Axel pointed to a small woodland on the map that read: Cerelu Forest. The forest around it was small, perhaps 20 miles in total area. The rest of the continent around the forest was a large, open prairie.
"This is where we are."
He moved his finger across half of the continent, drifting over small villages and long rivers until it reached, nearly 1000 miles away, a fortified city atop a small mountain. The name under his finger read: Shem Capital City.
"This is where the Hidden Vanguard is going. Over the past decade, I've accumulated thousands of rebels who would all like to see the Shem Empire burn to the ground. They are hidden everywhere, from this very forest to hundreds of miles away. I've sent for them to come here. When they arrive, which should be in the next few days, I will march on the Capital City."
Corrin wondered if perhaps any of the soldiers were hiding away in Tenor village when it burned to the ground. Axel then took a deep breath.
"Your mission, Hidden Vanguard, is to travel across the Western Plains and arrive at the Capital City. Sneak inside and meet with one of our spies, Kalem. He will provide you with a much-needed place to stay; he's been posing as a blacksmith while gathering intelligence for our cause."
Axel cleared his throat, coughing into a rag. He looks back down at the map for a moment, as though he were reviewing it, before bringing his gaze back to them.
"When you reach him, you must lie low until the first of May. If all goes well, you should arrive about a week before that date. On that day, our frontal assault will begin, but it's only a distraction. You will sneak through the palace and assassinate the Queen. When they have found her dead body, morale will plummet. From there, open the doors to the main gate and let us in. Other spies will try to help you, but it will be a difficult feat."
Corrin took in the weight of what they were really doing. He began to imagine all of the possible scenarios. What if they failed? That would mean the thousands of soldiers waiting outside for the gates to open would be killed. All of them were riding on this mission.
"Begin packing your gear on the horses, you will depart tomorrow morning on the fourth of April."
As they left the briefing room, Corrin couldn't help but think about the man in his dreams. He gently touched his scar, which he hadn't even realized until now, had been slightly warm. His whole life, it was just an average run-of-the-mill scar. All Anees had one; it was like a birthmark.
As he recalled his moments in the dreams, he tried to take in all of the man's figure. He was bald, had a gray beard, and looked elderly. Though, despite his elderly appearance, he moved like lightning. His scar, too, was glowing. Corrin could only wonder if the man carried a shard. That could be the only thing to explain his power, Corrin thought.
Corrin soon found himself back at his tent. He was given a leather pack to carry all of his things and a paper list. All of the items on the list were carefully chosen to go with Corrin. Everybody would split the weight evenly and carry just enough to last them until they reached the Capital City.
Corrin was chosen to carry one of the tents (there were to be two of them) on his horse, oil and cloth for cleaning weapons, about a week's worth of the rations, one hundred feet of rope, and about half of the group's salt.
Corrin cringed at the list. Its list of items went on long time. He wondered what the others would carry along with them.
Everybody was given their own personal list on top of that list that they were required to bring: a Bedroll, a Cloak, a short knife, a few days of dried rations for emergencies, a waterskin, a few coins for trade, and an extra change of clothes.
Of course, this was alongside Corrin's katana and shard, which hung around Corrin's neck at all times.
Each of their horses was to carry the rider and a pack containing about half of the previous list, small packs on either side for any other communal gear, a blanket roll on top, and feed clipped to the side.
Corrin took a long breath after reading all of these aloud to Edwin, who had a similar list. Corrin dropped dead asleep on his bed.
The following morning, everything had been packed and was ready to go. Just before they were fit to ride their horses away from the forest and into the prairies, Axel appeared. He walked closer to Corrin and Edwin.
"You two need these."
He handed them a chainmail breast piece. It chinked with its small chains.
"Wear it under your clothing; it will keep you safe enough from cuts. But it won't make you invincible, so don't expect it to take every blow for you."
Corrin held it up, admiring it before setting it down in his pack by the side of a horse. Axel stepped back and addressed the Hidden Vanguard.
