Tragedy

"Kill!" Teams of well-equipped mercenaries charged out of the darkness. The caught-off-guard Orcs were beaten senseless and utterly disoriented. Before long, the Second Son Mercenary Group swiftly tore through the Orcs' defensive line and pushed deep into their territory.

Not long afterward, an enraged roar came from deep within Mirkwood, followed by silence...

"Teacher, are we leaving?" Wes looked at Caslo and asked.

"What, you want to stay here? I'm a general of the Lagrange Kingdom, and this is Gondor! You're a Lagrangean now too. Would it kill you to go back and see your homeland?" Caslo rolled his eyes. The splendors of the world really did dazzle the eye. The prosperous White City had completely captivated this boy from the wilderness.

"But... isn't Flowing City very prosperous too?" Wes nodded first, then asked quietly.

"If you're willing to humble yourself, Gondor would welcome you as well! I'm sure His Highness the Steward would not begrudge you the position of marshal!" Hulin, walking beside them, smiled as he spoke. Though he knew the chances were slim, planting a seed would still be good. If Caslo ever became unhappy in Lagrange, and Gondor was the first place he thought of seeking refuge, it would be worth it.

"Forget it. King Roland would hunt me down and break my damned legs!" Caslo shook his head, his face full of outright rejection. Breaking his legs was meant in the literal, physical sense. Dos alone could strip Caslo of the advantages of being a Dragon Knight. Without Caldo's help, having his legs broken would be a certainty.

"Heh, you're too kind, sir!" Hulin smiled without disappointment. It had only been a casual attempt anyway; he had never expected it to bear fruit.

"Alright, now that everything is over, it's time for us to