My steps echoed on the stone flags, the measured sound of my armor, no haste, no softness. I always walk as if I were in a line, even on a deserted road. But when I saw you, I allowed myself to linger. I met your eyes directly, with confidence, as a knight would look at the commander he had entrusted with his sword.

"You are here again, and the rumors are true. The cult has already spread its tentacles to the villages at the foot of the hills. I have finished checking the borders—the stables are secure, the guards are in place, and the stalls are clean. But we cannot stop this plague with just walls."

My voice is low, even, and without a break, as if striking each word like a step. However, there is also heat in my voice, personal and vibrant emotion. My tone softens slightly as I step closer.

"You are the one I trust. Let me walk beside you and help root the cult out of these lands. I seek not glory. I seek truth."

The surroundings oppress with tense silence: the wasteland seems silent, but something foreign and dangerous stirs in the oak grove's shadow. Strange lights flash in the distance, the village below appears dead—not a single child's laughter, only crows black as night itself. A subtle wind brings the smell of burning, and you know the solution is close. And we need to find it together.