An elderly elven woman hurled an urn at the wall of the mausoleum, her voice trembling with fury. "Insolence!"

An elf knelt before her, his head bowed low. "We will make amends for this, my queen."

The queen shot him a fierce look, her eyes blazing. She was seething, kicking at the air and throwing anything within reach, even though there was little to destroy in the chamber.

Another woman, kneeing nearby, cautiously spoke up. "My queen, we will come up with a better—"

"Silence, you harlot!" the queen snapped, her finger jabbing accusingly. "You're the reason we’re in this mess." She stopped her foot. “And to make matters worse, that monster stole the amulet…”

The kneeling elf cleared his throat, keeping his eyes down. "It was my fault, my queen. But I assure you, we will find another way to eliminate the target."

The queen's voice dripped with venom. "Eliminate the target? I'm starting to believe you’re only good for bashing and killing!"

Suddenly, a baby’s cry pierced the air, and the kneeling woman quickly tried to soothe the infant in her arms.

The queen’s fury turned on her, and with a swift motion, she slapped the woman across the face. "Must you really bring your children to our gatherings?"

"I had no choice," the woman murmured, trembling. "Both my wet nurses are ill."

With a dismissive sigh, the queen turned back to the male elf. "Where are we with the western nobles?"

His confidence swelled as he replied, "They are in our pocket. I am certain they will back your claim when the time comes."

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The queen nodded, then shifted her attention to the woman, still nursing her child. "And the northern nobles?"

The woman stammered, "The north... they will only support you if you purge the other races from the kingdom—particularly the humans."

The queen tapped her chin thoughtfully, pacing. "Hm, that could be arranged... to an extent. But once we win over the southern nobles with this war, the north may not matter."

With a flourish, she pulled a drape off a large, glowing metal cage.

Her two subordinates exchanged puzzled glances, craning their necks to look inside.

"Is this your new house cat?" the male elf joked.

The queen chuckled, a dangerous gleam in her eye. "Stand up, both of you, and come take a closer look."

They obeyed, rising to inspect the cage. Inside, a large black panther sat on a stool, its arms crossed over its broad chest. His eyes suddenly opened, glowing with a fierce red light.

The nursing woman gasped, "That’s no house cat."

The queen smirked. "You may introduce yourself."

The panther took a deep breath, his voice low and rough. "I am Orox, champion of the fighting pits of Beshard. No beastman holds a claw to mine own."

The male elf raised an eyebrow, impressed. "I like him. What’s the plan here, my queen?"

"You will train him and prop him up to lead the southern beast tribes in their rebellion."

The nursing woman smiled. "That will push everything else along quite nicely."

The queen's smirk widened. "Indeed it will. But your task is to ensure Orox stays the course."

The male elf nodded, but hesitated. "I understand what to do if he doesn’t... but what’s keeping him loyal in the first place?"

Orox interjected, lifting his arm to reveal a glowing seal burned into his wrist. "My freedom is earned when the war is won. That’s the agreement."

The queen gave a satisfied nod. "Yes, and you two will help him achieve that." She turned away, winking with a cruel smile.

With grins exchanged across the room, the queen flicked her fingers, and the glowing cage vanished. Orox stepped out, and loomed with the others. Then, with a single, sharp pop, they all disappeared, teleported away to a far distant land.