Chapter 2
A heavy grey fog descended upon the quiet forest and blanketed the region in a layer of thick, near impenetrable ashen mist. The fires that raged the night prior had died down to a simmer, the thick plumes of pillowy black smoke reduced to thin streams of white and grey wisps. A quiet town that once stood at the base of the impressive mountain range was reduced to nothing more than blood-soaked soil and scattered ash in the matter of hours, the only evidence of its existence laying at the feet of the bald orc who peered quietly into the overcast sky.
Beneath him lay a pile of burned, broken and bloodied bodies, the desecrated corpses of the townsfolk who met their cruel fate at the hands of his bloodthirsty orcish horde. His large head tilted downward to bring his amber eyes upon the heap of bones, the top layer of bodies covered in thick dark soot. Tattered clothes and other personal effects were strewn about the razed land that his kin now pillaged, an improbable mass of brutish orcs fanned out all around him in search of food and supplies to aid in their conquest.
Grosh bent slowly to retrieve the head of the man he had struck down the night before, the foolish yet courageous human who had met his end on his back. A slight grin remained on the lips of the man, eyes half-lidded as they were the night prior when his gaze was cast skyward before the sword breached the back of his head. The hole was clean, piercing the back of his skull, light puncturing from one side to the other. The orc held the back of Brecken's head up to his own face and gazed through his handiwork, one eye closed shut as the other squinted to bring the sky into focus through the man's gaping mouth.
It was tough to decipher any details through the fog and the ash that rained from the heavens, masking almost the entirety of the forest in his immediate vicinity. But as the minutes passed and the winds shifted, the silent orc rotated on his spot with his primitive spyglass still in hand until a patch of sky cleared up just enough for him to see into clearly. He was facing the mountain range now as a heavy cloud moved aside, the same mountain range the foolish human saw right before he died. Up on the summit a flicker of color caught Grosh's eye, and he focused on it as best he could, his grip on the skull tightening, eye opening completely.
Brecken's skull collapsed into a dozen or more pieces in between the powerful fingers of the orc's grasp, the shattered bone tumbling into the mangled pile of meat and flesh the orc found himself wading in. Grosh didn't register it with even a blink, both eyes now open and focused entirely on the mountain. Up above him, high upon the summit with a perfect view of the clearing where a quiet town once was, stood a small fire. Grosh motioned toward a couple members of his horde, a pair of burly orcs who were preoccupied with two large iron wrought cages. But they stopped what they were doing and stood by their leader, following his outstretched finger that pointed accusatorily toward the mountain. Without a word the pair returned to their cages and broke the locks with decisive swings from their axes, and with their freed companions in tow, the pair set off toward the foot of the mountain.
---
A small hut of squalor and disease served as the field command center for the tall elf who scribbled furiously by candlelight, his quill flying across the parchment with reckless abandon. The makeshift headquarters in the abandoned fishing village along the coast was teeming with activity as the Royal Aegis set up camp, fortifications and search parties. It had been days since Cid had parted ways with the Princess, and in that time reports from the field confirmed his worst fears: Ashilan was at war, a remote town had been burned to the ground and a member of the royal family was missing.
As the Commander finished penning the document a pair of his Knights entered the dimly lit hut with a peasant in tow, a young human woman covered head to toe in blood, soot and ash. She was quietly sobbing, barely able to remain on her feet as Cid rose to his, the elf towering above everyone else in the room.
"Get this woman some water," Cid said calmly, gesturing to one of his men.
The Knight fetched a leather skin of water and handed it to the woman, who accepted it but did nothing else with it, her eyes fixated on the floor in front of her.
"What is your name?" Cid asked.
"Mary," she whispered, her lips barely moving.
"State your business, Mary."
"I...I think...I think I saw the Princess in the forest," Mary barely choked out, before uncorking the flask and drawing deeply from it.
Cid's eyes went wide, and he hastily stepped around the desk, coming to a halt before the meek woman. He placed a heavy gauntleted hand on her shoulder and curled her head up toward him with the other, forcing the woman to meet his gaze, which was wild with excitement but controlled all at once.
"Are you sure it was the Princess? Think very carefully."
"Everyone else is dead...my family, my home, it's all gone..."
"We will avenge your family, you have my word. But please, focus. Are you certain you saw the Princess?"
Mary took another deep gulp from the skin and exhaled deeply, avoiding Cid's powerful gaze.
"I saw her and another woman in the forest while running from the fire. But there were so many orcs surrounding us, I couldn't stop..."
