The last rays of the setting sun painted only a smear of red across the horizon, and night spread like ink, quickly swallowing the land. Corbin ran along the familiar path, the lightness and efficiency granted by his extraordinary physique unable to entirely dispel the anxiety in his heart. The night wind brushed past his ears, and in his acutely sensitive hearing, the distant village dogs barking and the wind in the farther mountains were clearly discernible. Yet, the purity of all these senses was clouded and obscured by the undercurrent of anxiety that churned within him. His mind focused solely on reaching Knight Boone's house as quickly as possible.
The Knight's house was a sturdy, solid stone structure, possessing the plainness and resilience characteristic of border regions. Dim magic-light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow. Even before he reached the entrance, he saw Carl, the manservant, carefully tending to the horses in the stable outside the house.
Corbin practically burst into the yard, heading straight for the open main door—etiquette entirely forgotten in his haste.
Bursting through the door, a wave of warmth and the aroma of food, a mix of spices and meat, was acutely clear to his senses, chilled by the night wind. This starkly contrasted with the night's coolness he carried and the anxiety weighing on his heart.
Inside, Knight Boone's family sat gathered around the dining table, enjoying dinner. Steam rose from the table, and the air was filled with savory scents. Lianna was laughing and talking with her father, Boone, their laughter bright. Boone's wife, Aunt Judy, held their five-year-old son, Eddie, gently feeding him bite by bite. Sarah, the maid, stood quietly nearby, ready to serve her masters at any moment.
The sounds of laughter from within were crystal clear in his ears, yet they felt like sharp blades, cutting through the apology in his heart for intruding upon and potentially shattering this peace. Corbin's hurried intrusion instantly froze the warmth and tranquility within the house. The laughter and chatter ceased abruptly, and all eyes snapped to Corbin. Knight Boone's and Aunt Judy's smiles froze on their faces. Lianna also set down her cutlery, looking with worry at Corbin, whose brow furrowed with worry.
Corbin took a deep breath, trying to organize the "wrongness"—things that couldn't be explained by common sense—in his mind into communicable information.
"Uncle Boone, the ridge behind Elder Lysander's house... I sense something is wrong!" he began urgently, a trace of unconcealable anxiety in his voice.
As he spoke the words "mountain ridge," he unconsciously lowered his voice—that place wasn't just a geographical location; it was the anchor point of the heavy memory in his heart. His father, Knight Gareth Thorne, had died there.
"I saw abnormal cooking smoke; no hunters are usually out that late in that direction. I feel... it seems bandits are hidden there, and they might act tonight! Just like... just like when my father..." The last few words were almost a whisper, carrying an unspeakable heaviness, like a stone suddenly thrown into a calm lake.
"The place where Thorne was attacked?!" Knight Boone's face instantly became exceptionally grave; the words burst from him as his hand slammed down on the table edge with a muffled thud.
This location, this "unease" that Corbin sensed, immediately felt like a sharp knife plunging into his deepest pain—the sacrifice of his friend and second-in-command, Monet Thorne. Aunt Judy's face also paled slightly; she instinctively clutched little Eddie closer, her face full of worry as she looked at Boone, her eyes filled with concern. Lianna bit her lip, her gaze towards Corbin filled with deep concern and a hint of fear.
Knight Boone exchanged a quick look with his daughter and Corbin—that glance contained too much unspoken emotion and vigilance. Without a moment's hesitation, he switched to a wartime footing, making calm and swift arrangements.
He looked at his wife, his tone steady and rapid: "Judy, dear, take Eddie and Sarah to the back room. Pack some essentials. Hurry, be ready to evacuate to the Castle at any moment!"
Then, he turned to his daughter, Lianna, his words quick but clear: "Lianna, go immediately to Knight Owen's house and notify the Town Guard Reserves. Tell them to assemble in front of the Viscount's Castle! Tell Owen the situation is urgent, possibly related to Thorne's attack, and all official Knights must be present!" He specifically added the latter part to emphasize the gravity and urgency of the situation.
Finally, he looked at Corbin, his eyes filled with trust and gravity: "Come, Corbin. We'll go to the square first. Tell me all the details you found on the way, so I can report to the Viscount later."
The night deepened, and the streetlights came on. The walk from Knight Boone's house to the Viscount's Castle square felt particularly short under Corbin's anxious and swift steps.
In the square, torchlight flickered like uneasy spirits, illuminating the assembling crowd. When Corbin and Knight Boone arrived, a considerable number of people had already gathered. To his extraordinary sense of smell, the scent of sweat on the Town Guard's bodies was heavier than usual, and the faint sound of knights tightening their grips on their sword hilts was clearly audible. Their stances were stiff; despite their efforts to maintain military composure, the suppressed tension was as evident as the tide. Matthew and Rhodes had already arrived, their expressions serious. Rhodes, usually boisterous, was now talking in a low voice with Matthew. Knight Owen was also present, directing several official Town Guard Knights and scattered Reserves into formation.
After briefly assessing the assembly in the square, Knight Boone immediately strode towards the Viscount's Castle gates. He needed to report to the Viscount as soon as possible and discuss defense arrangements. Corbin remained in the square, joining his friends and other arriving knights.
"Corbin! Did Uncle Boone tell you? What's going on?" Lianna rushed to Corbin's side, anxious and expectant, as soon as she saw him.
Corbin looked at his friends' worried eyes, a strong sense of responsibility to protect them welling up within him.
