The dim, almost-darkness of the hallway gave way to an arched doorway. Amber light spilled out from the room beyond.

The soldiers marched into the room. It was a nondescript oval hall with a single long table and a glowing orange orb to light it. Humanoid beings filled the seats—and, in some cases, grayscale holograms of them. He recognized a few of them from the academy gala—notably, the Archduke of Koedor.

Both columns of soldiers split apart. One group marched along the back wall of the room, and one along the front wall. They lined the room’s perimeter like enormous silver eyelashes. Jace, Lessa, and Kinfild all ended up on the left side. They pressed their backs against the wall like the other soldiers

Jace glanced at Kinfild. The Wielder looked forwards, remaining stoic. Jace figured he’d better do the same. He couldn’t help but watch. Everyone gathered here had to be important, and they had to be powerful—even though he didn’t recognize them all.

Stenol took a seat, but not at the head of the table. A single white hologram of a man occupied the head of the table. A cowl concealed the hologram’s face, and a thick, monochrome robe covered his body. He sat silently, hands folded in his lap.

Jace concentrated on him, trying to get a tag to appear above his head. There was nothing. Most of the others simply appeared as ‘politicians’, rated around level five to six.

He had partially expected power here to be the only defining trait of a ruler. Why wouldn’t a Wielder rise to lead empires? But the Wielders seemed second to these politicians—advisors or tools.

Ruling was a skill, and those who had been studying magic must not have learned charisma or politics.

Jace’s heart began to pound, and he began to fear that they might never have a chance to escape. If they were supposed to be protecting some of the most important politicians in the galaxy…

“The Chysar of Koedor, my uncle, demands answers.” The archduke slammed his hand down on the table. “You have given him great advice, but if what you told the kobolds is true, then we should fear you and your designs, Elder Stenol.”

“The kobolds are a fickle mob,” Stenol said. “They require convincing, and they do not share our righteous cause. I said what I had to say to spur them into action, nudging them the direction they needed to be nudged.”

That seemed to satisfy the archduke, but not a kobold who sat at the opposite side of the table. He held a holographic pad in his hands, and sat in a sophisticated and aristocratic manner. He spoke in a heavily-accented voice, and filled the space between his words with a rattling noise. “You have raised this hive from nothing—again, we thank you. But leading us to war? The queen-core can only supply so much shadow-aspect Aes, and when it runs out, the kobolds will not function. This hive will collapse. It does not seem in our best interests…”

“Do you threaten, marshal?” Stenol asked. “The queen-core is being loaded aboard the Archduke’s strongest battleship as we speak. It will not fall.”

“I do not threaten…and you have my allegiance. My kobolds are ready to sacrifice.” His beady eyes regarded the hologram at the head of the table with certainty.

“And what happens when the Starrealm learns that Koedor-Terginia and her allies helped the kobolds?” asked the Archduke. “The kobolds have no navy, so it falls on us to help them. Even if we fly no flags, there will be bodies. There will be wreckage, and there will be witnesses.”

“Leave none alive, Archduke,” said Stenol. “Use your own soldiers sparingly when you reach planetside.”

“And the fleet?”

“Yes, the kobolds will need your ships for transport…” Stenol droned calmly. “But you will eliminate Celacor’s local defense force quickly, and you will have days before the main Starrealm fleet musters and arrives—that is plenty of time to clean up the skies and retreat. If there are no witnesses, no one will know who crushed the defence fleet.”

For a moment, the Archduke looked satisfied. But after a second, his face dropped and he slammed his fist against the table. “Will the Starrealm not notice the imperial fleet gathering, preparing to aid Celacor?”

“Only if you gather them in one place. If you are wise, you would coordinate your efforts and slowly funnel your ships into the system—after you have eliminated the communications outpost on Celacor X.”

Jace tapped his foot inside his boot. The discussions continued. He tried to ignore them, but couldn’t help catching the broad strokes. The Princess Presumptive of Phélae discussed the conditions of an alliance against the Starrealm, should war break out. Some kings and other sovereigns had arrived in-person, without a representative, and they discussed their terms as well. Bickering often broke out. Sometimes, it was warranted. Sometimes it seemed like they were bickering for the sake of it.

All the while, the hologram at the head of the table remained silent. His head barely moved, yet Jace knew he was taking in the conversation. He was listening to them discuss how they would parcel up the Starrealm, or discuss who would have access to the mines, or who would control the Wall and the Watchmen.

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After nearly a half-hour, when Jace couldn't bear listening to any more pointless conversation, and the bickering grew to a crescendo, the holographic man raised a hand.

They obeyed immediately. Every voice fell silent. Even the soldiers around Jace seemed to straighten up.

“We must move one step at a time,” the holographic man at the head of the table said. His voice was quivering and old, but deep. He spoke with a heavy slavic accent, and with every word, his lips curled. “The attack on the Celacor System is a necessity. You must sign this pact immediately, or you will not leave. If the Starrealm is attacked by a force of kobolds, you will declare war on the Starrealm—together.”

Stenol nodded to the holographic man, then looked at the kobold marshal. “Lead your army to Celacor, Brakn. Give us your faith for one campaign, and once your army has fed, they will be content.” From his robes, he produced a sheet of parchment and set it down on the table. When the holographic man nodded, Stenol commanded, “Sign.”

