Keldrin, his keen eyes scanning the forest, led the way. Flora, the dryad woman, accompanied them, her slender form moving gracefully through the undergrowth. The journey was long, a two-hour trek from the hill where they had left the sves.

  The vilge, hidden deep within the heart of the Satyr Woods, was a marvel of nature and human ingenuity. Nestled beneath the looming Croyhill mountains, it was a sanctuary shielded from the dangers of the outside world. The goblins had established their camp, Drakthar, nearby, hoping to ensve the wanderers of Eire and the vilge's inhabitants to mine ore.

  The vilgers, long steeped in sorrow and uncertainty, found themselves caught between disbelief and unbridled joy as their lost kin returned to them. Mothers wept as they embraced children they had thought forever taken, fathers clutched sons to their chests, and siblings clung to one another, reluctant to part even for breath. Some among the crowd recognized Rhys, Keldrin, and Meryl, calling out their names with voices thick with gratitude.

  “You have brought them back to us,” an elder gasped, eyes brimming with tears, csping Keldrin’s arm with trembling hands. “How shall we ever repay this deed?”

  Yet it was not just those they had rescued that drew their awe. Jesse and his company, weary from their trials yet standing tall, were greeted as heroes, the weight of their journey evident in their dust-den garments and battle-worn faces. The vilge guards, their tunics adorned with green and ochre, saluted them with solemn bows, their voices carrying words of thanks.

  Jacques, ever the unexpected enigma, found himself suddenly besieged by a flock of women—dryads and nymphs, their shimmering eyes filled with admiration. They whispered among themselves, giggling, their ethereal ughter carrying like wind through the boughs.

  “Did you see him in battle?” one murmured, tucking a golden curl behind a pointed ear.

  “He is unlike any mage I have known,” another added, cheeks flushed with awe.

  Jacques, for all his usual bravado, appeared taken aback by the attention. He straightened his tunic and tried to adopt an air of nonchance, but Meryl, seeing the awkwardness in his stance, let out a chuckle and leaned in.

  “They are admiring your true self, you know,” she teased.

  He sighed, a flicker of humor returning to his eyes. “For all their beauty, they have no idea how much effort it takes to maintain this form,” he muttered, flexing his fingers. “I am a transmutation mage, not some court conjurer dabbling in illusions. I need this to wield my Nexus—to walk, even.”

  Meryl merely smiled, shaking her head.

  As the vilge’s joy crescendoed, the refugees, still bearing the weight of their suffering, raised their voices in song—a hymn of relief, of gratitude, and of sorrow turned to hope. The melody, at once mournful and sweet, wove through the air like an unseen thread, binding them all together in that moment.

  Among them, Flora stood apart, her usually poised form trembling. She lifted her gaze to Jesse, and when she finally found her voice, it was not to sing, but to recite:

  "O wanderers from distant nds,Whose hands bore bde, yet shielded still,Ye broke the chains, ye stilled the brands,And turned the fate of vale and hill."

  Her voice quavered, and as Jesse stepped forward to pce a steadying hand upon her shoulder, she fell into sobs, the weight of all she had held within shattering at st.

  “There is nothing to fear anymore,” Jesse assured her gently.

  But Flora shook her head, gasping between tears. “I—I thought I could be strong,” she whispered. “I thought that if I willed it so, I could endure. But I failed. If not for you, if not for your strength, my beloved forest—our forest—would have been ruined.”

  The pixies, tiny and luminous in the twilight, flitted about her, their voices rising in cheerful cries of encouragement. One settled upon her shoulder, pressing a tiny hand to her cheek.

  “You did not fail, Lady Flora,” it piped. “You endured! And now, we are saved.”

  Jesse gave her a reassuring nod, his voice firm yet warm. “Strength is not measured in the absence of fear, but in standing even when fear grips your heart.”

  Flora, though still tear-streaked, managed a trembling smile.

  Treetop Town was a bustling community, home to a diverse array of demi-humans. Centaurs, horsemen, deerfolk, satyrs, wood elves, and nymphs all lived in harmony within its walls. The vilge was surrounded by small fortifications, their wooden structures blending seamlessly with the towering trees. Houses were built within the trees themselves, their entrances hidden among the branches.

  Treetop Town was just one of many such vilges scattered throughout the vast kingdoms of the Rising Realms. These woodnd communities served as vital trading stations, providing game, fur, and timber to the wider world. They were safe havens for travelers, offering respite and hospitality.

