“Ahhh.” Thorne groaned. He got up from his bed and stretched wide. His body was full of knots and undesired soreness, and one good night's sleep wasn’t enough to entirely rejuvenate him. After changing, Thorne left his room. He had slept in one of the prominent skyscrapers right outside of the farm walls. The room had been repurposed into a sleeping area for the soldiers, and even though he had been offered a larger room just for himself, Thorne had decided to sleep here. Despite the many different people, Thorne slept easily and comfortably as no one dared to disturb him.
He stepped over the various sleeping figures. There were humans, nonhumans, practitioners, and non-practitioners. ‘All of them risking their lives for us.’ Thorne sighed as he navigated his way down the stairs. ‘Well, not really for us. We just reap the benefits.’
Despite the team's efforts to be as honest as possible in their recruitment process, Thorne felt a twinge of guilt in his heart upon seeing the tired and wounded people passed out on the cold steel floor. ‘It is what it is.’ He thought as he finally left the building.
The sun assaulted Thorne, but through the weeks of living in the parched desert, he had grown used to its powerful rays. Thorne looked up at the blazing star and saw it was directly above him; ‘so, it's about midday. I slept like a damn baby.’
Rubbing his eyes, Thorne stepped onto the street. It was packed with people of all kinds. All of them were bustling about to fulfill one task or another. Thorne could see lines for food and water, tables full of soldiers cracking jokes, and even children running around merrily with fruit in their hands. Overall, the mood of the makeshift camp was jubilant, and positive energy flowed through everyone.
Thorne grimaced as he navigated through the crowd. ‘Two more battles. Two more, and we’ll see if they're all still smiling.’
“There you are, Thorne.”
Cocking his ear, Thorne looked past the crowd of people in front of him. He looked out, and standing in front of a large sandstone building was a smiling Zal.
Bumping his way through, Thorne moved toward the building, and he was standing in front of Zal in no time. “Hey Zal,” He said with a tired smile, “Is it time for the meeting.”
“Yes, we should be starting soon,” Zal said as he motioned for Thorne to follow him into the building. "We just have to wait for a couple of people to show up.”
Nodding, Thorne followed Zal and found himself in a meeting hall of sorts. There was a massive mahogany table with dozens of plush seats around it. It stretched for dozens of meters and was quite the work of art with engravings plastered all throughout the fine wood. Zal walked past the table's long side and looked over his shoulder at Thorne; “The meeting will start soon; don’t kill anyone.” He said with a grin before walking off—back to the front of the building, likely to guide more guests inside. Thorne walked to the closest chair and seated himself while pondering how the meeting would go. Just before he had gone to sleep the previous night, Thorne had been told by a messenger soldier— that Zal had sent—that he needed to attend a meeting. It was described by the designer as a formal discussion of the future and plans for the city. ‘What's there to discuss,’ Thorne sighed as he looked around at the other people seated, ‘There’s gonna be two straightforward battles. We should focus on training and preparations, not this formality fest for the future wannabe leaders.’
Seated around the table were many people. Thorne didn’t really recognize most of them, but he did have a general understanding of who they were. ‘Department managers on a power trip.’ Thorne grimaced. After all, he knew exactly the type of people that were here. He had grown quite used to them during his days as a worker back on Earth. There was a lot of diversity in the collection, from nonhuman practitioners to ordinary soldiers. There were healers and farmers. Almost every group that was sizeable was represented. Despite the diversity in appearance, Thorne noticed one common factor among them: their body language. They were stressed but excited. Almost all of them were fidgety and seemingly full of energy. Thorne could nearly hear their rapid heartbeats. And yet, they were all trying to keep it together—all trying to seem as professional as possible. ‘This is gonna be fun. Hopefully, there’s some food or something to distract me from the bickering.’
Thorne sat for a short time as Zal left and reentered the room numerous times. He was constantly showing new people in, and the many seats were almost all filled in no time. Thorne could see all the members of his team present except Procka. Lyra sat with practiced ease. The only sign of stress was a slight tremble in her leg.
Thorne smiled, ‘That’s good; it would be quite tough to conquer the world if she was traumatized.’
The other two members—Zal and Moravian—were among the last to enter the meeting room. They walked forward under the watchful eyes of dozens of people, and the two of them sat near the head of the table, near Thorn and Lyra. ‘Oh, I'm at the head,’ Thorne realized. When he had walked in, he had picked a seat at random. ‘Though Zal did lead me a bit. I guess he wants the team at the front.' Thorne thought with a veiled smile, 'That's good, ‘We need to establish our power.’
