But the blades can come at a later time. When I’m done with the Weapon. A hallowmancer came to me to discuss that, in fact.
I pity the woman. She looked so… forlorn. The light in her eyes was dimmer than I would’ve expected. I hope it is a temporary feeling, something she can overcome. I shall send her something soothing for that, I think.
-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 7th Note.
Pouring down. That’s how Galeon would describe the weather around him. The brief respite of the previous days had been broken by another round of rain that pelted the tents and buildings of the Phasgorian camp. Galeon couldn’t go for a simple flight anymore without being soaked down to the bones.
He’d tried to stay still, but that was easier for the likes of Janel and Stele than him. Sometimes, Galeon even wondered how the big guy even got into the air. He must have an ocean of bewl inside him, he thought.
But staying still was easier said than done. That’s why he’d been thankful for the job Noviselle had given him. Dukes and Duchesses walked around Galeon, the party in front of them going in full force. And though he could not see King Selerin or anyone around him, he knew the man was among them as well.
Galeon was standing upright against a wall at the back of the party, spaced apart from him were other Afterburners, Devourers and even Planars in case the nobles needed to evacuate. Noviselle was among them too, wearing a dress that really didn’t suit her, by his estimate. But he wouldn’t say that. After all, she’d given him an easy way out of boredom.
Galeon kept his ears open towards the party, drinking in the gossip of the nobles there.
“We’ll get those Ravenishtani bastards…”
“My cousin was there when the place blew up. He tells me it was terrible…”
“We won’t spare a single one of those unhallowed demons.”
Galeon clicked his tongue involuntarily. Is that all they think about? He walked away from his position and went towards the catering area, hoping there was something else to hear. When he neared though, a sweet smell scared him.
He knew that smell. That was the scent of one of the best bakers in the entire camp.
“Boy,” Lakon said, Galeon turning to him. The burly man stared at him from the other end of a long table, a wooden spoon in one hand as he slammed it into another.
“This is an important party, boy. Do not pull anything!” He scolded Galeon.
“U-uh, yes sir!” Galeon replied, chuckling. He shuffled away quickly afterwards. Food’s not going to be easy to get, unless Lakon is feeling generous. What else is there?
Galeon searched around the entire party for a sign of Emile. Had the boy been here, they could’ve gotten up to some proper fun. But that could’ve just as well led to them being hung by the king, so perhaps it was a blessing.
So instead, he tried to immerse himself back into the crowd. Listening as he grabbed finger food off of serving trays.
“Think of it, Alusses. Latren will be weakened after the last assault. We could go again and take it back this time!” a noblewoman said, catching his ear. She had greyed hair and wrinkles across her face, and seemed to be wearing an extravagant and blooming red dress.
“Enough, Arelia. We can talk of this later,” Alusses replied.
“You’re quite persistent on this, Grand Duchess. We can’t very well throw our soldiers at the problem until it’s fixed, can we?” another nobleman added, and Galeon heard Arelia scoff.
“Fine. Another time,” the Duchess replied, turning away from the men. Galeon’s interest in the conversation was interrupted, however, when he heard someone call his name.
“Galeon!” Noviselle said, more mirthful than she usually was. By her side was Isildan, a strained smile on his face. Noviselle held his arm beside herself, the both of them walking around like a couple. Adorable.
“Hey, there. Enjoying the party?” Galeon asked the both of them.
“Yes. You should too. You look lonely all by yourself, Leon,” Noviselle jibed.
“Galeon’s terrible with women, so I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Isildan noted, furthering the impact. Galeon chuckled in response, but he might’ve let it go on a bit too long.
“Maybe if the others were here,” Galeon replied.
“Emile should’ve been here,” Isildan added.
“I would’ve invited him, but he’s a soldier. The Dukes and Counts don’t want them here,” Noviselle said, a flash of anger passing across her face.
“We’ll bring him some food after. He’d love it.”
“I could bring it,” Galeon offered.
“Without stealing it,” Noviselle admonished.
“It’s not stealing, just… borrowing.”
“You’re thieving the pie,” Isildan said.
“I return the tins, at least!”
“Without the pie.”
Galeon couldn’t argue against that.
“Fine, fine. We’ll ask Lakon for them…” Galeon conceded.
“Thanks, Leon,” Noviselle said smiling. Looking at her though, his mind turned towards the recent meeting the king had been a part of.
“Novi… the General King Selerin met with. What happened?” Galeon asked. Noviselle sighed.
