**Corporal Garrick Thorne's Log, Supplemental**
**Rothguard, Occupied City recording**
**37 days after Rothgard's Fall**
Trust is a blade that cuts both ways.
The back room of the old tannery was thick with the smell of damp hides and old fear. A single oil lamp guttered on a crate, its weak flame throwing long, trembling shadows across the walls. Garrick Thorne stood at the center of the room, broad shoulders squared, while Sergeant Mira Calder positioned herself near the only door, one hand resting inside her cloak near the pistol hidden beneath. Darius, Elara, Rylan, and Tobin formed a loose half-circle behind Garrick, every eye locked on the elf who had brought them here.
Lirien Dawnwhisper looked like a man who had not slept in weeks. His silver-streaked hair was tangled, and the hollows beneath his eyes spoke of too many nights spent hiding in the woods. He kept glancing at Mira, clearly unsettled by her presence. Her clipped way of speaking and the precise, almost predatory way she moved did not belong in Rothguard.
"You followed the knot-mark," Lirien said, his voice low and strained. "I prayed it was real. But I must know… who is she?" His eyes flicked toward Mira again. "She does not speak like any soldier I have ever known. Her words are too sharp. Her accent… it is wrong. Like someone who learned our tongue in a foreign land." Mira remained perfectly still, but Garrick caught the subtle tightening of her jaw. "She is with me," Garrick answered evenly. "That is all you need to know. Speak, Lirien. What has become of the resistance?" Lirien exhaled shakily, running a hand through his matted hair. Desperation bled from every word.
"We are dying, Captain. Slowly. Quietly. The King and Queen still live—they lead what remains of us from the deep woods. We strike when we can. We burn wagons, cut supply lines, and free slaves when the patrols are thin. But since the Imperia fortified the walls and flooded the city with fresh troops, our raids have become nothing. Tens of thousands of soldiers move through Rothguard every week, heading west. We bleed them where we can, but it is like trying to drain the sea with a thimble. Every day, more chains are forged in our own smithies. Every night, more of our people vanish into the docks or the labor camps. Hope has become a dangerous thing to carry. Most of us have already buried it."
He looked at Garrick, eyes bright with something close to pleading. "I thought… when I saw the mark… I thought perhaps the old guard had returned. That may be the princess had sent help. But if this is all we have…" His voice cracked. "Then we are already lost." A heavy silence settled over the room. Even Mira's usual composure seemed strained as she studied the elf. Garrick's voice remained steady, but firm. "We cannot stay. The eastern gate closes at dusk. We need to be outside the walls before then." Lirien blinked, genuine confusion cutting through his desperation.
"Leave? You came all this way, walked into the jaws of the enemy, and now you wish to slip away before nightfall? Captain, if you have truly returned, the resistance needs you. The King and Queen need to know there is still steel that remembers Rothguard's true name. We are scattered, starving, and hunted. Every raid costs us more than we gain. If you leave now, what was the point of coming at all?" Mira spoke before Garrick could answer. Her tone was calm, but carried an edge that did not belong to this world.
"Our mission in the city is finished. Targeting data has already been sent. The resistance cannot help us with what comes next, and we cannot help them if we are caught inside when the gates lock. We were ordered to be clear of the walls before nightfall. That order has not changed." Lirien stared at her, struggling to process both her words and the strange cadence of her speech. "Targeting data…? What are you saying? What is coming?"
Garrick placed a heavy hand on the elf's shoulder, grounding him. "Something the Imperia will not soon forget. But you need to be far from here when it happens. If you truly wish to help, then help us reach the eastern gate before it closes. After that…" He hesitated. "After that, we will speak of the resistance." Lirien searched Garrick's face for several heartbeats, then slowly nodded, though the desperation in his eyes had not faded.
"Very well, Captain. I will take you to the gate. But know this—the resistance is bleeding out in the woods. If you have truly brought fire with you, do not let it burn only the enemy. Let it give us something to believe in again." Mira's gaze flicked to Garrick, then back to the door. "We move. Now."
One by one, they slipped out of the tannery and into the dying light of the city. The streets were already emptying as patrols began herding citizens indoors. Above them, black banners stirred in the evening wind. Garrick kept his head low, but his thoughts were already racing ahead—to the trees beyond the walls, and to the storm that would soon fall from the sky.
Behind them, Lirien moved like a man walking beside ghosts, still trying to understand what manner of allies had returned to Rothguard.