Sanctuary in Valconia

The following hours that came after were a hazy whirlwind of non-stop journeying. Their bodies were in pain, their minds numbed by ongoing awareness, the recent encounter with the undead stayed in their minds. Still, driven by the dimming hope that Valconia symbolized, they continued to forge ahead.

At last, after what felt like an endless amount of time, the dull greens and browns of the forest transitioned into a stunning view.

Before them stretched out a lush valley - a blend of green meadows and hills with clear streams running through. The pleasant fragrance of wildflowers was carried by a gentle breeze, providing a refreshing contrast to the musty air of the forest. Valconia was a sanctuary located in the center of a unfriendly world.

Upon reaching the entrance, a guard came out of a guard house with tan skin and greenish-black hair, along with pointed ears that betrayed his Verdant Kin heritage. He wore tough leather armor, with a bastard sword on his back and a shield featuring a stylized stag-head by his side.

"Halt!" he shouted loudly, his voice much deeper than expected given his slim figure.

"We come in peace," Andre replied, stepping forward, his voice weary but firm. "We are travelers from Veridan Haven, seeking refuge."

The guard's vibrant emerald green eyes narrowed just a bit. "Veridan Haven, huh? Sounds interesting. Not really a place for tourists to visit anymore". He observed their unkempt looks, focusing on the bloodstains on Marcus's sword and the tiredness displayed on their faces.

"We have reasons for our voyage," Anya stated confidently.

The guard observed them a little longer before grunting in agreement. "Fine, you pass. But keep your trouble out of Valconia."

They entered the lush sanctuary with a brief nod of gratitude. Andre couldn't resist stealing a quick look at Anya, a twinge of astonishment reflecting in his gaze. "Verdant Kin here, in Valconia?" he whispered, noticing the guard's pointed ears and emerald eyes.

Anya raised her shoulders in a gesture of indifference. "The world is diverse, Andre. There are groups of them spread out throughout the Decaoria."

They made their way through the busy market, a refreshing contrast to the empty villages they had gotten used to. In this place, life pulsed with a lively energy. Blacksmiths pounded on hot metal, vendors loudly promoted their goods, and kids ran after each other on the cobblestone roads, their giggles a calming tune amidst the commotion.

In the end, they arrived at the humble street Silas had written about in his letter. A cheerful yellow cottage with a vibrant violet roof was nestled among other houses. They noticed one particular detail - a finely stitched phoenix symbol decorated the wooden door.

Andre exchanged a glance with Anya and Marcus, silently confirming that this was the correct location. Inhaling deeply, he lifted his hand and rapped on the door.

The quiet street was filled with the sound echoing, creating a sense of endless silence. As doubt started to appear, the door made a creaking noise while opening, showing a silhouette illuminated by the soft light coming from inside.

A man with greying hair with so many wrinkles on his face, who seemed to be Silas opened the door. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a flicker of hope and resistance, stayed just as bright. Despite appearing older and more tired, his inner strength and determination remained intact.

"MARCUS," he croaked, a grin appearing on his face when he spotted the young prince. "And... friends." Welcome to Valconia. "Enter, enter."

He led them indoors, surrounded by the cozy heat from the fireplace and the tempting aroma of freshly baked bread and the aroma of oak parchment as they entered the room. Following the difficult experiences of their trip, the view of a burning fire and a brightly lit room brought them a feeling of solace they hadn't known they needed. They were ultimately in a safe place, at least for now.

Silas bustled around the room, a fresh vitality shining in his elderly eyes. He guided them to a comfortable, well-used couch with soft cushions that had sunk in a friendly manner.

The walls were flickered with shadows from a crackling fire, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the room, causing Andre's stomach to grumble in embarrassment.

"Marcus, my boy"! Silas exclaimed warmly, his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use, "It makes me happy to see you here with me."

He grabbed Marcus's shoulder firmly, showing unexpected strength. "I wasn't certain that my message would reach you."

Marcus felt a sense of relief wash over him. "We accomplished it, Silas," he stated, his voice filled with emotion. "We are so thankful beyond what you can imagine." "It's... it's nice to be here."

Silas looked at the group, observing Anya, Res, and then Andre. He recognized Andre instantly as soon as he saw him. "Oh, these must be your friends. Anya, it's nice to finally meet you, Res."

Anya gave a respectful nod, her piercing emerald eyes evaluating carefully. "We're pleased, Silas," she responded, with a touch of doubt in her voice.

Res, always showing restraint, merely nodded in greeting.

Silas laughed quietly, a rough sound slipping from his mouth. "I see we have an experienced fighter and a youthful..." he paused, looking for the appropriate term, "hothead among us."

Anya chuckled slightly, a faint sign of amusement appearing in her gaze. "Something similar to that."

Silas looked at Andre with a curious sparkle in his eye. "And what about you, young man? Why have you come to join the rebellion?

Andre, always cautious, straightforwardly answered. "I am here to help out my buddy."

Silas observed him briefly before agreeing with a nod. "In current times, Andre, loyalty is a trait that holds significant value."

He went into a room at the back for a short time and came back with a plate stacked high with golden pastries that looked suspiciously like apple turnovers. The aroma was heavenly.

"Now," Silas mentioned, his tone friendly, pointing towards the plate. "Let's not allow politics to spoil a delicious pastry." "Help yourselves."

Marcus grabbed a turnover with gratitude, taking a big bite and apologizing quietly with a grunt. Anya delicately took one, with Res and Andre doing the same, finding the warmth and sweetness comforting after their exhausting trip.

While eating the pastries, Marcus finally couldn't resist asking his question. He started speaking solemnly, addressing Silas. "Where can the rebellion's headquarters be found?"

Silas's smile dimmed a bit as a flicker of concern took its place. "A map would be the most suitable way to answer your question, young prince." He vanished again and came back with a tattered leather scroll. Spread out on the table, he indicated a rugged peak covered in snow that stood out at the center of the map.

He stated with seriousness, 'Mountain Wyrmtor'." It is the final stronghold of liberty in this dammed land, separating Valconia from the Ironclad Duchy.

Marcus moved in closer, carefully examining the map. "Wyrmtor is a challenging ascent, especially with the onset of winter."

Silas nodded in a somber manner. "It is. However, it is also well protected, an ideal location to gather our troops.

Marcus's eyes lit up with a spark of determination. "Then that's where were headed."

Silas looked at him with a blend of pride and worry. "Marcus, that is a noble undertaking. However, keep in mind that the journey ahead will be filled with peril."

Marcus stood up straighter, exuding a newfound sense of self-assurance. "We understand, Silas. We are ready."

Silas retrieved a small black cage from a pouch attached to his belt. Inside, resting on a small wooden stick, was a recognizable crow, its shiny black eyes reflecting intelligence.

Silas gave the cage to Marcus and stated, "This small creature will show you the way." "He is familiar with the route."

Marcus embraced the burden of responsibility that came with accepting the cage. He looked at Anya, Res, and Andre, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and determination.