“I thought it would go a bit better too. That Antov send, they’d come to an agreement. Instead, they barely talked at all.”
“No chances of a truce?” Galeon asked. It was a dim glimmer of hope, one that he held onto until Noviselle shook her head.
I guess it was too much to ask for, he thought internally.
“The King did mention the attacks, however,” Noviselle said. That piqued Galeon’s interest.
“So, it was the Ravenishtanis who sent it?”
“No, the General didn’t say anything,” Isildan interrupted.
“I think he’s bluffing to save himself,” Noviselle scoffed.
“I hear the Venastian family is honourable, though,” Isildan added.
“Are they some kind of nobles?” Galeon asked.
“A kind of noble. They act the part, at least, no matter how much they deny it,” Noviselle said.
“Countess Noviselle!” someone shouted across from the hall. It was a well-dressed man with a combed moustache who beckoned over the young woman.
“Oh! We’ll talk to you later, Leon!” Noviselle said hurriedly, dragging along Isildan with her. He and Galeon met each other’s eyes as Isil mouthed the word “we?” to him.
Galeon was left alone once again. Though he should be glad. If Novi had been dragging him around talking about politics, he’d be dead from boredom at this point. He was glad it was Isil she’d chosen, instead.
He tried to skirt around the edges of the desserts, but a nasty glare from Lakon would ruin that for him. Instead, Galeon excused himself from the party to get some fresh air instead. It was common among Afterburners that they were especially terrible at staying still. Small spaces would annoy most of them, so Galeon wasn’t surprised to see another Afterburner returning from the same balcony he was going to.
The man gave him a nod as he landed on the balcony, leaving Galeon to stare out into the rain. The stormy weather kept him cold, but he ignored it in favour of the view. He’d sworn to bring Vilessa and her friends to touch those someday. They were going to be in for a world of disappointment if that happened, but Galeon was sure he could keep them safe.
Galeon let out a breath, misty white coming out of his mouth. Another year’s going to pass at this rate. Why wouldn’t the General accept King Selerin’s proposal? He thought. He let himself ruminate on it.
Could I… fly over their and convince them? He wondered. Nah. I was never that great at the talking part of a war…. But I guess Novi would argue I wasn’t good at the fighting part, either.
But he couldn’t just take the life of someone he didn’t know. What if they changed? Went on further in their lives to do good? Any one of the hallowmancers or soldiers he fought could go on to become great men. Snuffing out that spark just seemed… wrong to him.
Galeon let out another breath, letting the rain wash over him and take his thoughts along with it. Immersing himself in the sounds of rain and thunder, he didn’t open his eyes for a few long minutes.
But when he did, he opened them to look at the sky. Lightning flashed across, obscured behind the clouds. But there was something there. A small patch of darkness, too small to be a cloud. Too tall and narrow. Galeon thought it was a trick of his eyes, so he rubbed at them.
When the second flash came and the shape persisted, he grew more curious. Without a word, he touched his palms and legs and placed jets on them. He vaulted over the railing, flying into the air and towards that cloud in the sky.
And then it happened. The shape moved, sure as he saw it in the air. Galeon freed more of his bewl, forcing it through the jets he was connected to. He shot into the air and towards where the shape was, clothes growing damp from the rain.
He caught nothing. Even more confused, Galeon stared around himself. Something’s not right. A sixth sense, the feeling of something at the back of his neck, pricked at him. And so did the blade that pierced his stomach a second later.
Galeon’s breath left him as he turned around. Behind him was a man clothed in grey, red glow emanating from his boots. The man stared up at him with blue eyes, surprise evident on his face.
Galeon didn’t wait a second more. He grabbed the assailant’s arm and activated his jets. Twisting around, Galeon used the torque to send the attacker flying back into the storm. The attacker disappeared, and Galeon felt at his stab wound, wincing.
No good… Need to warn the others. He freed more of his bewl, sending it towards the spot on his back and letting it work its magic. Heat radiated from the wound, and Galeon took off downwards.
In the middle of his fall, Galeon was tackled by the same assailant. The man in grey barely spoke, readying his knife above Galeon.
“Why are you doing this?!” he shouted. Was this the same Afterburner the bomber had escaped with? But the man in grey didn’t speak.
Galeon raised an arm as the knife came down, slashing through forearm. He freed his strength and punched the Afterburner across the face. The man went whirling, leaving the knife in Galeon’s hand as he did.
