"This is channel Dha news special report. We have new information on Gaunnes' situation. The ADF reports civilian casualties of an estimated between ten and fifteen thousand and over a hundred ADF soldiers lost in a tragic series of terrorist attacks. The towns of Bertim, Tersplin, Sawchain, and Gleshin have been hit despite ADF's best efforts to prevent the disaster. Duke Lionel announced to give a speech within an hour. A state of emergency has been issued to Gaunnes, meaning all citizens are to stay inside, keep roads clear of traffic and avoid the previously mentioned towns. Other dukedoms are yet to provide a statement. The queen has not commented on the issue. Criminology experts are debating the intent of these attacks, but no organization has announced this strike as theirs. Our report ends here, more to be expected after Duke Lionel's speech."

James changed the radio channel. He had heard enough.

"That way," Orel pointed the way.

A lone MSV drove through the empty streets of Bertim. Those few that escaped outside had fallen to the raiding hunt. After a while, the concrete turned to gravel, then to the forest. Even if the tires could continue, the dense shrubbery and bountiful trees were in the way.

"We need to stop here." James braked.

Three of the four left the safety of the MSV. James and Diarmuid had found it by looking for the other platoons, yet nothing remained but corpses. Diarmuid cleared the bodies from the car, and James took on driving. Folkland was with them, but he was no help anymore. James left the man in the car to clear his head.

As the three walked through the silent forest, Diarmuid spotted another MSV. Though they couldn't be sure, it most likely belonged to Angus' platoon. The wheels had burrowed to the ground, stuck between two large branches. An effort to dig the wheels out by chopping the branches looked as hopeless as it was fruitless. James noted the spot down before the three continued.

They arrived at the cave with Orel's guidance. They found a gaping hole in the ground, a sinkhole, while the original opening had collapsed on the other side. The three evaded the sunken spot carefully as they didn't know how stable it would be. The entrance had collapsed on itself, leaving no escape route. Without serious effort, no one would make it through. Diarmuid moved some rocks out of the way until James joined him.

"Let me help." James moved a boulder.

"I'll handle it," Diarmuid said while lifting a large boulder.

"I need to find my men." James persisted.

"Like you're the only one." Diarmuid retorted.

"That is not what I meant. Don't try and do this all by yourself." James barely rolled around a boulder.

"Maybe I wouldn't if you'd try and listen to me for once."

"How about we both shut up for a moment and try doing this?" James wiped some sweat off his face.

"I said I got this. You don't need to strain yourself."

"I am the leader, and I need to do some heavy lifting as well." James tried lifting a larger stone.

"Then at least lift with your legs."

Orel stood back while James and Diarmuid seemed to race who moved the most boulders. There were no rocks small enough for him to move, nor did he want to interrupt the two soldiers.

After a grueling session, the opening was clear. They descended into the echoing darkness where their flashlights found nothing but dripping water and collapsed walls. It hummed ominously as air could blow inside once more.

"Aberdeen!" James yelled.

James' scream echoed by itself, alone in the darkness. Nothing answered his call. The ground rumbled. Perhaps it was not such a good idea. The surge of magic unstabilized the whole cavern structure. The three agreed that they should not take too long as it seemed unstable at best and went in deeper.

After moving some rocks out of the way, they came to where all the roads crossed. Some of them had already collapsed, leaving only a few options. Orel knew which one was the right path, but he lost hope of seeing it collapse entirely. If the others had gone through it, they should have answered already.

"Which one is it?" James asked.

Orel was about to point to the tunnel. He hesitated if he should even bother.

"Wait." Diarmuid looked around. He turned his head as if looking for something.

James was about to raise his voice when he heard something. A muffled sound echoed from somewhere, just barely audible. The two could not tell whether it was a cry for help or some boggart or mice skittering around.

"Where are they?" Diarmuid listened near the tunnels.

"Are there any other large caverns here?" James asked Orel.