Jace had hoped the comment might be conclusive, but it wasn’t. The mundane discussions continued as the parchment circled around the table. For another five minutes, Jace stood still.

But after a moment, the soldier beside him—not Kinfild or Lessa, but a complete stranger—whispered, “Your armour’s a little scuffed for one of Stenol’s guards.”

“We were summoned to help protect him,” Jace answered, maintaining the lie that they had decided on earlier.

The soldier remained silent for a moment. Then, his eyes drifted to the hole in Jace’s chest. The soldier flicked the safety catch off his rifle, and it powered up. Then, he motioned to one of the officers in a coat.

Not good. Really not good.

Jace didn’t wait for a judgement. He ripped a pistol out of the soldier’s hip holset and blasted him in the neck. The man crumpled. Jace’s arm sprung outwards, and he fired two blasts of plasma at Stenol. Stenol raised his staff immediately, deflecting the blasts, but it didn’t stop the room from erupting into chaos.

Jace blasted the next two guards beside him before they could activate their rifles. When he tried to blast the third, the pistol clicked. It was empty. He dropped it and ripped the Whistling Blade out of its sheath.

All of the people at the table sprung to their feet. Some of them leapt back, and some ran to the edges of the room. A soldier on the opposite side of the room pointed his rifle at Jace, but a panicked man in an ornate suit crashed into him. The plasma bolt flew into the floor.

Jace grabbed Kinfild’s shoulder and pointed out the conference room’s door, then pushed the Wielder away. He tapped Lessa’s shoulder and did the same.

A soldier charged at Jace, saber drawn. Its edge rippled with an Aes-shield pattern. Jace deflected it into the ground with the Whistling Blade, and Lessa shot the man.

They ran towards the door. Jace cut through another two soldiers with the Whistling Blade. They were almost there! They—

A flash of plasma seared past in front of his face. It didn’t hit him. He kept running, until he realized that he could only see Kinfild in front of him. He stopped and spun around—and just in time to spot an officer charging him with a baton. Jace ducked and cut through the man’s legs with a crude strike, then drove the Whistling Blade through his chest.

He glanced around, searching for Lessa. He spotted her cloak, first, then her body—slumped against the wall. A plasma blast had struck her in the chest. He couldn’t see if it had pierced her armour.

He tried to turn back, but Kinfild grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away. A flustered dwarven lord plowed between them, breaking Kinfild’s grip and separating them. Jace targeted a hyperdash and used it to catch up.

He emerged out in the hallway, and stumbled forwards into the rough wall. But the soldiers would follow. There was an entire army gathered in the conference room, all trying to get out and kill them.

Jace glanced around, searching for a way to stop them. A small wire ran along the ceiling—he didn’t know what it did, but it was his only chance at causing a distraction. He pointed at it, and yelled, “Kinfild! Blast it!”

Kinfild raised his rifle and fired a pulse of plasma into the wire. It severed the thin black cord and coughed out an explosion of sparks. A metal blast-door slammed shut across the conference room doorway.

Jace ripped his helmet off and threw it down to the ground. Kinfild did the same.

“Did you see what happened to Lessa?” Jace panted. “Is she dead?” She was smart enough. If she’d thrown down her rifle, or slipped away in the chaos, he might have made it.

“Likely,” Kinfild said softly. “We need to leave. There is nothing we can do for her.”

Jace looked back at the blast door. He tightened his grip on the blade, and his heart thrummed. “No, we need to go back—”

“We leave the way we came,” Kinfild asserted, tossing the plasma rifle down. “We cannot get ourselves killed on account of her dead body.”

Jace opened his mouth. He didn’t know what to think. This wasn’t war—not yet—and he wasn’t a soldier. He didn’t have orders to charge. He didn’t have orders to do anything…he could make his own choices.

But the blast door wouldn’t hold the soldiers for long. He shook his head and stuffed the thoughts deep down inside.

There was nothing they could do. If they returned, guns blazing, Stenol would rip them apart. If Lessa had made it, she’d keep herself alive. If she hadn’t, then going back was entirely pointless.

They would find out more, and they could go back to help.

Before he could take a step, a sheet of light whirled up in front of him. It read: [Subquest available: Destroy Kobold Queen-Core. Reward: One Hundred (100) Standard Aes Units]

“Accept, yes, yes!” Jace hissed, waving his hand through the sheet. Kinfild had already started to run, and he needed to catch up.

The subquest accepted, and the sheet disappeared.

Jace and Kinfild sprinted back through the hallways. They passed over a walkway and scaled a flight of stairs. At its top, Jace cut through a pair of soldiers and impaled a cavalryman. They rounded a corner, and Kinfild blasted two more soldiers with a bar of orange flame before they could take aim.

The fire wrapped around their bodies, each individual tendril a serpent of orange flame, then dove into their chest and soaked in. It ripped the soldiers apart from the inside and gave them a quick death.

They sprinted through the compound, scrambling around corners and leaping up stairways. Jace crashed into a wall with his shoulder for a quick course correction, then came face-to-face with a pair of soldiers. Kinfild incinerated one, and Jace impaled the other.

At the end of the hallway was a door to another hangar—with intact starships inside.

They were almost out.