Galeon grabbed onto it with his own hand and tore it out, grunting. Blood washed down his arm, thinned by the rain. He sent bewl to that wound as well, worrying about the size of his pool. I need to finish this quick.
Instead of running again, Galeon rushed the man. He threw a grenade at Galeon from far away, the device exploding in the air in front of him. The sound of the explosion mixed in with the crackle of thunder. It wasn’t close enough to push him away, so Galeon swept past the smoke.
He grabbed the man’s arms before he could throw another. The man screamed something in Ravenishtani, a shout or insult Galeon was glad he couldn’t understand. He tried escaping Galeon’s grip, but he wouldn’t desist. He knew they were falling, the both of them too preoccupied by the fight to focus on flight. So, when the both of them crashed through a tent in the camp, neither of them noticed the impact.
Galeon recovered quickly. The man in grey raised his hands, but Galeon punched through it. He didn’t stop, the rush overtaking him momentarily. He kept hitting and hitting until the man went still, only then stopping.
Galeon took a quick breath, rain now flowing down his fists and mixing with the blood. Blood? On my knuckles? It wasn’t his, he knew, but the thought took a moment to settle in his brain. Only then did Galeon check for a breath, hoping against hope he hadn’t done something horrendous.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he found him alive. He was so invested that he hadn’t noticed the crowd that had formed around him. Guards stood at the front of them, brandishing spears and fire lances.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The party! Galeon looked back in the air, his heart dropping once he saw it. There wasn’t a single shadow in the skies anymore. There were several. And they were descending.
“Baron!” Galeon shouted, and thankfully one came forward.
“Get a hallowmancer to detain this one! And warn the others that there’s an attack at the King’s party!” Galeon said quickly, the soldier nodding along. Seraphas keep you safe from the skies.
He then touched the pouch near his persons. The bewllan inside refreshed him, letting him fill up his pool once more. He took that energy and freed it once more, sending it into his jets and rushing back into the air. He kicked up a bit of dust as he launched, flying closer to the attack.
He launched into the middle of their formation, getting their attention. The men were cloaked in grey as well, looking at Galeon with talwars and daggers held in their hands.
“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Galeon muttered nervously.
****
Noviselle dragged Isildan around every which where in the party. She seemed to delight in the conversations, but whenever Isil would open his mouth, it would go silent. He’d learned early on he should keep his mouth shut that way, that some people didn’t like the way he spoke about them.
But was that really his fault? Was he to cushion his words under layers of subtext, making it an issue to even discover their real meaning? No, to him, it would be much better to lay information straight, and deliver it with sincerity.
But he couldn’t change the minds of others. So, he kept silent. When Novi finished with another round of bickering with nobles, she sighed.
“I need a drink,” she whined.
“I’ll go get you one,” Isil replied instantly.
“Oh, you don’t have to, Isil.”
“I want something to eat anyhow. What would you like?” he asked.
“Oh, so it’s just for convenience,” she muttered indignantly. But then a smile returned to her face.
“Ah, well. The cherry wine, please,” she told him.
He was thankful that she was more tolerant of his… being him. Though why she didn’t seem nearly as accommodating with Galeon, he didn’t know. He would’ve been a better fit in this party, anyways. People liked him, after all.
“Alright, I will,” Isil replied. He could’ve created a portal to bring it for him, but frivolous uses of powers weren’t something Isildan liked. Galeon might think his toys, but Isil’s were a weapon. And a weapon held without care— no matter how blunt— could cause damage. Instead, he walked over to the drinks and the person serving them. When the server came back, Isildan carried the drinks to Novi.
He walked past a hallway that extended further into the keep. Something rolled in front of his leg and Isil looked down. His eyes sharpened and the drinks dropped from his hands.
A green edged portal appeared near the grenade, and Isil created another deep into the hallway. He kicked the grenade through the portal, closing the portal just in time for it to explode.
The loud shock rang through the party, screams coming out from the party goers. People began to run, and Isil heard more explosions from other parts of the keep. Novi, where is she?!
Isil looked around, but the crowd moving in and around him distracted him. Then someone jumped onto him from behind and Isil went to the ground.
He looked up to see a woman whose mouth glowed purple. Her skin shifted before his eyes, turning to a metallic sheen as she weighed on him. Devourer!
