more, admired his men, the best of the best. Each man was B-rank or above in their class; it was the dream of all soldiers to reach this level of strength. Even though the kingdom had so many powerful soldiers in their army, they were all concentrated in Northgard, but why was this so?

In Valencia, the demon invaders have set up their homes. After purging the old residents of Valencia, the aristocrats from the demon realm have begun their reign. The only thing stopping them from invading Eidolon was the Emerald Forest and Northgard that blocked the sole safe passage south. If the aristocrats were ever cohesive in their military efforts, they might’ve taken down Northgard already. This thought was what kept Grand Marshall Reginald up at night.

While the threat of invasion looms over Northgard, the fat pigs in power in the capital were fighting over the succession to the throne. These actions have made Grand Marshall Reginald lose faith in Eidolon’s next generation. He had already extricated himself from the politics of Eidolon and let fate run its course.

Over the next couple of days, Vincent rested. At one point, he caught a glimpse of the elf princess. She captivated his eyes when he first saw her. She was an exquisite beauty; she had long black hair that reached down to her waist. Her delicate face looked like it was carved from jade. Her dainty nose and thin lips accented her large eyes. But the eyes… Her eyes were devoid of life; they were unfocused as if they stared off into the past.

“Pack up. We’re moving out tomorrow.” Locke commanded his men. Everyone started checking their gear and ammunition. For this mission, they had to climb the Valen Mountains.

The pilgrimage for elves was unique. It all started because of an ancient legend when the earth was first created. Back when the world was first created, a promise was struck by the earth and the heavens. The earth will support the heavens, and the heavens will protect the earth. The world tree and the spring of life were the manifestations of this promise. The world trees will hold up the heavens; a gift from the earth. The springs of life were the water that rained down from the heavens to nurture and protect the earth.

The elves were the protectors of this promise. They would travel to and fro from the spring of life and the world tree, watering the tree with the water of life. In return, they are granted the blessing of the tree. This ceremony has lasted since the creation of the world to this day. If the elves ever stop performing the ceremony, the world tree in that region would die, and death will spread all over the land. Every continent had its own world tree and spring of life. This was also the reason why the Church of Light refuses to hunt down all the corrupted elves. They still have a duty to perform.

The following morning, Vincent looked up over the distant peaks of the Valen Mountains. The spring of life was three days journey away. Upon the dead mountain, there was very little air and no form of vegetation. It was also a dangerous place, because more than likely, the dark elves would attack. However, when he looked over at the elf princess, his resolve solidified.

“Let’s go. Move out.” Locke commanded, and the pilgrimage began.