"I DID NOT DECIDE THE PLEDGES DEVILDEALERS MUST MAKE, THOSE WERE SET BEFORE ME."

- THE HELLFIRE CHRONICLES, HOLY BOOK OF TRAGSXT

5th of Jirath, 1012 on the war calendar:

Oreklad rode through the night on his pegasus. Below, he saw the hollows flicker in and out.

The bright stars and the glowing plants were his only guide toward Kal'leer, but he had long since memorized the landmarks leading to the grand city.

In his head, he could feel the Thunder Arcane thumping; The Obilisk Storm was approaching.

To his credit, Slyth didn't even groan through the long journey, which Oreklad appreciated during the last two days of travel.

Below him, he could see glowing gray grass start to thin before disappearing in a plunge; the final Hollow Path before reaching Driath.

Oreklad smiled and connected deeper with the Thunder Arcane, using it to propel him and his pegasus forward.

After a few hours of travel, the sun broke on the navy grass of Draith, revealing a gleaming aqua-colored square city with 4 arching towers at its corners that come together to make a cradle-like palace.

Below, hundreds of smaller buildings of brick, white sidewalks, and black paved roads.

The sight from above was stunning. Oreklad was convinced that was half the reason Kal'leer looked the way it did; Stormforgers loved a good view.

Oreklad smiled to himself about the city's beauty before riding through the balcony of the cradled palace.

Inside was a large white round table, with ten seats incircling an empty throne; a symbol of Draith's council of leaders rather than an all-powerful king.

Each seat was a simple wooden chair, all of the same height and prestige, signifying the equality of the members.

Currently, all the other nine members sat in their chairs, waiting.

When he first joined the council, Oreklad was self-conscious about making such an audacious entrance, but over the years it became a tradition.

"So you finally made it, High General." A slimy man of skin and bone in a fancy suit about three sizes too big for him said dryly. The High Counsuler of Finance

"Drop the honorifics, Amarai. We've known each other for five years, you scoundrel."

If this exchange had happened between any other members of the delegation it would have been a scandal for the ages, but with the two of them, it was commonplace.

Oreklad sat down, glancing around at the council; only one new face.

The young man got out of his seat and nervously introduced himself to Oreklad, "It's an honor to meet you WarThunder." He said, voice shaky, though Oreklad thought he saw strength in the boy's eyes. Perhaps he was just starstruck.

"As it is to meet you, I assume you replaced old Hjo?" Oreklad asked,

"Yes, sir, As of last month, I, Owliri, am High Diplomat of War; I look forward to working with you!"

"As do I," Oreklad said, gesturing for the young man to sit down.

Oreklad glanced around the roundtable again, counting off members.

Amarai, High Counsuler of Finance.

Owliri, High Tactioner of War.

Asiri, High Lord of Labor. She'd been trying to get Draith out of slave usage for a few months.

Kalel, High Father of Agriculture. He'd been developing new farming methods for years.

Uio, High Shield of Defense. As far as Oreklad was concerned, she was the first good High shield in centuries, considering she bothered to train her soldiers.

Liro, High Judge of Law. As far as Oreklad could tell, he was a just man who gave fair punishment and reward.

Croew, High Founder of Legislature. His laws made Draith a better place to live; Oreklad respected him.

Daketh, High Architect of Expanse. Kal'leer didn't expand much these days, but he kept the building projects in control.

Lisa, High Artisan of Culture. A starry-eyed young lass, she still looked at every part of the world with wonder. Oreklad worried for her well-being in her position, but he had to admit, she had skill with a paintbrush.

And, of course, himself. High General of War.

"So, what is so important that you lot had to call back the big bad WarThunder?" Oreklad asked

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The council members shifted around nervously until Amari spoke, "We apologize for bringing you out here, but the issue is kind of a mute matter. The council has voted unanimously, but not inviting you would have been wrong."

A slight anger flared in Oreklad; he hated being summoned unnecessarily, but even more than that, he hated being called meaningless.

"Explain." He asked the High Diplomat of War.

The man started to sweat just a bit, "A settlement known as New Learu City has chosen to free a Yjraith slave. Yjraith is going to declare war, we decided our next course of action."

Oreklad rose, "Well, I'll gather the armies. We'll march today!" He declared.

The council shuffled around, nervous.

Amari spoke up. "We have already decided; New Learu City will burn to the ground without Driath lifting a finger."

Righteous fury ignited within Oreklad.

"Why would we do that?" The WarThunder sneered through clenched teeth.

"Why wouldn't we do that!" Owliri exclaimed with such conviction even Amari sat down. "We might be at war, but this would make them focus on us, and the Yjraith are nothing if not relentless. It's a waste of lives. New Learu City knew what they were going to get themselves into by pulling a stunt like this. They can deal with their own problems."

