Eodem: A Rifle And Sword Adventure 38 Chapter 38: The Road Ahead

"Good, all forces move in." Jeremy exercised his authority.

It had been about day's work of nerve-wracking detective work for the Police Force's lead by Inspector Reid as anxieties from both the Civilian and Military sectors of the Colonial Government of New Albany waited on for evidence of the most sinister of plots unlike, they had face before. A deliberate attempt to undermine their power within Gliesia. According to the intel gathered, several disgruntled Grey Order Adventurers are being recruited for a Plot against them. However, they do not know the specifics such as what, when, how and where is the Plot would take place? That is why he is now in his conference room to deliberate on the matter.

With him were his league of ungentlemanly folks that make up his inner circle:

Major Holyfield, commander of the Aurora Battle Carrier, leading a contingent of Marines and the projected might of the Federation's Air Power to bear. He was sitting idly by, paying little to no heed to the live feed on Governor White's laptop displaying Reid's Operation. His eyes stare blankly at his Smart Pad that showed Order of Battle across his project of Operation Haymaker.

Colonel Polonsky, leader of the Colonies Defense forces, held the most sway on the largest amount of Federation Troops and arguably several Natives too. If Holyfield is UFE's Sword, Polonsky was its Shield.

Agent De Sardet of the Bureau of Intelligence, instrumental into the discovery of the plot sat eagerly by Polonsky, awaiting any update from the action-oriented Reid on what yields he will likely bring out once the mission concludes. He twiddled his thumbs, littering his husband's m.u.f.fins over the mahogany table as his ears intently directed its attention to the Governor's computer.

Lastly, was the newcomer, from all the way from the crystal spires of Earth, one Thomas Sight. A Senior Bureaucrat from the Ministry of Education a.s.signed to Gliesia to help lay the foundations for Prince Clovich's healthful Modernization and Reformation efforts. He was an uncanny human-being in respect to his minimal human face. Bald hair and lens-like eyes gave him a more robotic appearance than a human. Yet despite his eerie appearance from the Militaristic members in Governor White's inner circle. Agent De Sardet and Governor White give him in high regards, unquestioningly taking his sage advice.

"Rodger, moving in." Reid nodded.

The laptop displayed a feed from the Inspector's Action Camera as his team approached a flophouse door. Based on Agent De Sardet's intelligence gatherings through a few well placed 'Spy Birds'. The Colonial Police have tracked a suspicious group of Adventurers to that location thanks in lo part through their irregular get up of mismatched armor and exotic weapons, unlike the more uniform Tyr Rian Citadel Guards that regularly patrol the streets. Many folks like the ones they followed come and go at Tyr Rian all the time which unnerved several of the Colonial Defense Forces and the Marines as such people can suddenly turn to descend upon them at melee range and in response to a possibility, the enactment of an alienating measure, enforcement of a rule that a minimum distance to be between a UFEAF Soldier and a native be of two sword lengths apart from each other. This was suggested by Clovich sometime before his departure on how mannerisms towards soldiers were conducted when they have to visit a city whilst fully equipped in their gear. An additional precaution by arming UFEAF Personnel with Bayonets bellow the barrels of their rifles were also ordered.

"Check the door." Reid instructed.

One of his men grabbed a tool from his pocket, a snakelike appendage object, known as the Under-Door Camera was inserted underneath the gap of the Flophouses door.

 "One Tango, Crossbow pointing at the door facing us." The team's Pointman holding the Camera informed him.

"Breach and Clear. They are expecting us. Let us not disappoint." the Governor ordered.

"Will do." Reid nodded.

On view with the camera, as Jeremy observes, the team began to set up the fuse and the payload of the Breaching Charge. A tense moment occurred as the SWAT Team embedded the Breaching Charge at the door as their off-site superiors observed them anxiously.

"Clear!" Reid shouted.

The Breaching Charge gave a great expulsion of dust and debris as it effortlessly demolishes the Flophouses wooden front door. Their greeter, pushed back by the explosion, barely saving his const.i.tution from the shock tried to aim his crossbows at the intruders but a reactive shot from one of the SWAT Members gunned him down in the head.

"d.a.m.nit, remember we need some of them alive you know!" Reid reprimanded his subordinate.

Undeterred, the SWAT Team redoubled their efforts as now the whole building was alerted to their presence. They knew they need to clean this house quickly and fast before the Adventurers flee away or worse destroy the evidence.One team scoured the upper floor whilst another, Reid included searched the ground floor. The Governor minimized Reid's personal feed to oversee the rest of the Action Cameras of all of the brave souls partic.i.p.ating in this operation.

"Hands Up! Don't try it… Hey!" one SWAT member caught an Adventurer in his room who tried to pull a blade on him but was quickly gunned down.

"They are here! Kill them all. They must not find out!" a voice echoed ominously in the distance of another feed.

"Clear. Moving up." Another SWAT member monotonously informed.

"Inspector?" one SWAT Member, who's feed was facing Reid himself called out.

"What is it Officer?" Reid asked.

"Got something on my scanner… something hollow. Behind that Cupboard." The Officer informed.

He pointed out to the object of his suspicions across the room. Riveted, the Inspector quietly gestured his men to form up behind him as he and another Officer moved the Cupboard away. Much to the alerted Officer's satisfaction of his tools, there was indeed, hidden behind the furniture a hidden flight of stairs leading down. It was however dimly lit to pitch black that one cannot see the bottom of the stairs well.

"Going in Dark." Reid said as he pulled down his Night Vision goggles.

With their feet stepping down the flight of stairs, sweat began to nervously fall down the SWAT Team's brows as their heart beat stressed upwards at the darkened anxiety that the stairs give a menacing Aura on.

"Hold up! There's a door." The Pointman gestured.

"Check it." Reid ordered.

Using the Under-Door camera once again, the Pointman observed what lays ahead.

"Ten Tangoes, and a whole d.a.m.n armory." He said.

"Reid get in there, bag them and tag'em back to HQ. De Sardet would want to have his way with them." Governor White radioed.

"Will do." Reid unquestioned. "Breach and Clear with a Flash." He ordered.

"Breaching." The Pointman unpinned a Flashbang Grenade from his pocket, peeked open the door and tossed the explosive inside.

"They are he---" one of the Adenturer's tried to scream but her eyes were devoured in a brilliant white light as all ten of them became dazed by the Flashbang's rude awakening.

Reid's team descended upon the Adventurer's aiming their guns and shouting at them in Vaikuri to surrender. Two adventurers however either did not take the message or were foolhardy enough to try to, attempted to reach for their weapons to fight back against their attackers but were quick with a double tap on their heads by the SWAT's Carbine Rifles.

"What am I looking at?" White radioed as he leaned forward to examine the hidden room of the Flophouse.

