The smell of blood. Andesa was no stranger to it.
She stood before the doors of the Communication Tower, holding them half-open. The senses of a high-ranking Supernatural Being spread outward, and every trace of presence within the tower entered her mind. A few seconds later, she abruptly stepped back and closed the doors again.
She turned around and strode toward the east hall, her steps swift as the wind. Countless thoughts and conjectures blended with every clue revealed by recent events, churning through her mind like a storm. Her pace gradually steadied, and one question after another surfaced in her thoughts. The first was—
If someone wanted to completely deceive Winterwolf Fortress's highest commander for twenty-four hours, ensuring that not a single soldier accidentally tore aside the "curtain"... how many people would that take?
On her way to the east hall, Andesa carefully picked apart every possible illusion around her. She investigated each abnormality one by one, gradually reconstructing what this farce of the past two days should truly have looked like.
Count Palin Winterhold stood before the Magic Power Focus in the east hall. A massive crystal apparatus was embedded in the circular platform at the center of the hall, magical light flowing endlessly across its surface. The Winterhold Count's attention rested on several of its primary streams of light—through them, he monitored the magical balance and shield load throughout Winterwolf Fortress, adjusting the deployment and shifts of the Black Flag Mage Corps at any time to ensure that both the mages and the fortress remained in optimal condition.
Other than the Winterhold Count, only a dozen or so Battle Mages stood guard in the hall, watching the various entrances.
The moment Andesa entered the hall, the Winterhold Count sensed her presence. The dignified yet refined middle-aged man