Darius rose to his feet, brushing the loose hay from his tunic. His eyes followed a retreating Serge. Unlike Favian, who was still half-smiling, Darius was more astonished than amused.
"How did he do that?" he asked, turning to Favian.
Favian shrugged lightly. "This is a strange world, Kriger. Whatever you see happen here shouldn't surprise you much. I mean…" he gestured toward Darius's sword, "...you can summon a weapon from thin air. Serge can bring inanimate things to life."
Darius blinked with wonder still on his face. "Oh. That is… impressive."
"Indeed," Favian agreed. "Though he rarely uses it for anything more than lessons."
Darius' gaze softened, and his thoughts drifted. "I was thinking about Ron and his family," he said quietly.
Favian's brow furrowed at once. "What about them?"
"How sure are we that they're all right?" Darius asked with concern.
Favian hesitated. Then, reaching for the knife at his belt, he replied, "We'll have to find out."
He drew the blade free and, without another word, raised it high. "[Spy!]" he called sharply. He flung the knife upward. The moment it left his hand, the blade shimmered and twisted mid-air, reshaping itself into a bird. With a fluttering cry, it soared away, darting toward the direction of Orlan.
Darius's mouth fell open. "You can turn your knife into a bird?"
Favian chuckled at his amazement. "A spy. It will return once it sees what I need it to see."
Darius's eyes gleamed. "Can I do that?"
"You'll have to find your own spy," Favian replied.
"Where did you get yours?" Darius asked eagerly.
"From a chest in the temple," Favian replied.
Darius brightened at once. "Oh! Then can I go and search for one?"
Favian laughed softly. "I've searched nearly every corner of this place, Kriger. There's nothing valuable left. The temple's been picked clean for years."
"Oh," Darius muttered, his shoulders dropping in mild disappointment. "That's unfortunate."
"Don't worry," Favian said, clapping him on the shoulder. "If the Unknown sent you here, you'll find your tools soon enough. Every Truther does, when the time is right."
Darius only nodded.
Favian exhaled deeply. "Come," he said. "We'll continue training. We've wasted enough daylight already."
And so they did.
Through the afternoon and well into dusk, Darius and Favian sparred upon the open ground before the fallen temple. The sun sank slowly behind the distant hills, its dying light casting long shadows across the cracked stone. They fought with wooden sticks shaped like swords, testing footwork, balance, and timing.
"Strike faster!" Favian shouted.
Darius obeyed, sweeping his stick blade through the air, the sound whistling past Favian's guard.
"Again!"
Dust rose around them as they circled, the rhythmic thock of wood meeting wood echoing across the ruin. Darius's arms ached, sweat tracing paths through the dirt on his face, but he refused to slow. Each strike grew more precise, more instinctive. When Favian finally lowered his weapon, the first stars had already begun to shine in the heavens.
"That's enough," Favian said, panting lightly. "You'll be useless if you faint from exhaustion."
They laughed softly, walking back into the temple as night drew over the land. Serge had long since retreated to his chamber, leaving the hall in silence. A pot of stew waited for them upon the small table, still warm.
Darius had barely lifted his spoon when a sudden flutter broke the calm. Through the open window, the bird swooped in. It landed on the table before Favian, its feathers rattling softly.
Favian leaned close, his expression tense. "Show me," he whispered.
He took the bird gently into his hands and looked into its eyes. The moment their gazes met, both man and creature stiffened— the bird's glassy eyes and Favian's own burning with the same eerie blue glow.
Darius froze, watching as Favian's breath grew ragged. Then, suddenly, Favian staggered backward, the bird dropping from his hands with a sharp clink. It transformed back to a knife.
"What happened?" Darius asked quickly.
Favian's face had gone pale. "We must go back to Orlan," he said hoarsely.
"What did you see?" Darius pressed.
Favian turned away, grabbing his cloak and sword. "No time to explain. Mount your horse, we ride now!"
They rode hard through the forest, moonlight slipping between the branches like streaks of silver fire. Both men were cloaked in black, their hoods drawn low to hide their faces.
Darius noticed the fury in Favian's movements. The tight grip on the reins, the harsh breaths through his teeth. It was not fear that drove him forward now, but anger.
Darius dared to ask once more, "Favian, what did you see?"
Favian's eyes, shadowed beneath his hood, glinted faintly. "You'll see soon enough," was all he said.
By the time they reached Orlan, dawn had barely touched the sky. Smoke drifted in thin trails above the rooftops, and the sound of gathering voices echoed through the town square. They tethered their horses at the edge of the street and moved closer on foot, keeping to the shadows.
A great crowd had formed in the square. Soldiers in bronze helms stood in ranks, their spears gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Beside them were men in white cloaks embroidered with gold—the Valiants.
Darius's heart began to race.
At the centre of the square, several townsfolk knelt with their hands bound, guarded by soldiers. And among them, his head bowed, face bruised and bloodied, was Ron.
