Viscount Champione, the soaring bigwig slowed down his steed. The fifty light cavalry behind him also slowed down. 

From afar, anyone would mistook him as a goliath. He looked even too colossal for his steed. 

Most of them were used to the woods in central Castall as this had been their playground since they were kids but lately this thicket became very alien that they would not dare to venture into it with a small group of men. This was due to the various outlandish schemes played by the invaders. 

Even the usually dried soil was now slightly flooded with water and almost looked like a marsh. The ancestors had cut down trees to build a track along the woods but the long narrow track became a muddy morass.

The worse was all horse tracks leading to the Tihany and eleven villages had been turned into wetlands. 

The forest was tannin-brown. The flooded grass was crispy under their feet. They looked up and the trees were skyscraper tall. Hares were scampering away from them up ahead. The morning stars were shining like silver snowflakes. Wood sorrel flecked the blanket of grass. The horses walked in and out of shady glades. The peace of the morning was soul soothing. The forest’s smell was fresh and organic.

They continued their grueling slog north through an umber-brown, ancient forest. It reeked of age. Its woody incense was from centuries of snapping branches crashing to the forest’s floor and rotting silently. The composting, organic smell rose up in waves like a miasma. Every sprawling tree we passed under reminded Viscount Champione of a watchful evil deity, a silent sentinel of the groves that would kill them for a tiny mistake.

Suddenly, the leader, Viscount Champione tapped his steed to silence it. The horse whinnied and stopped.

A growing sense of unease hung over him and his troops.

The Castall troops were constantly picked off by hut and run attacks. And at night, anybody outside the fences, walls, and trenches was suddenly disappearing. This was a true terror.

They were now unmounted from their horses and carefully walked along the trees.

The sound of ropes creaking from heavy things hanging from the trees and ropes were heard everywhere. They looked around.

Every single of the supposed to be brave men were gawking towards the above in fear. 

Now they knew the whereabouts of the hundreds of missing guardsmen. They were now hanging by ropes tied to the branches of trees. 

"Knights. Have them cut down at once."

***

Night. Camp between central fortresses.

"Touch my food again and I will cut your hands!" Three knights were punching one another while the other men tried to stop them.

"Let me go!"

Tensions flare in the camp where food were in increasingly short supply.

An hour later on the tower observing the encampment, Viscount Champione stood in front of the sitting Margrave Sigismund Jagiellon and Count Erakis.

"Milord. You wish to see me?"

".........Champione....... Tonight..."

He sighed angrily and continued.

"I saw grown men on the ground fighting like rabid dogs for a scrap of meat. I am seeing an army that was heartless, lifeless Primed for defeat!"

"Milord. Our men were tired and hungry."

The old Margrave Sigismund Jagiellon stood up and walked to the window looking beneath the camp.

"Ten years ago, you were not with us when we fought the dark elves in the east."

"Yes. Milord."

"Standing knee-deep in mud and blood, and the bodies of my men, for weeks. I faced a fear and exhaustion like I'd ever known. The dark elves didn't commit the gruesome that these invaders were doing..."

He scoffed and continued..

"But I can assure you...the dark elves in the past were nightmares unto themselves. I saw the face of the nightmare on the faces of my men. Every time fewer and fewer of them were coming back after fighting them there."

"Yet, you triumphed, milord."

"Yes. And now the dark elves were coming at us with the invaders. Definitely, they were avenging their dead families killed by us. But, the dark elves didn't fight with such tactics before."

"They must be learning the ropes from the mad invaders." Count Erakis interjected. The margrave added,

"I could see.. they must be led by an outlandish strategist. Several nights ago, they even came at us with those things...what were those creepy things?  Undead. Walking corpses. They could turn our dead comrades against us. And they could silently kill the men guarding outside and we only waited helplessly!"

Being pestered at night on a daily basis, and being ambushed when they were just departed from the camp to attack the captured villages, they kept defending and losing men. Any spy and reconnaissance team sent out were missing. Thus, the margrave had no way of knowing what lay ahead of them. It was like a war against an unknown force. 

The two bigwigs, Count Erakis and Viscount Champione were forced to listen to the margrave's rambling every night.