"It's a bit complicated. Uncle Boone said it might be related to my father's attack..." Corbin's tone grew heavy, and his words immediately made Matthew and Rhodes' faces change color, their youthful curiosity overtaken by deeper tension.
"I saw unusual cooking smoke behind Elder Lysander's house near the ridge, and I feel... I feel there are very dangerous individuals hiding there, and they might act tonight." He described it in a way they could understand, omitting the specific details his extraordinary Perception provided.
Knight Owen also led Matthew and Rhodes over.
Rhodes frowned, asking in a low voice, "Related to Knight Thorne's attack?!... Is it those goblins? Or something new?" His tone held suppressed anger and vigilance.
Corbin shook his head. "I'm not sure yet, but it feels different... more dangerous than ordinary bandits." He looked towards the distant mountain ridge, his gaze sharp and alert.
Knight Owen clapped Rhodes on the shoulder, his gaze sweeping over Corbin before saying in a deep voice, "Quiet down, all of you. Let's hear Viscount and Captain Boone's plan first."
He then looked at Corbin directly. "Corbin, tell me the details of your discovery again, so I can be ready to act at any moment." His gaze towards Corbin held a gravity and scrutiny different from before—he had heard Knight Boone emphasize "possibly related to Thorne's attack" and saw the unusual seriousness in Corbin's eyes. In his heart, he had already made a judgment. The torchlight in the square illuminated their young but worried faces; a crisis was silently enveloping the border town.
Just then, the heavy oak gates of the Viscount's Castle slowly creaked open, a blinding light spilling from the gap. Corbin's gaze immediately locked onto the obese Viscount Reginald. To his extraordinary Perception, the Viscount carried none of the cold "wrongness" aura; only the arrogance of one long in power, and... a subtle, almost imperceptible scent of sweat mingled beneath the noble perfume, and a slight internal tremor brought on by a barely discernible quickening heartbeat—that was suppressed panic, wrapped in arrogance.
Following him out were two figures, one behind the other. The one in front was Knight Boone, his brow tightly furrowed, his eyes filled with unconcealable worry and heaviness.
The Viscount glanced at the assembled crowd in the square, cleared his throat, his tone clearly laced with contempt and impatience, as if dealing with an insignificant annoyance: "Knight Boone, I have heard your report. A little trouble in the mountains? Just a few wandering ruffians; why call the entire town's guard force here to stand in the cold? You're making a fuss over nothing!"
He waved his hand, his voice indicating his intent to end this quickly. "The main official Knights will stay and cooperate with me to secure the Castle and the town."
Saying this, the Viscount's gaze shifted to Knight Owen, then landed on Corbin, Matthew, and Rhodes, his tone carrying a condescending command: "As for scouting the potential bandit camp in the mountains... Knight Owen, you take Corbin and these few capable Reserves and go. Figure out the situation and report back immediately. Remember, don't act without orders, and don't alert them—causing a big fuss and making more trouble for me, your Viscount will not be pleased."
Upon hearing this, Knight Boone's face turned ashen. He stepped forward, lowering his voice, a hint of urgent pleading in his tone, every word heavily suppressing his inner anxiety: "Viscount, sir, the situation is far from as simple as you think! The location is sensitive, the smoke Corbin sensed is extraordinary, definitely not ordinary bandits, very likely related to the enemy who attacked Thorne three years ago! The level of danger far exceeds your imagination!"
He continued, pleading, "These children... are inexperienced; please let me lead the team, or send more official Knights!"
Simultaneously, Lianna was full of anxiety and hesitation, looking anxiously back and forth between her father and Corbin. Corbin looked at Uncle Boone's anxious expression, his heart turning cold—he deeply felt Boone's helplessness and indignation facing an incompetent superior. This sense of powerlessness was more suffocating than the danger itself.
However, the Viscount impatiently waved his hand, a flicker of anger and hidden cowardice in his eyes: "Enough, Knight Boone! Your judgment is not to be questioned! Do you want me to go myself, or send you 'experienced' official Knights to your deaths? Less nonsense! Obey the command!"
He glanced at Boone, then swept his gaze over Corbin and the others. "Go now, quickly, don't delay your Viscount's rest!"
Facing the Viscount's stubbornness and arrogance, Knight Boone's brow furrowed tighter. He took a deep breath, suppressed the surging indignation in his heart, clenched his fist, and finally bowed to accept the order: "Yes, Viscount, sir."
At the same time, he pulled back Lianna, who was about to go with her companions, and kept her by his side. Then he turned, his deep gaze first falling on Knight Owen, who immediately returned a look of understanding—the unspoken understanding and worry between old friends about the current danger. His gaze then swept over Corbin and the other two young men. Corbin read the heaviness and worry in Uncle Boone's eyes; that look seemed to silently scream: This journey is far from as simple as the Viscount says. Alarm bells rang loudly in his heart. The Viscount's dismissive words contrasted sharply with the cold threat he perceived and Uncle Boone's heavy worry. The weight of that look far surpassed the Viscount's command. He knew they were being pushed to the forefront of the storm.
Knight Owen received Boone's look, his heart sinking, and he immediately understood. He looked at Corbin, Matthew, and Rhodes, and commanded in a deep voice: "Corbin, Matthew, Rhodes! Prepare yourselves immediately. We're leaving now!"
The torchlight in the square illuminated everyone's complex expressions. The dangerous mission, decided by a single word from the Viscount, had now fallen upon the shoulders of these young knights. Their figures, under the flickering torchlight, appeared both young and resolute, about to step into the unknown night.