Marcus and his three squadmates peer into the great crevice; their mission is to ensure that nothing dangerous climbs up. Inside, between the walls of rock and dirt, the wooden platforms that once connected the different mines are now charred ruins, with shattered ladders still hanging and swaying in the cold wind blowing from the depths of the Underdark.
Balto, one of the four soldiers—a dark-skinned man with a foul temper—leans over and spits, full of contempt. Harris, the greenest member of the four, a brown-haired young man still holding onto some baby fat on his face, startles at Balto's action.
"It's not safe to do that. They might think we're challenging them."
"Are you scared of the whores of the dark, brat?" Balto asks, looking at Harris out of the corner of his eye. "We don't need cowards in the army. I know cowards; they usually drop their weapons the second they hear the first arrow whistle, right after they shit their pants."
"Don't be so hard on the kid, Balto," says Pit, whose friendly, chubby face might make him seem like the most harmless of the squad, if it weren't for his two-meter height, his large, powerful hands, and the formidable width of his shoulders. "It's not his fault he missed the invasion. He wasn't ready for something like that anyway."
"None of us three were ready for something like that, and we still fought back!"
Harris lowers his head and bites his lip. A part of him is ashamed to have been on leave, but another part is relieved that his grandfather wanted to see him and spend time with him. It is true that as soon as the news broke, Harris grabbed his father's old sword and rode back to the citadel, but by the time he arrived, the Great Miracle—which is what they called what happened to the walls—had already taken place.
Men like Balto, who were present and came face-to-face with the death brought by the dark elves, couldn't help but despise the absent warriors.
Pit, seeing Harris downcast, gives him a smile and a heavy pat on the back, nearly sending the boy face-first into the crevice.
"Besides, who doesn't shit their pants during a battle? There's nothing smellier than a battlefield." Pit lets out a loud belly laugh that echoes down the crevice.
Pit's display of kindness, however rough, helps ease Harris's tension. Balto clicks his tongue, and not wanting to keep irritating himself over the rookie, decides to focus on Marcus.
Marcus is lost in his thoughts, his eyes studying a handkerchief with an embroidered crystal that he holds in his hand, as if he could somehow find the secrets of heaven and earth within the fabric.
"A gift from some maiden?" Balto twirls his spear, drives the tip into the dirt, crosses his palms over the pommel, and rests his chin on his hands. "Was it Vinny, the carpenter's daughter? Or Lira, the butcher's girl? I don't want to burst your bubble, but those two offer handkerchiefs to anyone with a cock between their legs and a sword on their waist."
"Maybe they're pushing their luck," Pit joins the conversation. "Trying to hit the jackpot. Maybe one day, one of us humble soldiers might become a captain and a full-fledged knight. An ideal catch for any woman looking to marry."
Balto snorts.
"Being a knight doesn't mean anything these days. They used to give you a fortress or some land, now not even that. It's not even guaranteed they'll offer you serfs. Now they're workers, and if things start going south, they'll just pack up and leave."
"The reforms, yeah. The Mage King has a uniquely wise mind," Pit says, completely oblivious to the fact that Balto was actually criticizing those reforms.
"My sister wove it," Marcus strips the romantic mystique from the conversation by revealing who embroidered the handkerchief. "It's blessed by... You guys know what."
Balto and Pit look at Marcus with growing interest.
"You're talking about that thing in the basement, right? How did you get it to bless you?"
"Are you talking about the blue entity? The one that helped bring the Great Miracle? Have you seen it?" Harris also tries to join the conversation, his eyes bright with curiosity.
He immediately receives a furious, teeth-gritting glare from Balto.
"Don't talk about things you don't understand, rookie. They could send us to the gallows if you run your mouth," Balto says.
Harris takes a couple of steps back.
From the bowels of the great crevice, a new gust of wind surges. The gust is strong enough to snatch the handkerchief from Marcus's hands and drag it toward the nearby forest, a cluster of trees that clashes with the edge of the Great Crevice, some growing hunched over the abyss.
"Shit!" Marcus exclaims, and without hesitation, sprints after the piece of cloth.
The handkerchief is tossed by the wind and dives into the trees. The chase lasts about four minutes until the handkerchief gets caught on one of the branches. Marcus jumps and, wrapping his arms and legs around the trunk, climbs high enough to reach out and retrieve the blessed gift.
He is about to climb down and return to his squad, but from that height, he notices a hooded presence in the bushes about 15 paces to the North. At first, because of the bow the figure is holding, Marcus assumes it's a hunter. But upon squinting for a closer look, he discovers the bow is made of an albino wood, with an iron tip slick with some mysterious poison, and it is held by hands with bluish wrists.
From his vantage point, Marcus can also see a dirt path. Approaching on horseback, completely unaware of the assassin, are First Captain Claus and Second Captain Axiel.