  In addition to their trade goods, these vilges were renowned for their production of rare fruits and medicinal herbs. The demi-beasts of the Rising Realms trained Ferivia, bird-like horses that were both swift and expensive. Moreover, the region was famous for its direboars, prized for their strength and ferocity. Azalea and dawn herbs, essential ingredients for alchemy, were also cultivated in abundance in these woodnd vilges.

  As the group approached Treetop Town, Jacques excimed in wonder. "This looks more magical than any pce I've ever seen!"

  Jesse nodded, a wistful smile pying on his lips. "It reminds me of Willowdale," he said. "We used to build our houses under mounds or hills."

  Rhys turned to Keldrin. "Are there any woodnd elves here?" he asked.

  Keldrin nodded. "There are a few," he replied. "They serve as rangers and emissaries for Sylvanvale, a forest kingdom in the Celestial Woods. But those elves are racist, and their journey would take them far west of Serendus. I doubt they'll go there."

  "I suspect Odarin is heading north, towards Bckrock," Keldrin continued. "Bckscar, a region near the alchemical city of Dunholm, is far to the west, within the Badnds. I doubt the orcs would march here without a dark lord like Voldrath to command them."

  Rhys frowned. "The greenskins are chaotic and evil," he said. "They're bound to serve a dark lord. And it's not just them. The denizens of the Badnds, the Scorched Elves, who ride giant worms and desert dragons, are also a threat."

  Jesse's eyes widened. "Are we going to fight them all?" he asked, his voice filled with dread.

  Keldrin shook his head. "No," he replied. "But we can expect other forces to mobilize in their area. For now, we must help Treetop Town."

  Meryl, carrying the young direwolf, Mel-Gaur, approached Flora. "It's been months since I visited," she said. "How fares the druzes?"

  Flora smiled. "They are well, but the goblin threat looms rge," she replied.

  Rhys nodded. "We should talk to Olm, my cousin," he said. "Once we've spoken to the emissary from Treetop Town, we should also inform Serendus. There's a mining town east of it that connects to the mountain."

  Jacques agreed. "Let's do it," he said. "But we can't linger in Serendus. The king is depressed after losing a fight for succession, killing his own son. We must hurry to Muse before Odarin arrives."

  Meryl sighed. "It might be inevitable," she said. "They may have already sent people to look for the sword."

  Jesse shook his head. "Why do humans kill each other?" he asked, his voice filled with sadness. "I can't understand it. If the race of men fails..."

  Keldrin's expression darkened. "Most races of Upsurgeth are like that," he replied. "Even in the face of terror, they squabble and commit evil acts amongst themselves."

  Flora interrupted the conversation, her voice filled with gratitude. "Master Keldrin, it was thanks to you that we were freed from those evil goblin and human svers," she said. "You have saved our lives."

  "Male dryads are rare," she continued. "Most of us perform clerical work within the vilge. Only the horsemen, centaurs, and demi-beasts fight. The nymphs and satyrs make up the bulk of our vilge's defense."

  Tears welled up in her eyes. "We are not used to fighting," she confessed. "But the war for the bdes must be true. Even svers from the south are now colluding with goblins."

  She paused, her brow furrowed. "I suspect they must be the cause of the missing caravans and travelers."

  Jesse nodded. "Has King Bertram done anything about this?" he asked.

  Flora replied, "Yes, but they are busy investigating who these svers from the Badnds are and how they entered our territory."

  Jacques turned to Keldrin. "Who ys cim to the Croyhill mountains?" he inquired.

  Keldrin answered, "The Golden Confederation does, but Serendus guards them. However, their guards might be x due to the recent usurpation."

  Flora shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "Our vilge is ruled by three people: Fionne, a deerman; Naex, an elf I consider my grandmother; and Nympha, a dryad, my kin."

  The vilgers, their faces filled with gratitude, approached the heroes. "Thank you for saving our kin from the attack of the goblins," they said in unison.

  Flora led them to the longhouse, where the elders resided. Nympha, an ancient dryad, greeted them warmly. "Thank you for saving our kin from the attack of the goblins," she said.

  Naex, an old elf with white hair, stepped forward. "Let me tell you what has happened," she began.

  After the defeat of the Dark Lord, the kingdoms of Men, Elves, and Dwarves, led by Serendus, ensved the goblins. These creatures, once feared and reviled, were now forced to toil in the mountains, quarrying precious stones and metals. Their bor fueled the rise of Serendus, transforming it into a powerful kingdom with an inexhaustible army.

