The two group parted ways at the edge of the goblin village.
Shade's group was the first to move out, marching toward the second base.
Lumberling's group followed soon after, the sound of hooves and boots echoing through the village. The villagers stood in silence, watching them go. Some waved. Others simply stared, the weight of parting heavy in their eyes.
Riding at the front, Lumberling glanced at Eldric.
"So," he said, "what's our first stop?"
Eldric's voice was steady but carried a note of urgency. "There's a place, Drosvain City. I left it when I was injured. My comrades are still there, holding the walls against the Sengolio army."
"Drosvain…" Lumberling frowned. "Doesn't ring a bell."
"It's not a famous city," Eldric admitted. "But the lord there, Baron Roland Brightwind, is a good man. He's been taking in refugees without question. Still…" Eldric's words slowed, his jaw tightening. "…there's a problem. A mage attacked the city."
