The day dawned with an air of auspiciousness, and the festivities unfolded in the heart of the Trasidar Empire’s capital, Tamara. It marked the celebration of the Great Renewal, known as Yar’gos, a grand festival that enthralled the city with its colorful revelry.

Yet, the significance of the day extended beyond the joyous festival within the grand capital. In the majestic halls of the Cors’Viridetauros Palace, the esteemed rulers of the seven kingdoms in the Arumar Continent convened.

“Today, on the first day of the Yar’gos Festival. On this day of Derulegar, the first of Maien, the year seven hundred and thirty-two of the Fourth Vires’ Millennias, the respective leaders of the six free kingdoms of Arumar and the Trasidar Empire have gathered under the roof of Cors’Viridetauros Palace for the fifth Great Conference, has now commenced.” Emerys announced loudly, adorned by lined gold and emeralds that hang from her see-through headdress, with a dress that was colored of mostly gold and green. She quickly faced the doors.

“May we now welcome her majesty, the Queen Empress, Tamara Lluch.” She presented her as the doors opened with Tamara, adorned with her long royal summer gown as it glittered of gold and green as well, as the gown was colored the same, and with the Crown of Four Horns to top it all.

Every single one of the leaders bowed their heads a little to give her their respects as their host, except of course, the High King Aeros Azure, whom seemed to admire the décor, as she made her way towards the Throne of Four horns. It was the fifth time he did this in all these years. But she came to get used to how she treated her. She then proceeded to sit on the Throne of Four Horns, with a great circular table in front of her, with the respective leaders on each of their side.

“You may now all be seated,” Emerys concluded with a regal air, and the lords gracefully took their places. The High King, however, arrived fashionably late, finding his seat among the assembled leaders.

“It is truly an honor to return and represent the Trasidar Empire in this fifth great conference. I hope for a highly productive week ahead,” Tamara declared, her smiled radiating warmth.

“Yes, yes, let’s proceed. I have no intentions of lingering in this humid abode for too long. The sun disagrees with me, and your palace assaults my eyes. I shall stay solely for the essential matters, then promptly take my leave,” King Aeros asserted, making his sentiments known.

With a composed demeanor, she drew a deep breath, concealing any disappointment in response to the High King’s abrupt announcement. “I understand,” she said. “Let us proceed with the matters at hand, shall we?” She signaled to Emerys, who promptly distributed the necessary papers, marking the commencement of a long day.

As the hours passed, they navigated through various topics, addressing minor concerns such as economy, diplomacy, and trade. The culmination of the day led them to the most crucial agenda—the Unibeltrasian Forces.

“I shall now take my leave, Your Highness,” King Aeros declared, rising abruptly and showing minimal respect as he hastened toward the exit.

“Wait, King Aeros,” she implored, rising gracefully. “I insist that you stay. Your support is invaluable to the forces. We truly need your presence here.” Her request held a note of sincerity and courtesy.

“Playing alongside others isn’t such a terrible notion, King Aeros. Perhaps you might consider it,” suggested Tigris Mistrell Agamanu Lamenreise, leisurely sipping her hot tea.

“Mistrell Agamanu speaks wisely, King Aeros. Come and stay. I recall when you were a young, eager boy filled with hope. Extend a glimmer of that spirit to this moment,” smiled Sulinhawi King Orelnoer Numenesse.

King Aeros directed his gaze at the two, his expression unreadable. Despite the palpable intensity emanating from the Winter King of the north, she maintained her composure.

“Now that we’re all still here, I must inquire about the current support from each kingdom for the Unibeltrasian Forces. We’ve recently secured the Huertian Principality, and I hope this achievement won’t deter you from further commitment to the next phase of the plan,” she stated. Turning towards the Kra’en Representative, she added with a smile, “With respect, good my lord, I meant no offense in my inquiry, even though the Iron Kingdom is not yet part of our united forces."

“None taken, Your Grace. I should be the one apologizing for our indecision. Hahaha!” laughed the representative, evoking chuckles from the assembly, though notably not from the High King.

“Well, as of this moment, we should be able to sustain our support. Our Grand Sage is already there with the imperial and united forces,” assured the youngest member of the Orderian Wizard Council, present at the meeting.

“You can add the Mystic King to that conclusion, Your Grace. We require minimal provisions since they effortlessly traverse between the Mystic Realms and the front, swiftly carrying ample supplies. It poses no issue,” added the Mystic Falcon Head Councilor.

“The Karinhawi Kingdom should manage well, as long as they refrain from additional requests. I trust my sons, Prince Wraponreth and General Sevidon Borinvegeard, to oversee the Karinhawi troops accompanying them,” declared King Rav’threth Borinvegeard, glancing toward the Sulin King.

“We anticipate no issues on our end. The Sulin Prince is poised to gain firsthand experience; it’s been ages since he last flexed his muscle. The same goes for my son,” chimed in the Sulin King with a smile.

“Our resources should suffice for the army’s needs after the upcoming harvest, Your Grace. No need for further concern,” reassured Mistrell Agamanu, calmly taking another sip.

