The heavy wooden doors groaned as Calyth stepped into the fortress briefing room. Faded banners adorned the walls, each bearing witness to bygone victories—and losses. A battered oak table stood at the room’s center, cluttered with parchment maps marked by hastily drawn lines and scribbled annotations. The stone walls bore scars from an era when Sanctivar faced more frequent sieges, their pitted surfaces illuminated by the dim glow of lanterns that filled the air with the scent of hot oil.

  Kaida slipped in behind him, her footsteps light but purposeful. Though she was only twelve, she moved with the alertness of a trained fighter, eyes darting around the room to size up every occupant. Four men-at-arms, bulky in mismatched armor, glanced her way with thinly veiled disdain. One elbowed his comrade, muttering something about “babysitting.” Kaida stiffened but held her tongue.

  At the head of the table stood Lord Edric, broad-shouldered and commanding despite the lines of fatigue etched on his face. Beside him waited three knights, each distinct in bearing and expression.

  Sir Daranth Rorik, rugged and seasoned, eyed the maps with a grim set to his jaw—clearly experienced but none too pleased by the unknowns.

  Lady Delyth Orven, slender and poised, maintained a cool composure while flipping through notes of her own. She acknowledged Calyth’s arrival with a polite nod.

  Sir Alain Varros, younger than the others and wearing a proud tilt to his chin, stood with one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

  Edric looked up, beckoning Calyth and Kaida forward. “Good. Everyone is here.” His voice carried that practiced authority common among the Alabaster’s favored nobility. “We have much to discuss—and little time.”

  Calyth inclined his head in greeting. Kaida sketched an awkward half-bow, her gaze locking momentarily with Sir Alain’s. The knight offered a fleeting, condescending smile in return.

  Edric rapped his knuckles on the table, directing their attention to a crisp parchment bearing Lady Luz-Lin’s seal. “I’ve gathered you because of this.” He cleared his throat and read aloud: “‘My lord, troubling signs have emerged near the chapel of Vanariel. Unnatural creatures roam at dusk, and villagers report hearing whispers in the shadows. I beg for aid, lest this menace grows beyond our control.’”

  He set the letter down and fixed Calyth with a measured stare. “Luz-Lin specifically requested your clerical assistance. Word has it you’ve been dealing with such… incidents. So, I extended the courtesy of an invitation.”

  Before Calyth could speak, Sir Alain stepped forward. “Indeed. Clerics are invaluable—when they succeed. But rumor has it you’ve had… setbacks, Cleric Calyth.” His tone turned mildly mocking, just enough to rankle.

  Kaida bristled, mouth already opening to retort. A year ago, she might have launched into a tirade, but Calyth laid a calming hand on her shoulder. “We all face setbacks,” he said evenly. “That’s why we keep fighting.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Sir Daranth cleared his throat. “Lord Edric, are we certain we need them? We have our own defenses, our own holy blessings. Let the knights handle this; we’ve done it before.”

  “Even our blessings will be no match for the demon if the corruption is deep enough,” Lady Delyth interjected.

  From the corner, one of the men-at-arms muttered, “Still not sure about the girl.” His fellows grunted in agreement, eyes flicking dismissively over Kaida’s slight frame.

  Kaida’s temper flared. She leveled a sharp glare at them. “The ‘girl’ has a name. And a staff. And a blessing from the Virtue of Humility, which is more than you can say about your second-rate armor.”

  A tense hush fell over the table. Sir Alain smirked but said nothing, seemingly enjoying the friction. Lord Edric cleared his throat again, more forcefully this time. “We’ve no space for petty squabbles, especially if Luz-Lin’s suspicions are correct. This mission must remain discreet—panic in Sanctivar helps no one.”

  He pointed to the largest map spread across the table. Lines in various inks traced roads and terrain, culminating in a roughly sketched chapel icon near Lady Luz-Lin’s estate. “From these reports, the chapel seems to be a focal point. It’s old, partially in ruins, but the wards were never fully removed. If something is twisting them, we must act quickly.”

  Calyth studied the map, fingers hovering over the chapel’s location. “If the wards are tampered with, that could explain the strange sightings. Demons often creep in through cracks in holy protections.”

  Sir Daranth allowed a slow, reluctant nod. “What’s our plan of approach?”

  Lord Edric gestured to a list scrawled along the margin of the map. “We’ll have a small escort—these four men-at-arms—for initial protection. Our main force stays on standby outside the estate to avoid alarming the locals. Lady Delyth will coordinate logistical support. Sir Daranth, you’ll handle frontline tactics should anything go awry.”

  Kaida squared her shoulders. “Understood.”

  Calyth inclined his head once more. “We’ll do our part.”

  Sir Alain let out a faint chuckle. “A tall order for a pair of traveling clerics. But by all means—surprise us.”

  Kaida’s hand curled into a fist, but Calyth gave her a subtle shake of the head. He turned to Lord Edric, voice steady. “Our methods may not be what you’re used to, but we wouldn’t be here if Lady Luz-Lin didn’t trust them.”

  Edric gave a short nod. “Then we march at dawn. Take what time you need to prepare. We can’t afford delay if this threat is real.”

  A shared tension seemed to coil in the air. The knights dispersed with curt nods, each mind turning toward the mission ahead. The men-at-arms lingered only long enough to leer once more at Kaida before ducking out, their whispered jabs fading down the corridor.

  Alone with Kaida in the thick silence of the briefing room, Calyth let out a slow breath. He could sense her frustration crackling like static. “You held back,” he observed gently.

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You told me not to pick fights. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

  He studied the map again, feeling the weight of Edric’s expectations and Sir Alain’s mocking gaze. “That’s how it starts,” he said quietly. “They doubt, they prod. But doubt doesn’t matter. Action does.”

  Kaida stared at the chapel icon on the parchment. “We’ll show them. We’ll prove we’re more than rumors and slip-ups.”

  In the corridor, someone barked an order about saddling horses, and the clank of steel boots against stone rattled through the fortress. Calyth gathered the scattered pages detailing Lady Luz-Lin’s fears. He had faced cynics before—this mission was no different.