“Ahem,” Zal grunted as he sat down in the centermost seat at the long table, “Thank you all for coming. I really appreciate everyone coming together after a hard battle like that. It wasn’t easy after all.” He chuckled.
Thorne looked over to Lyra, who was noticeably wincing, ‘Zal is failing formal speak,’ he realized, suppressing a chuckle. The representatives—all dressed in fancy, non-white attire—scoffed at Zal. Some were openly mocking in their smiles, while others were calm and unreactive to Zal’s plain words. ‘Though they all think he’s stupid.’
Unknowing of the live degradation of his reputation, Zal continued, “So uhm yeah. Here, we’ll discuss the future of the city and what everyone’s plans are...” Zal looked around expectantly at the dozens of guests. “Anyone wanna start?”
Grimacing, Thorne quickly nudged Lyra—who was sitting next to him. “Take over.” He whispered. If anyone could fit in with the stiff, dignified sort, it was Lyra.
“Thank you for opening the meeting, Zal. I can continue,” Lyra said, standing up. "It is my honor to be among the revered representatives, and I hope that all parties—regardless of stature—leave with their future assured.” She said with a sincere curtsy.
Thorne leaned back in his chair, relieved. ‘I love rich people.’
The seated representatives, who had previously mocked and disregarded Zal, leaned forward in their seats as they all took in this new speaker. Thorne could feel the atmosphere shift as Lyra took command. “Before we begin, I would like to state one certainty of the future that I hope everyone is aware of.” Lyra stated as she gazed at the large group, “The previous night's battle will not be the last. At least two more conflicts are destined on a similar or even greater scale.”
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“Who will be the enemies, and who will be responsible for defeating them?” A woman asked, with raised brows. She had deep black eyes that were matched by her luscious obsidian hair. Thorne recognized her; it was the commander of the non-practitioner patrol soldiers. She was quite an influential figure and was even responsible for organizing the outskirter speech.
Lyra stood for a second as she peered at this new figure before answering, “The first enemy will be the retaliating force from the elite. You should all be aware of that foe; the force responsible for battling them will consist of everyone we have. Hopefully, we will be able to convince some enemy practitioners to join us, rather than dying at our hands.” Lyra said calmly as she looked into the eyes of the commander. “They will attack soon... Probably in the next day or two.”
Many of the representatives nodded, as they clearly expected this event. After all, one couldn’t simply take another's prized possession without expecting retaliation. ‘Some seem a bit scared, though,’ Thorne realized as he glanced around at all the representatives. The most assured were the laborers, the farmers, the builders, and the weavers. The simple folk were all calm and stoic in the face of another—more deadly—conflict.
‘So, the soldiers are scared,’ Thorne sighed as he watched the discordant representatives of the combat units, ‘Makes sense. They’ve never really been in any real battle.’
No one raised any objections or complained to the prospect and instead focused on the relevant questions. “Do we know where they will strike and when?” A large muscular man asked. His skin was tan and weathered, and his bulging muscles immediately gave him away as a laborer.
Lyra looked over at him, “Yes, just this morning we have received intel from our inside operatives. The enemy has been gathering as much firepower as they can muster. Luckily, due to the recent expedition, it will not be the full force of Kroll City. However, it will still be a large group. As I said earlier, they will attack in one or two days’ time. We do not know the specifics, though we know it will soon.”
“Who are these…operatives, and are they reputable?”
A tall, lanky man asked. His skin was pale, and his face was adorned with a permanent scowl. His white uniform was unique compared to other soldiers; it was adorned with black epaulets. He had no badges or memorabilia apart from a single black dot in the center of his chest. He was an older man, between middle-aged and elderly. ‘An old intelligence officer. Gestapo-looking motherfucker.’ Thorne grimaced.
“They are reputable, yes.” Lyra answered with a calm shrug, “And their information will not be revealed in order to maintain their safety.”
Lyra shot bullets at the questioning intelligence officer. It was a clear challenge for authority by him, and Lyra wasn’t backing down. ‘So, I guess her imprisonment gave her a spine. That’s good.’ Thorne smiled as he watched the exchange.
The old officer nodded slowly, before noticeably gulping; “That is…acceptable. Though if your information turns out to be incorrect…” He trailed off as he stared at Lyra and Zal. ‘He thinks they're the leaders,’ Thorne realized, as a touch of mirth filled him, ‘I guess I'm not important enough.’
“It will not be incorrect, I assure you,” Lyra stated as she stood tall over the officer.