Reid turned his head around to gain a closer look at the rest of the room. There was a stockpile of a.s.sorted weapons and magical scrolls in one side, enough to arm a small brigade and his magical aura detector, a recent invention by the collaborative efforts of Dr. Mahelona and Iris Cadohagan when it comes to detecting various forms of Magic. It's HUD displays that the magic present in that stockpile were of the 'Holy' category. On the other side of the room, he can see what looked like an oversized map of the entire street network of Tyr Rian with big circles and arrows pointing towards locations that to Governor White's horror was the Tyr Rian Castle Keep, the UFE's Emba.s.sy and New Albany herself.

"Surrender now!" Reid told all of these dissident folks.

"Never!! You took away our glory, the only things that matter for us in life!" one adventurer flouted.

"You think your fame will be noticed by anyone if you die? Don't be a fool. n.o.body will mourn a dead man." Reid shotdown.

"That is what you think Demon! We are Silver and Gold-ranked Adventurers who have made our names know to the people and the guild! They will ALL remember us!" he rallied his ego.

"You are all just cheats! The lot of all of ya!" his friend behind him backed him up. "Cheaters who never have to work hard to get to where you are all at unlike us all."

These adventurers have let fame cloud their judgment and rationality so Reid has observed. Even his superiors were frustrated and admiring their tenacious stubbornness.

"Let's get real, here shall we? The common folk don't need people like you flashing your badge of Silver Gold-rank or whatever color it is to show you are great and demand high pay --- I am sorry…'Rewards'. Right now, they want us more than you people because we UFE do better jobs than you and we don't make folks spill their guts out pay for your c.r.a.ppy services no more." Reid said.

"That is where you are wrong! When we are done here. There will be no shortage of heroes and gold for us to reap at a every so grateful Tyr Rian… by the G.o.ds… an ever so grateful Empire!" the adventurer defied again with all of his breath.

"Done with what? What are you planning?" Reid pressed for answers with his Carbine jerking lurching towards the Adventurers.

"I am afraid you will not be alive to see it." A cloaked Adventurer coyly smiled. "Flame Wave!" the man revealing himself to be a Mage began to conjure his hands to form the magic used to incinerate him and his teammates.

But Reid remembered his training when dealing with Hostile Mages. Compared to a standard Fighter, a Ranger or Rogues that the Grey Order employs, the Mage was arguably the most articulated of the types of folks he may encounter in Gliesia. They rely on somatic gestures, a focus point a voice command or a combination of what was described. Seeing his hands glowing orange, Reid took aim with his rifle and shot the hand off of the mage just as his spell was about to articulate.

"AHH!" the Mage screamed as he knelt down to the floor, his friends watching in horror.

Just as Reid was about to order his men to apprehend the Adventurers. The SWAT Team noticed that the injured Mage was now beginning to Glow a reddish-orange as the magical energies within him became unstable.

"No… No… Too… Hot!" the Mage cried as his body combusted into a blazing inferno engulfing his fellow adventurer's and putting the incriminating evidence in the underground room to the torch. Reid's men barely got their bearings over the sight of this extraordinary event. Their whole plan had gone south in an instant by no part of their own.

"Run! Run! Run!" Reid shouted to his men.

Quickly the Swat Team regrouped themselves out of the Flophouse just as the building was fully blanketed into flames.

"Did we get anything?" Reid asked his teammates. "Anyone?"

"I only got this letter when I searched for someone, I shot sir. Looks important but I can't read it." One of the SWAT Officers showed a barely singed letter with some equally barely legible handwriting in Vaikuri, a weakness to Iris' spell and to the UFE's on transcription teams.

"d.a.m.nit! We were so close." Reid cursed himself.

At the distance, the SWAT Team can hear the alarming bells and cries for help. It would be in a matter of time before the Tyr Rian Guards and the Citadel's primitive Fire Brigade swarm into the scene.

 "Pull out of there. This went too loud for our tastes." The Governor reluctantly gave the order.

"Rodger… Inquisitor is exfiltrating." Reid coughed up smoke to acknowledged the change of plans.

Jeremy achingly closed down his laptop as he frustratingly grasped his besieged head at the failure to yield anything concrete to the Plot against him and his regime. All that they managed to pull out from the Flophouses fire were just more questions than answers.

"Why are you so sad about Governor?" Holyfield interjected.

"We still don't have anything to go by that Rumor the Blue-boys got up. But we were THIS close!" White pinched the air to show his grievances.

"I say, that is more than enough evidence." Agent De Sardet closed his fist. "Those plans, those murmurs? We need to lock down everything from Tyr Rian to New Albany at once. We use the 'Puffer Fish' method. Especially at Tyr Rian where our men would be at its most vulnerable. Show them that it will be more trouble than it's worth to tread on us." He proposed.

"If we do that! We will break the Military Access Treaty with Clovich." White argued.

"Then how about we just pull out the Emba.s.sy? It's likely the first place they will target in the Citadel." Thomas Sight suggested. "We need to protect our Diplomatic personnel at least until we can fully purchase Clovich's allegiances," Polonsky suggested.

"Again, that will also break the Treaty too. His advisors and his sister will start to question all about it and may take it as a sign of bad faith. We cannot afford any more 'bad faith' at a time like this and the Tyr Rianni are our best cards in play." White argued. "Again, we also have to take into account Aria's and even Clovich's reaction if we abandon our post in Tyr Rian now, regardless of their safety. They might think we are about to do something shady and so I go back to not producing 'bad faith'." The Governor added.

"I say, Disarm and Pat Down all the Civilians and confiscate their arms." the Colonel gave his second proposition.

"Since when did ma.s.s disarmament of civilian populations… EVER worked?" the Technocratic Thomas reasoned. "Plus… Magic. You forgot they exist, don't you? They walk and talk like us? Weapons in a Human form."

"How about let it happen? Then have some of my friends in the Bureau spin it? Do we stoke new patriots to the cause? h.e.l.l, get even more funding and stuff from the Wigs while we are at it?" De Sardet threw another bet of his lot onto the table.

"No, too much uncontrollable variables. It can go wrong if one thing doesn't go our way. The Party might risk political crucifixion. Try again." Thomas calculated.

"Then what can we do?" De Sardet asked. But all of his colleagues stayed their silence. "d.a.m.nit!" the Intelligence Agent cursed as he sunk down to his seat in defeat.

All of the Inner Circle collectively sighed in defeat with him. They were grasping at straws, smoke even and now these Adventurers are going to strike a Terrorist Attack at their hard work and there was no way of fighting back or mitigating its material and political damages to all parties involved.

"Hmm… so… a Terrorist Attack, right?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, this is but just a cell of them. Isolated except for maybe a few members who can contact another Cell. All to maintain the secrecy of this Plot mind you." De Sardet said.

"I see. So, in Cell Theory or whatever you warhorses call it. These individuals would be untrustworthy of that outside of the group right unless whoever is the connecting person is to link one cell to another gives the clear that they are of the same side?" Thomas said.

"Go on," White said with intrigue.

