The sun arose from its slumber, and with its wicked rays slowly vanquished those layers of settled snow scattered about the Kobodi Territories, transforming this land shrouded in ice into something much greener, providing conditions in which men could work, and work did men did.

  For within the conquered stronghold of Ardeth, Rangers with the same hands they used to destroy have employed them to rebuild, first and foremost, clearing out all those rubble they've caused from their previous assault upon the place, those olden stones which tumbled down slowly gathered to one pile to be repurposed as components for cement.

  ...a whistle erupts and work was halted, a secret was uncovered by a detachment of men stationed within Ardeth's keep while they were clearing the leftovers of a statue that once depicted the figure of a bygone king, where, beneath the Idol's former base a staircase was found.

  Such a discovery demands for exploration, and so seven were chosen to walk the path of attainable death. They did oblige and with lanterns lit and equipped into the godless depths of Ardeth they ventured forth.

  The thumping of their boots... the beating of the their hearts... a symphony inadvertently took form, accompanying throughout their descent with each step taken upon decaying stone slabs.

  The improptu song wouldn't last for long.

  Eventually, marking their journey's end, a rusty door entered their line of sight, where, from its cracks, bluish rays emitted, consuming the warm yellowish hues of approaching lanterns till all that remained was a sole harsh color.

  In the depths, a debate arose, a moment was taken, and eventually a decision was made; the man furthest within the line of infantry reluctantly pulled, meanwhile the rest ready themselves for the worst to come.

  The door creaked loudly as it moved, and from within the chamber beyond, a roaring breeze erupted, peppering the faces of the daring in dusts, averting their gazes from what lay ahead momentarily.

  When the breeze did eventually subside, the men stared in disbelief at the sight beholden to them, there, within a weary marble hall, a crystal tree shone ever so brightly, exhuming an opulent pretty glow those watching couldn't help but felt it was lovely. Such a sight enticing the party to come near— to which they allowed themselves, encircling the anomaly just a feet away from its reach.

  The men stood there seemingly in trance, staring at the glowing thing being captivated by the colors that constantly changed in intensity like moths enticed by flames. In the heat of the moment, an urge soon emerged. What urge one might wonder? The innate urge to touch something they probably shouldn't, one of them would succumb.

  "Stop!" The leader of the expedition shouted, his eyes lit with terror as he saw one of his men slowly reaching for the object, yet it was too late and his associate had already placed his hand upon the glowing construct.

  The consequence of the act was instantaneous.

  The bright light which the anomaly emitted grew abruptly harsher. Then, in a blink, the bluish light which reigned was gone, a white flash took its place, encapsulatimg the entirety of the marble space, blinding those that came temporarily– a loud BOOM exhumed.

  The anomaly anomaly exploded and a mighty blast of bluish energy swept the men away, scattering them all across the place, those kettle-helmets and curaisses the men worn thankfully protecting them from any serious injuries.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Some groan. Some were knocked cold. Above all, some complained.

  "S..pyros...why?" the leader of the expedition gave a muffled cry. His body lying flat on the ground currently crushed by said prepetrator of this mess.

  "I'm n...ot sor...ry, Able," Spyros replied.

  His associate's comment was not appreciated, and so he abruptly rose, letting Spyros once again be flung away and come crashing head-first to the cobble floor.

  "Prefect, you got to see this."

  Able directed his attention to the voice in question. There, a ranger with a sore leg held his javelin like a crutch, pointing to a bundle of crystal shards on the ground — the remnants of the Anomaly that was once there.

  Able stood by the man, watching with indifference to the oddity which they found, where, amidst the faintly glowing bits and pieces, adorning a copper crown and a scarlet robe, a pale red-haired lady slumbered O' so peacefully.

  ~? ? ?~

  "So... while spelunking deep underground, you found a comatose lass trapped inside a glowing tree?" With both legs atop the table, a pen in one hand and a book in the other, Captain Pilaf stared blankly towards his associate whom sat at the opposite side of his desk, staring back at him in a manner equally as so, "Is this correct?"

  "Yes, this is indeed correct," Able confirmed, the young lad harboring quite the disheveled state that was best described as beyond fucked; the standard uniform he worn, a white gambeson and black slack piece, was soaking in sweat and coated in a deep layer of muck and grime much similarly to his snowy-white hair that was equally dirty in the same kind of filth.

  Pilaf shrugged. "Meh, I've seen wierder things," he said, writing said account half-assedly into his logbook, the scribbling of his fountain pen blaring loudly throughout his study as he does.

  It didn't take him long for him to finish, a minute at most was taken. "Where's the lass now?" Pilaf asked, clasping the book shut and chucking it aside.

  "In the infirmary with Spyros and a few others on stand-by they're waiting on what to do from you."

  "Yeah... there really isn't a precedent for this kinda thing, I'm going to have to discuss this matter further with our esteemed master," Pilaf told, esentially opting for the solution of doing nothing and letting other folks deal with it. "Just keep watch, while I'm out delivering the news."

  "Noted," Able nodded.

  With matters concluded, Pilaf stood up and prepped himself for his upcoming visit to his master's lair, donning his own curaiss and kettle-helmet which he left at the corner of the room. Above all, making sure to bring copper crown that laid on his desk with him for his upcoming visit.

  "Seeing you'll be leaving, I'll be in charge while you're gone, right?"

  Truth be told, Able's question was less of a question and more of a confirmation. There are only four people around qualified to do so:

  Firstly, Montello, the underseer of the company, but his currently hunting down partisans, so he's a-bit busy.

  Secondly, Lenard, the quartermaster of the company, but he's currently recuperating having an arrow lodged to his knee during the previous battle.

  Thirdly, Spyros, a fellow prefect, but his not really what one could say someone with great restraint.

  This really leaves Able the only realistic choice.

  "You damn right you are!" Pilaf gave a jolly chuckle. "Who's going to make sure those indolent schmucks won't slack off fixing this place?"

  "You know... This won't be an issue if you PAID them ON TIME, right?"

  The captain sighed. "I know, I know, and I'll get to it... At some point, I'm a weak man, Able, I can't sit in a 4x4 meter room for fuck knows how many days, signing goddamn cheques for schmucks I don't give a flying shit about," Pilaf grimaced just imagining it. "Besides, what even is the point? What are they gonna use their money on while in this godforsaken place?"

  Able pondered for a moment before eventualy replying. "Gambling."

  "I rest my case and proclaim myself a saint," Pilaf patted himself a job well done for blatant act of wage theft.

  Able was a little appalled even if he did not show it. "So be it... Captain," the white-haired lad solemnly said.

  Pilaf smiled, he had a knack of knowing exactly what Able thought beneath the facade he commonly held. "By this month's end, they'll get what they deserve and even more... I promise this out of my own pockets," Pilaf assured his friend. "Now, shall we go?" Having finished dressing up for the coming occasion, Pilaf went on and held the door open for both men to leave.

  The captain was known for a-lot of things... an asshole... an alcoholic asshole... a walking talking atrocity machine... but a liar? He'd rather die than be one, and Able understood this.

  "Yes, we shall," Able said, exiting the room first.

  The captain followed suit, closing the door gently behind him there-after.