Orel thought back and remembered something. "Over there." He pointed to a collapsed tunnel on the right.

After some excavating, the three arrived at the water-filled cavern. It was like Orel last saw it, but their flashlights could not see anything.

"Angus!" James called out.

"Major!" Angus answered.

James and Diarmuid ran towards the distant sound. They saw a few soldiers at the edge of the lake, none in good shape. Angus lay on the ground while others treated him. He sweated as two officers tried to patch up his leg's swollen mess.

"What happened, Lieutenant?" James asked.

"Use your eyes. Suddenly everything went down fast. The butler said this cavern had water, so we decided to hold out here."

"What happened to your leg?" Diarmuid noticed.

"I had to cut it, or my whole corpse would still be down there."

"You've done well, soldier." James saluted.

"I haven't gotten out of here yet." Angus fought his pain with a smile.

"Is this all that is left?" James looked at the few remaining soldiers.

"Yeah, not many got out of it. It took us too long to get out."

"Where's Slacume?" Orel asked.

"Over there." Angus turned his head toward the nearest wall.

Orel rushed to Slacume, who was moping against it.

"Slacume! You're alright!"

"Orel?" Slacume lifted his head. "Orel!"

"We're here to take you out!" Orel said.

"Thank the queen you're here." Slacume sighed with relief. "I thought we would be stuck here forever."

"Is Isao with you?" Orel looked around.

"He's over there by himself." Slacume pointed to where Isao sat and prayed towards the water.

Orel walked quietly next to him and sat next down, tapping his feet in the cold water.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Isao took a considerable pause to finish his prayer.

"A great calamity has been released."

"At least you're alive."

"A life against a thousand dead is not fortune, but tragedy."

"Don't bother, Orel. Nothing cheers him on." Slacume yelled from his point.

"What's happening here?" Diarmuid walked in. "Is that an eastern monk?"

"He's the one who fought barghest." Slacume pointed out.

"Oh, is he strong then?" Diarmuid scratched his sideburns.

"I would rather not fight another brute looking for glory, at least for now." Isao stood up.

"I wasn't going to." Diarmuid shook his head.

"Stop fooling around, Cumhaill," James ordered.

"So, are you with the party?" Diarmuid asked.

"No, I am on a pilgrimage," Isao said.

"How did you get here?"

"Passport." Isao took it out of his robes.

Diarmuid inspected it for his pleasure and found it legit.

"Are you perhaps a druid?" Isao glanced at Diarmuid.

"How can you tell?"

"Your arm." Isao looked down.

"Oh, right. I still have these on show." Diarmuid tried covering his tattoos.

"Oh, an erilaz," Slacume made a face. "I didn't know you could get jobs like these."

"What's an erilaz?" Orel asked.

"It means that I earned these runes."

"Isn't it more like a religious title?" Slacume asked.

"What do they do?" Orel wanted to know more.

"Haven't you heard that mages don't tell their secrets?" Diarmuid shook his finger.

"Oh, sorry."

"But I'm no mage, so I don't care." Diarmuid grinned. "These allow me to cast spells without preparation." He flexed his muscles.

"Wow, I never knew there was magic like that." Orel nodded in awe.

"That's tribe-specific magic," Slacume remembered.

"Yup, the glum lad is right. I can't go on spilling the beans too far."

"I don't want to hear about it. I'm scared of needles." Orel shook his hands.

"Hahaha! True, it does hurt a bit." Diarmuid smiled.

"Alright, everyone! We need to evacuate here. Carry the wounded if you can." James announced.