"As I have heard from Polonsky and one Mister Bianchin, many of the unrecruited Adventurers that the Aparo Corporation wasn't able to sway to their pockets are walking around right now upset of the sudden new normal? Their motivation being of social disenfranchis.e.m.e.nt, right?" the Technocrat reasoned. "Why not pretend we are one of these repressed folks? These Grey Order people can't just expect to know all of their members, right?" he asked.

"Undercover work?" De Sardet asked. "I know a little bit of faking a few things it but I am no field agent."

"Then perhaps some of our more integrated of your men Colonel will suffice?" Thomas turned to Polonsky.

"That sounds like a great idea. I have a few men in mind. We can find out what we should have found out by that way much more quietly." The man said.

"But much more slowly," White interjected. "Even if we know how this attack will go. There is the problem of responding to it. The Treaty for our forces still stands."

"Illusion Magic, it exists here in this world is it not?" Thomas asked.

The Governor nodded.

"Then how about we have a select group of our men… become 'Adventurers'? A quick trip to the tailor, maybe a few prints of some fake armor, a bit of help from a.s.set Sacagewea and a.s.set Pocahontas and fake some credentials here and there to walk around the streets and the Guards and Clovich's people will be none the wiser? Therefore, if our men can successfully sell this ruse. Our men can have free reign to patrol Tyr Rian without the fear of any political reprisals. Even better, when at the night of the Raid starts, we can reveal our undercover men's true colors and sting them before they can do anything unsavory." Thomas said.

"Yes, we can even use them to scout out what lies ahead of us for the Major's Offensive and the Pacification Campaign. Put them all into the process and voila~ All of this world's secret bare naked for our designs." De Sardet shrugged his shoulders confidently.

"That could actually work." Polonsky smiled. "Thank you for your wisdom Minister." He gave his grat.i.tude.

As the Inner Circle nodded in agreement with Thomas' plan, Polonsky noticed that Holyfield was uncharacteristically quiet during the discussion. Normally he would be preaching fire and brimstone from his side of the table but strangely, all was silence as the Major looked at the maps of his projected Operation Haymaker strategies.

"Major, you have been studying earnestly." Polonsky nudged.

"Yes I am. There are just a few things bothering me about the Plan everyone. I… its best I share it." Holyfield said.

"Go on." White conceded.

"The Mountain pa.s.s that connects the Princ.i.p.ality to the Empire proper is too narrow for an army of the scale we need to ensure the operation's success would be too impractical if we just shove them through. Will be playing right into the Empire's hands and use Little Hill as a Strongpoint to deter any invasions. We can't hide them and the Fortress would smell our offensive literally miles away. In addition to that obstacle, there is also our little entry point that we have just managed to secure through Souviel. See here." Holyfield places his map down to the floor.

A Holographic screen emitted out of the Smartpad detailing the map north of Souviel. There was a road network that spiked north of Souviel that connected the fertile Mediterranean city to the Empire's other territories north of their position. The road was situated between two bodies of water, a swamp situated inside a canyon-like system of eroded rocks by the east and the Draguitoise Coast by the west. The red pieces on the map detailed the Opfor of Haymaker, the Slaegians while Blue is represented as the UFEAF forces. Their army is split between two forces, Army Group West lead personally Major Holyfield will be consisting of Mechanized Marines and Armored Elements from the incoming 333rd a.s.saultDivision combined with the support of Aparo-aligned Mercenaries and half of the Aurora's Airborne Soldiers from the 119th taking position in Souviel with their objective is to charge towards Haringpoint and seize the city. Army Group East on the meanwhile shall be led by the Colonel consisting of Polonsky's own Colonial Defense Forces with motorized elements, the second half of the 119th Airborne Marines, the 53rd Engineering's a.s.sault Engineers and a Mercenary Armored Brigade, the Steel Breakers. East's objective is to pincer attack Little Hill so it can be cut off from trying to break out and reinforce the softer but more sensitive strategic targets of Vercourt and Neuogonia with the latter being the Operation's ultimate prize. In addition to reinforcements, the UFE will enjoy a second carrier group to enter the Theater of War, Aurora's sister ship, the Tenacity.

"Scouts reported that this area here, called 'Marnia's Bluff', despite giving the most convenient access and a clear road from Souviel to Haringpoint is plagued by soil erosion, uneven terrain and several impa.s.sable areas. Most caravans need a guide to pa.s.s through this area safely and it is in the way for our Mechanized thrust into the Imperial Heartlands. This can also be used as a chokepoint if the Imperials decide to make a stand here. The Aurora doesn't have the operational capacity to air lift then redeploy my Mechanized forces in a timely manner. We would have lost the element of surprise by then. But thanks to the Minister, I got an idea." Holyfield said.

"Oh? Wait… when did I?" Thomas Sight shivered.

"The word 'Undercover'." Holyfield answered. "For our plan to work the element of surprise and speed is key. We need to keep the Enemy at places we want them to be so we can easily punch through them. Little Hill Fort is where they suspect us to be but the Empire would eventually know by now that we have a presence in Souviel. We need to learn more of the land before we can proceed everyone. Especially if there are any magical surprises waiting for us."  He explained.

"Speaking of Magic Major, what of Lieutenant Rose? a.s.set Le Fay? Have you forgot of her too?" White asked.

"Of course not Governor, as we speak Project Witchwood is underway and we are making contact with the Dwarven Clans north of the Princ.i.p.ality for leads on how to obtain Ghyranite and Actocolite from them." Holyfield informed. "A one Captain Mendoza is leading the expedition north as we speak and once, we can secure the supplies. We will send out our Engineers and Aparo's to the location to build the Hecate Suit immediately. Doctor Mahelona and his team are both eager and wary of the Lieutenant's arcane potential can be."

"Weary?" Thomas sight inquired.

"His team does not know how much longer or how well they can contain a.s.set Le Fay in her current state and Iris, Aliathra and King Martainne can do so much. I say it is time and the Party harness the powers of magic ourselves now. Lieutenant Rose will be our vanguard into this." Holyfield closed his fist in determination.

"So is Marnia's Bluff supposed to drove into or not?" Polonsky raised his hand to ask after a careful observation of Haymaker's battleplans.

"Drove through, it is our highway into the nerve center of the Empire, Harrinpoint once with the 53rd Engineering pave a proper road for Army Group West to gun it to the Capital in less than a day's tops."

"So have the 53rd build you, your road so you can push the rest of the Marines out of Souviel straight to Haringpoint and the rest of the job is to make the enemy think we will pour into Little Hill?" White asked for confirmation.

"Correct. Besides, by the time the enemies have noticed what we just did we would have made it to Neugonia by now and beyond that is Open-Tank country. We just need to make the enemy over commit to that Fortress and when the offensive begins, we trap all of them inside as we despoil wherever we please in the Slaegian's heartlands." Holyfield smiled.

"Impressive, but how do we set up Army Group East?" White pressed.

"Brute force and containment power are what we need here rather than the speed of Army Group West. Again, we are not taking Little Hill but trapping the forces inside and slowly choke them out while they see their homes in front of them be eaten up by our forces which are now left undefended." Holyfield said.