Darius's breath caught in his throat. "Ron…" he whispered.
Favian's jaw tightened. "It's worse than I thought," he said quietly. "They've begun the purge."
A soldier stepped forward from the line. He raised his voice above the murmur of the crowd.
"These men," he began with a tone sharp and proud, "have betrayed their kingdom. They conspired with the Truthers— those blasphemers who call upon the underworld in the name of salvation. Their crimes are grave, and their punishment shall be swift, once Lord Owen of Orlan gives his judgement!"
A ripple of noise swept through the crowd. Disbelief, anger, and confusion blending into one. Favian clenched his fists as the soldier continued.
"They aided the Truthers in the murder of Valiant brothers!" the soldier roared. "They opened their homes to darkness and called it mercy. And now… now the same darkness has come for us all!"
The accusation struck the crowd like a lash. Cries of protest rose from every side.
"That's a lie!" shouted a woman.
"Ron would never…" yelled another.
"The Truthers saved us!" someone else cried.
The noise grew loud and restless, the people no longer afraid to speak against the soldiers.
Then another man stepped forward, robed in white and gold, his face proud and sanctimonious. He was one of the Valiants.
"Silence!" he commanded. "Your defiance is the very reason your lands suffer! The Truthers are the source of your torment… of every curse, every death, every monster that crawls from the shadows. Their presence alone corrupts your homes, and yet you protect them?"
He raised his hands as though delivering a holy decree. "Peace will return to this realm when the people yield to truth. When the Valiant have purged this filth from among you!"
The crowd erupted again, this time louder, angrier. No amount of shouting from the white-cloaked speaker could drown their voices.
"Lies!" someone screamed.
"Where were the Valiants when our children were taken?"
"Let them go!"
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. Then, with a curt signal from their captain, they seized the bound men, Ron among them, and began dragging them toward the fortress gates.
Darius's heart pounded in his chest. He could see Ron struggling, calling out to Naomi and the children, who were nowhere in sight.
Favian suddenly pushed forward, his face burning with fury. "We can't let them take him!" he hissed. "He's innocent!"
But before he could move through the crowd, Darius grabbed his arm, pulling him back into the shadows.
"Favian, wait!" Darius whispered urgently. "Running out there will only get you killed. We need to think and plan something that actually works."
Favian turned to him with a clenched jaw and breath trembling with anger. "You'd have me stand here while they slaughter him?"
"I'd have you save him," Darius said firmly. "Not die trying."
For a moment, Favian said nothing. His eyes flickered toward the soldiers leading Ron away, then back to Darius. Finally, he exhaled through gritted teeth and nodded.
"Fine," he muttered. "But we can't wait long. By nightfall tomorrow, they'll be dead."
"Then we move before then," Darius replied, his voice steady despite the dread twisting inside him.
They both turned their eyes back to the square, watching as Ron and the others disappeared into the fortress gates, vanishing into the heart of Orlan's judgment.
Darius held his gaze on the fortress gates long after Ron had vanished within. His heart felt heavy, his thoughts racing through what Favian's trembling voice had revealed moments earlier.
"Where do you think they've taken Naomi?" he asked quietly, unable to tear his eyes from the courtyard.
Favian's expression hardened. "If the Valiant have Ron, then Naomi is likely imprisoned too. They'll keep her inside the fortress, perhaps to force a confession. The children…" He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "The children would have been sent to one of the High Lords. Most likely to serve as slaves."
Darius turned to him sharply, horror written across his face. "Slaves?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "They're just children."
Favian's tone darkened. "The Valiant believe in breaking a family's will to cleanse its sins. Taking their children ensures obedience."
Darius's stomach turned. He looked around the square again, noticing the other men who had been dragged alongside Ron.
"There were more of them," Darius said, his eyes narrowing. "Truthers from every quarter of Orlan… they were all attacked."
Favian nodded grimly. "It wasn't just Ron they came for. This was a purge. The Valiant have been planning this."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The noise of the dispersing crowd filled the air, murmurs of fear and quiet anger among the townsfolk.
Finally, Favian turned to Darius. "We can't face this alone. We'll need others. Truthers still free, maybe those who escaped the raids. They'll want to help rescue their own."
Darius nodded, though his mind was still clouded by fear. "Then we find them. But first…" He paused, glancing toward the northern road. "My armour. It's still at Ron's house."
Favian's eyes followed his. "Then that's where we go. But keep your face covered. There'll be soldiers sweeping through every street."
They drew up their hoods and slipped away from the square, moving along the narrow alleys. The city of Orlan felt different now. It carried tension, and the banners of the Valiant hovered above in cruel irony.
As they rode out beyond the city's walls, Darius and Favian couldn't help but glance back once more. Smoke still rose faintly from some of the districts, a sign that the purge had reached far beyond what they had seen.
"I swear," Favian muttered beneath his breath, tightening his cloak, "they'll pay for this."