Thorne sighed as he heard this. 'Everyone always wants assurances until they're broken.’
“Good,” The man said as he sat back down—clearly satisfied with what he had received.
Lyra smiled and glanced around the room for a moment. Upon the ensuing silence, she nodded and cleared her throat: “Now the second conflict—that will most definitely occur— is fairly tricky to plan around.”
Thorne shifted in his seat as he heard Lyra's calm words. ‘Fairly tricky is an understatement.’ He scowled. A grade two cultivator who could return at any moment was more than fairly tricky. ‘Plus, he has a large group of powerful grade ones.’ Thorne realized as he remembered the street massacre. There were dozens of vehicles, almost all of them filled with powerful cultivators. 'They all were at least the same threat level as the cultivator farm guards.'
Continuing, Lyra looked at the relatives with a reserved smile; “This conflict will be with the city lord and his adventuring posse.”
The room was engulfed in an eerie silence, broken only by the collective gasp that escaped from the stunned occupants. A palpable tension cut through the air as the representative's eyes stared around the spacious meeting room. They all knew that fighting the city lord was inevitable, but they had hoped that it would become someone else's problem. Of course, the opportunistic commander of the practitioner soldiers displayed just this motivation. She stood up furiously and flicked her luscious hair behind her—out of her face. “How do you expect us to participate in such a battle?” She bit out, “It is common knowledge that the city lord is the most powerful in the entire city. Some rumors even have that he has ascended and broke through the wall of energy control.”
Thorne sighed as he looked around the agitated representatives. Their fear would only be quenched in the face of power and knowledge. Standing up, Thorne released just a bit of his stored energy. He wasn’t at the level where he could mistify his energy and spread it throughout the room, so instead, he covered his exterior with the energy and allowed it to seep into the surroundings by proxy of being on him.
The room's tension—ever palpable—froze and was replaced by a somber fear. “The rumors are true,” Thorne murmured. Despite the relative silence of his words, they carried across the room and entered the ears of everyone present. “The city lord is in fact past the threshold. Both me and Moravian have sensed it for ourselves.” He said, pointing to his Draugr teammate.
For an instant, the fearful apprehension almost broke. Thorne hurriedly spoke to restrict the approach of full-blown panic in the crowd. “Despite his strength, there will only be five people needed to fight him,” Thorne said as he surveyed each and every representative. He saw fear, he saw panic, he saw helplessness. However, as Thorne spoke, the expressions shifted; they became confused and even a bit annoyed at Thorne’s proclamation. After all, how could only five people take out a practitioner who had crossed the mystical threshold?
“Those five people will be me, Moravian, Zal, Lyra, and Procka, who isn’t here with us today.” He said as he pointed to each respective team member. Before anyone could question, or even straight up reject Thorne, he held up his hand with authority; “I know it is difficult to believe, but we will be enough.” He stressed the last word as he gazed into the stress-filled eyes of the representatives.
“Ahem,” A man coughed. It was the representative of the non-practitioner soldiers. He was a tall man with lean muscles and a slim frame. He was clean-cut, and his only definable feature was a nasty thin scar across his face. “If you five can supposedly contest the city lord,” he started, clearly full of hesitation, “Then what are we supposed to do, especially the non-practitioners?”
Lyra looked over to Thorne and winked; she would take it from here. Thorne nodded and released his constant energy output. The room visibly changed, and a tinge of brown-greyness returned, though the reddish amber still scarcely remained.
“We hope that most of the non-practitioners will not have to participate in the second battle directly. All that they will have to do is manage artillery from the walls, and fight with other non-practitioners—which I'm sure are quite rare among the expedition crew.” Lyra said, “As for the practitioners, they will have a massive role to play in the hopeful success of the battle.” Lyra pursed her lips and lowered her voice as she spoke her following words; “In the spirit of transparency, I will let you all know that the second battle will have the most casualties among practitioners. None of them will turn to our side, and all will battle with fervor to please the city lord.
Furthermore, all of them will be extremely powerful, with extensive loyalty to the lord.” She said, as her face fell, “Thus, the role of the practitioners in this battle will be of the utmost relevance. They must, and I mean must, win the battle against the other practitioners, and make sure that no practitioners interfere with the battle with the city lord. Is that understood?” She queried with a stony expression.
Near-silent murmurs of confirmation sounded from the table, and Lyra nodded in satisfaction. “That’s good. This meeting has gone on long enough. We will have further meetings, of course, and this was simply a general gathering. The war council will begin later today. Prepare yourselves!”