"But didn't you say that the Mountain Pa.s.s leading to the Empire's lands is too impractical?" Polonsky interjected to bring his point across.

"Who says we are using the Mountain Pa.s.s? It's obvious already but we are all going to land everyone here." Holyfield pointed to a remarkable piece of land southwest of Little Hill Fort. According to the map, there is supposed to be a thick foiling of forest trees in that vicinity.

"We can't land an army in a forest." White said.

"Then we REMOVE the Forest." Holyfield said.

"You are not saying that we will Napalm the Forest just to have a landing zone for Army Group East to move in!" Polonsky protested. "What of the people of Vercourt? That is not some trees we are burning but their livelihood and thousands of plants and animals' homes there."

"Time is not on our side here people!" Holyfield flailed in exclamatives. "That forest must go or this Invasion is dead in the water." He pointed out.

"But think of the Ecological and Economical damage we might invite when we do this. Vercourt is a lumber-centric settlement. I thought we come here in Peace? Not as marauders?" Polonsky pointed.

"You bring good points to you two." The Governor placed his hands on the table to mediate.

"Indeed, you do," Thomas added.

"We have to make the landing but we most also account what damages we will inflict and, in my experience, I am a believer who must give just as much as he takes. There has to be a compromise between total annihilation of an entire ecologic-economic relationship between the natives?" the Governor defended his position.

"It would be waste for such flora and fauna to go up in smoke. For what? One Empire's hubris? Unfair, from a scientific perspective. Is there away to preserve them while still being able to get our strategic insertion into the Empire's heartlands?" Thomas asked.

"Hmm… now that you mentioned it Sir." Polonsky scratched his chin. "I can send some SOG Teams their and capture some of those life forms if it makes a suitable compromise."

"That is within acceptable parameters Colonel." The Governor nodded.

"Know this again Polonsky, your team has only one week starting tomorrow to rescue whatever you can. When the time is up. I am burning that forest down until all is just ash." Holyfield reaffirmed.

"Still, burning it down? I mean, the animals and plants their will be saved. But what of the people? It will still be the apocalypse for them." Polonsky said.

"I thought you were the people person here?" Holyfield asks. "Just focus on boxing all of the Natives into a safe place and wait for this pointless war of theirs to blow over. Don't even hesitate to use any measures necessary to keep them away from our advancing troops. Neuogonia must be captured at all cost."

"I see, I will make sure of it. You make sure you do your part and keep this mess under control." Polonsky quietly nodded with his own return fire of words.

"Then it is concluded." Governor White adjourned.

---------------------------------

"Are you sure we should attempt this once again?" Emperor Uldin inquired to Grandmaster Owyne.

"We need to find the other three Chosen ones and we needed them, yesterday milord." Grandmaster Owyne.

A clandestine congregation of the Empire's top Mages in the College of Magi in Haringpoint was quietly yet quickly rallying to the Great Hall. Like the last time such a gathering had occurred, taking Center Stage was the Mirror of Aunsellus, the Artifact with a now personal history for the Grandmaster Owyne as for Months before, he was left visually impaired by its awesome power as he attempted a dangerous Spell into peeking through the Future. What the last saw was, however, not of a bright new sun gleaming over a glowing new Slaegia but of its ashen death by the hands of the returning Demons straight from the legends themselves. Although his advisors, fellow faculty and even his personal physician recommended against it, the Grandmaster volunteered to wield the Mirror once again.

This time, his objective was much more concrete and has previous experience in conducting similar rituals beforehand.

Faithleann, known as Gweninejar, the Bane, maybe first of the Chosen One's but the Sacred Crystal Heart says of two more Chosen Ones that is destined to save the world. One known as Estsygol, the Scholar and the other Rhannu-Prietar, the Share Holder. But they are of unknown name and even likeness to them. The Empire needs, no, MUST find these individuals and rally them to their cause before all is too late. The other two brands that the Heart bestowed flew in such a great velocity that not even the Empire's best scouts could keep up. Grandmaster Owyne, however, has proposed a rather modest solution.

The plan is to use the Mirror of Aunsellus again to perform a less expeditious version of the Clairvoyance spell. Instead of transversing time and s.p.a.ce to see of events forthcoming to pa.s.s, he will instead use the spell to scry through his own cerebrum and then focus his mind to the Clairvoyance ritual channel to get the answers or at the very least a hint of what Owyne desires the most, the Ident.i.ty of the Chosen Estsygol and Rhannu-Prietar.

 "Hope they are much more, modest than Faithleann." Uldin commented.

Emperor Uldin shared great optimism for the Grandmaster's plan as the discovery and the eventual retrieval of the two other Chosen Ones will greatly bolster the chances of the Empire weathering this Crisis. He needs to address the n.o.bles and the Commoner's fears after the rumors of Faithleann's 'imperiousness' was leaked throughout the realm. He was most excited for the Rhannu-Prietar, the Share Holder as he believes that this individual, whose name is synonymous with Selflessness will be a much more n.o.ble individual to handle compared to the plebeian that is Faithleann… no… Marchog Garmhaic. Even the Estsygol, the Scholar shared promise too. Perhaps his wisdom would be invaluable in these trying times for Gliesia.

"You know, you remind me of that time when I presented Estrice and Arthurfir's tutor." Owyne badgered. "I want them all to be modest to him you said."

The Emperor's heart skipped a beat upon the Grandmaster's words. Ever since the arising of this Demon Crisis, he had forgotten to check on his children Princess Estrice and Prince Arthurfir, such is the blessed curse of having the luxury of attendants and servants to look after them most especially Estrice. There could never be any other better example of polar opposites than Estrice and Arthurfir. While Estrice vigorous, Arthurfir is sedentary. While Estrice aspires to be a great warrior in battle, Arthurfir prefers to be in the confines of the debative Forums. While Estrice is impa.s.sioned into the now, Arthurfir is quixotic of the future. Nonetheless, the Twins were still close to each other when it comes to living within the confines of the Palace. They were however of 15 years olds each due to their twin births, who were born quite later than normal for an average adult at around 35 years old when the Emperor and his consort Lysithea bore them into the world. He used to be very busy back in his early reign as the Emperor often neglecting his family. Perhaps Uldin should take a break just for one moment to spend with her and the Twins after this ritual is over. His men were already working tirelessly to see that the Empire restores to what it should be and paranoia is starting to get the better of him. It would be good for the psyche to remind him of something much closer to his heart that he is fighting for.

"Everyone! Places!" Owyne announced to the crowd as the congregation of Mages scrambled to their a.s.signed seats.

The most venerable of Mages were closest to the Mirror whilst the intermediates with experience in Channeling Magicks were farther away and that leaves the non-Mages such as Uldin himself, the Cadfriogion y Lleng and the Arglywyddi Cyfraith plus delegates. From his elevated booth, the Emperor can see Owyne descend upon the ama.s.sed congregation to the center stage where the crystalline artifact, second in prominence to the Sacred Crystal heart lay for all eyes in the room to see.

