Right after Zagul left the Waxenian Camp

To put the overall results of the plan on the bad side would be accurate. Zagul didn't get the ideal prerequisites but he has a solid start on how to attack Fynsell’s Caravan, even more now that he has the Earthshard, a tool that will undoubtedly help him. The problem was that he didn't have the people necessary to do the plan, nor did he have time to search for Predators in order to alter the meat and lure them to the road to the Confederation. He needed to act accordingly, and in this predicament, came an idea that might spark some backlash.

He could go to the Sylphs and ask them for their help while offering even more info about them, combining the efforts of the Earthshard and whatever gemstone they have that grants them the Wind abilities that Nate described. But that of course would compromise the deal he secured with the Waxenians to let the Morepans alone. He could even let the war happen anyway and just join whoever was winning at the end then ask favors, but the likelihood of it working out was slim to none. A tough spot to be put in, for sure, because there was no correct or absolute way to make the best of what the Lacerta was given.

“The only absolute is that there are no absolutes.”

Even now Yuri seemed to be right. And that's the same person who didn't even know about the Sana Maris Festival, even though he lived two or so years as a slave.

Anyway…

There is another solution to this, and unlike the others that had some kind of benefit to one of the sides, this one solely benefited Zagul. He can lure each side to believe something is going to happen elsewhere by putting false information here and there, burning supplies, attacking while disguised, all to put them in the exact position he needs them to be. That would make his end goal ten times easier, because if he managed to make them fight on the exact road that the High Elf is going to pass, he can steal the Draconic Iridium without worrying about getting caught in the act as they will be too focused on the crossfire.

So, as the gecko galloped away, searching for the other tribe, he started planning every step in his head, each measure taken, backup plans and deviations with the limited time he has. He recognized that the plan can fail at any moment, but at the same time, he has the tool needed to make the best of what he has now. Before? Nah, the Earthshard was just a plus. But now? This is the exact thing he needs.

He decided to go back to the caves, using the Earthshard for the first time. Only a tiny amount of its overall capacity, but still quite considerable for the task he needed to complete. Zagul's Éter was relatively small, his inner coils never really being allowed to develop, but they were enough to activate the gem, using its power to locate another type of gem that was very very delicate as it was volatile. The Vermillion Stone, a Crystal just as big as a ingot, but fragile as weak glass, capable of explosion worth of an Artificer or Wizard, rare in quantity, expensive and all the other shenanigans worth of such item.

That is if you didn't have another gem that is capable of locating them.

It took him just a few minutes of using the Shard to find a few, carefully taken as to not blow up himself, rolled on a mat and placed on a bag. After that, he used the gem again to find another small stone, but of lesser rarity. It was a single-use gem, the Solace Shard, a stone capable of hiding his presence for a few minutes. After the effects dissipate, the stone turns to dust and erodes, giving the impression that it never existed. He grabbed one as it was the only he could find, left the cave and used the Earthshard one last time to locate the Sylph Tribe, the vibrations on the ground giving some ideas where to look.

This whole preparation took about two hours, so Zagul, before going to the tribe, decided to make camp and eat a little, as well as warming himself. The snow continued to fall, despite not being a storm, but the breeze that hit his face made sure to make himself as uncomfortable as possible. The Lacerta hunted a few small animals and used his basic sewing knowledge to make himself a hide cloak that covered his neck, a hood to cover his head and a new set of gloves to protect his hands. It was better than before, but the problem was his tail, the hole his pants needed so his tail wouldn't be compressed with his legs. The hole allowed the cold wind to caress his privates, which he didn't like at all. Maybe when he isn't a slave anymore he can ask someone to design winter pants for him thinking of this exact situation.

Oh well, it is what it is.

After a quick meal with the meat he got from the animals, he resumed his search, not taking long to find where the Sylphs lived. Zagul thought that they would live in a mountain, the top of the trees or something related to the fact they have wings in their back, but it was underwhelmingly boring that they also lived near a lake. He decided to take camp on a fair distance, only glancing a bit as the camp's denizens moved from place to place, working on what he judged to be a weapon race to the war, preparing as best as they could for the upcoming battle.

