When General Zidall sent scouts back to the Aphiton Kingdom, he didn't expect them to return within two days and without being able to enter the capital. Their report detailed the chaotic scenes they witnessed: the capital was sealed off, the soldiers were in disarray, and the citizens had abandoned their homes, fleeing the city. The rapid deterioration of the situation indicated one clear conclusion—the war had ended, and they were on the losing side.
The next day, General Zidall ordered a full retreat from the Wezar Kingdom. The entire army mobilized swiftly, vanishing overnight. This sudden withdrawal left many Wezar soldiers confused, but the higher-ups had a suspicion of what was happening. General Varis, recognizing the urgency, instructed his commanding officers to regroup the soldiers and await further orders while he made his way to the capital to confirm his suspicions.
By evening, General Varis reached the royal palace and hurried into the main hall where Prince Tristan was seated on the throne, listening to the Spymaster's report.
huff "General Varis greets the prince."
"General, you're right on time. Stand up," Tristan instructed.
The general rose from his kneeling position and looked up. The prince’s expression was one of relief as he gestured for the Spymaster to continue.
"Yes, Prince Tristan. As I previously reported, our scouts had been waiting for the King in the city of Egmar, in the Kingdom of Halifax. When the King arrived at the port, he requested a briefing on the current situation."
"Kingdom of Halifax? That’s quite far. What happened? Where is the King now?" Tristan inquired, his concern evident.
"Indeed, Prince. According to the limited intel we managed to gather, it appears that the King’s ship was targeted by sirens and forced off course, eventually sinking just before it reached Egmar’s harbor. The King didn’t provide an explanation; he simply asked for an update on the current state of affairs. After being briefed, both the King and the ascendant Domino vanished without a trace. We’ve been searching intensely for the past two days but haven’t found any sign of them."
"Prince, if I may?" Varis interjected. Tristan nodded for him to proceed.
"The Aphitonians have retreated their army overnight. I dispatched scouts to the border, and they confirmed that the Aphitonians have fully withdrawn from the war."
Tristan’s eyes widened in surprise, and he nearly leapt from his throne before collapsing back into the chair. "Haaah, that old man. He finally returned. I want you both to keep searching for the King and report to me immediately if you find anything…"
The prince’s command was interrupted by a messenger who burst into the hall with urgent news. "What is it?" Tristan demanded, turning toward the messenger.
The Spymaster and General Varis also shifted their attention to the messenger, awaiting the new development.
"A message for you, my prince. It’s from His Majesty the King," the messenger announced, handing over the letter. Prince Tristan took it, noting the royal seal still intact. He pressed his finger against the seal, murmuring an incantation as it dissipated. With the seal broken, he unfolded the letter and read through its contents, while the Spymaster and General Varis waited in silence.
"T-the war is over," Tristan declared as he finished reading, his expression a mixture of relief and astonishment. He glanced at the other two, who were clearly caught off guard.
"Prince, what happened?" General Varis asked, puzzled by Tristan's reaction.
"The King and Domino arrived in the capital, Hefast, yesterday afternoon. They launched an assault on the royal palace. It appears Domino… killed King Hefastos."
The revelation left both the Spymaster and General Varis speechless. King Hefastos, an ascendant with two other ascendants by his side, including the borrowed power Kidllams, was a formidable figure. The act of killing such a powerful individual was unprecedented and unsettling.
"General Varis," Tristan continued, regaining his composure, "the King has requested that two-thirds of the army stationed at the border proceed to Hefast to join him. I need you to lead this deployment personally. Further instructions will follow once you reach your destination."
"Yes, Prince! I will leave immediately!" General Varis responded, giving a slight bow before hurrying out of the room.
The Spymaster, still grappling with the news, looked to Tristan, unsure how to proceed. "Prince, this situation—"
"I know, Walter," Tristan interrupted with a grin. "Things are about to get much more interesting."
The ramifications of killing an ascendant and a king would inevitably lead to significant repercussions. The Alliance, a coalition formed to maintain balance among the kingdoms and empires, needed to address these shifts. An emergency meeting was scheduled for a week from now to deal with the fallout from King Hefastos's death and the recent upheavals.