Upon setting his two feet before its base, the Mages insufflate their courage for one hesitated moment before the enact the perilous endeavor.

"Ohmm…" Owyne initiated pre-chanelling meditation.

His vocal strumming followed by the raising of his Magic Staff was followed suit by the rest of the Mages.

Glowing blue light of Mana began to surge out of the Mages Bodies as their collective channeling empowered the Mirror of Aunsellus to be activated in a luminous white light. After the articulative prompting of one of his const.i.tuents, the Grandmaster himself approached the Artifact and placed his hand upon it.

Immediately, the enchantment's energy surged within his body as he felt he had become one with the winds. To tell the truth, he felt like he had the powers of a G.o.d, yet unfortunately due to his human flaws, his power is temporary. He refocused himself as Owyne reminded himself of why he allowed himself into this ethereal state, to begin with. He began to think hard within himself, the one or in this case the two things he desires right now.

Rhannu-Prietar and Etsysygol.

As the idea conceptualizes into his head, the Mirror of Aunsellus' clairvoyant abilities surge anew as psionic energies bombarded his mind. Once he was with the Aetherium, the Winds of Magic now he feels he is one with all living beings. Already, like a hound's nose perked to hunt its prey, Owyne scry far and wide for the Chosen Brands of the Shareholder and the Scholar. It was however, despite expeditiously searching every inch of everything's and all's minds he had a hard time finding them. He can hear the heads and thoughts of his mages within the room they share tenant in ranging from doubt, hope and antic.i.p.ation. As he scries outward of the Capital, he can hear the thoughts of merchants bartering, mourners crying and children frolicking. The Grandmaster, as time pa.s.ses can feel his cerebrum starting to get overwhelmed by the bombardment of thoughts flooding into his mind. But Owyn willed himself to persevere, he needs to find these Chosen Ones before all is lost again.

Pushing back the noise of the insignificant rabble of the world, Owyne reached out East, pa.s.s the farmlands and granaries of the Empire's hearth, pa.s.s the trading hub of Neuogonia, pa.s.s the rolling hills and waking seas of Souviel until finally, he had reached his limit. But as all hope began to feel lost, Owyne heard a faint, a small speck of dust of the two words he is familiar with.

I am Rhannu Prietar. The Shareholder, I was given Magic.

A Faint feminine voice lulled Owyne, almost relieving him for a second of the mental overload.

Etsysygol, meaning Scholar, I will unlock the secrets of the Aether

A deep masculine voice echoed.

Owyne tried to reach out to these voices but the closer he tries to wade through the sea of thoughts, the more his mind reached its breaking point. Owyne, in desperation, reached out to the neural synapses of the source of where this Rhannu-Prietar woman and Estysygol man. Upon touching each of their Synapses, his cerebrum reached his limit and Owyne's psychic line with Mirror of Aunsellus was broken.

The neural feedback snapped back like the returning recoil of a stretched band as Grandmaster Owyne collapses unto the floor to the alarm of all of the congregation.

Several of his colleagues held him up as Owyne mumbled incessantly with a drooping lip.

Emperor Uldin descended to the stage as he pushed aside the Mages to reach his trusted confidant.

"Owyne! Were you able to find out?" Uldin asked pleadingly.

"Rhannu-Prietar!" Owyne yelled, saliva drooling from his fractured mind. "Samantha Rose!"

"What?" Uldin asked.

"Estysygol!" Owyne yelled again, now b.u.mbling like a mad beggar in a slum. "David Mahelona!"

"Are they?" Uldin pressed further. Was he speaking of the Brand holders' names?

"Rhannu-Prietar! Samantha Rose! Estysygol! David Mahelona!" Owyne repeatedly mumbled.

"I… I see." Uldin concluded, now in concert with what Owyne had discovered.

The Emperor of the Slaegian Empire then turned to his right hand, his Prime Minister.

"Set up a Bounty for all. Whoever can find me and bring to my palace these Ones, a 'Samantha Rose' and a 'David Mahelona' will be blissfully rewarded. They are the Chosen Ones!" Uldin ordered.

"Yes milord, but forgive me, how can we find these names? I do not recall any of these names being something within our own or any other tongues I know of." The Prime Minister said.

"Well, in my experience, the one named 'Mahelona' is an Eastern Desert name by the sound of it. I know of the root word of 'Mahael' meaning 'plentiful' from those Deserts so maybe try searching East. The City-States there do favor a Scholar such as the Estysygol's caliber." Uldin said.

"What of this Samantha? The Shareholder?" the Prime Minister ask.

"The southern frontier where our Colonies used to be, the word 'Samhain' is an uncommon name for the women there so we could try to focus our search too Southeast of us beyond Tyr Rian." Uldin searched his inner library of knowledge of Ysanigrad's history into action.

"Beyond Tyr Rian? But that is where the Demons are located!" the Prime Minister exclaimed.

"Then how about we motivate the searches with this! One Hundred thousand Ducats for the one who brings me the two Chosen Ones." Emperor Uldin decreed.

The room gasped. One Hundred Thousand Ducats was enough to buy an entire castle and a township for oneself in comparison. It can also buy a fleet of Galleons, a half-decade's supply of Mana Crystals or even the services and production of some mythically hard to craft weapons and armors, specifically of the materials of Ghyranite and Actocolite.

"Each." Uldin added.

There was no hesitation upon hearing the Emperor's words after that. Like fire, his decree from the sanctums of the College of Magi began to spread about to the Empire. Now there other two hopes dangling upon the names of 'Samantha Rose' and 'David Mahelona'.

------------------------------------

"Rhannu-Prietar and Estysygol? I wonder what they may look like?" Olayra wondered.

She was bubbly upon the early part of their excursion out of the Capital after a very flower-covered parade through its streets as well-wishers blessed them for a fruitful Heroic Quest. Faithleann Garmhaic, the Bane of Demons, still couldn't get over the fact of his newborn status. He fancied and basked on the glorious images of his accompanying retinue that he was blessed to receive. The silvery armored legionnaires, the majestic Knights, the opulent Mages, Mercenary Skirmishers of various forms of reaches and all the rest were at his side. By the accounts of Marchog Faughn, Faithleann's retinue is over 500 strong of combatants with about over 100 of support workers ranging from doctors, surgeons, cooks, blacksmiths, armorers, foragers, hunters, camp follower sand alchemists to provide all the items and services that soldiers cannot live without. There was also money left within the allowance that Emperor Uldin gave to Faithleann to allow expansion when the need arises but from that point on, the rest of maintaining his finances was up to his own merits.

