21

A heavy hand slammed down on Vanthelis's shoulder.

"My lord, what are those things?" came a low, whispering growl.

"Shit—Haben, you scared me," Vanthelis hissed, exhaling the breath he didn't realize he was holding. His muscles relaxed as he realized it was just Haben.

The retainer gave a crooked grin in the moonlight.

"How did you find me?" Vanthelis asked, still trying to steady his breath.

"I saw you by the river," Haben replied quietly. "You left without a word. I followed your tracks through the forest. I wasn't sure what you were doing… until I saw you staring into this place."

They both kept low behind a thick tangle of roots and bush, eyes fixated on the cave-dotted hill below where the gnolls moved about in small, irregular patrols. Some lounged lazily. Others seemed to be...talking.

"My lord," Haben whispered again, "I counted on the way here. There's at least a hundred of them. But unlike murlocs, they don't seem as tightly bonded. Their formation is scattered—undisciplined, even. But…" He paused, squinting. "What exactly are you staring at?"

Vanthelis didn't answer at first. His gaze locked onto a robed figure at the center of the encampment. The way it moved, deliberate and slow, with eyes scanning its surroundings… it felt different. It wasn't dumb or wild like most of the creatures they'd faced. It looked aware.

"You see that one in the robe?" Vanthelis finally said. "That's a gnoll."

"A gnoll?" Haben blinked. "Those dog-faced—"

"Yeah," Vanthelis nodded. "I've read about them before… back in the clan's library. Gnolls were hunted down by pirates and even merchants. Sold off to nobles as exotic pets—or worse, trained as fighting beasts. They were never seen as anything but animals."

Haben was quiet.

"But look at that one," Vanthelis continued. "He walks like he's leading something. Praying, maybe. It's not just wild instinct. He's thinking."

"You mean like that big murloc that almost gutted me?" Haben muttered grimly.

"Exactly like that. Maybe worse."

A long silence fell between them, only the sound of distant gnoll howls and wind rustling the trees filling the air.

"But I don't think we should discuss this here," Vanthelis finally said, lowering his body further. "It's too exposed, and we don't know what their range of awareness is."

He took a step back, and Haben nodded in agreement.

"We need to get back to base. I need to tell the others what we saw. Even if they hate me… even if they think I'm useless—I still have to protect them."

They moved quietly, retracing their steps with cautious precision. Every rustle made their hearts race, every twig snap made them pause. But after a while, the adrenaline began to fade, and they picked up their pace.

"You really think those gnolls are a threat?" Haben asked as they ducked under a low-hanging branch.

"Definitely," Vanthelis replied. "They're too many. Too organized. If they ever become truly united…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

"Should we prepare for a fight then?" Haben said, almost casually.

Vanthelis shook his head. "Not yet. If we move too soon, we'll be the ones wiped out."

Haben grunted. "That's a change. You used to rush in with rage and nothing else. I guess you're finally thinking like a warlord."

"I don't want to be a warlord," Vanthelis muttered. "I just want to make sure no one else dies."

They walked in silence for a while, the moon lighting their path through the tangled woods. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and the breeze carried the faint smell of damp earth and decay.

"Do you think… the others will even listen to you?" Haben eventually asked.

"I don't know," Vanthelis said quietly. "Most of them wish Ishlar was still alive. Hell, I do too."

There was a pause, and then Haben said, "He believed in you. That wasn't an accident."

Vanthelis let out a small laugh—dry, tired. "He died because I wasn't good enough. Because I wasn't strong. Because I was too caught up in being angry at everything."

"No," Haben said firmly. "He died because we were surrounded and outnumbered, and he gave everything to protect what little we had left. He didn't blame you. You blame yourself too much."

Vanthelis didn't respond. Instead, he kept walking, his footsteps heavier than before.

"You know," Haben added, "when I first met you, I thought you were just another spoiled brat with a hero complex."

"And now?" Vanthelis asked.

"Now you're still a brat," Haben smirked. "But I'd rather follow a brat with a broken heart and a burning will than someone who hides behind titles."

Vanthelis managed a small, genuine smile.

They passed a fallen tree, then began the short incline back toward their territory. The sky above them slowly shifted from pitch black to the faintest hints of gray.

"I don't know what I'll say to them," Vanthelis admitted.

"Tell them the truth," Haben said. "That there's danger, but maybe also opportunity. That we have to be ready. You don't need to convince everyone. Just enough."

Vanthelis nodded. "Yeah. I'll try."

Eventually, the silhouette of the Necropolis emerged from the trees, its ominous form standing tall and grim. The faint glow of the Ziggurat torches flickered, casting long shadows over the silent encampment. Most were asleep. Only a single child near the edge stirred, keeping a nervous watch.

"It's already midnight," Vanthelis murmured. "We'll talk in the morning. Rest for now, Haben."

"You too, my lord," Haben replied, giving a respectful nod before vanishing into the dark entrance of the Ziggurat.

Vanthelis stood alone for a while, eyes scanning the forest edge behind him.

He clenched his fists.

Something was coming.

And they had to be ready.