Chapter 18: The Road to Ruin

The road stretched ahead, winding through rolling hills and frostbitten fields. The winter's grasp had not yet loosened, and a bitter wind swept across the land, cutting through cloaks and armor alike. Adrian and his men rode in tense silence, their destination looming ahead: a town in need of their aid.

It had taken longer than expected to reach it, slowed by the treacherous terrain and the wary pace Adrian had set. Rumors of bandits, or worse, had already begun circling in the smaller villages they passed. Desperate farmers spoke in hushed voices of disappearances along the trade roads, of bodies found butchered in ditches.

By the time they crested the final hill, the town came into view. Smoke rose lazily from chimneys, a deceptive sign of peace. The wooden palisade surrounding the settlement looked sturdy, but the gates were shut tight. Something felt wrong.

Klaus rode up beside Adrian, squinting down at the town. "They don't look too eager to greet us."

Otto frowned. "They were expecting us, weren't they?"

Adrian nodded but didn't reply immediately. His instincts were screaming at him. The town wasn't under attack—not yet—but there was fear in its stillness. He could feel it.

He raised a hand, signaling the column to halt just outside the gate. His horse shifted beneath him, sensing its rider's tension.

"Open the gate!" Otto called. "We're here to help!"

For a long moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, the heavy wooden doors groaned as they were unbarred. A handful of armed men stood just beyond, their expressions grim. The leader, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and a battered breastplate, stepped forward.

"You're the ones sent by the duchy?" His voice was rough, filled with both exhaustion and skepticism.

Adrian dismounted, nodding. "I am Adrian von Rabenfeld. We heard you needed protection."

The man studied him, his eyes flicking over Adrian's armor, then his soldiers. "Aye, we need it. But you've come late." He exhaled sharply. "They're already here."

Adrian's jaw tightened. "Who?"

The man turned, pointing toward the town square. Adrian followed his gaze—and his blood ran cold.

At the heart of the town, a banner fluttered in the wind. Faded and torn, but unmistakable.

The sigil of House Darnath.

Adrian stepped through the gate, his men following cautiously behind. The townsfolk watched them with wary eyes, but there was no celebration at their arrival—only uncertainty.

The town itself was intact. No burning buildings, no signs of a recent battle. But there was something deeply unsettling about the way the people carried themselves. Women clutched their children close, and the few armed men looked like they were waiting for the sky to fall.

The bearded man—who had introduced himself as Ewald, the town's elected leader—led Adrian toward the square.

"They came three days ago," Ewald said. "Didn't attack, didn't raid. Just walked in like they owned the place. We outnumbered them five to one, but…" He shook his head. "It didn't matter."

Adrian's grip on his sword tightened. "How many?"

"Maybe twenty, maybe thirty. But they're not ordinary men." Ewald's voice dropped to a whisper. "They knew things about us. Knew names, faces. Like they'd been watching for years."

They reached the square. The banner of the Drowned Sun swayed gently in the breeze, fixed to the front of the town hall. Armed figures stood at its entrance, watching Adrian's men with silent amusement.

One of them stepped forward. A tall man, clad in dark leather and steel. His face was pale, angular, and cruelly handsome.

"You must be Lord Rabenfeld," the man said smoothly, a smirk playing at his lips.

Adrian met his gaze, feeling a slow anger burning beneath his skin. "And you are?"

The man inclined his head slightly. "Gregor von Darnath. I believe you and I have much to discuss."

The town square was deathly silent, save for the flickering of torches and the creak of the Darnath banner swaying in the cold wind. Adrian stood face to face with Gregor von Darnath, a man who should not have existed. The House of Darnath had been wiped from the annals of history, crushed in rebellion, its name cursed and buried beneath the weight of the duchy's judgment. Yet here he was, standing before Adrian as if nothing had ever changed.

Gregor's smirk never wavered. His sharp features, pale skin, and dark, sunken eyes gave him the unsettling look of a man who rarely slept but always watched. His men, standing behind him in disciplined stillness, bore no obvious marks of banditry—no wild, desperate eyes or mismatched gear. These were trained fighters. Organized. Controlled.

Adrian could feel the weight of his soldiers behind him, Otto and Klaus standing close, hands drifting toward their weapons. The air was thick with unspoken hostility, the kind that could erupt into violence with a single wrong move.

Ewald, the town's leader, shifted uneasily beside Adrian, his knuckles white from clenching his fists too tightly. "You've already taken enough from us," he hissed. "Why are you still here?"

Gregor chuckled, shaking his head. "Taken?" He gestured around at the town. "We have taken nothing, good mayor. We merely… oversee."

Adrian's patience was already wearing thin. "Explain yourself," he said, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like steel.

