Nearly all elves were ambidextrous, Malniza was no exception but he preferred his left. He trusted his left side to do exactly as he intended while at times if he was to sit down to prepare a report, he might find his right hand recording the log without him noticing.

He called himself loyal even before the king offered his body with a higher power. But perhaps he felt a certain kinship or sympathy with his lord who shared control with another force. He would never be able to understand it the way a sorcerer would as the one he dealt with was certainly himself.

He had seamless control as long as he was not in danger but if there was some threat, his feet could move on their own to avoid what should have been hidden in the corner of his eye. To dodge was not a proper reflex of a bodyguard, at all times, he did his best to resist it and by resisting he became aware of its guidance, like an additional sense honed to detect threats and eliminate them.

A comrade of his, Odlig, back when they were not on the best of terms tested those instincts to their limits in the sparring. His fellow commander hypothesized that the mind had two aspects, the primal and the sophisticated. At the time, Odlig suggested that Malniza himself was the primal side of his mind while his body, due to its logical movements of either circumventing or removing a threat, was acting on his buried sophistication. Malniza was given an apology years later.

Malniza was leader of both the Honor Guard, the king’s shield and the Honorbound, the king’s sword, each represented opposite extremes but both embodied duty. The Honor Guard shared more in common with Odlig’s Undying than they did with the Honorbound.

He was his lord’s most trusted bodyguard but he was not always so obedient. He learned to run long before he could talk. His mother tied reeds to his ankles so he could be found.

That same youthful rebelliousness applied to his own body. Long ago, his skull had been cracked against the ground. For the shortest time, his heart stopped beating. No one knew it at the time, but for an instant he had been dead. It was just for a moment but he knew, he remembered looking down and seeing himself being pummeled to death and ironically back to life. His opponent did not even notice and, during the attack, landed a powerful blow against his chest, compelling his heart to start again.

As the battle ended and his head healed, he found his right hand acting on its own, dragging him forward. He never experienced anything so dramatic again but he remained aware of how his body possessed its own will and if he stopped watching, it might move on its own. He started wearing weighted boots so he could feel his own feet lift but he grew accustomed to that and placed heavier and heavier loads until they became hindersome. He had to settle for his soles being crafted from the heaviest substance he had available.

In regards to who Malniza obeyed, Ordelas or the spirit with in him, the answer was both. The king’s word came before the deity’s if there was ever a conflict of interest but Malniza was to treat the two as one and the same. The bodyguard lacked Vernigen’s audacity to demand that Ordelas confirm that it was the king that was speaking and not the “thing” as the champion called it before accepting instruction. Another word the lost commander used was “parasite.”

That only proved how important Vernigen once was. It went unseen what happened but when spirits were still mysteries, the champion walked away from the throneroom with bloodied fists. Vernigen never spoke of it but the king had to explain it to the Honor Guard lest they fight the warrior for his infraction. Vernigen thought the lord that returned was an imposter and responded as one might expect a hardened combatant to the prospect of someone masquerading as his liege.

The room Malniza’s lord granted him remained dark, lit only by a few candles adding to the sense that it might be empty except for its occupant who stood as he rested his back against a wall. While there was not enough light to illuminate the entire space, the primarily white armor and silver eyes of the one that called it home caught the light well enough that he could only hope to hide from the blind. The few furnishings were shrouded by shadow.

This floor subverted the normal design of the palace. The entire floor was one single windowless room. The vast space made the sparse decor appear all the less for the emptiness.

Malniza’s few trappings proved him to be a minimalist even by the standards of his own kind. He wore all that he owned, most noticeable being his precious sword, golden ring, and crimson cape. The few chairs in the room served for the benefit of his visitors so they could wait if the king already had an audience. If he needed to rest, he pressed his back to the wall so he still stood. Few would be surprised if Malniza had forgotten how it felt to sleep in a bed.

A hammock had been prepared for if his king refused to retire to his bedchamber in the palace below. Malniza, of the Honor Guard, was also granted a room across the hall from his king’s but like all but the counselor was not allowed to enter his lord’s room unless called for. His lord’s bedchamber was similarly guarded to the throneroom but was protected by an additional two pairs of guards watching each end of the hallway as that was the time their charge was most vulnerable.

Malniza’s quarters was the entirety of the floor beneath the throneroom. In order for anyone to have an audience with the king, they had to pass by him. A heavy iron door occupied the entryway which at the moment remained open but there was nothing blocking the stairway that led to the floor above. This was so Malniza could rush to his lord’s side at a moment’s notice.

Ordinarily, that would be cause for concern if an assailant by some dreaded impossibility made it past the commander. However, the throne room itself was sealed by massive doors and had a pair of bodyguards standing just outside at all times. Worryingly, the stairway was not the only entrance. There was a balcony from which Ordelas’s assassins would make their visits to him to without announcing themselves.

