Dusk spread across the sky like a dark gray net.
The squads scattered across the island quickly rallied under Pulhart's banner. Scouts had already brought word that the approaching enemy was the Forsaken army.
Though the Forsaken and Distant Mountain Monastery had no formal peace agreement, they had a tacit understanding: both fought only the Scourge, and their occasional skirmishes never went too far. With this sudden attack, that understanding might come to an end today.
Unas had been wondering where the Banshees had gone. When he heard the news, it finally dawned on him: the Forsaken had been playing the oriole waiting behind the mantis stalking the cicada.
Once the Dreadlord had been driven into a corner, the Banshees had left the humans to fight the desperate demon while they went back to meet their own army. Now they had returned to reap the fruits of victory.
The situation looked grim. The Argent Dawn had suffered heavy casualties, and after fighting for half a day, most of its soldiers were exhausted. Several powerful Paladins were covered in wounds as well.
There had been little fighting on the opposite shore. Sporadic resistance had quickly been crushed, and the field hospital and supply camp had fallen into enemy hands. Worse still, even their commander had been captured, a heavy blow to morale.
Facing the fresh Forsaken forces in their present state, they would have a hard fight ahead of them.
A trace of worry appeared on Pulhart's resolute face, but he still worked to reorganize the people gathering around him, shouting encouragement to raise their morale.
Going on the offensive was hardly possible. Blocking the ice bridge and launching a counterattack from there was their only option.
Fortunately, a force on the island had been stationed by the lake all along to guard against the Undead army beneath the water. They would be the main force now.
Pulhart was assigning people to build simple defenses at the entrance to the bridge when a lone rider suddenly galloped out from the enemy ranks on the opposite shore. It looked as though the Forsaken had deliberately let him through.
The rider raced across the ice causeway, and someone immediately escorted him to Pulhart.
"What's happening over there?" Seeing that the man seemed to have caught his breath, Erigor immediately asked in an urgent voice.
"The Forsaken didn't use excessive force. Only a few who resisted fiercely were injured. They've taken the wounded and the support personnel hostage, including Lord Tyrosus!"
"Why did they let you come over?"
"They said they wanted to negotiate, out on the lake."
Everyone present breathed a sigh of relief at the mention of negotiations, but Pulhart did not relax. "Who's leading them?"
"The Banshee Queen."
The group fell silent, their expressions turning grim. The former High Elf general had no good reputation among humans.
Besides, if the negotiations fell apart and they had to fight, Windrunner's arrival would surely mean her elite personal forces were with her, leaving the humans with even lower odds of victory.
They had no choice. Negotiation seemed to be the only path left. Pulhart made up his mind at once. "I'll go talk to her!"
The others immediately objected. It was too dangerous for him to go alone. If this was a Banshee trick, he would never come back, and if they lost another great commander, they might as well surrender.
In the end, they decided that the Argent Dawn's strongest forces on the island—the thirteen Paladins and Unas—would go to the negotiations together. Even if it was a trap, they would have the strength to fight back.
The fourteen rallied the last of their strength, buffed one another, and, led by Pulhart, stepped onto the still-solid ice causeway.
Through the ice beneath their feet, they could see dense clusters of dark shapes. They were Undead soldiers trapped in the ice, and they could only hope to be freed once the causeway melted.
There had been no movement beneath the ice on either side of the causeway for a long time. Presumably, after Bessarius died, the Undead that had been digging through the ice had scattered as well.
The Paladins walked to the very center of the causeway and waited a short while. Soon, a small group came over from the opposite shore, unmistakably led by Sylvanas, the Banshee Queen.
One, two, three, four, five... Unas counted exactly fourteen of them as well. Sylvanas looked much like Enya Xingyu—or rather, all the Dark Rangers looked much alike.
Black hooded cloaks, long elven ears poking out from beneath their hoods, thin, narrow, ashen faces, and crimson eyes: the fourteen Dark Rangers looked as though they had all been cast from the same mold.
The greatest difference was probably their weapons. Bows of varying lengths, knives, and swords were slung across their backs or hung at their hips. Sylvanas was the only one carrying no weapons.
Unas looked them over one by one. The "fairy-like" Enya Xingyu was among them, and she seemed to smile and wink at him. Unas quickly looked away. He was better off without that kind of rotten romantic luck.
Once they were close enough, the Banshee Queen stopped more than thirty meters away. Her voice, with its built-in bass speaker, rang out. "Your name is Pulhart. You're a strong Paladin. I know you."
"I'm honored, Dark Lady." Pulhart's voice was utterly calm.
