prepared for the worst

Zed shifted uncomfortably in his seat; his arms crossed as he sat at the front of the horse like a child. He sighed in frustration.

"I should have practiced riding a horse," he muttered under his breath.

Sir Jaeger chuckled, gripping the reins as they rode forward. "Perhaps, young master. But for now, let's make sure you don't fall off first."

Zed rolled his eyes, but before he could argue, the landscape before them changed.

As dawn broke, a barren wasteland stretched out before them. Cracked earth spread endlessly in every direction, the dry ground looking as though it had never tasted rain. The wind carried dust, swirling lazily in the golden morning light. Amidst the desolation, a small abandoned village stood—its wooden houses collapsed, roofs caved in, and walls barely standing. The silence here was haunting, broken only by the occasional creak of forgotten structures swaying in the wind.

"My lord, we have arrived at Golden Wale," Sir Jaeger announced.

Zed's sharp eyes scanned the ruined land, his brow furrowing. His fingers unconsciously clenched against the fabric of his cloak as they passed through what remained of the village.

"What happened here?" Zed finally asked, his voice quieter than before.

Sir Jaeger's face darkened slightly, his usual amused expression replaced with something more solemn. "This land was once one of the most fertile in the kingdom. The weather here was perfect—so perfect that ethereal, the plant used to make elixirs, flourished here better than anywhere else. Golden Wale was a land of prosperity…" He trailed off for a moment, then sighed. "But then, about a hundred years ago, the rain stopped."

"The rain just… stopped?" Zed's eyes narrowed.

Jaeger nodded. "At first, people thought it was temporary—a bad season, a rare drought. But as the years passed, nothing changed. The rivers dried up, the animals died, and no matter what the people did, the land refused to bear crops. The once-rich soil became nothing more than lifeless dust."

Zed's gaze shifted to the cracked earth beneath them, the weight of the place settling in his chest.

"Did anyone try to find out why this happened?" he asked.

"Many," Sir Jaeger replied, his voice laced with regret. "Scholars, alchemists, even powerful mages. But no one ever found the cause. No spell, no ritual, no method worked to restore the land. In the end, the people had no choice but to leave, abandoning their homes, their farms, and everything they built."

Zed remained silent for a moment. A hundred years… and no answers.

The wind howled softly through the ruins, as if whispering forgotten secrets.

Something about this place didn't feel right.

Sir Jaeger yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to an abrupt stop. Zed swung down, his heart pounding against his ribs as his boots hit the cracked earth. His gaze swept over the barren wasteland stretching endlessly before him—lifeless and fractured beneath a heavy gray sky. His breath hitched. He knew this place. The same jagged ground between two looming mountains. The same oppressive silence. The same hollow, twisting unease gnawing at his gut.

"This is the place," Zed whispered, his voice firm.

Sir Jaeger frowned, glancing around. "My lord, there is nothing here. For miles, it's just wasteland."

Zed turned to him, his expression unwavering. "No… this is the place I saw in my dream." His words trailed off as realization struck him.

And then…

His stomach dropped.

"And then what, my lord?" Sir Jaeger asked, watching him closely.

Zed's eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.

"I fell."

The moment the words left his lips, the ground beneath them gave way.

Before Sir Jaeger could react, the cracked earth crumbled, swallowing them into the abyss below.

Darkness consumed them as they plummeted. The air rushed past, their screams lost in the void until—

SPLASH!

The cold embrace of water enveloped them. A strange, glowing blue hue illuminated the underground cavern, the light rippling across the water's surface like liquid stardust.

Sir Jaeger surfaced first, gasping for air. He frantically looked around and saw Zed, floating motionless nearby. His heart clenched.

"Young master!" he called out, panic surging through his veins. Without hesitation, he swam towards him, grabbed him by the collar, and began paddling upwards. His arms burned, his lungs screamed, but he pushed forward.

Spotting land a short distance away, he gathered all his strength and swam towards it. As soon as he reached solid ground, he dragged Zed out of the water and laid him on his back. Without wasting a second, Sir Jaeger pressed his hands against Zed's chest and began pumping.

