The dreaded sounds of inferno spells exploding from beyond the walls prompted the alarms to be sounded.

Euralian warriors and mages now awakened by the sudden disruption, swiftly responded to the call to arms, enchanting their shield and sword thinking the Yhunian assault has begun.

Punctuating the explosions were thunderous cracks, echoing throughout the night. It is clear something is happening to our western perimeter.

The western gate is open, the command garrison marches out with a clear sense of urgency, whilst maintaining the stern discipline that all Euralian warriors are known to have.

Our life wards have picked up the life essence of the accursed Yhunian Scouts, in addition to another more... unfamiliar source.

Curiosity demands that I venture forth despite the hidden danger it may entail. I am willing to endure the exhaustion brought forth by the mind melding, if only to see the cause of those ominous cracks that sounded so much like thunder.

Walking amidst my fellow Euralian bretheren, I amble through the safety of the gate, and into the shadowed woodlands. The few perceptive mages in the formation cast luminary flares to combat the darkness, as the lights of the Encampment dims with each step taken.

Soft tones of yellow flows out from the faithful orbs above, reaching out into the darkness and beyond. Long shadows were cast between trees and warriors alike as the passing winds relent to the drumming of footsteps.

"Two Yhunian scouts, they seem to be one with the spirits now." An Aegis Knight comments, hatred firmly imbued in his tone.

They are dead....?

Through squinted eyes, I follow the gaze of the Aegis Knight. The unmistakable colours of the Yhunian Military sent a brief chill to my bones. I could not discern vitality from within those bodies, they are but mere corpses now.

Unmoving and face down into the dirt. Such an unsightly way to leave the realm of the living.

Despite my contempt for Yhunian soldiers, I can't help but utter a silent prayer to the two dead warriors, in the hopes their souls would find peace in the spirit realm.

My hatred towards the enemy extends only to the living, as such it is only in death do I show them my courtesy.

"These sounds, I remember them," a quivering voice murmurs, gracing the mild winds with certainty.

====Inora's POV====

These sounds, the thunderous cracks...

Why are they here?

Cold fear settles within, taking root in heart and soul. The unpleasant memories sail out the murk, filling me regrets. Mistakes they were, but also lessons to learn from. They will not hinder me. I trudge ahead, tempered by an eagerness pure as a still lake.

With help from luminary flares casted by my fellow mages, I see the grey beings. There are only four of them, not the eight I expected.

They hold their ground, meeting the eyes of my fellow brethren with unflinching gazes. We prevail in numbers. Yet, they remain fearless, their deadly weapons poised to deliver yet more death.

A fight does not bode well for either side, nor is it welcomed. We must not do anything rash lest we provoke their wrath. Whilst occupied with that train of thought, a glint in the distance catches my ire.

I peer past their grey shoulder... pauldrons, and onto the blue and yellow forms of Yhunian soldiers.

'Dead Yhunian Rangers...' I internally correct myself.

One does not need to be a scholar to know the cause of their demise, for the reason is staring right at me. Through darkness and recent death, they watched.

I stand with the others, hands nursing the scepter's gleam with noble intent. Beneath the emblem, the mutterings continued.

Warriors and mages offered faint musings to one another, speaking of wandering spirits or vengeful wraiths. I take no part in the dither, knowing the unblemished truth.

"Beneath your shards and spires, I call upon your eternal blessings to aid my endeavors," I whisper through decided lips, filling the scepter with intent and power.

Amidst my sermon to the Herald, the Lord General makes his way towards the grey beings, passing through the heart of the Euralian formation. Like a river's ebb and flow, the various warriors and mages within part to make way, his golden armor serving as a beacon that drew the attention of all.

Including, dare I say, the attentions of those dangerous revenants as well.

"With all due reverence Lord General. We know little of their allegiance, I must stand against your recklessness," a mage makes his opinions known, his face laced with genuine worry.

"Worry not, I will shield myself should the need arise," Thellius declares, silencing the snippets of doubt in everyone's minds.

Even so, he is stepping towards the unknown. Towards those whom we know nothing off. The ones that took the lives of my two comrades. I am bound by their memory to act if nothing else.

With that thought in mind, I decree my legs to act. I trail behind the Lord General's golden visage as saunters towards the four beings. They hold fast against the Lord General's approach, regarding his presence with silence as they sheltered behind shadow and cover.

Their weapons are still raised in brazen defiance. It is these intriguing objects that requires my utmost attention. They spout death at every thunderous beat, defiling ears and memory alike.

