The Vermilion Palisade lay bathed in the dying light of dusk, its wooden shingles glowing softly against the gathering shadows. Alex gritted his teeth, steadying the weary form leaning heavily on his left shoulder.
"We're almost at the inn," Alex murmured, his breath ragged. "Hold on, friend Chucro… just a little longer."
Chucro gasped, clutching his side where the blood still seeped through torn cloth. "Breathing… keep breathing… I'm alright. I can hold on."
The narrow, cobbled street seemed endless, but at last, Alex pushed himself forward, each step fueled by resolve.
Inside the inn's modest reception, an alarmed young woman looked up, eyes wide as she took in Chucro's battered figure.
"What happened to him?" she gasped.
"Fight," Alex replied shortly, voice rough but steady. "He was injured—badly. Can you help me get him to a room?"
Without hesitation, the receptionist nodded, her delicate hands already reaching out. Together, they carried Chucro up the creaking stairs, careful not to jostle him.
In the dim light of the room, Alex tore open his satchel, uncorking a vial of glowing liquid. The healing potion shimmered blue as he poured it gently over Chucro's wounds.
A soft sigh of relief escaped the injured man. "I feel… a bit better, already."
"I'll pay you extra if you can wrap these with bandages," Alex said, eyes scanning the wounds critically.
"That's no trouble. Give me a moment."
As the receptionist tended to Chucro's injuries, Alex's thoughts raced. "I need to step out for a bit. There's something I must investigate."
Chucro's gaze was sharp beneath furrowed brows. "Where will you go?"
"To the forest," Alex said without hesitation. "Baron Jevran mentioned a hideout in a great tree inside the Crimson Thicket. I want to see if it's true."
The forest loomed ahead, ancient and tangled. Alex darted into the thicket, pausing only to dart upward, grabbing the first sturdy branch he found and climbing. Once atop the canopy, the endless green stretched before him—a thick, living ocean of leaves and limbs.
Running nimbly along the treetops, Alex made a beeline for a colossal tree that rose, unnaturally broad and tall, from the forest heart.
Reaching the giant's base, Alex's senses sharpened. "Stealth." His voice was a whisper to himself, and the world around him seemed to blur, shadows gathering like a cloak.
He descended silently, pressing against the trunk's rough bark. Dark figures clad in black lingered nearby.
"Former Shadows of the Theocracy—the deserters," Alex's thought whispered grimly.
Two guards stood watch, tension taut between them, but the tree's bark hid any entrance. There was no door. Nothing visible. Something was off.
Suddenly, a figure emerged—a deserter flicking a hand, and the bark shimmered, revealing an illusion.
"Impressive," Alex mused quietly. "Illusion magic masking the entrance."
Slipping past the guards unseen, Alex entered. Inside, a spiral staircase coiled downward into darkness.
Without a second thought, he descended, the air growing cooler and the scent of damp earth filling his lungs.
At the corridor's end, cells—empty but for the echoes of forgotten prisoners—lined the walls.
"This was a prison," Alex reasoned. "Likely for war captives."
Further on, the hum of voices drew closer. A cluster of deserters, hardened and alert, congregated beyond a heavy door.
"Bingo," Alex whispered. "Their stronghold lies beneath the Crimson Thicket."
He retreated as swiftly as he had come, maneuvers fluid and unseen.
On his way back, a small rustle caught Alex's attention. Nestled between ferns was a yellow fox cub, its green eyes flickering weakly. A crimson crystal adorned its forehead, gleaming faintly even in twilight.
"Is it hurt?" Alex asked softly, cradling the fragile creature. "You've got to come with me."
Back in the village, Alex's steps were measured yet purposeful.
He ducked into the smithy, asking for healing potions. The blacksmith shook his head. "No potions here. Try the Vermilion Lodge."
The lodge's receptionist offered the same news—empty.
Alex sank upon the guildhouse steps, heart heavy as the fox's small body rested in his lap. Eyes fluttering open, the cub peered up, full of cautious hope.
"Good, you're awake," Alex smiled gently, pulling a pair of meat skewers from a vendor nearby. "Let's get you fed."
In the bustling square, Alex fed the fox, watching its tail flick with new energy.
As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Alex extended his hand. "Pact formation."
The red crystal on the cub's brow shifted, reshaping into a five-pointed star. Alex looked down at his own wrist where the same mark glimmered faintly.
"You're Haru now," he said softly.
Later, at the inn, Chucro's eyes opened, curiosity sparking.
"What have you been up to? And what's that on your shoulder?"
"This is Haru, my new familiar," Alex replied. "I investigated the Crimson Thicket—Baron Jevran's deserters are hiding there."
Chucro's gaze sharpened. "And?"
"They're all there, in force. Tonight, I need you to send two infiltrated assassins to call the leaders of the other contracted teams. Tell them to meet at the entrance of the Thicket tonight. Something important is coming."
His friend nodded grimly.
Night cloaked the Palisade as Alex slipped into Baron Jevran's estate under the cover of shadows. Silent as a wraith, he found the noble's chambers via the back balcony.
There lay Jevran, face serene in sleep.
Alex approached and shook him lightly. Startled, Jevran's eyes snapped open—before Alex's hand swiftly silenced him.
"Listen carefully," Alex whispered fiercely, lowering his voice to a near growl. "I know your secret hideout beneath the Crimson Thicket. In twenty minutes, twenty-nine assassins from the Shaded Path Guild will descend—ordered by the king himself."
Jevran swallowed hard. "And if Cidinei falls... so do you."
Alex nodded, voice cold steel. "But we have a deal. I want that hideout and command over the deserters. You keep your lands and status. Betray me, and everything you own burns."
Jevran hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding. "I accept."
"Can you warn Cidinei?"
Jevran pulled a ring from his drawer, focusing mana into it until it pulsed faintly.
"Say your house is under invasion. Tell him we need the best deserters—fast."
Jevran's voice cut through the silence: "Cidinei, can you hear me?"
Cidinei's answer was swift. "Speak."
"My house is besieged. Fifty soldiers surround us. Send your best."
"On my way."
"Wait—the Thicket is surrounded," Jevran warned. "They are hunting deserters."
Cidinei smiled grimly through the line. "I'll send elite men to strike quick. We'll handle the rest."
The ring cracked, disintegrating into ash.
"Once your men arrive, spread misinformation. Say you're on patrol."
"Understood."
The sky lightened but the night's tension remained thick as Alex arrived at the Thicket's edge.
Twenty-nine lethal assassins clustered—each leader sizing up the others.
Alex stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"I'm Ralf. Team A leader," came a gruff reply.
"Karui, Team C," a lithe woman added.
Alex nodded sharply. "I'm Alex. Sub-leader of Team B. Here's our plan…"
The clandestine meeting began in whispers, shadows melding with resolve—as the crimson dawn promised a storm yet to come.