Good thing he made new warm clothes, because he is going to spend a lot of time here. A shame he didn't warn the Morepans, but it was never his idea to babysit them.

For now, he watches.

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

Sylph Tribe, Leader's Tent, Daytime

Quadähd scratched his nose as he read the small documents that his spy gathered from the Waxenians. It was a mess, they failed at ambushing the Lacerta that was helping them out, even if they killed the human with him. Now they know that the Spy is there, but at least they don't know who it is. Nate, the captive, was convinced to tell them about their plans, the traitor. He wasn't tortured, at least giving the winged leader some sort of empathy towards the man, he was just… He talked! He revealed what they planned to do!

“That's all, Chief.”, The guard said as he took a small bow.

“I appreciate it, now you may leave.”, Quadähd said in a frown, waving him out.

Problems piled up for the Elder. He stroked his beard, pinching a few strings of hair as his discontents grew larger and larger. All of this could have been avoided if Cantler wasn't a stupid and young boy, too passionate for his own good. He was warned constantly about his not-so-secret meetings with the Waxenian Spouse in the recent wedding that took place after Arsi took over, but Cantler would just daydream and practice with his lute than do anything productive, or something to make his father, Quadähd, prideful.

Now thanks to his insolent child, the Elder Sylph needs to prepare for a unnecessary war, taking innocent lives that had nothing to do with the stupidity of his offspring. Quadähd vividly remembers the day everyone discovered, when they were caught balls deep into the act, still cuddling like a “cute” couple. If it was inside the tribe? It was going to be easy to cover up, easier to accept, since thanks to the Sparrow, they didn't need to worry about monogamy since they are polygamous. However this doesn't protect them from outside tribes.

If you're going to fuck another person's wife, at least don't get caught doing it!

The entire camp took Cantler’s side, arguing that the Waxenians were too “intolerant” and “close minded”, when in fact os that the Sylphs are too liberal about this specific topic. It took days for Quadähd to put in the heads of the denizens that different places have different rules and that they were the ones that violated their laws. It was infuriatingly frustrating to see that the average Sylph was dumber than he previously predicted. Of course, they might not be a warrior tribe, but they are not going to back down or accept this attack. That's why they have a spy there, the Shaman using his spells of Runecrafter to disguise himself as a Waxenian, taking good care and caution to not sound or seem like another species.

Negotiating with them is impossible right now, the Waxenians are now too prideful and too angry to think straight, even more with this specific problem, Quadähd knowing full well that they are not prepared to fight even with advantages. The Sky Scraper Stone can only be used by one person at a time and even the best warrior they have won't do enough. They will take countermeasures to their previous tactics, meaning they can ambush the Waxenians anymore. With a sigh, the Elder Sylph left his tent, wondering what he should exactly do to prevent further damage. The Camp seemed to be in high spirits despite the looming danger, with the younglings singing near the campfire, the teenagers trying to learn the various methods of art and the adults training to combat, even when not asked to do so.

Quadähd saw the Toten at the center of the Camp and decided to pray a bit, showing his devotion from the outside perspective, but internally begging for an answer for his questions. A compromise. Anything! Because being honest with himself, he didn't know what to do. Every option he can take will lead to a bloodbath, a loss, a defeat or in the best case scenario, the near extinction of his Tribe. So, to calm his nerves, he prayed, unintentionally dragging a few people to pray beside him. He wasn't paying attention of course, but when he finished his own prayers, he was glad that some denizens took the time to share this moment with him.

It wasn't a win, but it was something.

“Sir?”, Banary, the trusted advisor called. She seemed preoccupied.

“Yes?”, Quadähd said after getting up.

“It's your son. He is calling for a meeting.”, She told the information, dreading the reaction that she expected it to cause.

And for good reason, because that caused the Elder Sylph to growl tiredly. What could Cantler possibly want to say? There was nothing that Quadähd could think his son would tell that would make some kind of difference, but whether he liked it or not, he needed to make up appearances and actually see him, despite his discontent.

