Morning came without sunlight.
A thick layer of mist covered the northern valley, swallowing the mountains and turning the distant fortress into little more than a dark silhouette.
Adrian stood on the highest section of Valedon’s northern wall.
He had barely slept.
Neither had most of the city.
The events of the previous night had left too many unanswered questions.
The Empire had entered the valley.
They had been pushed back.
Then, instead of retreating…
They had taken the old fortress.
Adrian looked toward the mist.
“How far?”
The captain beside him answered.
“Three miles.”
“How many soldiers?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then we find out.”
The old woman from the previous night approached.
She carried a rolled map beneath her arm.
“Before you go…”
Adrian turned.
She spread the map across the stone wall.
“This is the northern valley.”
Her finger moved toward a mountain pass.
“And this is the fortress.”
Adrian studied the drawing.
It sat between two steep mountains.
A river ran beneath its eastern wall.
Only one road led directly to the main gate.
Adrian frowned.
“It’s designed to be defended.”
“Yes.”
“How was it abandoned?”
The woman hesitated.
“Valedon abandoned it.”
“Why?”
“Because of what happened there.”
Adrian looked at her.
“What happened?”
Her expression darkened.
“Twenty-eight years ago, the fortress was where the last army of Valedon gathered.”
“And?”
“They never came back.”
Silence followed.
Adrian looked toward the mist.
“How many?”
“Three thousand.”
Tomas, standing nearby, frowned.
“Three thousand soldiers disappeared?”
The woman nodded.
“No bodies were ever found.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s impossible.”
“That’s what everyone said.”
A scout arrived before Adrian could ask anything else.
“Prince.”
Adrian turned.
The young scout bowed.
“We found the imperial camp.”
“Numbers?”
“Approximately five hundred.”
Tomas exhaled.
“Five hundred against a hidden kingdom.”
The scout shook his head.
“That’s not all.”
Adrian waited.
“There are more troops approaching from the north.”
“How many?”
“We couldn’t see them.”
“Why?”
The scout looked uncomfortable.
“The mist.”
Adrian glanced toward the mountains.
The mist was unnaturally thick.
It covered almost everything beyond the valley.
“How long has it been like this?”
“Since before dawn.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“Yesterday there was no mist.”
“No.”
Adrian looked at the fortress again.
“Then someone wants us blind.”
The expedition left shortly after sunrise.
Adrian took twenty Valedonian soldiers.
Tomas came with him.
Edmund followed.
The old woman remained behind to coordinate the city’s defenses.
Before Adrian left, she gave him the black book.
“Your father’s words may mean more than we understand.”
Adrian accepted it.
“If I find the Chronicle…”
“Bring it back.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Why?”
She met his eyes.
“Because whatever is inside it could decide whether Valedon survives.”
Adrian nodded.
Then he turned toward the northern road.
The journey through the mist was slow.
Visibility was barely twenty meters.
Every sound seemed louder.
A horse stepping on a branch.
Armor moving.
The wind passing through the trees.
Adrian raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
“What is it?” Tomas whispered.
Adrian pointed.
A broken arrow lay in the mud.
He crouched.
The arrowhead was black.
Tomas examined it.
“Imperial.”
Edmund shook his head.
“No.”
Adrian looked at him.
Edmund picked up the arrow.
“Valedonian.”
Tomas stared.
“How do you know?”
“The design.”
Edmund turned the arrow over.
“These were used by the old army.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Twenty-eight years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is one here?”
Edmund didn’t answer.
Adrian looked toward the mist.
“Keep moving.”
They reached the river.
The bridge was gone.
Only a few broken wooden supports remained.
Tomas looked around.
“How do we cross?”
Adrian studied the water.
“There’s another way.”
He pointed downstream.
A narrow stone crossing emerged from the river.
Edmund stared.
“That’s not on the map.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“That’s because the map is old.”
They crossed carefully.
On the other side, Adrian stopped.
A stone marker stood beside the river.
It carried a faded inscription.
Edmund brushed away the moss.
The words became visible.
“To those who return…”
He stopped.
Adrian looked at him.
“What?”
Edmund read the rest.
“…the gates will open.”
Tomas frowned.
“Return?”
Adrian stared at the fortress.
Someone had expected people to come back.
They continued.
The fortress gradually emerged from the mist.
Its towers were enormous.
Dark stone walls rose from the mountain.
The gates were closed.
No imperial banners flew from the walls.
No soldiers could be seen.
Tomas frowned.
“Where are the guards?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
He looked toward the battlements.
Empty.
Too empty.
“Something’s wrong.”
Edmund nodded.
“There should be sentries.”
Adrian dismounted.
“Stay here.”
Tomas immediately objected.
“You’re going alone?”
“I’m not.”
He looked at Edmund.
“You’re coming.”
Edmund sighed.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
They approached the gate.
No movement.
Adrian knocked.
Once.
The sound echoed through the fortress.