The Alliance was not a permanent fixture but rather a product of necessity. Its origins trace back to when members of the Giant race threatened to conquer the world, compelling disparate kingdoms to unite. The most recent formation of this coalition occurred four centuries ago, in response to a devastating war between two major kingdoms over crucial resources. The Alliance's decisive intervention ended the conflict and solidified the need for its continued function.
The upcoming Alliance meeting would be held at one of the magic institutes in the Empire of Prusha. This venue was chosen for its neutral ground and its significance in magical education and governance. It would host a formidable assembly of ascendants and kings from various kingdoms, each bringing their own perspectives and agendas. The meeting aimed to address the new power dynamics, manage the resulting chaos, and reestablish balance in a world thrown into turmoil. As the time for the meeting approached, the various factions within the Alliance began preparing for what promised to be a historic and potentially volatile gathering.
Meanwhile, Bones had recently departed the Evergreen Woodlands and was traveling through the Quntis Kingdom, unaware of the political turbulence unfolding.
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Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
In the kingdom of Brales, in a tower of Yelsa Co. located in a small coastal city near the capital, Peon Tusk sat in his office chair with an obsidian dagger pressed against his throat. Behind him stood a small figure, shrouded in darkness with a veil over his face.
"Your dogs have been snooping around too much! That was a rude way to ask for the schematics of mass teleportation! King Dhoral would appreciate it if you put a leash on your hounds in the future! Understood, muppet?"
Grunts
"I understand. The hounds will not set foot in Ebasal again. Take this token to King Dhoral as an apology for my rudeness, dwarf." Tusk slowly opened a drawer and took out a shiny piece of ore, no bigger than a finger, and handed it to the dwarf behind him.
The dwarf narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the piece still in the orc's hand, then recognized it for what it was. With a quick sleight of hand, the ore disappeared, safely hidden.
"You're a reasonable muppet." Tusk felt the blade leave his throat.
"I'll make sure to convey the message to King Dhoral." The dwarf vanished, his words still echoing in the office.
Tusk remained seated, rubbing the back of his head when The Siren appeared next to him.
"Why didn't you let me kill the dwarf?" she asked. Tusk shook his head.
"No good will come from making Dhoral an enemy."
"And he's not an enemy? What was all this then?" The Siren asked.
"Theatrics. Let's just say I owe him one now. Besides, I know what he wants."
"That shiny ore? I don't understand you earth dwellers…"
Tusk smiled but didn’t offer an explanation. He knew The Siren wasn't interested in the politics of it all.
"The meeting is starting soon. Can I count on you to accompany me?"
"What meeting?"
"The meeting of the Alliance, held in Prusha."
The Siren took a moment to think it over, then said she didn’t know he was invited. Tusk grunted, grinned, and said he wasn’t officially invited. "I plan to crash the meeting."
The Siren cheerfully replied that she would join him. Tusk stood up, mentioning that he needed to make preparations before they left. Together, they exited the office and entered the manavator, descending slowly to the research facilities in the tower's basement. Tusk couldn’t help but steal glances at his companion out of the corner of his eye.
Quiet grunt
The Siren's story was a pitiful one. She was just one of many hatchlings spawned in the deep sea, a realm ruled by the ascendant Newton Belch, an amphibian humanoid. Survival was a constant struggle, but her talents soon set her apart from the other sirens. When she reached the second tier and evolved, the ruler took notice of her great potential.
Like the other elites he groomed, the ruler began to shape her. As she advanced to the third tier, the Siren’s usual grotesque appearance evolved into a more human-like form. The ruler desired her by his side, and she couldn’t refuse him. Newton Belch was a hoarder of wealth, both material and immaterial, and as a tamer, he kept everything he treasured close at all times.
For the next hundred years, the position of third-tier Siren was akin to slavery. During that time, her abilities and beauty grew, especially the Siren’s charm and seductive nature. However, the ruler was cautious and wouldn’t allow himself to be led astray by her allure. He would often leave himself vulnerable, open to attacks on purpose, but she never took the bait. Instead, the Siren bided her time, using her charm to seduce for decades until finally, an ascendant fell in love with her. That’s when she took everything from him!
