"You know we could have just disappeared them, right?"

Leonard snorted, shaking his head in amusement. Amelia's sense of humor was quite dark, but it never failed to draw him from his moods. "They have no faults. Indeed, they have done us a great favor. The mirror falling into enemy hands would have been terrible, and even if they never managed to take it out of Treon, leaving it unused is a terrible waste."

There, that should be enough tacit approval for her to use it without having to sneak around. Knowing how curious she can be, she wouldn't have lasted a day, but I can't just assign such a precious artifact to her personal use—which is what she'd take it as if I gave her direct permission.

From the slow, languid blink of satisfaction, Amelia knew precisely what he was doing and was probably already anticipating what having such a precise gauge of her strength and weakness could do to her growth.

It's not that big of a deal at our level, where we already know almost everything about our strength, but for promising novices… Yeah, I'll have to ensure Gerard and Jean get some time with it. We need to accelerate the production of our elites.

A sharp knock on the door abruptly halted their silent conversation. It creaked open slightly, and a guard peeked in, obviously not relishing having to interrupt. "Grand Marshal, it's time for the War Council."

Leonard nodded, rising from his chair. "Thank you, Edmund. We'll be right there."

Amelia followed suit, moving fluidly and almost predatorily as she adjusted the cloak draped over her shoulders. "This is the first full War Council since the conquest of Treon," she mused as they walked out. “We can’t delay."

The sound of boots against stone echoed through the corridors as they passed by various officers and attendants, each pausing to offer respectful nods or salutes. Leonard noted how some of the old decorations had been removed and the Count's colors replaced by the insignias of the new regime. He’d have to ensure historical artifacts weren’t thrown away just out of spite.

Soon, they arrived at a large drawing room. Inside, Leonard had his men place a massive oaken table that dominated the space, polished to a shine and surrounded by high-backed chairs. The room was already occupied, as they could hear the quiet exchanges of the other Council members who had arrived before them.

Neer sat at the table's center, reading over a thick stack of reports—an entirely different person from the half-feral woman Leonard had rescued. Gerard and Gareth were in the midst of a low conversation, likely discussing tactics or training regimens, as they often did. The newest and youngest member of the War Council, Jean, crouched in her chair, tongue poking out of her lips in concentration as she scribbled something on a piece of paper.

Even Old Lia was present, having brought to Treon a contingent of alchemists she had recruited for their cause. She stood by the window, her hands clasped behind her back, gazing out over the castle grounds with a contemplative expression.

As Leonard and Amelia entered the room, everyone rose from their seats in a gesture of respect. "Grand Marshal," Neer greeted, warm yet formal, "we're ready when you are."

Leonard nodded to each of them, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you all for gathering. Let's get started."

He and Amelia took their places at the head of the table, Leonard at the center with Amelia opposite him. The room fell into a hush, the soft creak of chairs and the rustle of paper the only sounds as everyone settled into their seats.

"The War Council is now in session," Leonard announced.

He then gestured to Neer, signaling her to start. The half-orc warrior stood, commanding the room's attention. Hers was the most critical report.

"Security in Treon is stable but still fragile," She began, looking around the table to meet everyone's eyes. "We've uncovered two major conspiracies—groups plotting to retake the city, mostly made of previous City Watch and noble's household guards who have since lost their cushy jobs. We've arrested the members of one group since it seemed the closest to acting and could have genuinely done some damage, but we've let the other continue operating for now. They believe they're unnoticed, and we're using that to monitor their movements and contacts. It's a delicate situation—one wrong move could send them underground, making them harder to track, but I believe this to be the correct path."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Leonard already knew of this, having been informed in his morning briefing and having given the go-ahead, but it was good to keep everyone appraised.

A more paranoid leader would have prevented the broader council from learning of such a security risk, but Leonard trusted these people. He had hand-picked them for a reason, and no one had given him a hint he had made a mistake.

Honestly, I'm the one who made the worst mistakes so far.

"On the civilian side, the arrival of food supplies has been a turning point. Regular distribution beyond army rations has started, and it's been met with relief and gratitude, especially from the poorest parts of the city, since belts were starting to tighten beyond what we know to be the tipping point for unrest. We're now seeing long lines at the employment offices and recruitment booths, which is a good sign that people are beginning to trust our presence here. But this can change quickly if we don't keep up the effort or sufficiently reward those who took the plunge. I believe we should set aside another tranche of two thousand gold per year to increase salaries, as it will be much more appreciated than anything else we can currently do. Deeper trust will take a long time to build, but this is a good way of halting the worst elements from finding purchase."

