“My lord, is it true?” Zogarth entered the meeting room, his presence commanding yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency. The rest of the council trailed behind him, each member marked by an air of tense anticipation. “Has Alacritas, along with his team, truly been captured?”
Ventus, a figure of casual defiance, arched an eyebrow in skepticism towards Thorian. “This has to be some sort of joke,” he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of disbelief. “Alacritas is unmatched in speed, save for Harald. How could mere humans possibly apprehend him?”
Thorian, unmoved by the rising tide of emotions, gestured towards the seats. “Please, let us first take our seats,” he suggested, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of questions. The gravity in his tone and the solemnity of his expression were enough to wash away Ventus’s nonchalance. The council members, sensing the severity of the situation, settled into their chairs, each face etched with grave concern.
“Let me be clear,” Thorian began, extracting a letter from his pocket and placing it deliberately on the table. “The information Forlune relayed is accurate. This letter explicitly confirms that my men in Locksley have been detained. Given that only Alacritas and his team had assignments in the human city, the implications are unmistakable.”
Lapis, quick to respond, interjected with a tone of resolute conviction. “If this is indeed the case, my lord, then we are left with no choice but war. Their audacity to capture our people cannot go unanswered.”
Ventus, his voice now a blend of eagerness and determination, joined in. “I agree,” he declared. “If you wish, king, I can storm that human city immediately. Their high stone walls are no match for my magic.”
Thorian, amidst the fervor of the council, exhaled a weary sigh. “Patience,” he urged, his gaze sweeping across the faces before him. “We must not let impulsive anger dictate our actions.” His eyes then settled on Zogarth. “Your perspective is valued, Zogarth. What course of action do you deem most prudent in these circumstances?”
Zogarth paused, collecting his thoughts before responding with measured caution. “While the thought of unleashing our fury upon that human city is appealing, prudence must prevail. If they have indeed captured Alacritas, we must acknowledge their formidable capabilities.”
Thorian, acknowledging Zogarth's insight with a nod, surveyed the room for further input.
Elder Oom, previously lost in contemplation, raised his head. “My lord, might this situation be linked to the green lady we discussed yesterday?”
“It is highly probable,” Thorian agreed. “Alacritas's primary objective, amidst assessing Locksley's general state, was to monitor this lady and her associates. His reports consistently portrayed her as a shadowy figure, rarely seen in public. Her followers, too, are adept at evading detection.”
A hush fell over the council as they digested this revelation. Aqua, whose furrowed brow betrayed deep contemplation, eventually spoke up. “My king, considering your description, it seems plausible that the green lady’s stronghold might be outside the city. Therefore, even if we triumph in a war, locating where Alacritas and his team are being held could still elude us.”
Thorian acknowledged this with a nod, his expression thoughtful yet distant. And then there's the matter with the Stronghearts, he mused silently. But raising that issue now would only stoke the flames of war against all of Locksley. That outcome is far from desirable.
The room fell silent as Vigil posed a pertinent question, snapping Thorian out of his reverie. “My king, given our lack of intelligence, should we dispatch more scouts to Locksley and its surroundings?”
Thorian, weighing his words carefully, shook his head. “No, the situation is too precarious for that. Our best strategy at this juncture is for me to accept their invitation.”
Vivax's complexion drained of color at these words. “But my lord, that could well be a trap!”
Thorian’s response was laced with a hint of humor. “Do you truly believe your king would fall to a mere trap?”
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Vivax, quickly regaining his composure, replied with conviction, “Certainly not, my lord.”
Thorian’s gaze then shifted to Forlune, a smile playing on his lips. “Moreover, I won't be embarking on this journey alone. Forlune, isn’t it time you chose your evolution?”
Forlune’s grin mirrored his anticipation. “I've been waiting for the right moment, my lord, and it seems that time has come.”
The room's attention pivoted to Forlune, curiosity piqued. “What are your options for evolution?” Thorian inquired, his eyes sparkling with interest.
Clearing his throat under the gaze of the council, Forlune revealed, “I have two choices: Moon Kobold Champion and Celestial Kobold Champion, the latter being a special variant.”