Slowly with limping feet, the platoon got out of the cave. They looked at the sky with blank eyes, losing all remaining hope and joy. The forest was hard to maneuver, but it was nothing more than a slowing obstacle without any hurry. Once James spotted the car, he noticed that the back door was open. He looked inside and saw that Folkland was nowhere the be found. He silently noted down the name, hoping he would someday be found. The platoon fit easily inside the MSV as they comprised only around half its maximum capacity. As they drove back to the village, the police had already arrived. The local police looked in horror at the desolate town whose streets now lay barren and lifeless. Among them came a single specialized vehicle. James instantly knew what it meant. He stopped the car and jumped out. The other vehicle stopped and unloaded itself of the dark figures inside. The leader stepped out of the rear seat, others waiting for her.

A woman in a dark uniform adorning a dark flappy hood marched forward. Orel noticed how similar the hoods looked to the ones Daniel and Fynn wore, but with a different symbol. They had the emblem of the first division on their shoulders. Unlike other military uniforms, these were meant against a specific threat, so they did not bother with armor but instead utility and versatility.

"Major Periwinkle, I presume?" The woman lifted her gaze.

"You must be the assistance I was informed of." James took a look at her.

The woman lifted her hood and revealed her meticulously braided hair. The pits between her cheeks made her smile more frightening than welcome. From above, she gazed down on others with her dark purple eyes, which despite their warm color, felt cold and hard like an amethyst.

"Colonel Agatha Rowling, field commander of Spec." She introduced herself.

"Major James Periwinkle of Frogfoot." James saluted her. "HQ promised us aid from the first division, but I did not expect you of all people to make an appearance."

"What is the Specialist Paranormal Enforcement Corps doing here?" Angus pondered from the car.

"It does seem that my presence was unnecessary. There is nothing much for us to do, or do you expect us to clear the rubble?" Agatha sneered.

"You might like to inspect a ruin five clicks south. Our platoon did their best to try and analyze the ritual, but we had little time before it activated. We left markers to the location."

"Conrad, Wilde." Agatha snapped her fingers.

"Yes, ma'am!" The two mages came to attention.

A pair of hooded figures, one with hair like a cotton ball and the other with a worn-down flat cap, waited for orders.

"Inspect what Major Periwinkle just described. Return to me at 2000 hours."

"Understood." The two bowed.

While the wild-haired Wilde stretched his legs, a wide grin crept on his face.

"I'll be there first," He announced.

"That would be the first time," Conrad fixed his hat.

"Oh, yeah? Wanna bet?"

"I don't gamble, even when I know who wins."

"Let's see about that."

Wilde sat down to a crouch, flailing his arms back and forth. After a couple of seconds of the slightly obscene exercise, the man bounced forward like a rocket, rising hundreds of meters into the sky. Orel looked up as the man flew like a candy wrap caught in an updraft, slowly falling while the wind carried him gently toward the woods. Once Wilde had reached a suitable altitude, he took out an umbrella and flew even faster. Wilde jumped roof to roof until he arrived at the woods, where he continued similarly from tree to tree.

Orel turned to look at what the other man had in store. He was taken aback by how casually the man only took out a water bottle. After spilling the water on the ground into a puddle, Conrad stretched his hand over.

"Rise from the depths, Blue Planet." He chanted.

Soon the water started to boil, or so Orel thought. The bubbles became more violent until something surfaced from the shallow pool. It was a dark blue metal cylinder that barely fit inside the puddle. After looking more closely, it had a hatch on top, which Conrad opened and climbed inside.

"A submarine?!" Orel wouldn't believe his eyes.

"I'll be going now, ma'am." Conrad tipped his hat before closing the hatch.

The submarine sunk to the depths as mysteriously as it had emerged. The bubbles shrunk as the machine descended, and soon there was nothing left but the stumped audience.

"I see you have acquired a plane shifter," James tried to hold in his shock.

"I handpick all my men. Still, finding him was a stroke of luck."

"I can only imagine. I wish I could have picked my men." James gave a quick glance to Diarmuid.

"Is there anything else you would like to tell me?" Agatha asked.

"I believe you have deployed troops across all of the villages already. Based on our evidence, these cases seem to be connected to a grand summoning ritual. If it indeed is so, these culprits must have tried to summon something immense."