"Come on, young master. Breathe."

Zed's body remained still.

Sir Jaeger gritted his teeth, pushing harder. "Damn it, don't you dare—"

Zed suddenly lurched forward, coughing violently as water spewed from his mouth. He gasped for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Thank you… Sir Jaeger…" Zed rasped, still catching his breath. "If not for you… I might have died."

Sir Jaeger collapsed onto his back beside him, panting heavily. "It's my duty, young master," he muttered, exhaustion lacing his voice.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply lay there, staring up at the glowing cavern ceiling, trying to make sense of what just happened.

After a long pause, Sir Jaeger turned his head towards Zed. "What else did you see in your dream, my lord?"

Zed hesitated. His fists clenched as he remembered the voice. The throne. The decayed figure calling out to him.

He swallowed hard and finally said, "You'll see it for yourself soon enough."

His voice was quiet.

"But just be prepared for the worst."

 That night we see the bandit chief, clad in a tattered black cloak, rode swiftly through the dense forest, his horse's hooves kicking up dead leaves and loose dirt. The trees loomed tall, their twisted branches reaching like skeletal fingers under the pale moonlight.

Eventually, he arrived at a cave hidden behind a curtain of thick vines. Dismounting, he tied his horse to a sturdy root and stepped inside. The flickering glow of torches illuminated the rough stone walls, casting eerie shadows across the damp cavern.

Inside, the bandits were busy with their usual activities.

To the left, a large pile of stolen gold and valuables gleamed under the torchlight. A burly bandit lay sprawled atop the treasure, snoring loudly, one arm draped over a jeweled goblet.

Near the entrance, two bandits sat on wooden crates, sharpening their rusted swords. The sound of metal scraping against whetstone filled the air. One of them, a one-eyed man with a jagged scar across his nose, looked up as the chief entered but quickly returned to his work.

Further in, a group of bandits practiced Rhu magic. One of them, a thin man with wild red hair, formed a crackling sphere of energy in his palms before launching it at a nearby boulder, leaving a scorch mark. Another bandit, his muscles bulging unnaturally from Rhu-enhanced strength, lifted a massive wooden log over his shoulders with ease.

The deeper chambers of the cave were filled with the scent of damp earth and unwashed bodies. Makeshift hammocks hung from jagged rock formations, while half-eaten meals were scattered across crude wooden tables.

The bandit chief strode past them all, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The air was thick with tension as his men watched him in silence, sensing his mood was foul. He stopped near the center of the cave, eyes narrowing as he gritted his teeth.

The bandit chief took a deep breath, the flickering firelight casting jagged shadows across his scarred face. His sharp, menacing eyes scanned the gathered men—thieves, killers, and outlaws—all watching him with anticipation. He stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt floor, and raised a fist.

"Listen up, your mangy lot!" His voice boomed through the cave, making even the rowdiest bandits fall silent. The flames danced wildly behind him, reflecting the hunger in his eyes.

"Tonight, we strike back! Tonight, we remind Ravenhart who truly owns these lands!" He paused, letting the words sink in, the weight of his fury pressing down on them like a storm about to break.

He pointed towards the cave entrance, his fingers trembling with rage. "They thought they could stand against us. They dared to fight back." His voice grew sharper, his fury infectious.

The bandits clenched their fists, some gripping weapons, others cracking their knuckles.

"This time, we don't just take gold," the chief continued, his voice dark and venomous. "We take everything! We burn their homes! We leave them with nothing but ashes! Let them beg! Let them crawl! Let them learn what it means to defy us!"

The room erupted.

"YEAH!!"

Weapons clashed against the ground, fists pounded against tables, war cries echoed through the cavern. The very walls seemed to tremble as the bandits roared with bloodlust.

The chief smirked, his eyes gleaming with cold cruelty.

"Get ready," he snarled. "Tonight, Highvale falls."

A sinister glint flashed in his gaze as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"And Jaeger Bastard will die."