Olayra was a.s.signed to be closest to Faithleann's side, about two formations from the Vanguard providing academic counsel and soothsaying to the Chosen One. The small army's destination to is the City of Mounta.s.sone. A Human and Dwarfen influenced city below the Ostalroc Mountain's base. There they will meet a contact from the Miner's Guild of the Dwarven Clan Kur Faldhur who will hand them over the Ghyranite and Actocolite materials that Faithleann and his men will need to arm themselves properly for the fight against the Demons.

"They do not sound too exciting. 'The Scholar' and the 'Share Holder'?" Faithleann scoffed. "I am the one with the will and the brawns to defeat all of the Demons. So, you should stand back and let me take all of the fightings." He flexed.

"Oh, don't be so c.o.c.ky. I may be glad you are at our side now but if you are to combine your strength with the bearers of the brand of Rhannu-Prietar and Estysygol our forces would be able to bring down the invaders." Olayra counseled.

"Pah! A Scholar is too weak to fight a d.a.m.n cub with what? His pen? The sword is mightier than that." Faithleann spat. "And 'the Share Holder'? What kind of name is that anyway? What can he share? If it is not power than it is no use to me and this army."

After all of Faithleann's hubristic boast, Olayra began to feel upset being under the young man's presence. He doesn't know how to count his blessings well and yet he still boasts that he needs no help from the other two missing Chosen Ones.

"You do realize I too am a Scholar like the Estysygol, Faithleann?" Olayra reprimanded. "Knowledge can be used to help people and improve society."

"Be silent Ilfyrciad! What can you do but speak in tongues and learn to write? You know nothing of us common folk. All you do all day is read-read-read and talk-talk-talk. 'Fury-rise' this and 'con-sept' that!" Faithleann mocked. "The world needs more hard-strong men like me where might, will and bravery prevails. Wars are not won by words, but through blood and guts! Scholars are only good as scribes to record all heroics and romance."

"You dim-witted peasant!" Olayra lunged at Faithleann.

"Quiet children all of you!" Karliah intervened.

The White Mage gently pushed the two quarreling young ones away from each other just as Olayra was about to claw Faithleann with her ink-stained hands.

"How dare you try to a.s.sault the Chosen One!" Faithleann scornfully shouted.

"How dare you belittle me and people like me Little Fish!" Olayra stuck her tongue out and walked off.

"Little Fish?" Faithleann was left dumbstruck by the Scholar Girl's statement.

It had been a long time since anyone had called him that nickname. About around the time he was still yet to have the first strands of p.u.b.erty hit him, among his circle of friends, Faithleann was for a long time, was the first of his generation of Children from Clervuite to learn how to swim. Most villagers his age and even grown adults have a hard time swimming around the lake and river nearby his home. That is how he was called by everyone for awhile the term 'Little Fish' for his aquatic prowess. This Olayra, a girl just about his age was one of his old playmates?

"Faithleann! Chosen One! You do not behave like that." Karliah scolded.

"I… I…" Faithleann crumbled.

"These people that have rallied under your banner deserves some respect. Besides, the Scholar Girl is right, by the time we finish arming our army here we need to find Rhannu-Prietar and Estysygol soon. These men are fighting with you so they can see their families and homes tomorrow and you are just there belittling them because they aren't 'Chosen' like you?" Karliah said. The boy's pretentious att.i.tude was getting into her nerves being struck violently like an Archer in the heat of a battle.

"I know." Faithleann sunk his head. "You are right."

"Hooah!" Mita the Crow halted her horse. She had been galloping from the opposite direction from where the Scouts of Faithleann's army were busy studying and then immediately reporting upon the Terrain.

"Crowmaster! Something to Report I a.s.sume?" Marchog Gratia.n.u.s asked.

"Indeed, I just heard from a nearby Grey Order Office that they have a Quest that should test Faithleann's mettle for the first time." Mita bowed.

"Oh? A Quest? My very first quest!" Faithleann smiled.

"Indeed, the Quest giver, the Town's Sheriff said that there is an Evil Sorcerer that has been giving a plague curse to his town and you must help him get rid off him and he will pledge some supplies for us and some brave men to our army." Mita nodded.

"Sounds perfect for you to get some action." Gratia.n.u.s nodded. "Maybe just have you, me, Petur, Findrum and Karliah accompany you to the villain's lair and let's see what that Brand of yours can do. Shall we boy?" the old Knight proposed.

He had always been a great mentor for the newly dubbed Knight as Faithleann can attest. Teaching him the codes of Chivalry, wearing plate armor by himself without the aid of a squire and teaching him how to ride the very white horse he saddled himself atop of. Still, that Olayra girl that he belittled, he couldn't get out of his mind… he never recalled a girl named Olayra in his childhood, but there were several girls back in Clervuite who shared her chilly personality and brunette hair. He will have to when he has the time to spare, walk up and apologize to her and makeup.

------------------------------------

Upon the stately halls of the Royal Elven Palace of the Ethuilen Entente, a gathering was organized. But instead of the sophisticated tunes and nightly party chatter that often give the Manse a prestigious honor if one is invited to its legendary b.a.l.l.s was instead the ant.i.thetical description. No colorful banners, no flowers raining lively like the spring rising nor the attendees came in a rainbow palette of party wear, instead, the Palace held a more melancholic aura. Visitors and Tenants of the opulent manse remained silent as they dressed in mono-ebony robes depict their aching. For starting today, as the Lareththor's decree shall be a Month of Mourning for their youngest child, Princess Aliathra had died, officially by being killed by the Demons. Outside the Royal Palace was no different as the Ethuilen Capital's streets, once alive with activity had effectively ceased operations for the duration of this time of lamentation.

Aliathra's Funeral took place at the Palace's Private Dock where the Lareththor's personal Galleon, used by the family for tours across all of Gliesia, was made room to accommodate scores of n.o.bles and visiting dignitaries who wish to pay their respects and solidarity to the bereaved family. Under traditional funerary rites, Aliathra's hyperbolic corpse would enjoy a public wide visitation with incense burnings and mummification. But due to never founding her body, the secondary funerary ritual, one designed for such an occasion would suffice. Aliathra's personal belongings ranging from dresses, a few of her childhood trinkets, a saddle, articles of jewelry of both magical and non-magical nature, her Academy uniform and finally her first Magical staff. In addition to the princess' Memorial Service, King Aslanidor was generous enough to also allow a collective memorial service for the dead Sefydliad staff who died in Souviel to be sent off with military honors in the same vein how Aliathra's sent off is constructed. A large makeshift galleon filled with all of their cherished belongings with Aliathra's spot taking the frontmost point of the ship was made with a haphazard and not-seaworthy structure in addition to being pre-doused in flammable oil. The reason being that the ship was purely symbolic as the rite intends that after getting a good distance from the gathered mourners, an archer, in this case, Prince Valorion, Aliathra's brother would shoot a flaming arrow to the ship to set it alight.

The boat heading off to sea and its ignition has two meanings. The former, being the journey onwards to the afterlife for Aliathra, the deceased Sefydliad, Amba.s.sador Thelanil and the Emba.s.sy Staff. While the latter is to help purify the soul, clean of mind and clarity of consciousness as for the standard cremation rites of the Elves.