“Tell him I'll be arriving shortly.”, He said after breathing heavily.

“Alright.”, Banary replied with a brief bow.

As Banary left, Quadähd rubbed his temples, trying to dispel the headache forming from the stress. The thought of dealing with Cantler’s naive idealism, especially now, made his stomach churn. But he knew he couldn't avoid it. The tribe needed stability, and any sign of discord from within would only weaken their chances against the Waxenians.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Quadähd walked slowly towards the meeting tent, the cold air biting at his exposed skin. The snow crunched under his boots, and he noticed how the camp seemed oblivious to the storm that was about to break over them—both the one in the skies and the one in their lives.

As he approached the tent, Quadähd could already hear Cantler's voice inside, speaking animatedly to a few of the tribe's younger members. They looked at him with admiration, hanging on his every word. That worried Quadähd more than anything. His son had always had a way of inspiring people, but he lacked the wisdom to channel that inspiration effectively. If left unchecked, Cantler's influence could lead the tribe down a disastrous path.

He pushed open the flap of the tent and stepped inside. Cantler looked up and smiled, clearly pleased to see his father. But Quadähd didn't return the smile. Instead, he studied his son, noting the determination in his eyes, the fire that blazed there despite everything.

“Father,” Cantler began, his voice filled with enthusiasm, “I have an idea that might just save us all.”

Quadähd remained silent, allowing his son to speak, though his skepticism was evident.

Cantler took a deep breath. “I know I've made mistakes, and I know the situation we're in is partly my fault. But I believe we can turn things around. The Waxenians—I've been thinking about them, about what drives them. Their pride, their stubbornness. We can use that against them.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Quadähd asked, crossing his arms.

“By making them believe we're stronger than we are,” Cantler said, his voice gaining confidence. “We use illusions, misdirection. We make them think we've got reinforcements coming, that we have allies in the nearby tribes. We create the illusion of strength and make them doubt their own plans.”

Some of the young members seemed to nod and make small comments, agreeing with this line of thinking.

That alone made the Elder worry.

Quadähd frowned. “That’s a risky game, Cantler. The Waxenians aren't fools. If they catch wind of this, it could provoke them even further.”

“I know, Father. But it's a chance we have to take. We can't fight them head-on, not without losing too many of our people. But if we can sow doubt, make them second-guess their actions, we might buy ourselves enough time to find another solution.”

“Or maybe scare them away so they won't fight us!”, One of the younglings said.

“Yeah!”, Another one backed it up.

Quadähd sighed deeply, the weight of the idea pressing down on him. He could see the logic in Cantler's plan, but the risks were immense. A single misstep could doom them all.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“And how exactly would that work?”, Quadähd said as he finally took a seat on the mat, “Who would be the ones we chose to fakely ally ourselves with?”

Cantler's face lit up as if he'd been waiting for this exact question. "We don't need to fake alliances with real tribes," he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "We create phantom allies—groups that don't exist, but sound just plausible enough to make the Waxenians hesitate."

Quadähd raised an eyebrow. "Phantom allies? You expect the Waxenians to believe in ghost warriors?"

Cantler nodded. "Not ghosts, but rumors. We spread word of mercenaries from the east, of a hidden Sylph faction in the mountains, of reinforcements coming from the distant Valerian Marshes. We use what we have to craft illusions and leave traces that suggest these forces are real. We make the Waxenians believe they're walking into a trap, that they're the ones being hunted—”

“Enough.”, He said, raising his voice loud enough to stop his ramblings, “You are as naive as I thought.”

Cantler felt insulted as he looked at his father, his voice not full of enthusiasm as before, “Why do you say that? It is a good plan!”

Again, the others seemed to think alike, but the Elder begs to differ.

“No, it isn't.”, Quadähd’s voice was stern, carrying the weight of experience. "Your plan is built on illusions, Cantler. Illusions can only last so long before they crumble under the slightest pressure. The Waxenians are warriors, not fools. If they sense even a hint of deception, they will tear through our defenses, and our people will pay the price."