"We could figure that out before we arrived. Would you please go to the point?" Agatha rested her lean cheek against her palm.

"There might be a larger conspiracy afoot. The culprits must have assimilated into communities to plan this large-scale attack. Frankly, we require assistance with the investigation."

"Do you have anything to go along with this, or are we working with a clean table?" Agatha yawned.

"Major, if I may." Diarmuid stepped forward.

"Fine," James grunted.

"This is only a hunch, but I might have something," Diarmuid explained.

"Continue," Agatha said.

"A boggart had ravaged through the church, and it mentioned a master, who could be connected to this."

"I see. Did you catch it?"

"The boggart? Well, you see..." Diarmuid's actions had caught up with him.

"The creature perished while fighting Captain Cumhaill as I was preoccupied with other matters." James butted in. "It was an act of self-defense."

"That is truly unfortunate. I thought they train you to apprehend." Agatha retorted with a smile.

"It was an intense situation. Cumhaill did their best while I was occupied with a telepath."

"It could have provided us with answers, but you cannot undo what has already been done." Agatha sighed.

"Um, I know something too," Orel said.

"Who is this boy?" Agatha said as if she had just noticed him.

"He is part of a party the Duke had contracted before this event," James explained.

"I see. What might you have to say?"

"The thing, it went to the church after making the ritual inside the cave and killed all the boggarts. It said it wanted to warn the master."

"That was something we were hoping to investigate as well," Diarmuid said.

"How does that help?" Agatha asked.

"What Captain Cumhail is trying to say is that the suspect was most likely among those people and tried to cover their tracks by murdering everyone inside."

"There's just one problem. None of us know who was there, and recognizing the bodies will take time." Diarmuid noted.

"Alright, I see what must be done." Agartha declared. "Boy, what time did you last go to the church?"

"Um, around three hours ago." Orel tried to remember.

"I see, so they must have died within that timeframe."

"Well, yes, but how does that help the investigation?" James asked.

"I just happen to have the perfect mage for this situation." Agatha relished the fact. "Fleming!"

"Yes, ma'am?" The man stepped out of the car.

"We need your Black Book."

"Alright, show me the target." Fleming cracked his fingers.

"Where are you going?" James asked.

"To the church, obviously." Agatha smiled.

The four, Isao included, followed Spec to the haunting dark church where the smell of blood was still in the air. Crows flew out of the doors and windows, carrying whatever they could rip out. The foul odor of blood and guts flowed out as Agatha stepped inside. She was not all that shocked as she was disgusted with the place.

"Who is the unlucky fella?" Fleming asked.

"Language, Fleming." Agatha slapped him on the back of the head.

"Sorry, where is the victim?" Fleming corrected himself.

"Anyone is fine. They all must have witnessed it."

"Alright."

Fleming took something out of his shoulder bag that revealed itself to be a book with red pages. It had no title, nor were the pages readable at all. All the letters were foreign and all over the place, written in black with a writing style and language that Orel could not recognize. Fleming had two grimoires he grafted. The Black Book of Death and The White Book of Fate. These two magic items were his greatest achievement as an enchanter.

"Let's see, someone on top might be better." Fleming searched the bodies.

Flicking through the endless pages, he plucked out a hair from one of the bodies between the benches and placed it on one of the pages.

"You should not disgrace the dead." Isao grimaced.

"Think of it as crime scene investigation," Agatha said.

"These souls have been stolen from a peaceful death. I can only suggest you provide them a peaceful rest."

"They will most likely be buried right in the nearby graveyard once they are identified," James said.

The hair sank into the red page. Black spots manifested like mold. They formed around and set place in an order that seemed random.

"Okay. It's safe to say these people were still alive an hour ago, so I'll first try that." Fleming said as he took out his reading glasses.

He read the text out loud, yet what came out were obscure sounds of clicking, hissing, and various sounds humming. As Fleming finished, he slammed the book shut, and stood still with his eyes closed.