"Good luck to you all, and long live Vrebathia!"
They all shout and ride away, into the forest.
Corrin had ridden a mount before; they owned a workhorse back when he lived with his father in Tenor village. He was familiar with the way it would sway beneath him, yet he knew that the journey would be longer and harder. He would have to learn how to live and breathe while atop the saddle.
The first hour was spent under the forest canopy. Sunlight slipped through the leaves, and soon the trees began to thin. Corrin caught a glimpse of the open plains ahead and nudged his horse faster. The others followed.
They burst from the trees into the light, the sunlight piercing their eyes. Dust kicked up, dry in Corrin's throat. Above them, the clouds drifted wide and slow; they seemed to welcome him home.
Corrin raised his hands out, and the wind flew past him. The cool air of early spring was kind to him. He felt the winds rustle through his hair.
However, their initial excitement began to wear down soon after. The hooves thud on the ground unevenly. Originally, the cool air was refreshing. But now, it only served to make the journey slightly more unbearable.
Corrin's back began to ache from keeping himself upright on his horse for so long.
He looked behind him. The tree line of Cerelu Forest was long gone. In all directions were plains as far as the eye could see. Corrin couldn't help but imagine drifting out into it as though it were an ocean.
"You know, they say that these grasslands make some go crazy."
Corrin hadn't even noticed Lenn next to him. He rode a black horse, his daggers sitting on his left side.
"Most people stick to the roads; they're safer, and not because there are mercenaries out here, though there certainly are."
Corrin fixed his position on the horse as they reached the peak of a small hill and began to walk down it.
"We're in the middle of its territory."
"What's it?"
Lenn looks around at the rolling hills.
"They say, hundreds of years ago, a large creature roamed this very prairie. How do you think all of these hills got here?"
Corrin's mouth opened slightly, and he looked at the hills and around his horse.
"You mean it made these?"
"It lives underground, listening for the next caravan to pull through, before it pulls you into the depths of the earth."
Corrin took a long gulp.
"Don't listen to him."
Merri trotted forward and beside Lenn.
"It's just an old legend, it doesn't really exist. It's to keep children from wandering away into the prairies."
Lenn raised his hands in surrender and slowed his horse down, falling behind them.
"If you say so, Merri."
Corrin found his mind wandering to the strange legend. Though it quickly faded into the back of his mind as the first stars began to appear in the night sky on the horizon.
They all stopped in a generally flat area and pitched tents. Corrin found this particularly troublesome.
"Food's ready!"
Vesterii called to them. Over the crackling fire was a large tin pot, one of the many in Vesterii's pack. He swiftly filled six bowls with the bubbling liquid inside the pot.
Corrin took a bite and exhaled. He saw his breath fade away. It was getting colder, and his fingers were chilled. They were all eager to sleep in warm bedrolls.
There was no time for conversation. None of them wanted conversation in the slightest, anyway. They had to be up in only a few hours.
The night felt strange. Though his body was cold, in his dreams, he was warm. He could see blurry figures calling out his name. Ash began to fall from the sky, and he stood in a warm chamber. Around him was a golden light, and in front of him was a woman he did not recognize.
Her face was pale like silver, and her eyes were scarlet red, like blood. Her face was that of the elderly; Corrin had never seen a person with such features before.
She was clearly not a regular human being. On her cheek was a scar just like the Anees, though it was a deep red color, much unlike any Anees markings.
She could not have been Anees. Anees all had bright blonde hair, and hers was a deep brown, which was quite unusual, seeing as the age her face seemed to bring. The contrast in all of her features gave off a fear inside Corrin unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The world around them was sharp; rubble falling from the ceiling and fires screeching. The room was made of brick evenly distributed on the walls, with a red carpet up to the woman. The blurry figures lay on the ground. Around them was red, the same color of the woman's eyes: blood.
Corrin then figured out who he was staring at: The Queen of the Shem.