Isil cycled his bewl through his body, reinforcing it as the woman started barraging him. His arms began to hurt and swell, Isil looking around for any sign of help. But there was no one. All across the room, hallowmancers fought each other. The few remaining mundane people just kept to corners, cowering before them.
Think! Think! How do I escape? Isil looked around, his eyes at the roof until an idea came to him. He kept looking up, a flat green glowing disc opening up there. Then, he made one somewhere else, somewhere far away. He linked those portals, a word that most Planars couldn’t describe as anything clearer. It was like tying a thread between them, and the portals changed from discs to windows to each other.
Then, when the woman came down for another hit, he lowered the portal so she was halfway through. Isil moved the portal forward, dragging the Devourer away with its edges and off of him. To her credit, she adapted quickly and jumped out of it to its other end. Isil closed the edges of the portal, creating two new ones to hover around him. He linked those small floating ovals together, running into the midst of the fight while dragging them along.
The Devourer woman spotted him as well, as she came rushing back with speed unmatched. Isil could see her however, and he was faster. When he tried to hit him, her hands would get caught in one of the portals and come out of the other. Isil used the defence to distract the woman while he laid on hits of his own. He chopped her in the throat, sending her into a coughing fit. She tried throwing a straight at him, but he funnelled it into another portal.
Then he brought out his knife and plunged it into her chest. The blade barely pierced it, a bare scratch by itself. It did tear at her clothes though, and for some odd reason it sent her into a fit. Really? In the middle of a fight? He thought, not knowing how strange his own calm voice sounded.
So, instead, he opted to kick her away from him. She didn’t fly far, but did fall onto the serving table and all its foods. Isil then ran from the spot towards another Devourer who was trying to keep an Afterburner pinned.
He ran as fast as his feet would carry him. Before he could react, a green edged portal slid out from under a table, tripping him up and sending Isil through it. He cursed as he fell, flipping onto the other side. Isil felt a strange sense of change, as if his world was flipped upside down. He righted himself on the ground, just in time to slash at the man trying to grab him. The slash deterred him and Isil stood up, looking all around him. Hallowmancers surrounded him, brandishing weapons and circling him. He tried bringing his own defences through the trick portal, but it winked shut and the drain on his bewl increased.
Instead, he stopped feeding his portals bewl and let them disperse. He swallowed, darting his eyes at the Ravenishtanis all around him. Then, a voice spoke to him.
Planar Isildan, are you okay? Someone asked. It was the voice of a woman, deep and aged, but with strength behind it.
Y-yes, my Lady. Who is this? He thought back.
I am Grand Duchess Arelia. Come to me quickly. I need your help in organizing a defence! She ordered. The Ravenishtanis began to advance, and Isil took one last breath as he clutched his knife.
Quick as I can make it, my Lady.
****
Galeon was in the world’s deadliest game of chase. He flew past Afterburners, over, under and around them, carving a path through the skies. He’d tackle one, kick another, or try anything to keep them from landing on the balconies. Now, he fell through the air and hit the ground again, the concussions adding up. But Galeon couldn’t go down yet. He couldn’t let a single one of those Afterburners inside of the party hall.
He freed bewl and sent it through his head, dulling the throbbing pain as he took off once more. But how many more times he could do it, he wasn’t sure. His supply was running dangerously low. And if he fell while in the skies, that’d surely end in his death.
He flew back into the midst of the crowd again. The main Afterburner, the only one with any hint of colour except grey in his clothes, shouted something at him as he did. Instead of distracting one or two this time, the entire squad began to chase him. Galeon felt grenades fly past him, exploding in the skies and forcing him onto the different path.
He was too open out here. He had to hide. So, he started flying lower and lower till he was barely a few feet above the ground. The Afterburners chased him still, shouting expletives he couldn’t understand.
By Seraphas, I should stop testing my luck! He thought as he turned down and glided across a tent down another road. Automatons lined this one, working again under some Necromancer’s command. He dodged them easily, but heard a few grunts and clanks of metal behind him. He was glad that had slowed down at least some of them, but it wasn’t enough.
Another grenade flew in front of him, and this one fell to the ground instead. The ground near a group of innocent people.
“No!” Galeon shouted, grabbing the grenade and throwing it up, but it exploded too fast, his hand mangling as he screamed in pain. Galeon took off again into the skies, leading the Afterburners with him. A man’s shout was the only thing that stopped him.
Galeon looked behind him to see the Afterburners approaching slowly. One of them held in her hands an old man, who was whimpering as he clung to his cloak. The woman smirked, the only one among her group to do so.