"Please stand back; this might be dangerous," Agatha warned.

Fleming opened his eyes and saw with new eyes. His body felt different; his hands shook uncontrollably, and inconsolable tears flowed from his eyes. Fleming took his hands out of prayer and saw people all around him. Some lay on the ground, injured in one way or another. A frail figure in a dark brown gown reading out prayers was at the end of the hall. Suddenly a loud bang echoed from the doors, where Fleming and others turned and saw a white beast crouching at the entrance. Its smile felt horrific as it began cleaving through the churchgoers. The priest yelled at the beast, yet his words did nothing but became background noise to the screams. Were they to cover or escape, no one was spared.

Fleming knew he couldn't change the outcome. Soon, he joined the dead. Fleming witnessed the beast corner the priest in the last moments of agony. That is where he could no longer keep himself alive and had to return.

The next time Fleming opened his eyes, he laid down with the body. He had returned to the present, though he still felt ill from what he had experienced. Trying to keep his lunch in, Fleming reported his findings.

"Yup, I know who it is." Fleming belched.

"Then spit it out already," Diarmuid said.

"Hold on a moment..."

Once Fleming returned from his short trip to the woods, he explained what he saw.

"I knew I had a bad feeling about this," Diarmuid said.

"If what he saw is true, we need to inform the police and sir Lionel immediately." James realized.

"Your troops are not fit for this situation. We can continue from here." Agatha said.

"I have no choice but to trust your judgment. Take over for us, and we will return to Ridredukedach."

"We will return there as well once our work is finished," Agatha said. "There are a few things we would like to ask from the Duke."

James loaded his troops and readied himself to leave. He had no other option. What was left of his forces were both injured and frightened. James could only hope that the other battalions were more fortunate, though what he heard on the radio proved otherwise. If anything, they were among the lucky ones.

"Come on, get in, boy. We'll take you to safety." Diarmuid waved to Orel.

"I hope my friends are there." Orel stepped in.

"Come on, let's go already!" Slacume pushed through.

"Are you coming, Mr. monk?" Diarmuid asked.

"My time here has finished. By sunrise, I shall head to new lands." Isao explained as he waved his hand through the air.

"Well, you can do that, but we can give you a lift." Diarmuid gave a thumbs up.

"A ride free of payment is always welcome." Isao walked in.

Once everyone was on board, there was just one problem.

"If you're busy with the radio, I can drive," Diarmuid said.

"When was the last time you drove?" James asked.

"Spare your doubt. I aced the driver's exam."

"We didn't have a driver's exam."

"I can handle it. It can't be much different from a car."

With the flick of the keys and pressing of the pedal, the wheels spun to action.

Shifting the gears spastically, Diarmuid tried to regain control of the vehicle.

"Ma'am, it looks like Major's car is going right at us," Fleming noted.

"Testing me with such petty tricks. What does he believe himself to be, that Major?"

Agatha stood in the middle of the road, calm as ever.

"Um, ma'am. Are you sure you won't budge?" Fleming nudged her.

"Don't be a fool. As if Major Periwinkle would do such a thing."

"For queen's sake, Diarmuid, stop!" Angus wailed from the back.

The vehicle sped up, sailing side to side on the road. The distance between it and the Colonel shortened exponentially every moment. The gap shrunk to an alarmingly close range until the tires began smoking. Leaving tire tracks on the concrete, the car stopped only a few feet before Agatha.

"See? It was a simple dare." Agatha shrugged.

Recognizing the problem, James pushed his leg on the brakes. The troop immediately changed the driver to James. The MSV left Bertim and headed towards the Duke's castle. Police paved the way for it as they were ordered. It drove alone on the dark road with no one in sight.

"Ramsay, do you copy? Over." Diarmuid asked.

"Reading you loud and clear, captain. Over" Jessie nodded.