Oreklad stared at the upstart with ferocity, "Do not make an enemy of me, boy!' He sneered.

The Arcanums would probably be disappointed in him throwing his weight around like that, but they would also be disappointed if he let New Learu City die.

Owliri gulped with fear, "I apologize WarThunder, but petty threats will not make me betray my oath, I swore to do what's diplomatically best for Draith, and this is not it!" He countered, "And if I recall, weren't you one of the deciding votes in letting the Yjraith slaughter the first Learu City?"

"I was a coward then!" Oreklad yelled, "I had only cared for the skin on my back...It was before I found my honor."

"And when was that 'destroyer of hopes'?" Amari asked mockingly.

Oreklad's mind flashed back to an earlier time. A battle with Ilra. A battle where an army of real heroes sacrificed their lives so their people could live. Oreklad had spared two of them, including the Ocean's Sword himself, though he doubted either of them saw it as a mercy.

"When I killed the last real heroes this world will ever see," Oreklad replied.

Amari slumped back in his chair, not expecting a confession of sin.

A silence filled the council as the weight of Oreklads's words fell on them.

"I'd like to change my vote!" Lisa, High Artisan, said cheerfully.

"As would I!" Uio, High Shield said, though she sounded much less enthusiastic.

"Explain!" Amari demanded through gritted teeth.

Lisa went first, "Well, I sort of just went with the majority as war isn't my thing, but if Oreklad says we should do it, then I believe him." She said The WarThunder's' name with a slight blush, to which he had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Another young girl with an illborn crush. If they only knew his attrocites. "And besides, thinking of the paintings such an event could inspire!" She said the last bit with a glint in her eye, which Oreklad could respect, as oblivious to the atmosphere of the conversation it was.

"I second the High Artisan; if the WarThunder wants a battle then I'll give it to him. Besides, my guards could weather any attack!" She didn't seem to realize she had the same innocent glint in her eye as Lisa.

Oreklad tried to think back to a time when he looked forward to his specialty, war, but it seemed several lifetimes ago.

Oreklad stared down Liro, if the High Judge had no reservations about condemning a populous to suicide, then something was wrong with Draith.

The man stared back, locking eyes with The WarThunder. In that moment, Oreklad's respect for the judge grew; not many people would be brave enough to do that. A silent understanding passed between them.

"I change my vote as well!" Liro declared. That made four; he just needed two more to turn the tide!

Meekishly, Kalel, High Father of Agriculture spoke up, "I also change my vote." Amari gave him a death stare, "I..I can't let them die." he explained.

Oreklad looked around, nobody else seemed eager to change their votes.

Amari got up, "Well, Oreklad, congratulations are an order! You have once again proven not only your physical but political strength. Single handily bringing the council to a draw from a unanimous decision? I dare say you made history. Unfortunately, A draw is a victory for the team do nothing."

The slimeball turned to leave when Asiri, High Lord of Labor stopped him, "Amari, you know full well that the council isn't over until all of us declare it as such."

Amari grumbled but sat back down, glaring expectantly at Asiri.

"I would like to explain myself, WarThunder. It's not that I disagree with you; it's simply impossible. Even if we decide to stir our might for a righteous battle, by the time we make it to New Learu, all we'd find is ashes. A march takes time that isn't afforded to us."

Oreklad met her eyes, "So, you're saying that if time was available, you'd change your vote?"

Asiri nodded.

"Then it's time to change your vote! I shall go, save the city from whatever small force they muster, then come back with our full army to protect it indefinitely. It will be a historic battle sight!"

Amari sat up, "Oreklad, you've gone mad! You might be strong, but even you cannot single-handedly save a city from an army!"

Oreklad met the man's eyes. "Watch me." WarThunder made his eyes glow, a neat trick advanced Devildealers could pull off by reciting their first pledge. “I will fight bravely and valiantly till my last breath escapes me!”

The WarThunder turned to meet Asiri's eyes again, and she nodded. "I change my vote."

With that, Oreklad started walking to his pegasus, declaring the end of the council meeting, Amari grumbling softly.

Right before boarding his Monument Beast, Lisa rose and handed him a sketch, the same one she'd been doodling for the entire meeting he realized.

It was a sketch of him, "I needed practice for the big painting showing you save the day!" She said with a blush.

This time, Oreklad couldn't help himself from rolling his eyes. "Stop that. You're 21. I'm 39."

She reeled back slightly, as if not expecting him to call her out. "Stop what?" She asked with a red face.

Oreklad said nothing, boarding his horse and leaving the council meeting.

His connection with the Thunder Arcane felt stronger after his showing. He could make it to New Learu City in two days with constant flight and minimal breaks. Neither he nor Lairm would need to eat. He had no clue how he knew that; he just did.

The WarThunder was going to save the city.