“We should press on as quickly as possible, even if we need to march through the night,” Argrave spoke to Orion.

The prince’s gray-eyed gaze was stern and serious, freezing lesser men in place. “Do you believe so?”

“Absolutely. The journey this time around was not so exhausting. Allowing the enemy an entire night to group up and prepare for our coming attack with be a disaster,” Argrave nodded insistently.

“My feet can tread for thousands of miles without issue,” Orion said, staring him down. “Yet it is not myself I fear for. It is you and yours. Not all are blessed as I am. This speech is not spurred by arrogance, I assure you. I merely worry.”

Argrave put his hands to his hips and looked to the Waxknights, and then his own companions in turn. He could not deny travelling so much with anemia weighing upon him had been utterly exhausting. And exhaustion alone was not the issue. They would need to endure a night march when the wetlands were at their coldest. This final stretch spanned the most distance. What’s more, they’d face an undoubtedly difficult battle at its conclusion.

“What do you think?” Argrave asked his companions.

Anneliese was the first to speak, saying in favor, “Strategically… it is a good assumption that arriving early might make the following battle less insurmountable. If Argrave is correct, we will face the Plague Jester and more, even foes we’ve avoided thus far.”

Durran opened his mouth to speak, but Galamon cut in, “I have no issue.”

Argrave thought Galamon was reliable enough it was pointless for him to confirm that, but he still nodded in quiet satisfaction. Orion stepped past him, though, walking to stand before Galamon.

“Take off your helmet,” Orion said. “I would look at you.”

Argrave felt some panic seize him—had the prince noticed something amiss about his companion? The elven vampire wore a helmet that covered his eyes and the top of his head, yet the mouth was left exposed. Though Galamon’s teeth were not unexplainably large, it was still noticeable.

Galamon did nothing, and his white-eyed gaze turned to Argrave for command.

“…take it off,” Argrave nodded, preparing excuses in his head for any discrepancies Orion might have noticed.

removed his helm, and his white hair fell across his pale white skin. He fixed his hair with

He looked back to Argrave. “When this is done, I must ensure you are better armored to protect my brother.” He patted his shoulder, then

at the promise from the prince. He felt he was being yet deeper entangled with the Holy Fool, yet he could not balk at the promise from a royal of better armor. They still had artifacts

you, Durran?” Orion spoke to him, causing a seemingly involuntarily flinch from the tribal. “Can you

it was a joke and chuckled, but as he stared at Durran, he realized the man might

his beard. “Yet, it would

continued. “I’m

“Considering there may be attacks, no one will be able to

looked at Argrave bitterly, then laughed. “I’m fine. A bit sore, but I’ve fought battles on less sleep.

this one promises to

your many troubles with disease, broken bones… I would not have you kill yourself for the sake

breaks, for rest. We

#####

stick waved in front of

a warrior’s body. A large streak of waxpox had corrupted most of his forearm, some of his upper arm,

moving the stick in front of Elias’ face.

lowered his hand. “It’s well

mage belonging to the Order of the Gray Owl. He was quite an

to stop it from spreading to the brain,” the spellcaster said. “But… it still persists. This disease feeds

was as though he was not discussing his

the princess of this nation remains blind,” the spellcaster from Jast informed Elias. “Broken bones, cuts, gouges… easy enough to heal, as all that was there is still present. But severed limbs, rotted or gouged

cooperating. But… I still have to keep moving, root out the corruption in this city. I promised as much

his temple, greatly frustrated. The focus of his frustration appeared to be himself. Nevertheless, he straightened and

#####

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