"We are returning to Ridredukedach. We have injured onboard that need medical attention. Spec will continue from this point onwards. Over."

"Copy. Is there anything else? Over."

"We have a possible suspect of the event. We need to issue a search warrant for him. Over."

"Alright. Do you mind telling me the name? Over."

"We believe that father Rhein Ostwind was partaking in the incident. Consider him a major suspect to be arrested upon contact. Over."

"Understood. Over."

"We will arrive there in forty-five minutes. Ready the medical units. Over and-"

"Wait!" Orel butted in.

"What?" Diarmuid covered the radio.

"Could you ask if my friends are there?"

"Oh, well, I suppose I could," Diarmuid thought. "Ramsay, have there been any signs of the missing members? Over."

"Not yet, but I will update you on that. Over."

"Understood. Over and out."

"Well?" Orel asked.

"No luck so far. They aren't the greatest concern right now, but I'm sure we will find them. First, we need to get you to safety."

"Alright." Orel retreated into his seat.

Diarmuid looked at James, concentrating on the steering wheel.

"Major, thanks for that earlier."

"I only stated the fact. Do not misunderstand. It will be one of the reasons for your discharge." James explained.

"Sure, whatever you say." Diarmuid smiled.

The dark lord flew over the trees and towns alike, following his disciplines. While the flight was fast, it was not as fast as teleportation. On the other hand, it had fewer rules and limitations. The capes used by the cultists mimicked flight with magic with certain restrictions. The flight speed was fixed and required both wind and open air to operate, and while continuous flight might be taxing, the cape did not actually fly. Instead, it propelled the user with bursts of air, and the cape itself functioned as a propeller of sorts. As they were called, the Cloaks of Flight were usually not on sale for regular mages, but several alternative trade routes allowed one to purchase them with the right connections and enough wealth.

"These lands have changed much since my passing," Vortigern said.

"You are correct, my lord. Ores are now dug with machines; people can travel almost any distance faster than ever before; anyone can transfer words instantly without a telepath, and the market is global." One of the cultists explained.

"There is much for me to learn in this developed world. Who leads the Kingdom?"

"It is the descendant of the king of kings himself."

"I see. Perhaps not all in this world is corrupted."

"Do you not despise the round table?" The cultist asked.

"The past me would have, but as the world, everything has become complicated. I could have burned down this forest as soon as I heard who owned it. This is the beginning of a new era, which I must deal with carefully."

"Lord, if I may ask." Another cultist asked.

"Prepare your words carefully." Vortigern frowned.

"If what you said is true, why do you wish to kill the Duke? Do not take it as me questioning your desire. I simply cannot comprehend the reasoning."

"All shall be revealed eventually, my subjects. For now, I wish to test how much of a shadow they cast from their light."

"We shall aid you in any way we can."

"That is but obvious. Otherwise, you are nothing but worms under my soil."

Two of the cultists looked at each other. Under their masks were concern and fear. They had words and thoughts they could have never dared to say out loud, but they didn't need to.

"Our Lord, he is different somehow. Was our trust misplaced? Answer me, Tuatcnoc!" Deasdùn sent a message.

"It's too late now. Look at our hands. We are marked by Vortigern. There is no turning back."

"Whatever you are conversing, cease it. The ringing is obnoxious." Vortigern said. "Speaking behind one's back is always disrespectful."

"We apologize, lord Vortigern," The two said.

"Moreover, I demand to know the reasoning as to why I was resurrected. What drove you to commit it?"

"We, the telepaths, have long awaited your arrival. Since the day of your downfall, we have wished to be led by you."

"I see. Then what is your reason for following me? A leader is followed by a promise of power, wealth, or conjoined ideas. Which side do you fall on?"

"Your blessing, my lord. The mages turned us into tools because of it." Tuatcnoc explained. "We want you to remove it from us. It has already served its purpose, and our brothers have suffered long enough from it."

"I understand. So you wish me to remove your telepathic link to be able to use spells?"

