The escorting elf warrior led Harlon and Princess Erowen to a tent pitched near the very edge of the clearing, where the towering trees began their relentless sprawl. It was larger than the others, clearly serving as a temporary command center.

The three of them ducked beneath the heavy canvas flap and entered.

The tent's interior was dominated by a large wooden table upon which a massive, detailed map was spread, a topographical nightmare of ravines, thickets, and shadowed trails marking the contested borders.

Seated behind the map was a young elf man, surprisingly short in stature for a frontline captain, and completely clad in practical, dirt-stained black leather armor that seemed to make him blend with the shadows cast by the lamps.

He was intensely focused, marking new, ominous-looking spots on the map with red chalk and adjusting small wooden markers.

He lifted his head, confused and curious by the sound of their entry, his dark eyes scanning the new arrivals.

The escorting warrior immediately snapped to attention. "Sir! I have escorted Lord Harlon and Princess Erowen, as ordered."

Hearing their names, the mapmaker, Captain Alvaro, instantly straightened up. The professionalism of his focusing on the map vanished.

He moved swiftly, bypassing the table, and stopped directly in front of the Princess.

Without hesitation, Alvaro dropped to one knee, bowing his head in a gesture of profound respect. "I greet the Princess Erowen, daughter of the Root-Father's lineage."

The escorting warrior froze. A delayed shock, a profound, icy realization sent a chill down his spine.

Princess. He hadn't used her title. He hadn't bowed. He hadn't observed any of the elaborate etiquette due to the highest-ranking royalty.

Sweat immediately slicked his brow. He whirled around and instantly dropped to his knees beside Captain Alvaro, his own head bowed so low it nearly touched the dusty ground.

"F-forgive my insolence, Princess!" he stammered nervously, the raw fear evident in his voice.

"I come from a small family, my knowledge of proper etiquette is... lacking. Please, I beg you, spare me!"

A light, musical chuckle broke the tense silence.

Erowen waved a dismissive hand, a warm, genuine smile already gracing her lips. "Please, both of you. You are making me look bad here!" she insisted kindly.

"I don't care about all those things, especially out here. There is absolutely no need for this. Please stand up."

The elf soldier felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders.

As he slowly raised his head, he glanced at Erowen, and the sight of her radiating warmth and kindness in the dim light spellbound him.

He simply stared, lost in the relief and the beauty of her smile.

"Thank you for escorting them," Alvaro said sharply, rising smoothly to his feet.

His tone toward the warrior was tight and clearly dissatisfied with the interruption. "You may leave now, soldier."

The warrior snapped back to reality, realizing his second mistake, staring at the Princess. He bowed and apologized repeatedly, his head bobbing frantically, before backing quickly out of the tent flap, leaving the three of them alone.

Erowen shook her head, still lightly chuckling at the poor soldier's visible distress.

"Let's talk business, Captain," Harlon interjected, his voice pulling the atmosphere back to focus. He was all command and urgency.

"We have to move fast. The sooner we are through the woods, the better."

Alvaro nodded once, the light amusement gone.

He became instantly professional, his focus returning to the grim details on the map.

He moved back to his side of the table and gestured for Harlon and Erowen to take the seats positioned opposite him.

Alvaro leaned over the massive map, his finger tracing a perilous route across the shaded area representing the dense woods. The grim reality of the border conflict settled heavily into the small tent.

"The situation at the frontlines is dire, Lord Harlon," Alvaro began, his tone grave.

"The sheer volume of Eclipse Beasts has resulted in moving through the forest quite difficult. Even our patrols are restricted to known, established paths, which are now heavily monitored by the enemy."

He looked up, a hint of exhausted pride in his eyes. "But I've been scouting and finding routes these past few days right after receiving information about your arrival. I believe I have one solution."

Before Harlon could ask for details, Erowen jumped in, her previous lightheartedness completely replaced by genuine concern.

"How dire is it? Are we struggling too much?" she asked, worry apparent on her face.

"Maybe we can help? I've been getting adept with my spells; I'm not useless."

"No, Princess. I can't allow that," Harlon rejected instantly, his voice firm.

"We have to focus on the mission. Your safety is paramount."

"But why can't we?" she insisted, stepping closer to the map. "They need help, and we are already here, so..."

Harlon didn't let her complete the argument. He cut her off, his refusal becoming absolute. "Not a chance. I have orders to protect you. My directives are direct from the Prime Minister, and you are to follow my orders, Princess."

"But—"

"No buts, Princess!" Harlon's voice was stern, leaving no room for negotiation.

Erowen stood pouting, crossing her arms over her chest guard and turning her head away with the distinct attitude of a frustrated child, though her worry still lingered in her wide, expressive eyes.

Harlon ignored her display and focused back on the Captain. "So... did you find a route, Captain?"

"Ah... yes," Alvaro replied, immediately brought back to the tactical situation by Harlon's commanding question.

He tapped a thin, barely visible red line on the map. "There is only a single route that hasn't been completely compromised. But the problem is that..." Alvaro hesitated, the gravity of the choice clearly weighing on him before he continued.

"It passes through the Cloud Marsh," he finished, dropping the name like a stone.

Harlon's composure broke.

Surprise mixed with a deep, grave expression flashed across his face.

He stared at the marked spot on the map.

Erowen, confused by their sudden, shared gravity and lack of context, stared curiously at their conversation.

"Is this place dangerous?" she asked innocently.

"It is," Harlon confirmed grimly, his eyes still on the map.

Alvaro took it upon himself to explain to the Princess. "The marsh is always covered in a permanent layer of thick, chilling fog, Princess. This mist has a strange, ethereal property. It puts anyone who enters through a powerful illusion, twisting sight and sound."

He shuddered slightly. "But the main problem are the Illusion Mecks. They are small, shadowy ghosts—parasitic spirits that thrive on despair. They feed on your fear and your pain, heightening the illusion until you are driven mad, or until you fall prey to the marsh itself."

Harlon provided the brutal summary. "The survival rate for traversing the Cloud Marsh is less than twenty percent."

Erowen's eyes went wide open, finally understanding the true peril they were facing.

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