Chapter Three

Stick close by; safeguard on back, forty riders

went with Vilyánur into the thick wildernesses,

jogging through scarcely noticeable backwoods ways for

hours endlessly. The further they wandered

into obscure region, the more the dell shut

them in, replenishing them with the fragrance of death

what's more, rot.

The whistling steppe breeze fell once again into

namelessness, supplanted by the unfavorable stirring

of the timberland overhang, the streets blurred beneath

thick undergrowth, and the extended lengths

of green were supplanted by dull patches of

dark parasites - as though advance notice them

not to unpleasant continue further into this

land.

They were currently in the edges of the

timberlands of Angdor, the domain of the awful

wood-mythical people who were known for excoriating

gatecrashers alive and taking care of their cadavers to

wolves. The actual idea of that incited dread

among the knights, yet not Vil, he knew the

backwoods pretty much.

"Get out whatever

you need," a knight talked behind

them, "I want to believe that we don't cause problems,

I'm not bold enough for governmental issues."

"Fret not," another knight replied, "this is

worldwide domain, the two realms concur."

"That is not the very thing I dread," said the main knight,

"these grounds are worldwide for movement

furthermore, business, not by regulation. What if some

sick gets accused on us? How might we authenticate

to a wood-elven people groups, whose court

procedures we have little information about?"

"You can definitely relax, my uncle's insurance has arrived,"

Vil embedded, "presently hmm up, we have what is going on

to research."

Thus they went ahead, their steppe ponies

battling to track down balance among the thick

undergrowth. One can never preclude the trepidation

of being knocked off, nor the sensation of being

watched.

Where the meteor handled, the woodland appeared

to have withdrawn from. Hedges and trees

close to the cavity lay wilted and scorched, as though

struck by fierce blaze; the earth that lay underneath

has become dark and hot, looking like volcanic

debris; the air around the meteor murmured as it

cooled.

"My master?" a knight looked towards Vilyánur,

just to see a face that shouted fear.

"This is no customary meteor," he said. "It's

an envoy of disorder, the epitome of

represented jumble. This isn't great, bad

by any means."

The entire troop tumbled to quiet.

"We should leave currently, we'll be fortunate in the event that we

experience any wood-mythical beings currently," said Glarion.

"Okay, for once, I concur," Vil answered, "we should

leave."

Paying attention to his words, the troopers arranged

to leave for home. Following the imprints made

by horseshoes back, they wandered up the

divine beings spurned way, however it appears destiny had

different designs for them.

"Falter," a knight halted them, telescope to

his eye. There was some unsettling influence up the

roadway. "Something's wrong."

"Foes?" asked Vil.

"Negative," said the knight, "no development in

sight, yet there is something that wasn't there

previously."

"What was?"

"A carriage," the knight replied, "conceivably

voyagers, however it looks deserted."

"Indeed, that is our main way home, so we should go compensation

them a visit."

The warriors gestured, following Vil into the

scene of interest.

Shutting in with the scene, they observed a truck

loaded down with iron and fur, laying on its side as

whenever pushed over by an extremely impressive storm, and a

extremely particular hurricane as well, thought Vil. A wood-mythical person

laid close to, a young fellow mythical person - as inert as

a month-old carcass, injured by odd

wounds, something that looked like being

cut open by a hot blade. His pony met the

same destiny.

"Knights," Vil called out, "be careful,

something foul stays in the forest here."

His entourage gestured, completely looking at the

body. The waves from the meteor strike, some

of the knights closed.

"Not likely, for I'm uncertain assuming that the waves would

do this farther," said Vil, "the remainder of

the woodland appears to be safe, regardless of whether enormously

avoided, as though injured by original powers."

"Perhaps the meteor siphoned their lives,"

proposed Glarion, looking seriously unto

Vilyánur, "or perhaps abhorrent monsters?"

"Indeed, the latter..." Vil said awfully, "...I wish

it's not what I dread."

"What do you fear, my ruler? Also, what has that

to do with this?"

"I've battled such a large number of daemons to not be aware

their quintessence, I dread... perhaps 'tis just an

cosmic irregularity, or perhaps... what do indeed

we do now?"

"Perhaps we ought to research further, or at

least caution Lord Arvedui of this?" asked Sir

Glarion.

"Assuming it were that simple, Sir Glarion, however do you

consider thousands years of question between

the wood-mythical beings and the high-mythical people will let this

cautioning go everything except unnoticed?"

"Forsooth...but what can really be done?"

"I figure we ought to "

He quieted. Dour vibrations transmitted from

the timberland floor, Vil's ears got the sound of

hooves - some of ponies, others of elks, and

the weak snarling of wolves blended in with them.

Furthermore, there it was somewhere far off: wood-mythical beings,

men of the ruler. Prior to even the high-mythical beings

could respond, the wolf-riders jumped into

the woods prior to drawing nearer out and

encompassing the high-elven have from all sides,

removing their retreat.

"Damn it, that is another danger to manage

presently."

"Good tidings, fatigued explorers!" a mythical being clad in

silver on the back of a pale pony, an illustrious watchman,

addressed them in corroded aristocratic, "what brings

forty fine high-elven knights into our woods?

What do you figure gives you the right to

defile our holy forests and attack our

individuals?"

"We didn't kill them, you're making a

botch!" Vil called out serenely, "I and my

brethren detected a meteor arrival by the

borders. We were going to leave however at that point "

The illustrious gatekeeper giggled. "Do you think we

are so absurd to be persuaded by your senseless

stories?"

"We're not lying! We can show you the site of

the meteor's accident."

"On the off chance that you're honest, you'll be saved. Be that as it may

for the time being, you're our detainees. Accompany us to

the ruler and there we'll choose your sentence - the homicide of honest people ordinarily conveys the

sentence of death."

"As though some other wrongdoings have substitute

sentences," chuckled Sir Glarion in an unconventional

way.

"Goodness, you're committing an error," expressed Vil with

a flood of his hand, "we're not accompanying

you, we don't have to. We'll simply leave

what's more, you'll imagine you never saw us."

The watchman winced, "your enchanted won't work

on me, absurd spellsword. I'm an imperial watchman,

my force is unequaled. Furthermore, I will hold you in

guardianship paying little heed to what you guarantee."

Vil checked out at his entourage in scorn. However he

Didn't say anything, they knew what to do.

"Despite the fact that I really want to fight you,"

Vil grasped his sword, "o sir knight, what

trust do you forty ragpickers have against my

tip top powers? What compels you think 'tis wise

to build strawmen of us? I and my entourage

are learned in the specialty of fighting, we are the

realm's world class - I, Vilyánur Sarmäcil, am

known all over "

The illustrious watchman got a handle on his blade, "and I'm

a regal watchman and I know how to manage

hoodlums."