Nothing.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
Then—
A deep metallic sound came from inside.
The gate began opening.
Slowly.
By itself.
Tomas drew his sword.
Adrian raised his hand.
“Wait.”
The gate opened completely.
Beyond it was a courtyard.
Empty.
No soldiers.
No horses.
No supplies.
Nothing.
Adrian stepped inside.
Edmund followed.
The gate suddenly slammed shut behind them.
Tomas shouted from outside.
“Adrian!”
Adrian turned.
The gate wouldn’t move.
Edmund stared at the walls.
“That’s impossible.”
Adrian looked around.
“Not impossible.”
He touched the gate.
“Mechanical.”
“Then someone controls it.”
Adrian looked toward the fortress keep.
“Exactly.”
They moved deeper into the courtyard.
The mist followed them.
Adrian noticed footprints in the dust.
Fresh.
Several people had walked through recently.
Edmund crouched.
“At least ten.”
“Imperial?”
Edmund shook his head.
“Too small.”
Adrian followed the footprints.
They led toward a side entrance.
The door was open.
Inside was darkness.
Tomas shouted from outside.
“Can you hear me?”
Adrian looked back.
“We’re going in.”
“Adrian!”
“We’ll find another way out.”
Tomas cursed.
“Fine.”
He remained outside with the soldiers.
Adrian and Edmund entered.
The corridor was lined with old paintings.
Most had been damaged.
Faces scratched out.
Names removed.
Adrian stopped before one.
It showed a king standing beside a younger man.
The younger man wore armor bearing the Ardyn crest.
Adrian stared.
“My father.”
Edmund approached.
“He came here.”
Adrian looked at the painting.
“He wasn’t supposed to.”
Edmund frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Adrian pointed toward the corner.
There was a date.
Twenty-nine years earlier.
Before the fall of House Ardyn.
Edmund stared.
“Your father visited Valedon before the kingdom disappeared.”
Adrian nodded.
“And nobody told me.”
They continued.
The corridor ended at a massive chamber.
A circular table stood in the center.
Twelve chairs surrounded it.
Eleven were empty.
One wasn’t.
A figure sat with his back toward them.
Adrian immediately drew his sword.
The figure didn’t move.
Edmund whispered,
“Who are you?”
The figure slowly turned.
An old man looked at them.
His hair was white.
His face was covered in scars.
But his eyes were sharp.
Very sharp.
He looked at Adrian.
Then smiled.
“You finally came.”
Adrian’s grip tightened.
“You know me.”
“I know your father.”
“Who are you?”
The old man stood.
“I was the last commander of Valedon.”
Edmund froze.
“Impossible.”
The old man laughed softly.
“That’s what they told the world.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“You disappeared with three thousand soldiers.”
“No.”
The old commander shook his head.
“We were taken.”
“By whom?”
The old man looked toward the floor.
“That is why your father sent the Chronicle away.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Who took you?”
The old commander stared directly at him.
“The Empire.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
The commander walked toward a stone wall.
He pressed his palm against it.
A hidden section opened.
Behind it was a long chamber.
Rows of old weapons.
Armor.
Documents.
And at the far end…
A massive iron door.
Adrian approached.
“What is behind that?”
The commander didn’t answer.
Instead, he handed Adrian a small metal key.
“Your father left this here.”
Adrian stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because he knew you would eventually come.”
Adrian looked at the key.
“What does it open?”
The old commander smiled.
“The place where Valedon’s soldiers were taken.”
Edmund’s face went pale.
“After twenty-eight years…”
The commander nodded.
“They’re still there.”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“Alive?”
The old man’s smile disappeared.
“Some.”
Silence filled the chamber.
Adrian stepped toward the iron door.
“Open it.”
The commander shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Adrian’s eyes hardened.
“Why?”
“Because there is something you need to know first.”
The old commander looked toward the ceiling.
“The Empire isn’t here to conquer Valedon.”
Adrian frowned.
“Then why are they here?”
The commander answered quietly.
“They’re here because they finally discovered what your father was hiding.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“The Chronicle.”
“No.”
The commander looked directly into his eyes.
“Something much worse.”
A distant explosion shook the fortress.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Adrian immediately turned toward the entrance.
The Empire had reached the fortress.
The old commander remained calm.
“They’ve arrived.”
Adrian drew his sword.
“How many?”
The commander smiled.
“Enough to start a war.”
Another explosion shook the walls.
Edmund looked toward Adrian.
“What do we do?”
Adrian looked at the iron door.
Then at the commander.
“Open it.”
The old man hesitated.
Then slowly inserted the key.
The lock turned.
Deep inside the fortress…
Something moved.
A sound echoed through the darkness.
Metal.
Then footsteps.
One.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Adrian stared at the opening door.
The old commander whispered,
“Welcome back, Prince Adrian.”
The iron door began to open.
“And welcome to the army the world was never supposed to know existed.”
————————The End —————————
Next : the Army That Never Died
By : Zenryth