There were murmurs of agreement around the table. Leonard caught Amelia's eye and saw her subtle nod of approval. Her influence was all over the success Neer was reporting, and he doubted the SF would have been as successful in rooting out conspiracies without the aid of Amelia's shadows.

Her part done, Neer sat down, satisfied. Leonard knew she'd have to report failures or losses one day, but for the moment, he enjoyed hearing her be so proud of herself.

Next to stand up and give his report was Gerard. "Treon and the Serpent Sea Belt are secure for now, but we can't get comfortable," he said, back straight and tone uncompromising. "We need a strong, permanent force here to defend against external threats. Garva is likely to be the first to make a move once they deal with the latest wave of barbarians at the Death Pass; they've always had their eyes on expansion, having enjoyed lording their economic advantage to squeeze us dry and now that it's clear our rebellion is more than just a local uprising, they'll be looking for any opportunity to attack."

Gerard looked at Leonard, the question hanging in the air. "We can't stay here forever, as Count Pollus is inching closer every day, and we'll have to move out soon if we want to catch him in favorable terrain. We need someone here who can lead—someone you trust to manage operations and keep our borders safe."

Leonard nodded thoughtfully. "I agree. We'll discuss it more later, but it's crucial that we choose the right person for the job. I have great plans for Treon, from using its industrial strength to support our efforts to serving as the temporary cultural center of the Revolution." Leonard already knew who he would appoint. Gerard was the natural choice—his experience, understanding of the broader security situation, and unwavering loyalty made him the perfect fit. But the formal decision could wait for a private conversation, as he didn't want to put the man on the spot. Leonard would at least consider it if Gerard had someone else he trusted enough to give them command.

Seeing that he was done, Jean, the youngest and perhaps most eager of the council members, hesitated only briefly before raising her hand. "Grand Marshal, may I speak?" she asked.

Leonard nodded, giving her the floor. "Go ahead."

She stood, her small stature almost swallowed by the oversized chair, but the determination in her red eyes made her presence impossible to ignore. "I've been thinking about our current state of magical education," she began, rushed but clear. "The Magic Tower here in Treon is functional but outdated. Their methods are effective, but they limit the potential of the mages they produce. I believe we can do better—much better."

Jean paused, nervously twirling a white lock of hair and letting her words sink in before she continued. "I propose expanding the Magic Tower and turning it into an Academy that isn't just a place to train basic casters but a place to forge the best mages this kingdom has ever seen. To do that, though, I need your permission to overhaul the entire curriculum—start from scratch. I want to discard the old ways and introduce methods and techniques I have developed independently. It's a risk, I know, as they have only been tested on the handful of students I had, but I'm confident that if we succeed, we'll have a force of mages capable of changing the course of this war and beyond."

The room fell silent as Jean finished, her gaze fixed on Leonard, waiting for his reaction. He leaned back in his chair, considering her proposal. He could see the fire in her eyes, the passion that drove her, and he knew this was more than just an academic ambition. Jean had suffered significantly under the old system and was asking him to allow her to scrap it. Also, it was likely a way of finding a place for the innumerable orphans she kept adding to her collection.

After a moment in which the girl clenched her fists, looking like she was waiting for her execution, Leonard's lips curved into a wide grin. "You have my permission," he said, the words met with a shuddering breath of relief. "But remember, Jean, this is uncharted territory. You'll have full support, but the responsibility is enormous."

Jean's face lit up with a mix of relief and excitement. "Thank you, Grand Marshal. I won't let you down."

With Jean's proposal settled, the room's attention turned to Lia, who had been quietly observing from her seat by the window. She took her time standing up, putting on a pretense of needing her cane. "The southern towns are calm for now," she croaked. "However, we've identified numerous spies trying to infiltrate our ranks. They're from the rest of Haylich and other interested parties. They're only gathering intelligence for the moment, trying to gauge our strength and intentions."

Lia's expression darkened slightly as she continued. "I've compiled a list of all those we've identified and deemed safe enough to leave to their jobs and have already passed it on to Damien. As you might have noticed, he's not here today. That's because he's handling the arrival of a very special guest. I'll update you as soon as there's more to share."

With the reports delivered and the council's business nearing its end, Leonard stood, drawing everyone's attention. "We've made great strides. But there is still much to be done. We are engaged in a struggle that will define the future of this land, and it will require all our strength, wisdom, and resolve. We cannot afford to falter or lose sight of our goals. We fight not just for victory but for the hope of a better tomorrow, where the chains of tyranny are broken and the light of freedom shines bright. Let us remember why we're here and what we're fighting for. Together, we will shape the course of history."

A cheer broke out, and Leonard raised a fist in triumph. The second part of the Hetnia Campaign was about to start.