The road seemed difficult, but the victory of the god of justice was the reason we moved. Our town was pure. It was one of the few on the entire continent that embraced the supreme lord of paladins as its sole belief. All the beliefs of the High Priest, of those who preceded him, and of the people who had good relations with our town would be demonstrated here. We went to war with furrowed brows, with expressions of determination. Most of us mastered the appropriate prayers for both attack and defense. We dressed for the occasion—robes of enchanted silk thread that resisted puncture wounds better than leather armor, not to mention their great magical resistance. But in case that was not enough, we were accompanied by the masses of brainless flesh that were the paladins.
The road was not long. On horseback, we should have taken no more than six days, alternating horses to not exhaust them. However, traveling with these brutes, we ended up doing the entire journey on foot. They knew how to ride, but they preferred to temper their character against the adversity of long journeys, facing all enemies that presented themselves—even those who were not true enemies, such as the brothel towns. Rose City, located two days' journey from our town, had never represented a threat. Whenever we could, we sent priests to try to convert them to a less unrestrained belief. But the city was enormous, adapted for experiencing everything. Our priests returned happy but without having converted anyone. This did not concern our guild; we did it as a reward, thus preventing the fanatical warriors from going and destroying everything.
I was a warrior priest. That put me at the level of the High Priest without the legal authority. I led this troop in search of evil, but I also did it to protect our armed arm. If they died, we would be just a group of mages—the High Priest called us clerics, but I knew we followed the same principles of magic. They were the terror of all mercenary groups within two hundred kilometers around. They went into battle like any berserker. Their thick armor and shields made them capable of resisting many attacks, but the most reckless thing about them was their faith. Their famous mettle was an ability to believe they themselves possessed some sort of sacred power that allowed them to resist pain and even heal their wounds. At the same time, they considered that by praying, they could increase their resistance to fatigue and even create some shields to protect themselves from physical damage... none of that was true.
When we were about to send another group of novices to Rose City, we received a message from a sister city—a missive with the sealed emblem of the Blood Elves of Bloody Coin. Being such an important piece of mail, the High Priest decided to read it publicly within our guild. The letter said:
"Good afternoon, brothers of the light:
I regret to come to you when you are fighting sin so effectively. However, this is a matter of extreme relevance. The keep located near our town and the sister city of Stormhammer has been taken by an enemy of great power. Evidence of this is its terrible forests of evil mushrooms, which have corrupted the beautiful creatures that once inhabited there, including some defenseless Forest Elves who abandoned their customs and lost all contact with elven sensitivity. They call themselves Dark Elves. But that is not the concern. Our forces are already working to eliminate these aberrant elves from our species. However, the first attack we carried out had a strange consequence.
Our armies are strong, but the group we sent—which normally could eliminate up to thirty people without problems—was defeated by a force we can only call malignant. We suspect a Blackcap mage or something much worse. Given the nature of this problem, we ask for help from your army of sacred warriors to help contain this dark magic while we eliminate those who have strayed from the good path.
Offering money to the lords of light is ridiculous, but I hope you use the enclosed gift to continue fighting against evil. If you accept this mission, make your way to Bloody Coin from the prairie. I will send you a message three days after your departure. If the message reaches your town, I will know you rejected my plea for help. I would greatly regret this, as being great men of duty, you would help us immensely.
Sincerely,
Crimson Dawn,
King of the Elves"
As the letter was read, I could feel the warriors tensing their muscles. This was a feat—something many of them had waited for in small towns like ours. The surprise came when we heard a cart arriving. It was protected by an escort of mercenaries. They unloaded some chests and left. The High Priest opened these chests and stepped back, speechless. When I saw the contents, I also stepped back.
Maces, axes, morning stars in one chest—all pure iron. The other chest contained rods and staves of sacred wood with amplifying stones. Together, it should have been enough to buy two or three villages without problems. Seeing the High Priest, I understood we had problems. Most of the warriors rushed to choose weapons and were already testing them while giving thanks to god. None of them considered the risks. They were fanatics—they were our armed force. That night, we spoke in private. According to him, I was to take all the priests and healers. We could not allow our warriors to die without realizing it. We had to heal them even if they did not notice—even if that meant death.
We were three days from the meeting place when suddenly a fleck of reddish light, like an ember or burning ash in the sky, approached rapidly in my direction. Before reaching me, it turned into a very skeletal, weak bird. With much effort, I recognized it as a phoenix. From its leg hung a message tube. But before I could remove it, the bird's body began to crumble. By the time my hand reached the space where it had been, only the message remained, along with a feather that faded away. I did not like this at all. Even though the bird in question was not sacred, it was a magical creature that did not attack without provocation, and even then, it only sought to be left alone. It was an ill omen. No one should kill a phoenix merely for its utility.
The note was a little strange. It said that about three kilometers from the mushroom forest, a dark champion had taken refuge and must be defeated before facing the Blackcap mage... It smelled like a trap to me. Yet the warriors, despite their fanatical state, knew how to read and add one plus one. They would read the message, and after doing so, we would go—even if we were killed on the way.