The ruler, who controlled many sea creatures and ruled the seas with a powerful trident, had underestimated her. The trident, a mighty weapon and the signature tool of a ruler, was crafted from the bones of a Megalodon, a monstrous creature that had dominated the seas since ancient times. The trident's points were made from the Megalodon’s teeth, which would regrow if broken, and its shaft was made from its spine. When danger loomed, the ruler’s tamed sea creatures, once loyal, ignored his calls. The Siren had toyed with his mind and, in the end, ruthlessly betrayed him.
She took his life, along with his beloved trident, and in that moment, the Siren ascended. She transformed into an even greater beauty with the ability to walk on land, her power and allure stronger than ever.
The Siren noticed Tusk’s gaze and smiled, as if reading his thoughts. "You seem nostalgic. Remember when we first met?"
He gave her a toothy grin. "How could I forget?" he replied. He had been born in one of the warrior tribes within the orc clan on a distant continent across the majestic sea, where monsters and werebeasts held dominance and humans and other races were in the minority. It was a proud clan that valued only the best warriors. But Peon... he had always been smaller and weaker than the rest. Unlike his tribesmen, he was blessed with magic and wasn’t given much choice in class selection. The warrior class eluded him, so he opted to become a Shaman instead.
As he grew older, however, he couldn’t let go of his orcish pride. He believed that being solely a Shaman was a weakness and a shame upon his tribe. Although his clansmen welcomed his uniqueness, Peon was stubborn. Feeling disgraced, he boarded a ship and embarked on a voyage to the continent across the sea, vowing to change and bring honor to his clan. The ship was attacked by sirens mid-journey and sank, leaving the orc Shaman as the sole survivor—and a target of interest for the mighty queen who ruled the seas.
"Aah, I vividly remember the look you gave me," she said, her large aquamarine eyes mesmerizing. "The same look you’re giving me now. A look of admiration and longing, desire and passion. Do you still feel the same way?"
Tusk looked away for a moment, then replied, somewhat embarrassed, "That was forty-six years ago. I’ll always feel that way about you, Nerissa. You are my weakness and my strength, the only one who could make me sway from my path."
She grabbed hold of him, physically overpowering him and pressing him against the wall of the manavator. Clinging to him, she caressed his rugged cheeks. "I would never do that. You awakened in me something I thought I lost long ago. You are my hope, Tusk—my wish and my desire. I’ll help you achieve yours and won’t let harm come to you."
Ding.
The manavator reached the basement level, and the doors slid open. The Siren released Tusk from her embrace and stepped out. Tusk remained dazed for a few seconds before following her, heading toward the research facility.
"By the way, what preparations were you talking about?" the Siren asked as they walked down the long corridor.
"Something that will help me if things get out of hand in the meeting."
"I thought I was here to help you out?"
"You’re accompanying me as my companion, not as a bodyguard. I had my chief engineer design gauntlets to compensate for my lack of strength."
"Gauntlets? What kind of gauntlets? Just what kind of trouble are you expecting at this meeting?" the Siren asked expectantly.
Tusk smiled. "Be patient. The gauntlets are a surprise." The Siren loved surprises, and Tusk was full of them.
When they reached their destination, the lab doors opened, and a small figure came running. He slid on his knees, stopping in front of Tusk and bowing his head.
"This unworthy servant greets his orcishness!"
"Nesmop, get up! I told you, you don’t have to be so formal with me. And stop with the 'orcishness'!" Tusk replied, a bit overwhelmed by the gnome.
"How could I? I am but a—"
"Yo, Greens! It’s about time you showed up down here!" A small goblin approached and greeted them casually. He had dark olive skin with rough textures, long pointy ears, and disheveled dark hair. What set him apart from his ferocious kin in the forest was the intelligence in his eyes and his ability to speak.
"Prazz, it’s been a while," Tusk greeted back, not minding the lack of decorum. The gnome, however, jumped to his feet, turned, and pounced on the goblin. It took Tusk himself to intervene, separating the two and calming the infuriated gnome.
They were both geniuses in his employ, but their personalities clashed like fire and water. Nesmop was a brilliant researcher with extensive knowledge of lost technologies, while Prazz was an innovative engineer. Once they both calmed down, Tusk adjusted the sleeves of his suit and turned his attention to Nesmop first.