“Let him go. He hasn’t done anything to you,” Galeon told them. The words struggled to come out, his mind focused on the hand he couldn’t heal.
The Afterburner who held the hostage, though, didn’t understand. She pointed to her ears and then shook her head, a mocking gesture that Galeon could at least decipher. He sighed, raising his hands for the entire group to see as he dismissed the jets on them.
“Stop right there!” a voice boomed across the battlefield. A group began to encircle the Ravenishtanis. Stele, Janel, Ninel, Raya and the other Afterburners from the unit. Galeon’s heart lightened, but he kept his sights set on the old man. He looked for an opening, hands itching to go. His bewl lessened second by second, sweat trickling down his forehead.
The Ravenishtani woman clicked her tongue, dropping the old man in favour of a talwar.
“Galeon, get him!” Raya shouted at him. He nodded, wringing the last bit of bewl from his pool as he began to rush downwards. He glanced for barely a moment at the rain around him, the droplets beginning to slow until they almost sat still for a moment.
Then, Galeon reached out his hands and snatched the old man out of the air. He wrenched his feet below him, slowing their fall but not stopping it. Galeon wrapped his arms around the old man and hit the ground first, cushioning the blow. He scraped and dragged across the dirt, before the both of them came to a stop.
Galeon grunted, letting go of the man and feeling the burn on his back. His bewl wrung dry, he was left unprotected and tired.
“Go….” Galeon whispered; his voice weak. The old man hesitated, his eyes darting between Galeon and the Afterburners in the sky. He then began to grab Galeon, trying to drag him along.
“No, don’t, please,” Galeon said, pain lancing through his body. He jerked his hand out of the old man’s grasp.
“You’ll d-die out here, boy,” the old man said.
“I just need some bewl and I’ll be fine... But you can’t get caught again. Tell anyone you can to run away from the fight. Hide, do whatever you need to keep out of their hands,” Galeon told him. The old man nodded and took off. Galeon looked for the bewllan in his pouch, but couldn’t drink from any of them.
Every single of the gems had gone dry, leaving Galeon wrung out waiting on the ground. At least I kept them away…
****
Isil was having a rough time of it. Scratches and wounds littered his body and ruined his uniform as he stumbled towards the location of the Grand Duchess. Turn right down here and then head straight until you see the staircase.
She’d been guiding him along, but he’d found trouble at every instance. He’d had to drink up what was left in his pouch of bewllan and even still had none to spare for the open cuts he had. I won’t be much help in such a state, my Lady. Should I bring another Planar along? He sent the thought towards her and waited, walking into the stairwell she had directed him towards.
You’re the closest we have, Isildan. Now get here quickly, we can worry about your pool la- the thought cut out in the middle, Isildan climbing ever faster to see what had done it. He braced his hands against the stone walls of the stairwell, climbing step by step until he burst into another coldly lit room with lush decorations.
There, he saw a battle going on between hallowmancers at every corner. Isildan, I’m to your right, come to aid me! The Grand Duchess shouted in his mind. He swerved right and took off towards the group he saw there.
There seemed to be a Devourer surrounding the Grand Duchess. Her dress was ripped, but it seemed to give the old Duchess some freedom of movement. A Devourer attacked her from every angle, slashing and stabbing with a talwar in his hand that was stained with blood.
He sliced her across the foot and the Grand Duchess went to the ground. The Devourer took the opportunity to go in for another slash, but was stopped by the glow of a portal in his path. The portal came towards him and carried him out of the building, Isildan dismissing it a moment later.
He ran over to the old Duchess and lifted her up as gracefully as he could.
“Took you long enough, soldier. Here, drink up,” she said, holding a pouch of glowing blue crystals up to him.
“But my Lady, you’re hurt,” Isildan answered.
“I know, but this is more important,” she replied as she pushed the pouch towards him. Isildan nodded and drank from the pouch, even leaving some for the Duchess despite her protests. The first thing he did with his pool was close up all the cuts on his body so he could focus. He then looked towards the crowd of people there and spoke.
“Where should I make them, my Lady?”
To your left, bring the Afterburner towards me. A deep blue pillar was emanating from the woman, following her as she moved.
Isil nodded, creating a portal and letting the hallowmancer fly through. She gave the man his orders and he followed her, but then the voice came back in his head.