The esteemed Lord General must be sheathed from their vile regards. He is someone the Euralian Kingdom needs in the war against the Yhunian Federation, for it is only through his cunning tactics and keen sense of judgement that our outnumbered forces even managed to slow down the Yhunian incursions into our sacred lands.

Should they make any sudden movements, I stand ready to conjure a powerful shield to protect the Lord General, regardless of my energy reserves, what worth does a single highlander hold when compared to the likes of him?

The two faithful guards, always by Thellius's sides appear relaxed in spite of the current affairs, yet the barely visible glow on their staffs sunders that assumption. A hint of blue rests within the crystals on their scepters, representing their readiness in the form of channeled energy.

Though their faces were sheathed in ornate helmets, I could sense their weariness as they too close in on the unknown beings.

Leaves rustle in the darkness, marking the passage of movement. I notice one of them marching forward, seemingly unfazed by the strong sense of authority exuded by the esteemed Lord General. This grey vagrant exudes a dark tone of confidence, clearly visible by the way it walks with a clear sense of purpose.

A wordless battle between two very different minds took place right in front of my very eyes. It is Thellius' own shining confidence that spoke greatly of his abilities as a tactical genius against the calm and reserved demeanor of the grey vagrant that represented the unknown.

Polar opposites....

Time seemed to take a brief halt as these two came closer together. Dozens of warriors and mages await with bated breaths, offering distrustful eyes against the unknown being as it continues its stalwart march towards the esteemed Lord General.

Both stop their advances towards each other when they are around an arm's length away. The Lord General's personal guards stood a fair distance behind, leaving him to deal with the encounter on his own.

The affair held my trepidation, and I waited for what may come shortly after. 

===Jerome's POV===

'Well, we certainly have their attention.' I internally remark, shooting daggers into the green eyes of this, person.

His withered face speaks of hard earned wisdom, of a man who has lived decades past his prime and thrived. Despite his age, his eyes retains a sharp piercing look, a clear remnant from his younger days. For someone who is not supposed to be human, he looks disturbingly the part. It was uncanny.

The stale winds offer faint snippets through the audio sensors, cutting through the awkward first contact between us, and whatever they are. Amidst the convoluted string of thoughts, one of them stands out. The realization struck hard and fast like klaxons blaring in the middle of a quiet afternoon.

This person unmistakably is an authoritative figure of some kind. I can see it, the unseen confidence burning within those eyes, the motivation, dedication, and many more immediately identifiable even at first glance.

It may be a stupid idea to even entertain in retrospect, but as of now I see no other way forward. Slowly, I raise a hand to the helmet, making sure to move in a slow and predictable way to avoid startling the others. Anything to prevent this from worsening.

With a hefty sigh, I steel my resolve and begin lifting the helmet. The cool air quickly gains purchase on every new inch of exposed skin, steadily gaining ground with its continued ascent. I turn slightly to look at the reassuring outlines of my fellow operatives, hoping to find support.

Three dark visors glared back. "Dumb idea," James shakes his head, but otherwise makes no real effort to stop me. The short quip is immediately followed with a heightened stance, his weapon raised just a few inches away from a proper firing stance.

The others remain silent, opting to watch the spectacle play out with a cautious outlook, rifles similarly on alert as a precaution. It is not explicitly stated, but I knew they were behind me on this.

We need to show them we look similar at least, maybe then we can somehow find a common ground and somehow negotiate for the release of the two surviving scientists.

It might be naive for me to even think it would work, but in this situation, it might be only option able to salvage our predicament. The original plan fell apart the moment we stirred the nest.

This situation has to be navigated extremely carefully, every movement, every flinch is being watched by countless of these people.

I continue lifting the helmet, taking this moment to reflect on the decision. Being outnumbered is bad enough, and I was only upping the stakes by voluntarily making my head an excellent target.

'But, there's no reason to stop now,' I muse, now fully committed to the act.

The soft inner material grazes my cheeks, revealing more of my identity to the outside world.

Numerous unseen eyes watch on, discerning my every move. It was hard to focus on anything but this overbearing attention as the visor glides up and gives way to darkness.

The stale air rushes over me, its cold touch sweeping away any semblence of ease. I place the helmet beneath an arm, watching the murky scene ahead unfold through squinted eyes.

Even with the odd looking flares above, it was impossible to discern the specifics of what lies ahead beyond simple shapes and distance. Though the stern figure directly ahead is an exception to this owing to his proximity and gilded armor.

Past his imposing visage the sounds of surprised gasps comes streaming in further behind. Without passive visual aid from the visor, the crowd behind him remains little more than a thick mesh of humanoid silhouettes, together forming a black visual soup barely distinct from the dense topography of vegetation.