Officially as the story goes, Aliathra's death alongside the Sefydliad, Rainbow Helms and Elite Warriors that were sent to Souviel had died by the hands of the Demons. However only the Royal Family, Marxian, Lyndis and a select upper echelons of the Ethuilen's ruling cla.s.s know the true story. Aslanidor swore that he will, to avenge his daughter, expend as much as he can to the Slaegians once he has been given the time to shed a tear for his loss, and it is rare for him to even express any emotion outside of stoicism as his close confidants can testify. The two surviving Siblings, Aliathra to them, despite being a darling to the public they knew she was ultimately a p.a.w.n in the grand scheme of things. Her destiny, unlike Valorion becoming the new Patriarch with a prestigious position in the Ethuilen military circles and the Ithiel becoming the new Queen of all of the Ethuilen Elves. Aliathra's fate was to be married off to House Siannodel to bear strong heirs and a.s.sist in the ruling of their ent.i.tled lands.

But for Queen Elisven, the most intrepid and the eldest of the Lareththor family, she was all at fault.

"Aliathra! My sweet Aliathra!" the Queen Mother wailed as she blew her tears and clogging from her napkin. "I shouldn't have let you go to Ysanigard to perish and be dammed like this by Forces of Darkness! I am so sorry my poor daughter! I killed you! I dammed you!" she cried unceasingly for all of the Elven n.o.bility to see.

"Enough Elisven! No number of tears from you can bring our Aliathra back." King Aslanidor said to his Queen.

"But it was your Idea to send her out in the world and gain 'some worldly experience' before you could accept her back home fully as a mature and proper lady." Elisven argued.

"Well it was your idea to send her to Ysanigrad when we could have sent her to the Border!" King Aslanidor, very publicly, argued back.

"She should meet new peoples, see other cultures! There is more to life out there than here." Elisven returned fire.

"Mother! Father! Stop this now, not here in front of everyone!" Ithiel, also known by her human nickname, Lunafreia mediated. "Now is not the time to argue on who is at fault and its neither your fault! The Demons, the Otherworlder's they killed Aliathra not you." She pointed out.

"Either way, Aliathra was incredibly reckless to go confront these Demons on her own. The Sefydliad aren't meant to be fighting armies out in the open like that. As much as mother's fault for sending dear sister to the belly of the beast-like that, Ali is equally to be blamed for allowing herself to be killed when she should have easily succeeded." Valorion interjected.

"Well! Well!" an ominous voice echoed above them startling the Lareththor's and the Funeral attendees.

"Who is there? Show yourself!" Aslanidor challenged.

"It's me again…'amba.s.sador' Raisar at your service and in your presence once again." The voice said.

A humanoid figure appeared before them by the Dock's windows and with a grand spectacle that was an entrance that resulted in the window's destruction that he appeared before the gathering of Elves.

The Royal Guards, the Rainbow Helmets immediately formed circle to protect the surviving members of the Lareththor Family as the uninvited figure readied his voice.

"You never cease to entertain me and the Midnight Camarilla," Raisar said. "A Funeral turned into a Family squabble, between the Royals no less!" he scoffed at them.

The Black Tree Pact, the ruling cla.s.s of the estranged kin of the Ethuilen Elves are run by a Council of twenty individuals known as the Midnight Camarilla due to their physical table that they hold there in-person meetings on was made from the same ebony tree that the Black Tree Pact was formed on. Each chairperson of the Camarilla controls a certain aspect of the Black Tree Pact's nationhood ranging from the military, the navy, agriculture, industry, and etcetera. The Camarilla's seats are descendants of the original twenty Elven Lords who broke away from the Ethuilen Entente many centuries ago.

Officially, there is no amba.s.sador for the Black Tree Pact due to the bad blood between the two conflicting Elven Nations. Raisar, was just only accepted into the Ethuilen society barely by the fact that he is the messenger between Ethuilen and the Black Tree Pact, hence is an unofficial t.i.tle as the 'amba.s.sador'. Although for Raisar's own insistence, the term he prefers is the more frightening 'Mouth'.

"Why are you here Raisar? How dare you come here at such a hurtful day especially as you are not Invited here!" Aslanidor said to the Black Tree 'amba.s.sador'.

"Why should I need an invitation" Raisar shrugged. "As the Mouth of the Midnight Camarilla, I am merely doing my duty as the Camarilla says to pay final respect to the Royal Princess whose life was oh so cut off prematurely because of her not—so-proper combat skills against the demon horde, unlike our very own daughter Vultara."

"Do not compare my Daughter to that bloodthirsty wh.o.r.e." Queen Elisven curbed the messenger.

"I am just saying the hard truth!" Raisar defended. "Don't be so tense your highness! Our way is obviously the stronger way compared to your softness and so-called enlightenment! The humans were fools to not request our help! We are the conqueror of many lands so we know to exactly deal with these Barbarians. The human and other races like the Dwarves would suffer dearly against these so-called Otherworlders if they didn't seek our help instead."

The n.o.bles began to rumormonger at this slight crack in the Royal Family's aura of prestige. This failure, brought to light by the Black Elf was now stain to Ethuilen's honor. In their shared history, the Black Tree Pact was the more daring of the Elven demographics. Able to keel over many lands and peoples through intimidation, economic might of several world-breaking strategic resources such as the Majority of Alfel Nora's Star Metal and Stynyfig Wood, there charismatic leadership that allows their core people's loyal cohesion and their intimidation through economic charisma. If that wasn't enough, they can always send their Armies of heavily armed and well versed in the arts of ma.s.s slaughter soldiers, a.s.sa.s.sins, archers and monstrous beasts to your lands to demonstrate their 'Superior Ways'. One can ask the Yeojegung and the Nagadhya for their first hand experiences with the Black Tree Pact.

"What do you really want Raisar?" Valorion asked.

"Sit back and watch as we, the Black Tree Pact wash you all away like the waves eroding the stone. We will prove to you that the humans and other younger Races needs to be grateful to us not to you." He boasted.   "Your nurturing ways has only made the younger races fat and decadent, too kind-hearted for the burdens of ruling. Take a look at yourselves! Your princess fell to the demon because she was not strong enough. If she was every little bit of a warrior like Vultara and you King Aslanidor and Queen Elisven was as a.s.sertive as the Twenty she would never end up dead." Raisar smugly smiled.

"What makes you think the Empire would listen to you of all people?" Queen Elisven asked.

"As we speak, the Midnight Camarilla has already sent an expeditionary force of our armies with the help of Tavai Mercenaries to Ysanigrad right at this moment. We will offer our blade to the kin of Caldell Slaegiac just as the Pact's forefathers that your grandfather had oh so denied their duly reward centuries ago. The Army will best the Demons so well in combat that the Empire will prostrate to us in our Superior Ways. They will choose as their new patrons and the Elves will finally claim their rightful place as Shepherds of this World unlike you soft-guts." He belittled them.