“Are you certain, Mistrell? The Empire is more than willing to assist with food if needed,” expressed the Queen Empress with a trace of concern directed at the Middle Kingdom.

“Perhaps you should focus on your own Empire for now, Your Grace,” interjected King Aeros, slowly making his way to his seat. “After all, recovering from a civil war is no easy feat. Most of the Imperial Army remains stationed here, presumably due to that incident five years ago,” he remarked, receiving a goblet of wine.

She took a deep breath, acknowledging the accuracy of the High King’s observation, much to her dismay. The Empire had not been the same since that pivotal incident five years ago.

“You even dissolved your old council and replaced them with lackeys sent to our kingdoms. Tell me, Queen Empress Tamara Lluch, how is the north faring?” King Aeros added, his sly smile accompanied by a mocking smirk directed at her.

Maintaining her composure, she braced herself for the High King’s predictable behavior. This had been a recurring pattern since the first year, and she was all too familiar with the feeling of being looked down upon, a sentiment she knew he held towards her. Offering a resilient smile, she faced him, even as he drew inches closer.

“Everything is fine and taken care of, I assure you, Your Grace,” she declared before gracefully retracing her steps back to the throne. King Aeros chuckled, requesting more wine.

“Now, you may all be wondering why I raised such inquiries. Intelligence has arrived from the front; a significant push is anticipated today at Termosad. We will be receiving updates within this week,” she announced, settling into her throne. “Shall we delve deeper into this matter?”

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“Again with Termosad?” King Aeros groaned.

“I’m inclined to share the High King’s sentiment,” added King Orelnoer, taking a sip of his wine. “Haven’t they been pressing for Termosad for the past three years? We even had to fortify that city—what’s it called again?”

“Bastominad,” she clarified.

“Yes, Bastominad, transformed it into a fortress city. Our resources poured into its fortification alone. Is pushing once more toward Termosad genuinely the right call?” King Orelnoer questioned.

Clearing her throat, she maintained a serene smile. “The fortifications for Bastominad are complete and should be finalized within this week, as per the reports.”

“That doesn’t instill much confidence, does it, Queen Empress?” King Orelnoer remarked.

She glanced at the others, noting their shared sentiment. The Empire, still not fully unified, couldn’t wholeheartedly commit to the offensive proposed by her brother, the Crown Regent.

“Look, I understand your unwavering confidence in him, as solid as the stones that built this palace. However, we’re all aware he’s not as formidable as he once was,” King Orelnoer asserted.

Choosing to overlook those words, she responded, “Rest assured that everything is under control, particularly considering the recent accomplishments in the past months. A breakthrough should be inevitable,” attempting to temper everyone’s expectations.

“Much like how the Empire’s breakup is inevitable?” King Aeros interjected unexpectedly, catching her off guard.

“King Aeros, that line of thinking is not suitable for this room. I suggest you express those sentiments elsewhere,” admonished King Rav’Threth sternly.

Aeros only giggled, prompting her to take a deep breath, attempting to maintain composure. “My apologies, Your Highness. But can you truly blame me? After all, you pardoned a war criminal and even appointed him as the Crown Regent,” he taunted with a mocking smile.

“King Aeros!” Rav’Threth slammed his hands on the table, while Aeros laughed manically at the situation. All she could do was absorb it all, her grip on her hands tightening.

Despite the pleasant weather outside, it felt like just another day in the cycle of the conferences over the past five years. All she could hope for at that moment was that things would be different this time, especially with the anticipated change in the situation at Bastominad today.

Amidst the thunderous crack of the sky above the Black Plains of Vagabar, where Bastominad nestled near the border of the continent of Shardon and the Imperial Territory of Huertian, a fierce battle unfolded. The United Forces valiantly defended against another Xerxecian onslaught, with a unified hawis army and some imperial forces striving to repel the relentless enemy thrust, aided by the formidable war beasts the continent had to offer.

In the early moments of the conflict, an arrow charged with a powerful gust of wind tore through the enemy lines, creating a divide in the defending hawis army. “Hold the line! Do not let them gain an inch!” Prince Glaivel Numenesse bellowed, drawing his two short swords and plunging into the heart of the battle.

On the opposite side of the battlefield, the Karin forces successfully breached the enemy’s vanguard. Swords and daggers whirled through the air, striking down every Xerxecian soldier in their sight. “Come with me! Come! Press the attack!” General Sevidon Borinvegeard rallied his troops, slashing his way through the enemy. He gestured, and the discarded weapons on the battlefield obediently followed his command.

Hope surged within the ranks as the soldiers were inspired by his leadership and the unwavering will of the Sulin prince to win the battle. However, he harbored a grim realization—fate did not favor them this time. Aware of the numerical superiority of the enemy, he understood the imperative to hold their position for as long as possible, regardless of the cost.

