That morning, sunlight poured through the towering stained-glass windows of Solmere's main tower, casting colored patterns on the floor where Lord Varnhold waited. His face was brighter than usual, and on the table lay an ancient map covered in arcane symbols and a pale blue crystal pulsing with gentle light.
Karl and Molvar entered the hall, with Sir Cedric following behind. The Lord gave a short nod and gestured toward the stone.
"You both did better than I expected," he said. "The barrier is holding strong. But now… we have something far more urgent to discuss."
Karl stepped forward, eyes fixed on the map.
"What is this?"
"This," Varnhold said, "is the Interference Map — a diagram connecting ancient energy nodes across Enel. When the Heart of the Sea was activated, it resonated with others... other hearts the demonkind are searching for to unlock the Gate of Chaos."
Molvar blinked. "You mean… there's more than one?"
"At least three," the Lord replied. "And the nearest lies beneath the Ashen Hills to the west."
He turned to Karl with a grave expression.
"I need you to lead a small expedition there before the demons make their move. If they break that seal... all our efforts here will be meaningless."
Karl stood in silence for a moment, then nodded. "I'll go."
The Lord smiled faintly, though a shadow of worry still lingered in his eyes.
Lord Varnhold crossed his arms, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "And what about you, Karl? After everything, where will you go next?"
Karl raised his head, his voice steady and clear. "I'm continuing my journey. My purpose hasn't changed… I must stop the resurrection of the Demon King."
Molvar nodded beside him, backing the declaration. "We've followed the clues through forgotten lands, and now, thanks to you, we know where to go next."
The Lord's brow furrowed slightly. "So... you mean to go to the Ashen Hills?"
"Yes," Karl replied. "But I wanted to ask — is there any fortress or settlement near that area? We'll need a place to regroup and gather information."
The Lord pondered for a moment before turning the map. He pointed to a spot in the western gray region.
"There is one... Fort Durendal — an old stronghold once held by a noble knightly order of the Ancient Kingdom. It's long been abandoned, but according to the latest reports, a group calling themselves the Wardens of Ash have taken up residence."
He looked at Karl intently. "They're not easy to approach. But if you can prove you mean no harm... they may aid you."
Karl gave a firm nod. "We'll find them."
Lord Varnhold gave a slow, contemplative nod at Karl's determination.
"I understand. The path to the Ashen Hills isn't simple. Even veteran knights tread carefully through the gray woods and fog-covered hills. The journey takes at least three days — assuming nothing goes wrong."
He placed a firm hand on Karl's shoulder, his eyes steady and full of resolve.
"I'll have Sir Cedric accompany you part of the way. Even if it's just three days, having someone like him along reduces the risks greatly. Cedric is one of my most trusted men… and he once guarded the western border."
Molvar raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. "Royal escort, huh? Guess we don't have to worry about bandits anymore."
The Lord chuckled, but his gaze drifted toward the faint mountains on the horizon. "It's not just bandits. What's stirring in the Ashen Hills... is unlike anything I've ever known. Be careful, Karl. Life over there doesn't wholly belong to our world anymore."
Karl gripped the hilt of his sword, the weight of his task pressing heavier than ever. He nodded.
"We leave at first light."
Lord Varnhold stepped back and reached for a large oaken table by the window. Atop it rested a meticulously carved ebony box, adorned with the symbol of Solmere: three intertwining waves.
"A reward for what you've done," he said, opening the box to reveal a hefty leather pouch and a soft-glowing blue stone. "This gold should last a company for months. And this… is a Seaheart Stone. It glows in the dark and points your path when near the sea."
Molvar gaped as the light danced across the ceiling.
Karl, however, simply nodded. "I appreciate your generosity, my lord. But… if I may ask, I'd need a bit more for the road. This journey will stretch far beyond the Ashen Hills."
Varnhold chuckled warmly. "I was waiting for you to say that."
He reached under his cloak and tossed another pouch to Karl. "This is for those who not only act bravely but think wisely. Take it — and use it well."
Molvar snatched the pouch mid-air, shaking it so the coins jingled cheerfully. "Now that sounds like a reward worth living for!"
Dawn had not yet broken, and Solmere slumbered beneath a thin veil of mist. The lanterns along the stone walls still flickered softly, casting long shadows across the damp cobblestone streets.
Karl fastened his cloak and slung a modest travel bag over his shoulder. Beside him, Molvar fussed over his supplies, stuffing in a few apple preserves he had smuggled from last night's feast.
Sir Cedric was already waiting at the southern gate. Clad in gleaming silver armor, he stood like a statue carved of light and steel. Behind him were three well-equipped horses, saddled and ready.
"Karl. Molvar," Cedric called, nodding as they approached. "The horses are ready. It'll take three days to reach the Ashen Hills, but we'll stop at a western outpost by nightfall."
Karl nodded, his eyes fixed on the misty horizon.
"Let's go," he said, voice calm and resolute.
Molvar leapt onto his horse and waved cheekily at the guards. "Goodbye, dear Solmere! May our next visit be for feasting, not saving the world!"
The sound of hooves echoed on the stone path as the three riders passed through the gate, leaving behind the dim glow of Solmere—and riding onward into the unknown.