Thorian chuckled with assurance. “Then the choice is clear.”
With Thorian’s endorsement, Forlune's body became enveloped in a radiant glow. His physique expanded, muscles bulking up as a surge of energy transformed him. His size increased dramatically, with intricate tribal tattoos depicting celestial bodies — the moon, the sun, and stars — swiftly etching themselves onto his fur. The council watched, captivated by the spectacle of Forlune’s dramatic evolution.
In the aftermath of Forlune's transformation, he towered a full foot above Thorian, who himself was not lacking in stature.
“This form suits you far better,” Thorian observed, his approval evident. He then cast a half-amused glance towards the door. “However, we may need to consider room expansions if such rapid evolutions continue.”
Forlune, now towering and formidable, responded with a light chuckle. “Well, isn’t that a great problem to have?”
Thorian, with a smile still playing on his lips, turned back to the council. “The assailant of Alacritas has permitted me three companions for the meeting. Given Forlune’s newfound prowess and his crucial role, he will be one of them.”
“That is a wise choice,” Elder Oom agreed, his tone reflecting his respect for Forlune's strength. “Besides you and Harald, no one in our village rivals the general.”
“Makes sense,” Ventus shrugged, his casual demeanor acknowledging Forlune's strength.
Thorian then directed his attention to Zogarth. “As my second general and one of our strongest, I want you by my side, Zogarth.”
Zogarth, with a respectful bow, accepted the honor, and the council members nodded in agreement with Thorian’s decision.
Thorian’s gaze then swept over the council, a palpable tension rising as he contemplated his final choice. Every council member, each harboring a silent hope, fixed their eyes on Thorian. “And for the final position,” he began, the room hanging on his every word, “I choose Elder Oom.”
The council chamber was momentarily gripped by a stunned silence following Thorian's declaration. The quiet was swiftly broken by an outburst from Ventus, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “But my king, I earnestly desired to accompany you!” he protested. “You’re aware of my strength; we've battled side by side countless times. Why choose Oom, who lacks my prowess?”
Thorian, unruffled by the protest, offered a simple yet profound explanation. “Oom possesses a unique quality that none other here does.”
Ventus, now confused, pressed for an answer. “And what might that be, king?”
Thorian’s gaze settled on Oom, conveying a deep sense of trust. “His eyes,” he stated, leaving the statement enigmatic and open to interpretation.
With those cryptic words, the meeting disbanded. Thorian, Forlune, Zogarth, and Oom departed from the village, their steps leading them through the perilous forest. Familiar with the route, they navigated effortlessly to Locksley, converging near the Western Gate.
As they stood waiting, Zogarth queried Thorian about their strategy upon encountering the opposition. “My lord, once we confront them, what shall be our course of action?”
Thorian’s answer was measured and confident. “That will depend on their moves,” he said. “Regarding traps, concern yourself not. I possess two specific skills tailored for such scenarios.”
Zogarth, his expression a mix of surprise and admiration, looked back at Thorian. “Is that so, my lord? Truly?”
Thorian affirmed with a nod. "The first is Predator's Gaze," he announced, his pupils dilating like a predatory animal, enhancing his vision dramatically. "And the second, Elemental Sight." His eyes then shimmered, transforming his vision into a vibrant tapestry of colors, each hue representing a different elemental mana.
"These abilities allow me to detect hidden assailants or magical traps that might be lying in wait," Thorian elaborated, his tone indicating the strategic advantage they provided.
Forlune, impressed, couldn’t help but express his admiration. "Your array of skills is indeed remarkable, my lord. It certainly reduces the uncertainties we face."
As Forlune spoke, Thorian turned towards Elder Oom. "Regarding the other aspects of our mission, I trust you can handle them?"
Elder Oom nodded subtly, yet with a firm resolve. "Certainly, my lord. I shall not disappoint."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of movement. Thorian, alert to the slightest disturbance, noted, "It appears our escorts have arrived."
Two figures, garbed entirely in black, materialized in front of them with a swift, almost spectral movement. The lead figure, wasting no words, issued a simple command: “Follow us.”