"Get out!" Queen Elisven flailed her arms wanting to see this condescending messenger be banished from her sight. Her heart cannot take it.

"Talk so proud all you want Blackened One! But tell your treasonous kin and their armies that based on the report of the Sefydliad, the Otherworlders must not be underestimated." King Aslanidor raised his fist.

"Be yourself Ethuilen, at least I struck a nerve today and that is all that matters today. Do not come crying to me when the Empire and the rest of Gliesia comes to me for patronage and NOT you. I shall take my leave." Raisar disappeared.

"Milord! We cannot allow the Black Tree Pact to humiliate us like this!" Valorion said.

"Indeed, we should allow the give only our best might to the Empire in fighting against the Demons." Queen Elisven pleaded.

"Aliathra maybe dead but I personally volunteer to lead the finest regiments of Rainbow Helms, Swordsingers, Gladehearth Knights, War Dancers and Rangers to a.s.sist the Empire and end this Demonic threat both to avenge her and our family's honor." Valorion palmed his hand and saluted with a bow.

"My son! You must not---" Elisven tried to stop her maverick child but her husband cut her off.

"If we do not stop them in Ysanigrad first, then they will come for us next my dear. We must remind the world once again our might." Aslanidor said.

"Indeed, we can stay here and continue to watch our traitorous kin to the West less they maybe opportunity to ignite old vengeance." Ithiel supported her father.

"Please before you go!" one of the n.o.bles pushed his way through the Royal Family only to be stopped by their bodyguards.

But the Lareththors weren't alarmed for the man that haphazardly rushed towards them was someone familiar to them. The Lord of Siannodel and Aliathra's would have been groom-to-be Ser Ylyndar. Siannodel Province where the city of Ayagroth, nicknamed 'a.r.s.enal' is situated in. Famed for their Arcane Smithy's and Wood Works creating the Elves best weapons, armor and ships across the land. Additionally, Ser Ylyndar was a childhood friend of the Royal Scions of the Lareththor's.

"Milord, I feel like I still owe you something despite our arrangement together being unceremoniously broken due to extrfortuitous calamity, I gift you this." Ylyndar presented. "It was meant to be my dowry for her."

Presented to him was the Phial of Potential. Only very few of these items existed throughout the world and House Siannodel closely guards its secrets from even the Sefydliad and the Royal Family. It is said when induced with certain kinds of liquid, the Phial's magical properties can trans.m.u.te the liquid into something much more useful for the intrepid user. For example, water can become a stamina potion, wine can become a healing potion, the extract from a healing plant can become a cure-all antidote plus many more.

"The Phial of Potential! I thought you Siannodel's keep this for your best Warriors only." Valorion's eyes widened.

"I wanted to give this Aliathra myself at more sanguine of days as I believe she would use it for good when she comes to my side in ruling Siannodel. But now, I believe you need this more than she does. Do it for her, in memory of our friendship together." Ylyndar said.

"I thank you." Valorion nodded.

"You can also count on my support too." Shelara, the wife of the late Amba.s.sador to Souviel, Thelanil stood up.

She too was joined by the families of the deceased Elves who perished in Souviel. They were no warriors or soldiers but they would gladly give material support if it means vengeance as Valorion can attest.

The Elven Prince turned to his family, now seeing the fire in his eyes, and with cold-determination gave their blessing to him as soon as their eyes locked. The young Prince, the only son of King Aslanidor and Elsiven, middle child of the three royal siblings is a young-blooded but accomplished in his own right General of the Elven Armies raised his sword to the ceiling to salute to the Conquest G.o.d Wuidall and to his twin sister the Defender G.o.ddess Khana for their blessing. He specializes and drilling his troops to compact themselves into tight and impregnable formations ranging from Circles, Squares, Tortoise and Shield Wall formations for infantry. Wedges and Diamonds for Cavalry too in addition to the Arcane force multiplication of his Mages.

"Rally the Houses!" Valorion roused. "The Ethuilen Elves march for war! To Ysanigrad we go!" he leads.

---------------------

Tokyo, the Capital of j.a.pan, was a city of contrasts as Clovich can testify. There were similar crystal spires that littered the metropolis streets, yet there were also these regional styles, in lo of the traditional j.a.panese style as his guide pointed out also inhabiting the city streets. According to Miss Isabel's explanations, although the j.a.panese were a modern thinking people, there were still some remnants of their olden days that they keep around and maintained for centuries. This resilience of traditions yet still progressive thinking that these islanders display intrigue him. As he disembarked the Hanjin-Shibusawa Ultrajet that he had boarded with his entourage he was gifted with a flowery welcome by the locals with warm welcoming smiles. They waved a flag of pure white with an oversized crimson dot at its centerpiece and no more while banners that say 'Welcome, Otherworlder.' From up above him. Some of the people who greeted him wore robes similar to the style of the Yeojegung or Foxfolk as he remembered dealing with a trader from the region but are of a more compact result to form fit their bodies as the difference shows. The Imperial Herald, SerMah-sczoo Nah-kah-moo-rah guided the Prince to an awaiting vehicle that paraded him across Tokyo's streets triumphantly. He had never seen such jubilation for the arrival of someone such as himself could see. All eyes were on him as he arrived to his destination. A great white castle, surrounded by a moat with black tiled roofs were before him with a bridge similarly designed by one other bridge in connects the main entrance between him and the actual castle. Upon crossing the bridge, he find himself at the castles entrance door, it was not grand nor functional in terms for defense but was merely for show instead.

Does this Emperor not care for his own protection?

As he stood there to think about what this meeting with this Island Emperor could entail for him and Tyr Rian's future, the gate slide sideways opens revealing a man and a woman dressed in more opulent versions of the traditional robes apparently native to j.a.pan. The male wore a bi-colored robe that flow down to his knees. The garment's color is of orange and white made of shimmering silk with the betrayal of light had a few faint designs that tickled the Prince's eyes. The male also wore a headdress that grew a slight b.u.mp on his short black hair with what looks like a needle or two nails hammered across opposite sides of a large tongue-like appendage reaching out a few inches upwards. For the female, she wore a much more sophisticated dress. One of a thick, baggy and longer length of garments compared to the male with the contrasting color of red and orange being her choice of wear for this occasion. She wore her hair back to accommodate a three-p.r.o.nged golden tiara that reached out several inches adorned with smaller separate pieces of Gold too. Strangely enough, only the woman had jewelry on her person. Was the woman the 'Emperor' and the male her consort? Was j.a.pan a Matriarchal society?

The Male walked forward, while his female counterpart stayed behind in reserve. The orange dressed man humbly bowed down to Clovich as he finally stood face to face with the Otherworldly Prince.

"I am Emperor Shinharu. Welcome to j.a.pan." The man said.

He rose back up from his bow and briefly looked at the Tyr Rianni Prince with his own two eyes.

"You have my Ancestor's eyes." Emperor Shinahru complemented.