Cantler clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. "But we can't just do nothing! We have to try something, anything, to stop them!"

Ah yes, make up for something you brought upon other people. The oldest trick in the book.

Quadähd shook his head. "Desperation leads to mistakes. We don’t have the luxury of gambling on shadows and whispers. If we’re going to survive this, we need real strength, real allies, not phantoms conjured in the dark."

Cantler opened his mouth to argue but then hesitated, the fire in his eyes dimming as doubt crept in. He had been so sure, so convinced that his plan was the solution, but now his father's words were causing it to unravel before his very eyes. Even his followers started to question if this was so foolproof as they claimed it to be.

Quadähd softened his tone, seeing the turmoil in his son's expression. "I know you want to protect our people, Cantler. But leading a tribe is about more than bold ideas and grand schemes. It's about understanding when to fight, when to retreat, and when to find another way."

Cantler looked down, his voice quieter now. "Then what should we do? How do we stand a chance against them?"

Quadähd placed a hand on Cantler’s shoulder, the gesture more comforting than critical. "We need to focus on our strengths. We are not warriors, but we are not helpless. We know this land better than anyone. We can use it to our advantage—set traps, lead them into the harshest parts of the terrain, force them to battle the elements as much as they battle us."

He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "And while we do that, we send envoys to the other tribes. Real ones. There are those who owe us favors, those who would not want to see the Waxenians grow too powerful. We form real alliances, not based on deceit, but on mutual need."

Cantler absorbed his father's words, the sting of disappointment still present.

“You’re right,” Cantler finally admitted, the fire in him now tempered with humility. “I let my fear get the better of me. I wanted to believe there was an easy way out.”

Quadähd nodded, his expression softening. "There’s never an easy way, son. But there’s always a way forward. We just have to find it, together."

Cantler straightened, the weight of responsibility settling more comfortably on his shoulders now. "I’ll start preparing the traps, and I’ll help send word to the other tribes. We’ll be ready when the time comes."

“You will set the traps, yes, but you won't go to other tribes.”, He said, his hand gripping a bit tighter on his shoulder, “Last time you went to another Tribe, you got us in this mess.”

“...sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. Be better.”, Quadähd said sternly, but carefully, enough to buy a sense of advice, “Now go, I'll handle the rest.”

The Elder Sylph watched his son leave the tent with the other younglings. The path ahead is still perilous, but at least not hopeless.

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

Cantler didn't get it. In fact, he just agreed for the sake of letting this talk die down. His father was as stupid as he remembered, being so focused on safety and guarantees. The Sparrow is Desire and Lust, for crying out loud! If anything, he was the only person who truly followed what the Toten requested from them! It was so stupid how Quadähd wanted to push this sense of responsibility when he clearly didn't want to be the next heir to the Chief position, yet his father would only do the opposite of what he wanted him to do.

And Talia? Well, she was in need of a helping shoulder, so he gifted that to her. What happened next was just a plus, but everyone acted like it was a big thing. He already did that to other tribes and even inside the Sylph Tribe! And no one gave a damn thing even when found out! Why would this one be different?! It was just a woman who needed to feel like a woman! Protected! Loved! And most importantly, worth something! It was such a pain that he needed to deal with this stuff, but now? Everything and everyone seems to be pointing out that the problem is Cantler's, and solely his.

Even when he finally convinced everyone that it wasn't a big of a deal as everyone was making it to be and when he gave a solution to this problem so no one would bother them anymore, his father called him naive. Naive? Naive?!? Seriously?!?!? That's why they never saw each other eye to eye, maybe never will. His mother would understand, she would. But now he needs to study the terrain around their camp and build traps, lures and the like so they might have a fighting chance.

Quadähd’s plan was stupid, since they couldn't really afford anything worth having an alliance with. What could they offer that no one else had? Little, and even if somehow one of the other tribes or the other Sylphs were to discuss the situation, Cantler doubted that they would even consider negotiating. He heard the plans of the caves and if that didn't fail, there should be something worth giving, since the Waxenians gave those stupid stones to get supplies and other useful things. The entire thing was a stupid mess, a stupid plan, stupid father, stupid people…

Everything was just stupid!

