The knock came just after dawn — firm, measured, and unmistakably serious.
Harold was already sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to wake up, his boots halfway on, when someone knocked on the door urgently and opened it.
One of his personal guards, a senior legionary, stepped inside.
"My Lord," he said quietly. "Margaret is in your office. She says it's urgent. For you alone."
Harold stood the rest of the way, tension already blooming in his chest. "Did she say what it's about?"
"No, sir. Only that you'd want to hear it before anyone else."
Harold nodded once, fastening the last of his buckles. "Tell the kitchen I'll need a pot of coffee and have Centurion Raul woken up. On standby — not summoned. He's the senior Centurion here isn't he?"
"Yes sir, besides Centurion Carter." The legionary gave a short nod and stepped out.
By the time Harold entered the office, the fire in the corner hearth had already been stirred to life. The coffee pot steamed faintly on the small grate above the coals. Margaret stood beside the desk, arms folded, face unreadable.
She didn't wait for him to sit.
"The south is breaking," she said.
Harold's spine straightened. "Henri's village?"
Margaret nodded. "That politician idiot finally overplayed his hand. From what we can piece together, he got raided by a force of some kind of centaur and panicked. He tried to enforce full military conscription — untrained civilians, forced into units, with no say. At the same time, he enacted a food and equipment seizure. People protested. He called in his soldiers to arrest them. Executed a few as examples."
"God dammit," Harold muttered.
Margaret's voice stayed flat. "Adventurers in the village tried to protect the civilians. It turned into a fight. A day ago, almost three hundred people fled. On foot with minimal supplies. A few carts. No military escort — just a handful of adventurers who went with them to guard them."
Harold frowned, already running the numbers. "Three hundred civilians on foot? That's a two, probably three-week march north."
"They'll never make it unless we help them," Margaret said bluntly. "Henri's sent soldiers after them. One group of adventurers covering their rear took losses. They're posting running updates on the forum and Henri is trying to justify it in return."
Harold swore under his breath. "They can't outrun soldiers."
"No," Margaret agreed. "And we don't know how many are chasing them."
He turned to the window, staring out across the quiet buildings of the Landing. The morning fog was still hugging the ground. Peaceful. Clean. It felt like a lie now.
"Have they requested aid?" he asked finally.
"They've actually formally requested asylum. Through the forums, through every way they could think of. Even to the other lords in the basin. None of which, I think, have actually replied. They're coming here whether we help or not."
"Are they willing to take the Oath?" Harold replied. I won't risk soldiers to help them when I need them working to secure our own people right now."
"They say they are." Margret said…They're just people trying to get away from a bad situation. But those centaurs are still out there and they have soldiers chasing them. They'll be spending most of their time trying to hide. It'll slow them down.
Harold was quiet for a long moment.
"They'll be hunted the whole way here. We can't send civilians to meet them."
"I know," Margaret said softly.
Harold turned toward the desk, jaw clenched, tapping the slate once before looking back up. "We're lucky. Hale's already out with three centuries, clearing the area around the river village site."
Margaret's brow furrowed. "You're thinking of sending him south?"
"He's in the best position to intercept them. He's got the numbers, he's mobile, and he's already operating near the river they'll have to cross to come through. He can cross and find them. It'll be difficult getting the tanaka and wagons across the river but I'm sure he can figure it out."
Margaret nodded slowly. "That's the Prime Century with him too, right?"
"Yes. I forget the name of the new Centurion leading them, plus two more. I don't want to recall him — I want him to pivot. Find those civilians and bring them back to the river site. We'll get started early on the village there. They'll help build it and, if they take the Oath, it becomes their village."
Margaret glanced toward the window. "And here?"
"We still have one full century at the Landing," Harold said. "Plus the extra squads. I'll have Raul take his trainees and march south. Building a better road to that village as they go. Nothing fancy, enough that it's a smooth ride for the tanaka wagons. Lets deploy more adventurers down there to help secure it. I want those Dens gone before they get there."
"And the adventurers that are already there?"
Harold shook his head. "They don't go. The quest they have taken doesn't cover that area — if they die out there, they're gone for good. I won't risk them on an escort mission. They stay on their assigned quests or rotate into scouting and defense here."
Margaret folded her arms, thinking.
"I'll wake Raul and get him the orders," she said.
"Here, I'll write the order and stamp it." Harold said. "They'll need to get tools from the stockpile. We also need to pull in Beth and Josh."
Margaret gave a curt nod. "You want them to send their village teams down with Raul?"
"Yep, the admin team, too. I want everything in place to meet them. I want it to be clear from the beginning that we are not Henri. Harold said. "Start to prep the village. They should have a good week to start building it before they arrive. Get Caldwell and Josh on it — temporary housing, latrines, ration stretch planning. Passive fishing set up. Beth can figure out where it won't break our expansion."
