The men marched with hands gripping tightly whatever weapon they had. Seeking eyes gazed into the calm whiteness of the mist, expecting to see trees, birds or a group of bloodthirsty ambushers.

People react differently to fear. Some freeze, some channel their anger to fight it off, and others joke. You never know which one you are until you feel your throat clenched by dread. A boy no older than sixteen was holding his spear with two hands, pressing it to his chest, eyes looking at the ground.

“Hey, pal.” - an older man asked the boy.

“Yes.” - he answered, hoping for some words of encouragement.

“Can I take your shoes if you die?” - the man asked, and the group around them erupted in laughter.

The scouts reported no sign of people in the village. It was abandoned, but the state of the houses spoke of fighting. Great, Veran thought, who knows which unknown warlord has claimed this forest for his own, hoping the czar would let him be. With some luck, they wouldn’t have to cool another ambitious man’s dreams on the way to Rhana.

The mist stopped on the outskirts of the village as if it had run into a wall. The whiteness refused to enter. It circled the entire settlement, but it left it to be seen clearly. The trees gave way to small wooden buildings, leaving a window to the sky above them. The men noticed it as they stepped out from the trees, and many of them shot a glance at the sky. The first time they could see so much of it this last week. It was still there.

It was a strange place to settle. Yet again, maybe this is why it was abandoned. No river nearby, no lands to be farmed. There seemed to be a barn on one side, but ten houses could hardly feed themselves from a few animals.

“Anything?” - Veran asked the riders that waited for them in the village.

“No one here, sir. The houses are empty, but whoever lived here didn’t leave peacefully. Some of the doors are kicked in.”

“One house has a hole in the wall.”

“The rain’s washed most of it, but you can’t mistake the dried blood on the walls. Whoever lived here didn’t leave. They were killed.”

So much fighting these last few years - invasions and rebellions. So many armies and mercenaries have passed through these lands, which have let out their anger on a forgotten village deep in the woods. Maybe an imperial company left with the sour taste of defeat decided to take a small victory on the way home. Perhaps it was our men, still carried by bloodthirst after stifling a rebellion.

The battalion marched into the village. The old, rotten houses, barely standing straight, surrounded them like a monument of a lost time. The wood had darkened, and green spots appeared where the moss had taken hold with no one to clean it up. The roofs did their best to withstand the elements, but some structures had gaping holes where the straw and the wood had not resisted the rain.

Flinders and pieces of glass covered the ground, and a door gaped open. Even the wind didn’t dare come this deep into the forest, so it left things lying where they were on the day they were abandoned. They would have never found this village if they had taken the high road.

“Search the buildings. Look around for bodies. We owe them a proper burial, at least.”

“Do you know the name of the village.” - Ozren asked.

“Does it matter, my lord? We will find many just like it if we scour the land around Rhana. This city attracts death.”

The man scattered in the muddy streets, going from house to house. You could see their tension, looking behind the doors, sticking the piles of hay with their spears - just in case. The scouts still roamed around, but even if the battalion was ambushed, this place gave them a good defensive position.

“Sir, you should see this.” - one of the soldiers told Veran while trying to keep an eye on Ozren.

The general shot a glance at the young boyar, then followed the soldier into one of the buildings.