Cantler sighed, slapping the cheeks of his face to get back to normal, his usual smile returning to his face, “Alright, time to go to the forest and do some research.”

He went to his tent, grabbed a few materials, a piece of coal and some dry leather to use as paper, his wings flapping slightly at his anxious state and minor annoyance. After that, walk to the forest and start charting things to the perfect degree, some people coming along curious at what might the son of the Chief is doing. Cantler didn't mind as that meant more people helping him in his work, so as he explained what was happening to everyone else, they opted to help as best as they could, something the Young Sylph really appreciated. They were near some trees that had some real tough roots that were pulling the ground up, making some big holes in it, so he decided to mark them on his map for future suggestions.

“A good place to put explosives.”, A rough voice said behind him as he hummed to the idea.

“Yeah, although we would need to hide this place really well, or put the archers here with some explosives. Ambush the Waxenians when we can, but also make sure to make it easy to leave in case they need to retreat.”, Cantler commented, giving his own insight on warfare. It wasn't much but he wasn't helpless.

“If you make a tunnel here near the tree it will be possible to have an escape plan when needed.”, A scaly hand put a finger on the drawing of the tree the Sylph made.

Wait… scales?

“EEEEeeep!”, The Young Sylph squeaked, completely taken off guard by the Lacerta who was holding his face straight, probably from laughter, “Who are you?!”

“Sorry.”, He said, but his face betrayed his words, “Thought you'd need a hand, that's all.”

“Where are the others?!”, Cantler asked, putting his hands up in case he needs to fight.

“They found a mushroom and decided to eat it.”, The Lacerta said with a deadpan expression. Cantler was inclined to believe he was lying but the fact that his expression remained unchanged and neutral spoke volumes.

“Oh my Sparrow, they didn't eat a random mushroom, did they?”

“...”

After walking back a few meters, he saw a half eaten handful of mushrooms on the ground and the few Sylphs that came over sleeping peacefully on the ground.

“They did.”

“Thankfully it isn't poisonous.”, The lizard commented, his voice hinting a bit of sarcasm.

“Real funny, but that doesn't answer who are you! Are you the Lacerta who helped the Waxenians?”, Cantler got his guard up again, not sure he can actually fight the Lacerta.

The mysterious lizard seemed to think a bit, not really worried at being compared to the, apparently, enemy, “My name is Henry.”, He revealed, showing no signs of deception, at least none that he can see, “And I was only an advisor to the Waxenians.”

“So you were with them!”, Cantler backed up instantly, regretting almost immediately that he did.

He was trying to act tough! Can't be tough while cowering at a man who isn't even looking to fight!

“Well, yes. But I had my reasons.”, He said, putting his hands on the air defensively, “Needed to help the Morepans out, guarantee their safety in the war you all pulled up.”

Cantler narrowed his eyes, still unsure whether to trust this stranger. “So, you're saying you switched sides? Why should I believe you?”

Henry sighed, lowering his hands slowly. “I didn’t switch sides. I just helped where I could to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. The Waxenians, the Morepans, and now you Sylphs—none of you need to be at each other's throats. But the way things are going, it’s only going to get worse.”

Cantler hesitated, glancing at the unconscious Sylphs nearby. Despite his doubts, there was something about Henry's calm demeanor that made him pause. He wasn’t like the Waxenians Cantler had encountered before. There was no aggression in his stance, no hint of deception in his voice.

“And what do you want from us?” Cantler asked, his tone still guarded.

Henry glanced at the map Cantler had been drawing. “I’m here to offer my help. I know the Waxenians better than anyone. I know how they think, how they fight. And I know how you might stand a chance against them without dragging your people into a full-blown war.”

Cantler blinked in surprise. “You’re offering to help us? Why?”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe I’m tired of seeing tribes tear each other apart over misunderstandings. Or maybe I just don’t want to see another innocent village get wiped off the map. Take your pick.”