Gregor turned his gaze back to Adrian, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Ah, but that is a long story, and I am a man of patience." He stepped forward, his boots clicking against the frozen dirt. "I must admit, I did not expect the infamous Lord Rabenfeld himself to come personally. The rumors speak of you as a man lost in time, struggling to find his place." He tilted his head. "And yet, here you stand."

Adrian did not react. He had dealt with men like Gregor before—arrogant, calculating, playing their own games. He would not give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Gregor sighed, as if disappointed by Adrian's silence. "Very well. If you must have it plainly…" He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder at the town. "We came not as conquerors, nor as thieves. We came because we were invited."

Ewald bristled. "No one here would have invited your lot."

Gregor raised an eyebrow. "Are you so sure?" He took a slow step toward Ewald, who instinctively recoiled. "Fear breeds desperation, Mayor Ewald. And desperate men make desperate choices."

A cold realization settled over Adrian. Someone in the town had let them in. Whether by treachery or necessity, the enemy had already been inside the gates before Adrian had ever arrived.

Gregor turned back to Adrian with a smile. "But no matter. Your presence here changes things, Lord Rabenfeld. I suspect you did not come all this way simply to glare at me. What is it you intend to do?"

Adrian did not answer immediately. His mind was working, picking apart the situation piece by piece. Gregor and his men had a hold over the town, but they had not yet drawn blood. That meant they were waiting for something. But what?

His soldiers were outnumbered inside these walls, and though they could likely fight their way through, it would cost lives—townspeople included. That was not an option.

Not yet.

"I intend," Adrian finally said, his voice calm but firm, "to know exactly what your presence here means. And I intend to remove you from this town, one way or another."

Gregor's smirk widened. "Spoken like a true leader." He exhaled, shaking his head as if genuinely amused. "Very well, Lord Rabenfeld. I have a proposal."

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "I'm listening."

Gregor gestured toward the town hall, the largest structure in the square. "Let us not discuss matters like common thugs, standing in the cold. I invite you inside, where we may talk as civilized men."

Klaus scoffed, stepping forward. "So you can trap us inside and slit our throats?"

Gregor let out a short laugh. "I assure you, if I wanted your lord dead, it would not be done in such an inelegant manner." His eyes flicked to Adrian. "You may bring two of your men, if that eases your paranoia."

Otto leaned in, his voice low. "It's a risk. But we need to know what they want."

Adrian weighed the options. Walking into the lion's den was dangerous, but leaving this standoff unresolved was just as reckless. He needed information.

"Fine," Adrian said. "We'll talk."

The Devil's Bargain

The town hall was dimly lit, its wooden walls lined with old banners and crude maps. A long table sat at the center, covered in half-empty goblets and untouched food. Gregor took his seat at the far end, lounging in the chair as if he owned the place.

Adrian remained standing, Otto and Klaus flanking him like sentinels.

Gregor poured himself a drink, swirling the dark liquid before taking a sip. "Now, let's speak openly. I assume you believe me to be an imposter. A fraud, claiming the name of a long-dead house." He smiled. "But I assure you, the blood of Darnath runs through my veins."

Adrian's expression remained unreadable. "And?"

Gregor leaned forward. "And that means something. It means history has not yet finished writing our name. You see, Lord Rabenfeld, the world believes House Darnath was destroyed. But we have always endured. In the shadows, in the forgotten corners of this land, we have waited."

Adrian clenched his jaw. "For what?"

"For the right moment."

Gregor gestured broadly. "This land is fracturing. The duchy is rotting from within, its lords growing fat and complacent. The people suffer while their rulers bicker over crumbs. But we?" He tapped his chest. "We have not forgotten the old ways. We are not here to raid or to pillage. We are here to reclaim."

Adrian felt the cold weight of realization settle over him. This was not just an opportunistic band of raiders. This was the beginning of something far worse.

Gregor grinned, as if reading his thoughts. "So, Lord Rabenfeld, I offer you this: Join us. Stand at my side. You are wasted in service to a crumbling duchy. The people need true leadership."

Otto stiffened beside him. Klaus outright snarled. "You'd have him betray his own people?"

Gregor chuckled. "Betray? No, no, you misunderstand. I would have him save them."

Adrian let the silence stretch between them. He could feel Gregor watching him closely, gauging his reaction.

Finally, Adrian spoke. "And if I refuse?"

Gregor exhaled through his nose, setting his goblet down. "Then we will become enemies, and this town will suffer the consequences." His eyes darkened. "You've seen the signs, haven't you? We are not the only ones moving in the shadows. If you stand against us, you will find yourself alone when the true storm comes."

Adrian did not flinch. "I have made my choice."

Gregor's smirk faded. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but only for a moment. Then, he leaned back with a sigh.

"A shame," he murmured. "Very well, Lord Rabenfeld. Let us see whose vision for this land will prevail."

The battle for Hohenwald had begun.