As the army pushed through an opening, an imposing figure emerged on the battlefield: an armored tengu, towering like a two-story house, with colossal arms serving as its front legs. Positioned behind him, the colossal creature bore three massive spike spines on its back. He braced himself, skillfully maneuvering through the spines and targeting a vulnerable point in its neck armor. Suddenly, three daggers pierced through the armor, bringing down the giant opponent.

“This is turning out to be very difficult,” he remarked as Glaivel approached him.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Glaivel responded, both leaders catching their breaths amid the ongoing battle. As their armies relentlessly pushed the enemy backward, Glaivel skillfully aimed at a distance and released an arrow.

“This is not good at all,” he muttered, assessing the dire situation.

“You think? They really thought this through. This is even larger than their previous attacks,” Glaivel remarked, continuously firing arrows. “I wish the others were here to lend a hand.”

Glaivel vocalized the exact sentiment he had been harboring. With a sigh, he retrieved his weapons from the ground and subdued immediate adversaries.

“Can’t you manipulate the weapons the Xerxecians are already holding?” Glaivel inquired suddenly.

“I can’t. The weapons need to be free first, and I can’t control that many simultaneously,” he explained, surveying the battlefield and strategically employing the weapons under his influence to shield their men.

“Where’s the backup?” Glaivel pressed, voicing the shared concern.

Wondering the same, he replied, “I believe they are en route. They responded as swiftly as possible.” Then he threw a sword into an armedigor’s throat. “We can’t afford any wavering,” he emphasized, leaping back into the fray followed by swords under his manipulation, swiftly clearing the enemies in their path.

Glaivel took a deep breath and shouted, “Hold the newly formed line! The imperial army is on their way!” The hawis army erupted in joy, bolstered by the assurance of impending reinforcement.

He carved a path forward, relentlessly hacking and slashing through the enemy forces, aiming to make a new advancement. Abruptly, a loud horn echoed from the opposing side, signaling something approaching rapidly. Without hesitation, he bellowed, “Fall back! Fall back!” and the army initiated a gradual retreat.

Out of the blue, five kragens emerged—a menacing sight. Towering over tengus, these creatures boasted giant horns reminiscent of a bull, standing on hind-legs, with tails thicker than a man’s and armored bodies brandishing colossal mallets.

The kragens unleashed thunderous roars, instilling fear in the hearts of the hawis army. Spotting a soldier frozen in terror, he sprinted towards him, pulled him to safety, and deftly evaded the colossal swing of the giant’s iron mallet.

Scaling the massive kragen, he engaged in a fierce struggle, eventually severing its tail. As he approached its neck, the creature retaliated, attempting to devour him. In a pivotal moment, a barrage of arrows found their mark, punctuating the beast’s mouth. Raising his right arm, he summoned a colossal halberd, promptly severing the kragen’s limbs. As it crumbled to the ground, he swiftly beheaded the colossal behemoth.

One down, four to go, he thought, but the remaining kragens, accompanied by the enemy forces, pressed relentlessly. Sprinting towards the nearest kragen, an unexpected explosion disrupted the battlefield.

He halted in his tracks, intrigued by the unfolding events. Emerging from the opposite side was the Crown Regent, Tamiron Lluch. Landing on the lifeless kragen, he retrieved his new weapon—a formidable battle mace adorned with a radiant blue gem at its core, emanating various shades of blue. With astonishing force, Tamiron hurled the mace, causing the kragen’s chest to erupt.

He sprinted toward him, their eyes meeting briefly, Tamiron remaining silent. The Crown Regent proceeded to unleash chaos upon the enemy, effortlessly dashing through the entire Xerxecian army, cutting down foes as if they were mere paper. Despite the apparent ease, Tamiron’s effectiveness was not on a par with his days wielding the Iron Gauntlets. He surveyed the scene, witnessing the imperial cavalry decimating the enemy like a scythe through grass on a field.

“Loose!” echoed from a distance, and he observed the ominous dark cloud of arrows forming, poised to rain down upon them. Urgently, he bellowed, “Arrows! Brace yourselves!” Kneeling, he shielded himself with a discarded shield and manipulated others across the battlefield, covering all troops as arrows descended upon them.

After weathering the storm, he continued fighting the remnants of the Xerxecian army. Tamiron’s intervention had undeniably turned the tide of battle in their favor. Another hour passed, and victory was finally secured for the United Elven Armies with the crucial support of the Imperial Army.

Glaivel attended to the men, who began gathering their dead and wounded. He surveyed the battlefield, relished their hard-fought victory despite the substantial cost. In the distance, he spotted Tamiron, holding his mace atop a fallen kragen, a mixture of triumph and grief etched across his face.

His deep green cape bellowed in the wind, drenched with rain, mud, and blood. He tried to approach him, only to change his mind at the last second. His former student had his mind clearly elsewhere; the look that he had over five years ago has not changed. He stopped and helped in recovering the wounded and the dead soldiers, and figured that they might as well talk later.

There, he saw Glaivel, staring at a weapon he got from the ground. He walked towards him and before he could even say a word; he got a good look at what Glaivel held, and immediately, a cold embrace suddenly enveloped him.

End of Chapter I