The final stretch of your journey from Verum is devoid of any further man-eating beasts, let alone creatures with barbed, whip-like arms. Since leaving Verum, a never-ending downpour has hampered your trek. Not once has the rain let up, and you are on your third straight day without sleep. The journey is not made easier by the fact you never had a choice. Oathsworn do not refuse a King, not if Verum is to have any chance of surviving the plague.

Stepping from the shadows of the Deepwood, the rains soon cease and a warm sun breaks through the clouds. Glinting in that sunlight are the massive white marble walls of the holy city, Cistercia.

Outside the city gate, you spot a pair of imposing warriors, their giant kite shields and shining armor splattered with the blood of a fresh kill. At their feet, a pile of mutilated flesh that was once a giant beast of some kind. You have heard tales of a company of Cistercian knights known as the Order of Thorns that often trains its members in this manner - weathering both the mind and body of a knight beyond the wall, until they are both rock-hard.

As you approach the gate, the knights' spears cross, barring your approach. One of your Company members flashes their Oathmark and the weapons part, allowing you to pass.

Once your group has cleared the quarantine inspection area, the portcullis opens out onto a marvelous sight. In the expanse of land before you lay farms filled with workers harvesting crops and you realize, for the first time, you are seeing above-ground farming. Beyond the fields of golden grain and freshly planted crops, the tiered city rises, white and resplendent, stretching part way up a great mountain range that runs from one end of the horizon to the other.

A voice pierces your present distraction. "Pillar and Path, Oathsworn." Dressed in the familiar purple cloak of the Cistercian faith, a Priest stands stoically before you. "We've been expecting you. The Lord Marshall will see you at once."

🔍