[center][b]Nevelholt Forest, South-east of Aaixen[/b][/center]

The Great Army of King Cauroman is on the move towards the far-away Rudine Marches, Chlotaringen’s southern frontier. Having moved through the riverlands surrounding Aaixen, the king's army of some ten thousand men is recuperating at the edge of a vast, ancient and ancestral woodland known as the Nevelholt. The King’s initial host was larger, but for logistical reasons they were split up in several smaller armies entrusted to the Paladins. 
Meanwhile Cauroman is accompanied by three of his great Paladins. With Vetericus assigned to the Baltian Marches, it leaves Einhard, Cauroman’s own, Wulfbehrt, champion of Udos, a crusader for Godas and Defender of the Holy City -- of whom songs are sung throughout Visandza, and last Autchar, the Sword-bearer to Cauroman’s bedridden brother King Dagobert, who ventured out on his behalf.

The twilight shines through the leaves as the fiery sun disc fades into the horizon. The Nevelholt, already considered a mystical woodland, appears even more otherworldly underneath the orange-purple sky.
In the great Chlotar encampment at the edge of the forest, Paladins Einhard and Autchar stand with the Chlotar quartermaster around the hewn base of a once large oak tree central of the pavilion, that they use as makeshift table. There they discuss logistics with the quartermaster in regards the Long March over Visandza...  Though not letting the opportunity pass to toast a drink. 

[i]‘’It will take some months for an army to travel from Aaixen’s heartlands to the Rudine Marches.’’[/i] Says to quartermaster. [i]‘’In the meantime we ought to take it easy, the men are tired after another day’s march.’’ [/i]
[i]‘’No, we must stay on alert. I’ve heard ominous reports from this part of Chlotaringen.’’[/i] answers Autchar, pouring himself and the other paladins a curious beverage of fermented grapes, which the Celeseans call ‘wine’.
The quartermaster, after inspecting the liquid, takes a cautious sip of it.
[i]‘’Hrm. Good, but a tad sour. These were imported from the Baltian marches, no? It takes some getting used to. Where’s the mead?’’[/i] He blurts with a grin. [i]‘’Hey, come on Autchar, why so dour? Don’t get distraught from hearsay.’’[/i]
[i]‘’It’s not hearsay.’’[/i] Autchar speaks solemnly, after passing the waterskin of wine to Einhard [i]‘’For years word has spread as a plague through these lands, of ominous and sudden disappearances of those who rode out too deep into the Nevelholt.’’[/i] The paladin then casts his gaze to the east past the trees and into the darkness beyond. 
[i]“What, afraid the goatmen are going to come and take you?”[/i] Einhard replies sarcastically as he takes a swig of the wine Autchar presented him. [i]“The only thing that we need to worry about are those by Godas forsaken Lamperts and their devious king.”[/i]

[i]‘’You think it’s outlandish, and perhaps it is. Except that among those missing are two Paladins, deployed by late King Carlovech to investigate the disappearances.’’[/i]

[i]‘’Berengar and Ojevar…’’[/i] A third voice interjects as someone enters the pavilion. It is Cauroman.
[i]‘’My King!’’[/i] Autchar utters in surprise, instinctively pressing his fist against his chest as salute.  Einhard halfway drops to one knee, then back up with a nod of his head and bellows “High King Cauroman!”
[i]‘’Hail, brothers. Be at ease.’’[/i] The Chlotar King speaks, taking off his crowned spangenhelm and placing it on the great oak stump before them.
[i]‘’Autchar, I remember these two Paladins you named from my youth, Berengar and Ojevar. They were most loyal, and formidable above all.‘’[/i]
The King is quiet in a moment of contemplation.
[i]‘’I always did wonder what had become of them. Had these disappearances of our kinsfolk never been resolved?”[/i] Cauroman looks at Autchar inquiringly from the corner of his emerald eyes.
[i]“Not that we know of, my King. Once it became common knowledge that the forest abducts the living, your subjects have wisely ceased going there.’’[/i]

[i]“So it is no longer a problem.”[/i] The quartermaster says.

[i]‘’No…’’[/i]
Cauroman's voice is beset with resolution.
[i]‘’If my father’s Paladins perished in there, it must not be ignored but confronted. As Paladins and as King, it is our duty to either retrieve or avenge them.
However at present our attention cannot be diverted from the great war to come. I suppose it is something to look into once the war with Lampertei has come to pass.”[/i]

[i]“If we will live to survive that war.”[/i] The quartermaster smirks, half in jest, having meanwhile turned to the mead to wash away the sour wine-taste.

[i]‘’Better to die on the battlefield against the Lamperts than in some forest”[/i] Einhard mutters.

[i]“Whether we live or die, it matters not so long that we [b]WIN[/b].
Should we fail to save Godas, Visandza - no, all existence, - will fall to final darkness.’’[/i] Autchar groans solemnly, to which the quartermaster can only sigh.
[i]‘’Autchar, your grimness is the reason we are trying to have a toast right now. Just have a drink.’’[/i] 

Cauroman raises a clenched fist.
[i]‘’Gentlemen! Let us not brood on what is to come. But one thing is certain; this forest is hexed. It is best to be on high alert, as Paladin Autchar so wisely asserts.
Quartermaster!’’[/i]
The man’s back stiffens.[i] ‘’Orders?’’[/i]
[i]‘’Double the nightguard. We need volunteers.’’[/i]
‘’I shall see to it posthaste.’’

Then spotting an opportunity to demonstrate his commitment, Einhard slams his fist on the oak stump, proclaiming as he chews a mouthful of pork: [i]“I will keep watch through the night.”[/i]
Cauroman turns to him with a grin, arms folded; 
[i]‘’Ever a dependable warrior, much like your father.’’ [/i]
The Chlotar King picks up his spangenhelm and holds it under his arm. 
[i]‘’My warriors, I will see the three of you at dawn. Do your forebear proud as I myself strive to.’’[/i] He leaves the pavilion to make for his own tent. One whose regalty is outwardly only betrayed by the banner of the Faramundian lion planted on top.