"Phew..."
Only when the heavy stone doors of the war room closed behind the fuming Inquisitor did Leonardo and the Gray Lords allow themselves to exhale the breath they had been holding. The tension in the room didn't dissipate; it merely changed form, from a volatile fury to a cold, calculating dread.
"What should we do now, Chapter Master?" The Gray Lord with the wolf-shaped helmet, Marak, asked, his deep voice a low rumble. "The Inquisitor will be watching our every move. If we show any hesitation, he will have a report sent to the capital before sundown."
Leonardo walked to the large, intricately carved map of the continent that dominated one wall. He traced a finger from their fortress, down through the elven lands, to the mysterious green expanse marked as the 'Lost Lands'.
"We are marching to a trap," he said. "A fool's errand designed to be rid of us. The king and his nobles couldn't care less about a 'crusade'. They just want the Gray Knights to act as cannon fodder to weaken this new goddess, or die trying. Either outcome is a win for them."
"So we are to march to our deaths?" another Lord, a man in his thirties with a scarred face and a broken nose, asked. "Just like the ten thousand we lost?"
"Only in death does duty end, Brother," Leonardo said without turning around. "But our duty is not to a foolish king or a simpering inquisitor. It is to the men under our command and our holy goddess."
"In her holy light!!" The other lords answered in unison, their voices filled with genuine faith. They might be sinners in the eyes of the kingdom, but they were still paladins at their core. They still believed in the goddess of light.
Even if she was silent.
Leonardo's finger stopped over the elven mithril mines, the supposed location of the disappearance.
"It's definitely the work of this new goddess," he said quietly, turning to face his commanders. "The silence, the unnatural stillness... it's not a trick. It's a message. A display of power. She took ten thousand armed men without a single drop of blood being spilled."
"So what can we do? Her power is beyond our comprehension," Marak grumbled. "We are knights, not mages. Our faith is a shield, but it can't stand against the storm of a goddess."
"Faith may not be enough," Leonardo agreed, "But strategy is. We are not blind fanatics. We are soldiers. And soldiers find a way to survive."
He turned back to the map, his mind racing.
"We will march south. We will obey the King's order. But we will not march blindly."
His golden eyes glinted with a dangerous light.
"Marak, I want you to select your best trackers and rangers. Send them ahead. I don't want our army to walk into another 'silent zone'. And have them keep a wide berth from the elven territories. I don't want any... 'accidental' encounters."
"Yes, my lord," Marak rumbled.
"How many men do we still have left after losing ten thousand? And the crusade will take some months. We must be prepared for a long campaign," Leonardo continued, moving to the logistics.
"We have fifteen thousand Gray Knights left here, my lord," the Lord with the broken nose answered. "And another five thousand scattered along the border, guarding the supply lines. If we recall them, we can muster a full twenty thousand strong for the crusade."
"Twenty thousand," Leonardo mused, tapping a finger against the stone table. "Leave the five thousand on the border. We can't afford to leave our flank exposed. We'll march with fifteen thousand."
"Fifteen thousand against a goddess?" The scarred lord asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
"Did you forget our purpose?" Leonardo's voice was low and intense. "We are to establish a forward base. To be the tip of the spear. We don't have to fight a war. We just have to survive long enough for the main army to arrive."
"And if the main army never arrives?" Marak asked.
Leonardo's lips twisted into a grim smile.
"Then our fallen brothers will have to welcome us in the City of Silver."
"..."
A heavy silence filled the room.
The City of Silver. The afterlife for the followers of Uriel. A place of peace and eternal rest.
But they all knew that the Gray Knights would not be welcome there. They were sinners, after all.
"We split the army into three groups of five thousand each," Leonardo continued, breaking the silence. "We will march in a triangular formation, with a day's march between each group. This will allow us to cover more ground and reduce the risk of another 'disappearance'."
"And if we are attacked?" The scarred lord asked.
"Then the other two groups will be able to reinforce the one under attack," Leonardo said. "And if all three groups are attacked at the same time... then we were doomed from the start."
"I'll lead the vanguard," Marak declared, his wolf helmet gleaming in the torchlight.
"No," Leonardo said, shaking his head. "You'll be in charge of the rearguard. You have the best defensive skills among us. If we are attacked from behind, I want you to hold the line."
"And who will lead the vanguard, my lord?" The scarred lord asked.
"I will," Leonardo said, a hint of challenge in his golden eyes. "I want to see this 'heretical goddess' for myself. I want to understand her power."
"..."
The Gray Lords exchanged uneasy glances. Their Chapter Master, a man known for his calm and strategic mind, was now acting like a reckless hothead.
But they soon realized he wasn't. This was not a move of a hothead, but of a desperate man. A leader of a doomed army, looking for a miracle.
"Very well, my lord," Marak said, his voice heavy with resignation. "We will follow your lead. As always."
"Good," Leonardo said, a small, grim smile on his face. "Now, let's prepare. We march at dawn."
...
Walking out of the meeting room alone, Leonardo's composed facade crumbled. He strode through the stone corridors, his footsteps echoing like gunshots in the oppressive silence. He didn't head towards his chambers. He walked towards the one place in this fortress that gave him a little bit of peace.
A small garden behind the main hall. He made it himself, with a few seeds he brought back from the capital.
"Hmm?"
As soon as he walked into the open space, Leonardo felt something.
A presence. A warm, comforting presence that felt... familiar.
He looked around, but there was no one there. Just the flowers he planted.
"Who's there?" he asked, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.
"..."
No reply.
But the feeling didn't disappear. It grew stronger. Someone or something was watching him.
"Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice ringing through the empty garden.
"..."
Again, no reply, and this was making Leonardo nervous. The presence didn't feel hostile; it felt... motherly.
That was the only word that came to his mind.
It was like how a mother would look at her child from afar while he was playing.
Leonardo didn't like it. Someone had managed to bypass all the magical defenses and guards of the fortress and got this close to him without anyone noticing.
"..." He stood there for a few minutes, waiting, but nothing happened.
Only the slight burning sensation on his neck, where he had suffered an injury from that woman who barged into his cell attempting to recruit him.
Caw! Caw!
A raven's cry broke the silence. Leonardo looked up to see a black raven perched on the wall of the garden. It had three eyes, all fixed on him.
"..." Leonardo just stared at the raven, his golden eyes narrowed. He had seen many strange things in his life; a three-eyed raven was no big deal.
And as suddenly as it appeared, it took flight and disappeared into the night.
Leonardo stood there for a few more minutes, the warm, motherly presence slowly fading away.
"What in the name of Uriel was that?" he muttered to himself, a frown on his face.
He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
...
At dawn, the fortress was a hive of activity. The Gray Knights, a sea of grim gray steel and grim determination, prepared for their march. The air was thick with the clang of metal, the murmur of prayers, and the low rumble of war machines being readied.
Leonardo stood at the head of the vanguard, his golden eyes fixed on the southern horizon. He wore his helmet, hiding his face, but the tension in his shoulders was evident. He was a man walking into the unknown, a soldier marching towards a god.
The Inquisitor watched from the ramparts, a smug smile on his face. He was eager to see the 'sinners' march to their doom.
"May the light of Uriel guide you," he said, his voice dripping with false piety.
Leonardo didn't even bother to look at him. He just raised his gauntleted hand and gave the order.
"MARCH!"