Three days.
It had been three days since Ishi Crush had moved from that abandoned house, located on the edge of the old district of Sahel. The building, once inhabited by a blacksmith, was now nothing more than a skeleton of rotting wood and cracked stones, but it provided the essentials: a roof, shade, and silence.
Ishi meditated. He did not sleep. His body, transformed by the horrors of the Domain of Entropy, had long surpassed the human need for sleep as he once knew it. His mind, however, was never at rest. He still replayed the faces of his former comrades. Those who had abandoned him. Those who had condemned him to death.
Among them, Calwyn the Just.
A name that made Ishi laugh now. There was nothing just about the man who had looked away as he was gutted like a dog. Nothing honorable in his choices. But the survivors always rewrite history...
— "War hero..."
He clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking under the pressure. The wood of the table before him splintered slightly.
Then, finally, the door opened.
Lysa.
She entered without a sound, like a familiar shadow. Her black cloak was covered in dust, her boots soiled from the road. But her eyes gleamed with undiminished determination. She placed a scroll, two vials, and a crudely drawn map on the table.
— "I have what you wanted."
Ishi said nothing. He simply extended his hand for Lysa to unroll the parchment.
— "Calwyn's territory spans several agricultural provinces and two main cities. He's appointed civilian governors to manage each area, and his troops are trained by former veterans from the front lines. I found reports on their weapons: medium-quality runic blades, little offensive magic, but excellent logistics."
She paused, dug into her pocket, and pulled out a golden brooch.
— "The soldiers wear this seal. Each soldier is also equipped with a communication stone — low-level, but enough to alert nearby posts in case of an emergency."
Ishi raised an eyebrow.
— "He militarized his people..."
— "And indoctrinated them," Lysa replied. "Children are taught from a young age that Calwyn is 'The Sword of Peace.' He's built a legend around himself. A religion, almost. There's no official opposition. But..."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
— "There are disappearances. Entire families. Dissident voices that vanish without explanation. People don't speak of it. They whisper, if they dare."
Ishi furrowed his brow. He ran his hand over the map.
— "And the population?"
— "Well-fed. Well-housed. The roads are maintained. Markets thrive. But the atmosphere is tense. Like a forced peace."
She paused for a moment.
— "Calwyn didn't just take power. He built a world in his image."
Ishi slowly stood, his arms crossed.
— "And this tournament?"
Lysa nodded.
— "It's happening in two weeks. 'The Iron Brotherhood Tournament.' It's an annual celebration that gathers fighters from the kingdom. The winner receives a private audience with Calwyn... and a piece of border territory."
She handed him an official parchment. The seal was there: a sword raised, surrounded by broken chains.
— "He invites foreigners, even adventurers from outside the continent. He wants to showcase the grandeur of his reign. It's the perfect opportunity to infiltrate without drawing attention."
Ishi remained silent. He moved toward the broken window. The sky was darkening. He placed his hand on the sill, his gaze lost in the heavy clouds.
— "He stole my future... and turned it into a legend."
Then he turned, his eyes burning with a cold fire.
— "Very well. We'll play his game."
He moved toward the table, took a quill, and began drawing a plan.
— "Lysa. You'll enter the tournament as an observer of an unknown fighter. You'll find me an alias. Something insignificant. No honor, no glory. I'll be a hungry dog searching for bread."
— "And then?"
— "Then... you'll make me a list of the favorites. Those he's chosen himself. Those he thinks he can manipulate. Those who fight for him... or owe their status to him."
Lysa smiled.
— "You plan to eliminate them all?"
— "No."
He leaned over the tournament parchment.
— "I'll show them what true Hell looks like."
She nodded, then left on her mission.
Two days later, she returned.
— "I have names. Faces. Origins."
She unrolled a second scroll.
— "The first, Velric the Blue Steel. A knight from the north. He's been the favorite for three years. A former student of Calwyn."
— "The second, Rosha the Burning. A pyromancer mage, tied to the royal court. She fought under your command once... and testified against you."
Ishi's eyes darkened.
— "Interesting."
— "Then, there's Barden Three-Blades, a mercenary turned garrison captain. He commands the unit in charge of the tournament's security."
— "And finally... an unexpected name: Arthus the Seer. A former priest of the Celestial Order, now Calwyn's spiritual advisor. He will open the tournament with a speech."
Ishi leaned back. He inhaled deeply, then closed his eyes.
— "Lysa. Prepare everything. Registrations. Papers. Disguises. And keep Arthus under surveillance. If he prays, I want to know to which god."
— "Understood."
— "And spread rumors. Say the tournament will give birth to a monster. That a nameless foreigner is coming... and he will destroy everything."
Lysa hesitated.
— "Isn't that risky?"
He turned toward her with a sinister smile.
— "They need to know... that the past never dies."
And in the shadows of the old district, the fallen general wove the web of his revenge, one thread at a time, ready to strangle the illusion of a kingdom that had grown too comfortable.