Coadjutor's Report

The fastness of Cort, built out of the stone of the Fallen Mountain, at the peak of its sister mountain, Cran, was the hibernaculum of the old Boheinys, the squat ones who lead our own armies, our grand Pontifex, and the brother of the emperor, up into those mountains, and there, before the gates of Cort, trapped them. When Spring came, and we were able to climb, we sent two legions to the place. They found nothing. Not a spear. Not a deer carcus. Not a sign of camp made. The fortress was equally bereft. Wherever the Boheinys went, whether higher up the ridge, or, (through some illusory), into the mountain itself, five thousand of ours went with them.