The morning sun broke over the hills, but there was no warmth in its light. A grey mist clung to the streets of the town, hanging low and still. The sound of hooves broke the silence. It came first like a whisper.
Then louder, heavier,rhythmic.
Dozens of knights rode in, wearing the black and silver colors of the Veydrin Duchy. Their helms gleamed, and each one bore a sharp steel sword at their side. Behind them followed foot soldiers in rows, eyes scanning every shadow, every window, every rooftop.
This was no routine patrol. This was a purge.
Sir Helric, the lead knight, raised a gauntleted hand. The company came to a halt in the town square.
From the saddle, he turned to his squad commanders and barked orders, his voice sharp like metal on stone.
"You’ve heard of His Grace. The Serpent Gang has defiled this land. Every corner must be searched. Every door knocked. Every cellar and barn checked. If they’re hiding even under the rats, we’ll find them."
The commanders nodded and split off, leading their groups down the cobbled alleys, through market streets, into homes and taverns.
A notice was posted on the central board by a squire. It read:
[By the Command of His Grace Ruth of House Veydrin.The Serpent Gang is hereby declared enemies of the Duchy.Any man, woman, or child aiding them shall be punished by law.Anyone providing information will be rewarded with coin and protection.Their names will be burned from history.Their blood will be washed from our soil.]
Crowds began to gather. Shopkeepers and farmers, old women and children. They read the words in silence. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke.
"They’re finally doing something," an old man muttered, cane shaking slightly.
"Aye," said a younger man beside him. "About damn time. They killed my cousin last month on the east road."
A few feet away, a woman pulled her child close, whispering, "Stay beside me. Don’t look at anyone strange."
But there was no panic. No resistance. Only a deep, grim readiness.
The knights moved through the town with calm authority. They knocked on doors, but didn’t wait for invitations. Gates were opened. Rooms were checked. Barns were overturned.
Sir Helric and two soldiers entered a small house near the mill. The old woman inside bowed quickly, her hands trembling.
"S-Sir Knight, please... my son is away in the city. Only me and my granddaughter live here."
"We won’t harm the innocent, madam," Helric said, voice low but firm. "We search for Serpent scum."
She nodded. "You’re welcome to look. You’re always welcome in our house, Sir."
The soldiers moved through, opening trunks, checking under beds, searching behind curtains and under floorboards. Nothing.
As they left, the granddaughter came running forward and tugged at the hem of Helric’s cloak.
"There were strange men two nights ago, behind the granary," she whispered. "I heard them talking. They were scared. They said something about ’The madman wrath’. I haven’t told anyone yet."
Helric knelt to her level, his voice serious.
"You did well to speak, child. You’ve helped the Duchy. You have my thanks."
He stood and waved to his men. "To the granary. Now!"
Elsewhere, other reports began to surface. Farmers said they’d seen fires deep in the forest, smoke rising at night. A merchant confessed he once sold supplies to a masked man who paid in foreign coin. A stable boy found a discarded blade behind his shed—rusted, but marked with the serpent symbol on the hilt.
Each clue was followed. Every lead hunted down.
The mood across the town was heavy. Every torch lit at night felt like a signal. Every knock on the door brought a heartbeat of fear.
But no one protested. They wanted the Serpent Gang gone. People began to offer bread and water to the patrols. One blacksmith even handed over a map he drew himself, marking the narrow trails behind his forge where he believed someone might be hiding.
"They used to slip through there when they stole from my shed," he said bitterly. "I never caught them. But you will."
In the forest, near the outskirts, smoke rose. A hidden camp had been found. Burnt remains of letters and torn cloaks bearing the Serpent’s mark littered the ground.
Sir Helric stood at the edge, staring down at the ashes. His jaw tightened.
"They’re on the run," he muttered. "Good."
He turned to the soldiers. "We keep pushing. Burn every trace. Drive them out like the vermin they are."
And as the sun dipped lower, the purge of the Serpent Gang had truly begun. The Duchy’s knights swept the land like a cold wind—silent, determined, relentless.
Serpent Gang Hideout,Outer Tunnels of Dreklin
The hideout deep beneath Dreklin, a mining city in the Veydrin Duchy, was a place of silence and shadows. Once a forgotten tunnel under the oldest quarry, it now echoed with whispers and tension. The flickering lanterns on the rock walls did little to lift the suffocating mood that had fallen over the gathered Serpent Gang members.
Robed figures filled the room, some pacing, others sitting with lowered heads. A long table stood in the center, maps scattered over its surface—routes, safe houses, contacts, all marked with coded signs.
At the head of the table stood Bishop Emeran, the highest authority in the local branch. A man of rigid posture, silver-gray robes, and cold, sharp eyes. His presence demanded silence, and silence he received—until now.
One of the younger men, face pale, voice anxious, finally broke the hush.
"Your Grace... why has this happened? Why now?" he asked. "The Veydrin Duchy never cared before... Why have they suddenly turned on us ? What triggered it?"
The room stirred. The question lingered, heavy and dangerous.
Bishop Emeran’s eyes narrowed as he placed his hand on the table, tapping it with slow precision.
"Because we failed," he said, voice quiet but cold. "The operation in the North. The sacred site. The ritual. All of it... gone."
Another figure—hooded, seated close to the Bishop jerked his head up.
"They failed? But the reports said the dragon remains were secured."