Instigating a Fight

The sun rose in the clouded sky and a gong's reverberant chime echoed through the northern edge of the forest, waking the camp of War Monks. Figures quickly shifted within the mist.

Wilhelm, Dag, and Sindre sauntered past pits of burnt out charcoal remains, trails of smoke fading away as War Monks either packed their tents and holy symbols, found secluded spots to meditate, or attended sermons. If Wilhelm didn't know any better, he would have imagined the camp to be a nomadic tribe rather than crusaders.

Although Wilhelm had been with the march for three weeks, finding Cardinal Ver Dilen's tent never got any easier; a task that, due to Merlin's hard work bolstering the camp's numbers, became harder by the day. Currently, his tent was one among a thousand. He sighed and rubbed his head.