He paused, then added, "And I need to reach out to Sarah on the forum. Sarah's going to ignore the orders the moment she sees that forum post. She'll chase them down without respawn protection — you know she will."
Margaret gave him a long look. "You're sure this is the play?"
Harold's jaw clenched again. "Yes, It's time to see if the systems we have built here will work. I'm just worried Hale will find a mass of bodies."
"Three hundred people are being hunted by monsters and other humans. They're three weeks out from here and probably over a week from Hale. We won't let them die if we can help it."
He drew a line from the river village site southward.
Margret stood and said, "If I know Hale, and I do, he will make record time south to find them."
Harold looked up at Margret. "I hope so, he's going to need to."
The campfire had burned low overnight — just a faint ring of embers under a crust of ash. Hale crouched beside it, nudging a few slivers of wood into the heart of the coals. The glow pulsed back to life, casting long shadows around where he was siting.
Most of the Legion still slept. He let them sleep in alittle today after clearing that den yesterday. It was a nasty one that tried to spring an ambush on them as they entered. The prime century was forced to deploy and hold the gobs off the other Centuries as they assaulted the entrance. Only the perimeter sentries moved at this hour, dark shapes in the mist.
Hale sat back on his heels, exhaled once, and focused.
System Panel: Open Forum Threads. Filter — General.
The blue-tinged panel shimmered into existence in front of him — hovering, crisp, and familiar. Hale scrolled past the usual noise. Trade posts, crafting questions, speculation about system mechanics. None of that mattered.
He was looking for one specific post.
There it was.
Margaret always posted it the same way. Title formatting, phrasing, even the punctuation — it all followed a cipher they'd worked out together. A way to pass secure messages without anyone outside the loop catching on.
But this time?
The title was off.
Opal Contact / Trade Wind – Return Reversed – April Post 5
Return Reversed.
Hale's pulse picked up.
That was a signal — a code shift. Emergency instructions. Not good.
He stood immediately, stepping out into the chill morning air. The sun had barely broken the horizon and mist hugged the ground, curling between the rows of tanaka and supply carts.
"Legion!" he barked. His voice cracked across the quiet like a whip. "Stand-to!"
There was a pause — one breath, two — and then movement exploded through the camp. Runners sprang up from where they slept on the ground. Optios started gathering their men. Fires roared to life as fuel was added and the camp woke up.
Hale turned to the closest recon soldier. "Get the other Centurions. Tell them: command crate in full kit."
The legionary saluted and bolted.
Hale returned to the panel and focused again.
System Panel: Open Forum Threads. Filter — General.
He started looking for another forum thread that had the new orders from Margret. He found the message, then pulled a marked slate from his satchel — not for reading, but for the cipher etched across its surface. Matching key to code, he translated the message line by line.
"Confirmed refugee movement. 300 civilians. No military escort. Light adventurer coverage. Pursued by soldiers and monsters. Intercept and extract. Priority: Alpha. Build phase to begin at the river site by team from Landing."
Beneath the encoded message was a link — a thread from the refugees themselves, detailing what happened. A plea for help. A promise to take the Oath. And the quiet desperation of people being hunted.
He swore quietly.
Two minutes later the Centurions approached as one and saluted Hale as he stood there.
First was Centurion Varro — square-built, blunt-faced, still adjusting the straps of his chestplate. He carried a warhammer slung across his back in addition to his standard kit and always looked vaguely annoyed, even when calm.
Second came Centurion Ayen — tall, composed, with ritual tattoos across her knuckles and a mind like wire. She said nothing, just took her place at the crate.
Third was Centurion Parker, he was one of the people Hale served with in the war and someone Hale knew he could depend on to keep a level head. He was also the first one to get a handle on the mana skills for soldiers.
Hale nodded once. "We've got a situation."
He pushed the map to the center of the table and marked it with a stub of charcoal — one line north to south, another east to west, framing the Landing, the river, and the lands below.
"Three hundred civilians from Henri's basin settlement are fleeing north. No real supplies. No soldiers. Just a handful of adventurers fighting a retreat from Henri's soldiers. They're trying to hide and make their way to the Landing. Our orders are to find them and extract them. "
"We're going south." Hale said.
Ayen frowned. "That's at least a week's march. Maybe more."
"They won't make it without us," Hale said flatly. "They're being hunted."
Varro's voice was low. "By who?"
"Henri's men. Their village down there was raided by some kind of centaur. There's a fast moving force out there they need to avoid and they need to avoid the soldiers."
Hale looked each of them in the eye. "They're not dying out there. Not if we can stop it."
Ayen started to nod but got a troubled look on her face.
"Captain, we only found one site to cross the river and it's half a day to march in the opposite direction." Centurion Ayen said. "We will need the wagons and tanaka if we are meeting civilians."
Hale looked at her for a moment before he got a devious look on his face. "This is what we are going to do. Centurion Parker, how well can you swim..."