Silas followed the others as they made for the field near Lisa’s Homestead where they had met the drakkar last time. As before, he deeply scrutinised the scene, unwilling to be caught off-guard by a trap, but it appeared it was still just a dry field with wilted grass and crunchy soil. No one knew how this meeting would pan out. Since the dragons were no longer in the picture, did that mean the drakkar would finally change their minds or would they continue to stubbornly stick to Representative Democracy? From what Elisha had gathered the last time they had spoken, it appeared some of the drakkar were sticking to their guns while others were willing to join the Meritocracy faction.
In Silas’s view, he wanted the drakkar to join them as there was strength in numbers, and six Sovereigns joining with the support of an entire race behind them was significant, but at the same time he was aware that time was running out. So far, Kuraim and Lucian had likewise been clearing out isolated picks, and now, apart from the drakkar, Fiona was the only Sovereign unaligned with a major faction. As such, the probability the Warlord and Necromancer would rear their ugly heads around had massively increased, hopefully at each other but more likely at the Meritocracy faction.
Alongside Silas here stood Aengus, Ajit, Elisha, the prophet, Mia, and Dom. Dlyo, too, had joined them after hearing their call, and out of everyone here, the stingtail chieftain looked the most nervous (although it was hard to tell whether it was nerves or something else due to his alien physicality). Since the drakkar hadn’t shown up yet, Silas went to Dlyo and greeted the Aeromancer.
“Hey, you’re from the same planet as these drakkar, right?” he asked.
“That is correct,” Dlyo answered, his voice a collection of translated chitters.
“So what about them is making you nervous?” Silas asked.
He expected the stingtail to deny it, but instead Dlyo looked pensive. “We stingtails fight amongst ourselves all the time, and we occasionally like to raid the shaerds. However, we have kept clear of the drakkar for decades now, potentially longer. They possess a fighting force which is better left unprovoked.”
Silas tipped his head slightly for Dlyo to continue. The others were listening in too now.
“Their soldiers are well-organised with intensive combat training, but that only makes them adequately dangerous,” Dlyo said. “This changes when a Titan is leading them. They become like a stinger, sharper and more focused, sowing chaos in enemy lines. However, it is the worst when they additionally have a Magi in the back - they are not only mages powerful enough to contest us chieftains but also proficient at group support spells. Alas to say, a drakkar army with Titans and Magi is both indestructible and devastating.”
Aengus grunted. “We’ll see, laddie. Don’t get yer knickers in a twist just yet.”
Silas ignored the Master of War. “Actually, on mention of the shaerds, do you know anything about Fiona?”
“Our fellow Sovereign?” Dlyo said. “She was one of the four leading shaerd princesses on Caen. They each controlled settlements that we were wary of raiding - her’s was Selaria. From the fact that she’s the only shaerd princess who ascended to Sovereignty, I would assume she came upon fortuitous boons here on Idroa.”
Just as Dlyo finished, the drakkar’s entourage became visible in the distance. The score of Titans, averaging twelve feet, jogged together, the four in the centre carrying the massive litter. Although this sight was familiar to Silas, he felt something was off from the tension in the Titans’ gaits. Was he just imaging things or? Deciding it wasn’t worth taking a chance on, he swallowed a full Transcendence gummy, the significance of his action clear to his allies. Several of them followed suit.
“Can we at least try to be diplomatic?” Elisha asked, her voice drawn thin. “Please?”
“Of course,” Silas said, “but if we can’t come to an agreement here, then we might as well get this issue dealt with.”
Although he received some nods in agreement, the Primal Healer herself looked drained. In truth, a fight between forty-odd of the strongest drakkar and six humans, a mycelia, and a stingtail was not in their favour. And yet all worry about the situation melted away from Silas’s thoughts as the Transcendence kicked in.
He focused on the biggest and meanest Titans: Broken Scale, Folding Winds, and Dying Light. Out of them, Broken Scale was known for being trigger-happy, and Dying Light was known for being the strongest and oldest, his scales snow-white in contrast to the dark, matt scales of his peers. While Dying Light looked calm, Broken Scale was clenching a giant sword which would crush rather than cleave a man, and Folding Winds had cruel gauntlets on her fists.
When the drakkar were fifty metres away, the Titans stopped as one and the central four lowered the litter, its walls splitting apart to reveal the circle of Magi. There were seventeen of them, two less than last time. And of course, the comically thick mana barrier immediately popped up where the walls had been. Silas glanced between the strongest of them: Klope of Rain, Peryn of Dragonfire, and Baerl of Time. Their gazes were split amongst him, Ajit, and Aengus.
“Greetings, humans,” Klope said, “and you, Ferer, and you, Dlyo.”
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“Greetings, drakkar,” Elisha said in a respectful tone.
“We will skip to the purpose of this meeting, if that is acceptable for you,” Klope said. Seeing nods, she continued, “As you know, both Svobald and Miurl have fallen—”
“—by the hands of your kin,” Peryn interrupted, his voice crackling.
“Oh, ye, I forgot we were best mates with Lucian,” Aengus said with a grin. “Wonder what time he said he’d be popping over for a cuppa again.”
“Insolence,” Peryn shouted, his voice a roaring inferno.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ajit said. The tension rose by several folds from his comment, and yet none of the drakkar challenged it, although many seemed to badly want to.