Make sure no one follows. And bring any other people you see out of trouble as well. When I give an order, drop everything else and make it the highest priority. She gave him the instructions quickly without pause, moving beside and guiding the Afterburner towards another group of Devourers.
For the next minute or so, Isildan was creating and shutting down numerous portals. He’d bring a hallowmancer from one place to another to help, then send him back with reinforcements. The enemy would do the same, a green-eyed Planar at the other end of the room coordinating their efforts. But they hadn’t brought a Commander with them.
Arelia would conquer and divide. She herself wasn’t the most physically inclined, but her orders were swift and followed to the letter. An Afterburner and Devourer from their side worked together to burst through the defences of the enemy. They mauled through the line between them and the Ravenishtani Planar, Isildan helping them from range.
Next to me, any Devourer.
Bring those two troops here.
Come closer so we can protect you.
They formed a defensive line ahead of Isildan, who was too focused on shutting and opening his own portals. His bewl pool, despite the replenishing, suffered as he poured it all into his hallowmancy. He became mindless in it all, a Necromancer’s automaton set to work on the tasks that Duchess Arelia gave him.
Which is why when a portal appeared in the back ranks, Isildan didn’t notice until he saw through the other end near the enemy’s back ranks.
Isildan darted his eyes to the side, looking through the portal. Two Devourers lunged at him, going for his eyes first as they pinned him to the ground. His hands got tied down and Isildan struggled, but he was no match for their strength.
“Save the Planar!” shouted someone Isil couldn’t see. His eyes covered, he could only flow bewl through his body to strengthen it. He felt something hard and cool slide between his ribs, which sent him into frantic screaming. When he struggled, the Devourers slammed him back down onto the ground, cracking the floor.
And then it ended as soon as it began. Light flooded Isil and he squinted, but no one was there. He looked down to see a knife sticking out of his chest, shallowly thrust in there. Taking a deep breath, Isil slid the knife out and threw it to the side, sending bewl through his chest to heal it. Heavy breathing overtook Isildan, the pain of the knife fresh in his mind and haunting.
Isildan!
To the left of him, his assailants lay. They themselves were preoccupied in a fight against Phasgorian Devourers.
Isildan!
The sounds around him became much more apparent. The shouting, crying, screaming, slashing, dripping, breathing. All of it rang in his ears as he touched a finger to the now healed chest wound.
“Isildan!” Someone grabbed him and Isil met the face of the Grand Duchess once more.
“Are you in shock or can you fight?!” she shouted at him. So loud. But I can’t just leave this… He brought himself back from those thoughts, stopped focusing for once and snapped himself out of the reverie.
“Y-yes, my Lady!” He shouted back and Arelia nodded.
“Good. You’ll need these,” she pushed another pouch towards the Planar, again filled with bewllan. He nodded nervously and the Duchess left him there, sending him more commands as she assumed control of her hallowmancers.
Isil followed the next orders quickly, feverish to prove himself. And slowly but surely, their efforts began to pay off. The enemy began to control less ground. They began to retreat out of the small room, their Planar opening a portal for them outside. Arelia used the moment to push the enemy, sending her forces to charge from what was a feint.
They began to slaughter the Ravenishtanis, and in but a moment the hall seemed to be empty as the final portal winked out. Isil let his hands down by his sides, not even noticing when he’d raised them. Then he turned towards the Duchess, noticing the trail of blood leading from her foot.
“Lady Arelia!” Isil said, bringing the pouch over to her.
“You should’ve healed sooner!” he told her, offering the pouch. The other soldiers noticed then too, bringing their own pouches to the Duchess for her to drink up. This time she didn’t reject them, and they were glad to see the Lady healed of her ailments.
“Good work, soldiers. But our work isn’t done yet. We need to find the other Dukes and Duchesses, as well as secure the king. Who knows what those Ravenishtani bastards were planning,” she said, scoffing.
“Isildan, check if their Afterburners have all left the building,” she ordered him.
“I will, Ma’am.”
A soldier coughed beside her, getting her attention. A gruff looking Devourer he was.
“Uh, lady Arelia, we didn’t see a single Afterburner inside of the premises,” he said.
“Oh… really?” Arelia replied, dumbfounded.
“Only Devourers, Planars and a Commander or two on the other levels.”
“Whatever it may be, we should still check. An attack doesn’t just leave out Afterburners, after all,” she added, before raising herself up from the ground and beginning to walk. Isildan set out as well, wondering what it meant for Galeon if all the Afterburners had stayed outside.