The forest air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as Herios marched through the foliage, flanked by his loyal warriors.
The morning sun filtered through the branches above, casting shifting patterns of light onto the forest floor.
The group tread carefully, alert for monsters or wild beasts.
Though the war against the beasts had lessened in intensity, their presence was still felt—lurking, waiting.
So a daily patrol was a necessity, and as a leader, Herios believes that it is his duty to ensure the well-being of his people and personally leads the patrol group.
Just then, the group heard rustling. Herios signaled for them to keep quiet and lower themselves.
However, Herios himself made a move, observing the source of the sound.
It was then that Herios paused.
His warriors who were told to keep quiet and remain still stared at him, confused, gripping their bronze spears.
"Leader?" one of them asked, scanning the area for threats.