"Yes, our lord." Tuatcnoc bowed his head.

"Only you are able. You are the greatest king of Albion." Deasdùn said.

"We know of your past. Injustice is our history. Revenge is our salvation." Tuatcnoc added.

"Our families will submit as your eternal followers once again."

The dark lord thought for a moment. No one knew if it was to think of an answer or a lie. His mind was filled with ideas and memories of the past. They all concluded with a single solution.

"If that is what you wish, I can fulfill it."

The men gasped like a man saved from death. It was as if the heavenly light of possibility finally shone upon them. Even if it was but words, this promise was the nearest they had ever seen their dream come to reality. They had counseled many great men and women and tried many different ways to break the curse yet none could accomplish it. If anyone could do it, it was their one and only lord.

"You would do that, my lord?" Deasdùn asked with glee.

"By the name of Vortigern, I swear that all who bear my ring will be free of oppression. For you are my people, and all that follow me will reach the wise twilight."

"Lord, I'll follow you to the ends of Talam." Tuatcnoc cried tears.

"We must let others know," Deasdùn said.

"From this point forwards, I shall declare you as my archbishops. You shall spread my word to all ears and eyes. Let all know that I grant them power and freedom under me if they pledge their loyalty. Under my reign, a new kingdom will be born. Even if we would fall for our cause, let it be known that you died as free men rather than dying in slavery."

"It'd be an honor to die for your cause," Tuatcnoc said.

"When are we granted freedom of our binds?" Deasdùn asked.

"Tides do not turn on a wish. Expect answers after we have secured a fortress for ourselves."

"Isn't this great?" Tuatcnoc flew to the two bishops that had not said anything.

The two bishops stayed silent for the time being. While the other could barely talk with his malformed maw anymore, the other kept his mouth intentionally shut not to slip out anything else than necessary.

"I have no other option." The other said.

"Always silent, nothing surprising from you, Eargaoth," Deasdùn shook his head.

"Light up, Ergie, we've accomplished something great!" Tuatcnoc bumped in.

"What have I said about calling me that, Cnoc?" Eargaoth pushed him off.

"What? You always call us names. Should I call you Oss instead?"

Eargaoth shut his mouth with a glare at Tuatcnoc, who now knew not to bother him anymore.

"How about you, Largaoth?" He asked.

The last bishop did not usher a word. He stayed eerily silent, and soon the eager one grew bored of asking. The hulking pile of flesh flew silently from others, while others had no intention to change that.

"How far are we?" Vortigern asked.

"The castle is still some distance away but should not take us too long," Deasdùn explained.

"Good. I am growing bored of the wait." Vortigern smiled with sharp teeth. "Let the world know of our arrival."

"How will we do that, my lord?" Deasdùn asked.

"I will demonstrate my promise to you. I shall temporarily lift your binding. Send your people a message. Inform them that a new age is coming."

In Bertim, a new situation was rising. An uneasy feeling crept on the backs of the two Spec operators.

"Ma'am. I think someone's getting peeps of us." Fleming said.

"I feel it as well. More than one, I suppose." Agatha remained calm.

"What should we do?"

"Act natural. Let them come to us. Keep an eye out if you manage to spot them."

"Those fuckers seem quite good. Could it be our guy?"

"Language, Fleming." Agatha resisted the urge to hit him.

"Sorry, It's just the stress."

"I've told you to get that stress ball."

"Once the others come back, we could try and ambush them." Fleming kept looking around.

"That merely depends on how long they will stay here."

"Guess all we can do is wait." Fleming shrugged.

Fleming took out a wrapped candy from his pocket and started chewing on it. The honey-flavored resin candy was sweet yet sticky. He made use of the treat as a stress toy and let himself concentrate on it rather than the intense situation. It did not take long for Agatha to slap him anyway, which made him spit the candy out onto the ground. He had another in his pocket but decided to keep it there for now.