“We have spoken amongst ourselves,” Klope continued, acting ignorant to the heating situation. “We have decided to continue lobbying for a Representative Democracy.”
Silence reigned for several seconds, before Silas sliced through it. “Why? You can’t vote for your dragons anymore.”
“While that is true, we are equally aware that a Meritocracy heavily favours your human race,” Klope said calmly. “If we instead choose a Representative Democracy, then we can set it so an equal number of representatives can be voted in from every major race, levelling the field without giving majority power to any single race.”
It was a fair method, Silas conceded, and yet he had rallied for a Meritocracy in the first place because of the advantage it would give to humans. What was the point if they were ruled by some alien overlords, especially when the actual power on Idroa was so heavily tipped towards humanity? It would cause a government which was at odds with reality, and therefore likely one to act against it. And yet Silas couldn’t bring himself to admit all this on the spot, which was why he was grateful when the prophet spoke out.
“The System has given equal opportunity to everyone to level up, and Meritocracy allows that equal opportunity to carry on into governance,” the prophet said. “Your suggestion is pointlessly tipped against that equal opportunity by limiting thriving races.”
“Alas, it is our choice,” Klope said. “We will not shift on it as otherwise we will be cast into a future stacked against us.”
“You won’t shift on this, you won’t shift on that. Who the fuck do you think you are to make such statements?” Ajit asked, his face twisted with disdain. “We’ve been merciful by giving you so many chances until now.”
“I should have butchered you last time,” Broken Scale yelled, lunging towards him.
The Warlock ignored this, instead turning to his fellow humans. “Sorry, boys and girls, but I won’t have enough mana to portal back.”
“It’s fine,” Dom answered in confusion. “We can just use the teleporter again.”
“Good,” Ajit said with a grin. In that flash second, the entire world changed. The sky, which had been blue with streaming clouds, became red and baleful, the clouds replaced by hordes of triangular shades which swooped down like a swarm of locusts. Silas had only ever seen the Warlock summon a few dozen at once, so he had to do a double-take as he gaped at the hundreds shooting down from above.
Meanwhile, Aengus dashed forward, his Dane Axe swinging up to Broken Scale’s torso. He was dwarfed by the Titan, and yet his power was undeniable, the axe blade shearing through scale and flesh. The Master of War roared, regarding his enemies with wild, glinting eyes; this was his element. Dom joined him on the frontline, while Mia added her strength to Ajit’s mana barrier. The prophet made some glancing attacks, and Elisha tearfully focused on healing. Dlyo used aeromancy to deflect magic projectiles and slow down the Titans.
Silas regained his focus from the shades, looking ahead to see Dying Light sprinting for him. The snow-white Titan looked downright menacing, appearing like a colossus charging to trample him. The Titan’s lack of weapon meant nothing when he could simply crush Silas to death in his hands.
And yet, although Dying Light was certainly worthy of his Sovereign title, his power meant little in the face of overwhelming speed. Silas’s steps were light and rapid, his body crackling just like Peryn’s voice had, zipping past Titans who were harassed from every direction by countless shades.
Several Titans tried to grab him as he passed, but all they achieved through this was opening themselves up to attacks from the shades. The Magi too aimed for him - even though they didn’t know his intention, they knew he was certainly up to no good - but their projectiles were easy to avoid with Luminous Land activated.
Arriving at their litter, Silas activated Weakness Vision and glanced over the barrier, immediately heading for its weak spots. If not for Transcendence, he would have paused and gulped at the shockingly low number of such points, but instead the thought of dread failed to even make it into his mind. It was a good thing, too, as bone-melting fire scorched the ground he had just leapt from. Landing, he thrust for the barrier, a definite crack emerging across its screen as his lightning flooded in. But even in success he didn’t pause, at once moving for the next weak point as his intention became clear to the Magi.
“No, you don’t!” Baerl screamed. A shockwave emanated from him, freezing his surroundings in time. He stepped forth from the litter and gazed around, noting the fallen drakkar. Somehow, six Titans had already died with Ajit’s shades having stabbed them from every corner. Even now, five more seemed on the verge as no matter how many shades they shattered, there were always more to take their place.
These were the strongest of the drakkar, and yet they had fallen like crops for the harvest. Baerl knew Ajit was likely the strongest mage amongst the Sovereigns, but this display of power was still ridiculous. It didn’t help to see that Broken Scale was near death, being chopped apart by Aengus, or that Dying Light still couldn’t get a hold of Silas. These three humans were the most troublesome, and even if they died, Baerl had the feeling they wouldn’t stay dead, not with Elisha here. Even now, their Black Knight was fighting in the prime of his health, even though he had taken several critical hits already.
Baerl considered the situation; he had acknowledged from long ago that the drakkar alone couldn’t beat Kuraim or Lucian, and now he was forced to admit the same for this Meritocracy faction. Which left two options: fall into line, or die like so many other Sovereigns had. Sighing deeply, the Chronomancer drained the mana from his body, time slowly trickling back, motion going in reverse, the dead returning to life, until finally he collapsed forward onto the ground, landing on shaky knees and elbows.
“Alas, it is our choice,” Klope said. “We will not shift on it as otherwise we will be cast into a future stacked against us.”
“We will shift on it,” Baerl forced out with a ragged breath, his vision blurry as he forced himself up. Nearby Magi looked to him in alarm, quickly coming to his aid. “All six of us will support your Meritocracy bid, if that is what you desire.”