While busy pondering over the next course of action, the sinister glow of blue radiating from the crowd's general direction suffocates the notion of a peaceful resolution. The fear rakes through my legs and travels up with a hard, unmistakable chill.

Through my experiences with these unknowns, I've come to associate that malevolent shade of blue with one thing.

Hostility....

Coming to a similar conclusion, the rest of the fireteam breaks contact with the entourage, melting into the web of trees and spacing themselves for the eventual spiral into open combat. I barrel after them, taking refuge behind the closest discernable form of cover.

Placing the helmet back on, I glean out from the side of a large tree observing the unexpected stalemate ahead. No one moved, no one fired a shot.

"Hold, something's up," Douglas infers through the channel, "not sure what though."

"I'm hoping that means no hostilities," I remark, shoulder firmly wedged in place against the tree's serrated bark.

Both my hands keep the weapon firmly locked in position under the heavy tension. Robert scurries to another position, leaving behind an audible rustle of leaves, I turn to see him already in position to return fire. This is it.

"Just in case," I whisper beneath bated breaths, staring through the reticule and painting a target on the closest armed combatant.

===Thellius's POV===

This is certainly unexpected....

"These people appear to be of Yhunian descent. His hair is black as midnight," One of my guards whispers, directed towards me and the other to his flank.

Snippets of conversation rise from the main force behind as they too gaze upon the face of this, person. They hold words of anger and frustration, overpowering the surprise they might have felt.

Such anger can only stem from our hatred of all things of Yhunian origin, but foresight glimmers within me, and I see beyond such brash assumptions. They are more than that, that much is clear.

"These warriors bear no obvious heraldry, how uncouth," a Black Hand mage scowls, revealing his distaste through tone and stance.

Mummers of agreement resonate throughout my depleted army, fueled by their exhaustion from many days of marching, and of fighting a defensive retreat on the front lines.

Mages and warriors soon begin channeling energy, pouring out their frustrations of being beaten back, outnumbered, and bested by the underhanded tactics of Yhunian Tacticians into the weapons they held be it a sword or a staff.

I could sense the ire building in the air, a fresh and potent tingle singing to my senses. The glow of blue grows in radiance until it eventually gains the strength to ward off the darkness.

Should I let my army do as they desire, this will turn into a needless fight. Never fight a battle if it is avoidable, this is my creed.

I raise a hand up for all to see, drawing the heated gazes of my beleaguered forces.

I cast a fleeting glance to the warriors behind me, intending to return their glares with my own, imbued with authority and finality. Even if they wish to battle, they will have no choice but to relent, a Lord General's word is final.

"Soldiers of Euralia, stay your weapons from combat!" I bellow out, smothering their desire for needless battle.

As expected, my decree quells the fire in their eyes. Warriors and mages alike slowly lowered their weapons, fatigue now present on their forms as their battle-lust dissipates. In its place, muffled intrigue begins to form.

I turn back to the front, hearing a hint of exchange from the rout ahead.

"Negative, not yet. Hold your fire," one of them bellows from the woodwork, wedged in place and offering a wary tone.

The coarse vowels and abundance of consonants, these alone confirms it, they are not the enemy. With their method of battle as well, there need not be any doubt.

The four beings remain shadowed in secrecy pursuing the path of caution with their weapons presented forward. Though their designs were reminiscent of iron crossbows and thus demands further intrigue, I look instead to the shores of clarity.

"What do those words mean?" I remark in curiosity.

Soft, gentle footsteps come up from behind. The footfalls are light, but heavy with importance.

"He is telling the rest of his kind to restrain their weapons," The maiden priest replies from her post beside me.

I turn my head to look her in the eye. "You are privy to their tongue?"

"The mind meld, I had to go much deeper into the essence of our prisoners to find the answers you seek, their language now is imbued as if it were my own," She replies, keeping her eyes to the front.

"Are you saying these beings are somehow tied to our two prisoners?" I harshly whisper.

The priest nods demurely, a knowing frown gracing her lips, "They are indeed."

I turn my gaze back to the front, enthralled by the newly gleaned knowledged.

"You seem unfazed by them, I'd like you to ask them of their intentions here," I demand.

I look back towards my army. "As for the lot of you, return back and rest, this is a false alarm I assure you. This affair is anything but a Yhunian Attack..."

The army retreats back into the gate, casting their final looks of suspicion. A single Euralian highlander stands her ground, even as the people beside her solemnly make their way back towards the interior of the Encampment.