  Arthen, the wise and benevolent gold dragon, sought to intervene. He had always championed the cause of the oppressed, and the ensvement of the goblins troubled him deeply. However, King Althred, a staunch ally of Arthen, defended the practice. He believed that the goblins could redeem themselves through servitude.

  For months, the goblins endured their harsh captivity. But then, news reached them of the Bde Darkheart, a legendary artifact that could grant its wielder immense power. Inspired by hope, the goblins began to rebel. Led by Aamon, a prince who had once sought to usurp the throne, they rose up against their oppressors.

  Althred, devastated by the rebellion, slew his own son, Aamon, in a tragic act of vengeance. Overwhelmed by grief and despair, he crowned his granddaughter, Jenna, as his successor. Yet, remnants of the goblin rebellion persisted, their spirits unbroken.

  Croyhill Mountains, once a thriving dwarven settlement in the First Age, held untold riches. The desire for these treasures drove many to seek control of the region. Bertram, a wise and noble leader, opposed the exploitation of the mountains, recognizing the ecological and cultural significance of the area.

  The goblins, their freedom and dignity trampled upon, sought refuge in the mountains. They had found a hidden entrance to a vast network of underground tunnels, remnants of the ancient dwarven civilization. There, they plotted their revenge, their hearts filled with a burning desire for liberation.

  "Did humans truly believe they could tame them?" Jesse asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

  Rhys nodded. "It's not a bad thing to redeem others," he replied. "But the practice of servitude is wrong."

  Keldrin sighed. "Althred was blinded by his power," he said. "He thought the goblins were no longer a threat."

  Meryl shook her head. "Goblins are cruel creatures," she said. "They are corrupted beings, made by the dark god Vexaroth."

  Jacques frowned. "Are they truly beyond redemption?" he asked.

  Keldrin replied, "We don't have the means to change them. And with their pns to rise with the Dark Lord, we must end them before it's too te."

  Jacques turned to the elders. "We will need a two-pronged attack," he said. "We must clear the stragglers from both sides of the mountains."

  "We must also talk to Bertram and Althred," he continued. "We need to convince them to meet us here, in Treetop Town, with their forces."

  Nympha, the dryad, nodded. "It would be difficult, but it's possible," she said. "We must return to Eire first, and then travel to Serendus."

  Fionne, the deerman, looked at Jesse with a knowing smile. "I see young Bertram in you," he said. "We fought side by side when we were younger. Restore hope to Serendus."

  Treetop Town, though alive with celebration, remained on high alert. The usual bustle of trade—of mushroom harvests, maple ash timber, fae oils, and rare dust—had slowed to a trickle. The tree-folk whispered of shadows moving between boughs, of treants who once stood proud and still now stirring with unease. Even the willow people, ever in tune with the rhythms of the forest, had withdrawn into the sanctuary of their homes, unwilling to brave the danger that now lurked beyond their borders.

  Merchants, once eager to exchange rare goods, now hesitated at the forest’s edge, unwilling to risk their wares upon roads that had become perilous paths of ambush and treachery. The elders—Fionne, Nympha, and Daex—convened with Jesse’s company, their faces grave.

  “You have seen the plight with your own eyes,” Nympha spoke, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “If Treetop Town falls, Eire and Serendus will be left wanting. We are the lifeblood of the trade routes.”

  “Manhunters and goblins have blocked the roads,” Fionne added. “Already, our stocks of herbs dwindle, and our people grow afraid.”

  Daex turned to Jesse. “We ask you this—carry word to Bertram, that he might send aid. Time is of the essence.”

  Jesse bowed his head. “We will do what we can,” he said. “No road shall be lost while we still draw breath.”

  As preparations for their journey began, the woodnd folk gathered supplies—woven cloaks, hardened rations of elderberry and nutmeal, and draughts of springwater mixed with potent elixirs. The elders presented Jesse, Rhys, and Keldrin with vials of shimmering liquid, the color of autumn’s first frost.

  “These,” Daex expined, “are our most precious restoratives, brewed only once a year. Take them, and may they sustain you.”

  Jesse accepted them with a bow, then turned to his party. “It is time.”

  The elders nodded in agreement. "We will send scouts to locate the svers' hideout," they said.

  Before their departure, the elders of Treetop Town gathered beneath the Great Willow. They sang—not a battle hymn, nor a dirge, but a song of farewell, of blessing upon those who ventured forth.

  "Wanderers, take ye the road ahead,Where starlight meets the shadow’s tread.May fate be kind, may hope burn bright,And guide ye safely through the night."