"I didn't expect the humans to have such a young and powerful mage. This ice bridge is impressive," Sylvanas said, switching into small-talk mode. "It is a little cold, though."
Can an Undead like you even feel cold? Unas complained silently.
"Credit for that must also go to the High Elves who generously taught humans the knowledge of magic thousands of years ago. That was your race when you were alive, my lady."
Pulhart really didn't know how to make conversation. He just had to bring up the one thing he shouldn't have.
Sure enough, the words "when you were alive" and "High Elves" seemed to sting the Dark Lady, and she said nothing more.
The awkward silence did not last long. Pulhart had no time to shoot the breeze with her. Before she could say something like "The weather is lovely today," he asked bluntly, "What exactly do you want, my lady?"
"Peace. All I want is peace." Sylvanas's answer took everyone by surprise. Was she messing with them?
Korfax could not help blurting out, "Is your idea of peace raiding our camps in the rear and injuring our soldiers?"
Pulhart glared at him. They had agreed beforehand that only he, the levelheaded one, would speak on their behalf. Everyone else was to keep quiet, lest they cause a diplomatic incident.
Though Korfax was indignant, he knew he was in the wrong and stepped back with a huff.
The Dark Lady was not angered. She merely replied lightly, "They resisted too fiercely. We had no choice."
"Don't forget, without me and my sisters, the Argent Dawn would have been defeated long ago, let alone killed Bessarius. Besides, you can ask this young man"—she pointed at Erigor—"who guided him to the Dreadlord at the end."
Pulhart nodded to Erigor, who spoke up. "It was a Banshee named Kleia. I'm very grateful for her help."
"Kleia." Sylvanas beckoned to a ranger behind her. "You may accept this knight's thanks."
The slender Dark Ranger gave Erigor an elven greeting, but said nothing.
"As for your two camps, I was only afraid they would attack us, so I struck first and took them over temporarily. You must know how ordinary people treat poor souls like us." The Banshee Queen sounded like an aggrieved young wife. "Surely you believe I want peace now."
Pulhart was full of doubts and did not believe a single word she said. "What are you really after?"
"This lake." The queen seemed tired of talking too, and finally stated her demand. "I already reached an agreement with your commander. I would help him defeat the Dreadlord, and he would give me this lake. I've merely come to claim the payment I'm owed."
An uproar broke out among the Paladins. None of them believed Tyrosus would make such an agreement with the Banshee Queen, but they had indeed seen the Banshees help Tyrosus attack the Dreadlord.
"Where is Lord Tyrosus? Bring him here so we can confront him in person!"
"Baron Tyrosus was badly wounded and is unconscious. We'd best not disturb him."
Sylvanas delivered her ultimatum in an even tone. "You have one hour to withdraw, all of you. Once you have, I'll return all your people, and you'll naturally be able to see him."
"That's impossible!" Korfax tried to step forward and start cursing again, but the two people beside him held him fast.
Pulhart sighed inwardly. Bessarius was dead, and most of the purpose of this expedition had been accomplished. The lake had no strategic significance, but if the enemy wanted it so badly, it had to be valuable. Could it be the ancient ruins the soldiers who had gone underground had talked about?
Those were said to be Tyr's ruins, and were naturally very important. But no matter how valuable they were, they could not compare to bringing the survivors home safely.
Faced with an almost unbeatable enemy, he could only yield. It might damage his prestige, but he would not disregard his soldiers' lives for a vague, uncertain legend.
"One hour is too little. We have many wounded and prisoners to deal with. We'll withdraw before dark." Though he had chosen to yield, he still had to bargain.
"It's a deal!" The Banshee Queen was quite accommodating and did not make things difficult for him. Judging by the sky, there were roughly two hours left. She could afford to wait that long.
"You bastard coward!" Korfax broke free of the two holding him, rushed forward, and threw a punch at Pulhart's head.
Pulhart did not dodge. He took the punch head-on, then abruptly kicked Korfax in the lower back. Korfax screamed and tumbled off the ice causeway, sliding a long way across the ice.
Pulhart wiped the blood from his mouth and said to a Paladin who was about to jump down and retrieve Korfax, "Leave him alone. Let him cool off down there."
With that, he turned and walked back. The Paladins had no choice but to follow him briskly toward the island.
"Hehehehe..." At the sight, the Banshee Queen's grating laughter echoed over the hazy lake, making the thin chill in the air ripple outward like the surface of water.
Unas looked back for one last glimpse of the popular leader from the game, and a sense of humiliation welled up in him.
Sooner or later, I'll wipe that smile off your face!