Inora is her name I believe.....wait.....

She led the scouting group as they fought a group of unknown warriors, grey vagrants she refers them as.

My eyes widen as I come to a stark conclusion. The highlander knows of them. Her words precisely match the strange beings before me. Vagrants clad in dark carapace armor, fighting with shadow and distance, and harbouring powerful weapons reminiscent of black crossbows.

Perhaps the Herald herself has deemed her a worthy subject to thread this new yarn of mystery.

"Inora," I call out to the lone Euralian Highlander, seeking her small form amidst the few warriors still present.

The women goes rigid and responds, "I hear you."

I beckon her to me. She complies without lingering hesitation, pacing eagerly.

"These people perfectly match the description on your report, are these beings the same ones you encountered in the afternoon?" I queried, feeling intrigued by the possibility.

In all my years as Lord General, this is the first time in many years that a situation has caught me by genuine surprise. There is much to learn about these beings.

Where do they hail from?

Which kingdom or nation has their allegiance?

"With all my heart, yes, it's them." The Euralian highlander answers, further confirming my earlier theories.

"Then, they are neither our friends, nor our enemies," I remark whilst I had my eyes on the Maiden Priest as she converses with one of the vagrants in their odd tongue.

This went on for a few moments, allowing a layer of anticipation to build up the tension as I anxiously wait for an answer. Meanwhile, the rest of his kind made the decision to leave the safety of the vegetation.

"They desire to have our prisoners your grace, he said they are part of his nation." She enlightens me.

"What nation?" I ask, more than a little curious.

"Regretfully, they will not specify..."

I lock my eyes onto the front of the man's black helmet, offended by this continued attempt at mystique. "Is that so."

I let my displeasure be known in the form of a mild frown. Though their manners leave much to be desired, it is beneath my stature to allow grievances to shepherd my actions.

"Nonetheless, I have no reason to deny that request, Yhunian Rangers were slain by these people, and that is reason enough to give them my respects," I proclaim as she turns to face me.

"I will honor their request," I add, looking into her grey eyes.

"Esteemed Priest, carry forth what I said," She merely nods in response.

"Come, we shall meet the prisoners, they should be recovering from the mind meld in the mending ward," I proclaim confidently before turning towards the encampment.

Little did I know these strange beings would have a profound impact on not only the war, but on the entire Kingdom as well. While I may not be able to peer into the future, I do know the future holds promises, however uncertain they may be.

The strings of destiny has woven the fates of our two peoples together.

===Few minutes later===

"Your grace, are you sure it is a good idea to let these armoured vagrants inside our encampment? I implore you to reconsider your decision!" Inora voices out her thoughts.

With a tired sigh I give the female highlander my reply, "Worry not young one, had their minds been filled with malicious intent, I would have known..."

I look into her eye, "Before my days as Lord General, I was part of the royal advisory, serving under her Majesty Queen Ayleth, as her assistant in all things concerning the political intrigue involving the different noble houses...."

"She taught me the ways of looking past the faces of people, and into their hearts to find out their true motives." I went on.

"I have absolute faith in the teachings of our Queen, and you should as well realize her wisdom knows no bounds." I end.

As if enthralled by the passion within my words, Inora takes a moment to give her reply. "I understand now, forgive me for my reckless questioning your grace." She meekly responds, features shadowed from sight.

The Highlander keeps her head low in shame, seemingly berating herself from within her own mind.

The groans of the wounded and a few of the dying prompt my gaze back towards the front.

It seems we are in the medical ward, I evidently realize.

I take confident strides forward, the mild fluttering of my cape drew the attention of everyone within the room, whether they be a healer or a wounded soldier.

I peer all over the room, zoning out the blood and occasional corpse in search of the two prisoners.

There they are, alive and well for most part. I lead the way towards them.

I turn towards the four grey clad beings. "I assume these two are the ones you seek?" I inquired with the Maiden Priest acting as the translator.

One of them sends a nod in my direction.

"Very well, you may have them, but on one condition," I say.

"What is that condition," The Maiden Priest translates.

"I desire to know more about who you are, your armor, it is unlike... anything I have ever seen in my life," I reply, voice honeyed with interest.

A third voice broke into the conversation, "I can answer it, sir."

It was one of the two prisoners. It seems the exchange of one's language goes both ways, how convenient.

I best prepare my questions, there is much to ask.

First and foremost.....

"Who are you people?"
.
.

.

===End===

- It is in the spirit of humanity, that we find the strength to push ourselves towards the horizon of the unknown.