  Their voices, low and rich with ancient memory, sent a hush over the gathered folk. Even Jacques, ever restless, bowed his head.

  And so, with hearts both heavy and determined, Jesse and his company took their leave, the song lingering upon the wind as they rode into the unknown.

  "So, we have our objectives," Rhys said, his voice filled with determination. "Find the svers' hideout, attack Drakthar from both sides of the mountains, save Treetop Town and Serendus."

  Meryl nodded. "We can do it," she said.

  Jesse grinned. "You can count on us," he replied. "We'll do what we can."

  With that, Keldrin announced, "We should head to the Flying Marlin now to meet up with King Bertram and Queen Zephyr."

  Keldrin mounted Bal-Gog, the direwolf he had tamed. Rhys was given a direboar, and Jesse and the others rode Ferivias, the swift and agile bird-like horses. As they rode away from Treetop Town, they looked back at the vilge, a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

  The journey to Eire was not unchallenged. As dusk fell upon the winding trails, goblins leapt from the shadows, their crude weapons gleaming in the dying light. But the rangers of Treetop Town had foreseen the attack, and they met their foes with arrows loosed from the boughs, while the fae, weaving illusions of shifting lights, confounded the goblins into missteps.

  Keldrin’s wolves howled as they tore into the fray, their fangs sinking into the flesh of their enemies. The treants, their massive forms stirring like the groaning of old wood, sent roots bursting from the earth, ensnaring goblins where they stood.

  As the battle raged, the sound of warhorns echoed through the trees. Eire’s knights, cd in gleaming mail, charged forward, cutting down the remnants of the goblin raiders. Their leader, a tall woman with a plume of white upon her helm, called out as she approached Jesse.

  “You have done enough—rest now. We march to Treetop Town in your stead.”

  Jesse exhaled, nodding in gratitude. “Then may the wind carry you swiftly.”

  As the dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, the heroes arrived at the stables of Eire. The air was thick with anticipation, and the looming threat of battle cast a shadow over the peaceful morning.

  Bertram, cd in his gleaming armor, greeted them. "I know where the svers are," he said, his voice filled with determination.

  Jesse, his eyes wide with excitement, questioned him. "Why didn't you act immediately?"

  Bertram smiled. "I was waiting for the right moment," he replied. "I wanted to gather them all in one pce, to make a decisive strike."

  "Where are they?" Jesse asked.

  "In the sewers connecting to the ports of Eire," Bertram answered.

  Rhys, his heart pounding, stepped forward. "Will you fight with us, milord?" he asked.

  Bertram nodded. "Yes," he replied. "There are twenty human svers in total. Jesse and I, with our guards, will serve as the vanguard. I want to teach Jesse how to fight multiple foes."

  Jesse's eyes lit up. "I would be honored," he said.

  Jacques, his mind racing, spoke. "I won't be able to cast rge spells this time," he said. "I'll show you another type of magic."

  Meryl nodded. "I'll support you from the sidelines, with Bal-Gog guiding me," she replied.

  Bertram smiled. "My aides, Arthos and Captain Madeleine, will attack the ships used by the svers," he said. "They will show them the might of Eire's navy and mariners."

  Rhys, eager to join the fight, protested. "I want to fight as well!"

  Keldrin raised a hand. "You and I will be blocking the escape route to the sea," he said. "We are the most seasoned warriors."

  Bertram nodded. "Are there any concerns?" he asked.

  Jesse hesitated. "Are there any svers in the mountains as well?" he inquired.

  Bertram replied, "My friend Althred, though saddened, has dealt with them. Let's focus on this first, and we can discuss the goblins of Drakthar ter."

  Jacques spoke up. "What about the ones in the Satyr Forest?" he asked.

  Bertram smiled. "My general, Antonius, will deal with them," he replied. "He will also accompany you to Serendus. I think it would be beneficial for Rhys to join him."

  Rhys frowned. "Is he still as timid and calcuting as ever?" he asked.

  Bertram chuckled. "Yes," he replied. "But he is a loyal friend. I hope you can learn from him."

  Keldrin turned to Bertram. "Why are you so eager to fight?" he asked. "How will you prevent..."

  Bertram interrupted him. "I haven't fought in years," he said. "My queen and her mages are also my eyes and ears. This is the perfect time to strike."

  He turned to Jesse. "Don't worry," he said. "Everything will be alright."

  With that, the stage was set for the first objective. The heroes were ready to face the svers and liberate Eire from their evil grip.