Laril entered Veronica’s chambers quietly,

Veronica glanced up.

“Well?” Veronica’s voice was calm but carried the weight of command.

“What did Sylas say?”

Laril stepped forward,

“Sylas has agreed to talk, but he wants two days to think about the matter. He’s cautious, as expected.”

Veronica’s expression didn’t change.

“And what of his people? Did you notice anything unusual?”

Laril nodded. “Yes. Sylas’s core group seems tightly knit, as usual. However...” He paused, glancing at her for permission to continue.

“Go on,” she said, leaning back slightly in her chair.

“I didn’t see three of his key figures—Warrent, Sardias, and Ares. They weren’t present in the room or anywhere nearby. For individuals of their stature and importance to Sylas, their absence is notable.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re suggesting they’re working on something separately?”

“It’s a strong possibility.”

Laril replied.

“These three are heavy hitters—generals in his operations. If they’re not with him, they’re likely executing some plan on his behalf. Whatever it is, it’s big enough to warrant their absence.”

Veronica tapped her chin thoughtfully, then turned to one of her underlings standing nearby. “Retrieve the document on the Level Ten rooms—now.”

The mage nodded and quickly left the room.

Laril waited in silence, his hands clasped behind his back.

A few moments later, the mage returned,

He handed it to Veronica, who unrolled it on her desk.

“Here,” she said, her eyes scanning the parchment.

“These are the most recent assignments and positions for the rooms on Level Ten. Does anything stand out to you?”

Leril stepped closer, his sharp gaze flicking across the document.

After a moment, he tapped his finger on the scroll.

“These rooms here—they’re unmarked but heavily guarded, according to the last reports. Warrent, Sardias, and Ares could be stationed there, preparing something. It aligns with their roles as Sylas’s key operatives.”

Veronica’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“Sylas is moving slowly.”

“Indeed,” Laril agreed.

“But it also means he values the relationship between our factions. He wouldn’t risk jeopardizing that without a significant reason.”

Veronica leaned forward,

“And yet, you’re telling me that his three generals are unaccounted for. That suggests Sylas is preparing for something more than just maintaining relations.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Laril nodded.

“Precisely. Whatever they’re working on, it’s likely critical to his larger strategy. But it’s also a sign that he sees the current situation—the battle between the Third Circle and Frost Elves—as an opportunity.”

Veronica stood, pacing slowly behind her desk.

“Sylas is an ally, yes, but also a rival. He’s shrewd, and his people are formidable. Still, if he’s keeping Warrent, Sardias, and Ares out of sight, it means he’s not yet ready to reveal his hand. That gives us time to prepare.”

Larel tilted his head slightly.

“Do you trust him, Lady Veronica?”

Veronica stopped pacing and turned to face him. “Trust?” She let out a soft laugh.

“Trust is a luxury I can’t afford, Laril. I respect Sylas’s intelligence and his ability to keep his word when it suits him. But trust? No. Trust is for fools and children. I know he is great and has a good relationship with our organization, Third Circle, but in this ship, everybody moves according to their own goals...”

Laril inclined his head in agreement.

“Then perhaps we should take measures to ensure that whatever Sylas is planning doesn’t catch us off guard.”

Veronica smiled faintly.

“We will. For now, maintain your position. Continue observing him and his people. I want to know the moment Warrent, Sardias, or Ares makes a move.”

“As you command,” Laril said, bowing once more.

Laril straightened and took his leave, the door closing softly behind him.

Veronica remained deep in thought.

-

Ares sat at the center of a long, battered table in a dimly lit mess hall on Level One.

Around him were three rough-looking men, their faces scarred from a lifetime of brawls and shady dealings.

The hall was sparsely populated, most of its occupants keeping to themselves.

Ares leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his piercing eyes scanning the men in front of him.

Each thug had a distinct look: one with a shaved head and tattoos creeping up his neck, another with a patchy beard and a missing ear, and the last a wiry figure with a nervous twitch.

“You’ve known me for a while now.”

Ares began, his voice steady but carrying a commanding undertone.

“We’ve all been stuck on this ship together for some time...”

The shaved-headed man, who went by Krad, crossed his arms and gave a slight nod.

“Yeah, we’ve seen you, Ares. You don’t mess around. Straightforward. Not like the rest of the mages sneakin’ and schemin’.”

The bearded man, Joll, grunted in agreement.

“That’s true. You’ve always been clear about what you want. No hidden daggers with you.”

The wiry man, Tyne, glanced between his companions before speaking, his voice quieter.

“But what’s this about? Why call us here? You’ve got our trust, sure, but you don’t call a meet like this for nothing.”

Ares smirked.

“That’s good to hear. Trust is hard to come by on this ship. That’s why I chose you three for this conversation. You’re not just some random thugs. You’ve got brains, guts, and loyalty. And I need all three right now.”

The men exchanged glances,

Ares continued,

“In two, maybe three days, this ship is going to erupt into chaos. A battle is coming, and it’s not going to be some scuffle in the practice rooms or a brawl in the lower decks. This will be on every level, affecting everyone, mage or not.”

Krad frowned. “A battle? Between who?”

“The mages,” Ares said simply.

“Third Circle, Frost Elves, and the others. They’ve been building tension for weeks, and now it’s about to boil over. When it does, they won’t just target each other. Anyone not aligned with them is collateral damage. That means you, your men, and anyone else who isn’t directly tied to their cause.”

Joll slammed a fist on the table, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s madness! Why drag us into their damn war? We’ve got nothing to do with their squabbles.”

Ares raised a hand, calming the rising anger.

“Exactly my point. You’re not part of their war, and that makes you expendable. They’ll kill anyone they see as a threat or an obstacle, and they won’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. That’s why I’m here—to make sure you’re ready.”

Tyne’s eyes darted around the room nervously.

“Ready for what? We’re not mages. We can’t fight them!”

“You don’t need to fight them,” Ares said firmly.

“What you need is to survive. Protect your people, stay out of their way, and move with purpose. Stick to the plan, and you’ll come out of this alive.”

Krad leaned forward, his expression skeptical.

“And what’s the plan, Ares? You’re not telling’ us everything.”

Ares grinned.

“The plan is simple. When the battle starts, you keep your men inside. Lock down your areas, fortify them as best you can, and stay off the main paths. If you see any mages, don’t engage unless you have no choice. They’re not here for you, but if you make yourselves a target, they won’t hesitate to eliminate you.”