The young Sylph considered his options. On one hand, he didn’t trust Henry—how could he, after hearing all that had happened between the Sylphs and Waxenians? But on the other hand, he was desperate. Desperate enough to try anything that might keep his tribe safe.

Cantler finally sighed, relaxing his stance a little. “Alright, Henry. I’ll hear you out. But if you try anything, anything at all—”

Henry chuckled, holding up a hand. “I get it. Trust is earned, not given. Let’s just focus on how to keep your people safe. Deal?”

“Deal,” Cantler agreed, albeit reluctantly. He turned back to the map, gesturing for Henry to continue. “So, about those traps…”

As Henry began outlining his suggestions, Cantler couldn’t help but wonder if this strange alliance would be the key to saving his tribe—or if it was just another gamble that could cost them everything. But one thing was certain: they needed all the help they could get, and if Henry could offer even a sliver of hope, then maybe, just maybe, they stood a chance.

Cantler noted down Henry's suggestions, realizing that the Lacerta's experience could be invaluable in navigating this conflict. The main road towards Shadehill was indeed a strategic location, one that offered both risks and rewards depending on how it was utilized.

“So we set the traps along the road, but stay hidden in the forest,” Cantler summarized, trying to see the whole picture. “We force the Waxenians to engage us on unfavorable terms, while our best fighters—those with the Sky Scraper Stone—control the skies.”

Henry nodded, his expression serious. “Exactly. The key is to keep them off-balance, make them second-guess every move. If we can manipulate the terrain and the battle's timing, we’ll have the upper hand, even if we're outnumbered.”

Cantler felt a surge of hope. Perhaps this plan could work, combining his father's knowledge of the land with Henry's tactical insights. It was still dangerous, but with proper execution, it might just turn the tide in their favor.

“Alright,” Cantler said, his voice firm. “We’ll go with this plan. But I need to make sure my father agrees. If he sees the value in it, we might be able to avoid the worst of this war.”

He didn't like to admit that his father needed to approve this, but…

Henry's eyes narrowed slightly, though he remained calm. “Convincing him will be crucial. But be careful, Cantler. This is a delicate situation. One wrong step—.”

“I know.”, Cantler nodded, fully aware of the weight of those words. As he made his way back to the camp, he couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and determination. He would present this plan to his father, but how Quadähd would react was still uncertain. Would he see the potential in Henry's strategy, or would he dismiss it as another one of Cantler’s naive ideas?

“Come with me. I'll present you to my Father.”, For now, all Cantler could do was hope that his father would be willing to listen—just this once.

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

“All on the same day. Impressive work, me.”

Zagul patted himself on the back. It was honestly amazing what a desperate and young man would do in order to make up for his mistake. He didn't even need to stay away at the forest, just some sneaking to the Sylph camp was enough for the Lacerta to get enough information to enact his plan. He almost felt pity for these people, almost, because they are going to be the exact thing he is going to use to secure the stupid mission Richardson gave him. After that he is going to disappear, a mist that was once there and never to be found again.

This boy? Cantler? He is so gullible and stupid that Zagul didn't even need that much to convince, no, manipulate him to make his plan go to the next step. But since this kid is completely oblivious to the things that are happening to him, his father on the other hand might not. It's a gamble so dangerous that Zagul might just be killed on sight, but he is not going to back down on the best hand he was given in this whole three weeks. There, it's right there, so close and so far at the same time.

But he learned that taking an active role is going to backfire, a change of plans is needed. Maybe a passive play, getting to be more empathetic? No, that would draw suspicions, maybe some benefit? Some gain? That would chirp up anyone, a mutual benefit, strategy for something. But if he is totally honest about it they might refuse.

*Giggling*

“What?”, Zagul whispered, unsure if he heard it right.

“Did you say something?”, Cantler asked as he tried to wake up his fellow Sylph.

“No, it must've been the wind.”

Maybe it wasn't, but he is not going to investigate it. Not important right now.

Anyway…

Time to prepare.