A collection of barely used hooks lined the wall near the entryway to hold visitors’ weapons. There were few subjects in the kingdom that could be suspected to have reason to cause their king harm. The few times it proved necessary would be when guilty parties were brought to their lord to be judged. The others would be the assassins that left their weapons behind to prove they were not testing the palace’s security.

Of those lethal six, only the king’s own daughter would warrant no suspicion from Malniza on his floor. She refused to partake in the exercises her sisters occasionally performed, even pretending to try slay her own father seemed too much to ask from her. Her stance sometimes placed her in opposition with her sisters, acting alongside the Honor Guard to intercept a detected intruder the few times the king allowed it.

Malniza was not alone that day. The lingering traces of paint and earthy scent of stone mingled with the stench of cut bone like burnt hair reminded Malniza of Scéadu’s presence if he somehow failed to notice the scratching of crystal. The smell of fresh dye drifted from the elf’s long black hair.

What one might immediately notice about Scéadu after his choice of attire and accessories would be how he sharpened all his teeth into points. It reminded Malniza of a shark. Malniza himself was born with sharp canines like his king and the king’s champion. That day the commander of the Shadow’s Legion wore a tunic with sleeves that split at his elbow then opened and curved into a semblance of scorpion claws.

Scéadu was not very handsome not for possession of any inherent traits that could be found ugly but because his features could more easily be described as delicate and he disrupted that harmony. His attempts to make himself look more intimidating only made it all the more apparent, more grim than powerful.

Actively attempting to make oneself appear fearsome proved there was less to fear than meets the eye like a moth pretending to be the eyes of a great predator.

Scéadu entertained himself with his latest project as he carved a large ruby. He wore a pair of clawed, silver gauntlets, his every finger tipped with a diamond born from the ashes of his enemies. With his tools, he cut facets into the gem.

When he straightened his fingers, he could pull on the claws to draw out diamond encrusted strings to cut larger pieces off while the claws remained primarily to for carving in fine detail.

The project was not quite finished. What had been shaped appeared to be a crowd of long thin ovals that curved inward towards the base, the shapes were arranged into circles comprised of six each. From the center of each circle sprouted five threadlike growths that all ran straight before sloping upwards. At the tip of each were tiny round dots. Malniza could recognize the makings of a spider lily.

Scéadu had been a regular visitor the last several days. The king called for him and granted him information. Only four people knew of the nature of the information, coordinates, or rather a basis for coordinates, nothing so precise as much as a direction. The four would be the king, Malniza himself, Scéadu, and Ceronus unless the king saw fit to inform his assassins as well.

Perhaps the king could have told Ruhin or Saiko. Those two and Elda were the only three assassins still in Raven’s Hold but the king had not let Elda into the throneroom and Elda was not the type to sneak her way in.

A scouting party had been deployed shortly after Ordelas was initially injured. The king gained some information for his efforts at the assembly and now it seemed the scouts were approaching their destination.

A stigma surrounded Scéadu and his forces. They were known as the least of the forces loyal to Ordelas. Lowly enough that Vernigen once tried to kill their commander and faced no repercussions. The champion’s accusation that Scéadu was only tolerated because he was the nephew of Ceronus was hopefully less than true.

The Shadow’s Legion was a necessary dishonor. Malniza reinforced them for a time in the Tunnel Wars and Scéadu with his greater experience and knowledge of the underground proved sufficient to lead most operations against the dwarves.

Dwarves possessed a tradition of warfare both older than Malniza’s own and inherently more complicated. From the conception of their civilization, they understood one do could battle from above and below. No other society possessed such an advanced comprehension of warfare until recent times. Malniza’s own people learned many of their enemy’s ways and sought further realms to do battle in. If their commander, Odlig, proved successful, war would be fought as often above as it was below.

Unfortunately, the Shadow’s Legion evolved to involve non-combatants in how they waged war. They targeted civilian outposts to force the enemy to decide between protecting their non-combatants or meeting the Dark Elves on the battlefield.

However, there was a fine line between fear and rage, especially with dwarves.

It would be just those two in the room at the time. When Malniza left his post, at least two of his subordinates would take his place. Malniza’s preference would have been for there to be six members of the Honor Guard within immediate reach of his liege at all times but his king found such conditions stifling. The Honor Guard were not to enter the throneroom unless called for, that included Malniza himself. The sound of footsteps reached Malniza’s ears. The gentle steps would have been unheard to nonelven ears but to one who keened his senses to such disturbances, it was clear as thunder. Someone was making their way up the stairway to them. He already had a guess as to who. If his Honor Guard were approaching he would have heard the echo of two footfalls no matter how well synced they were.

Malniza hailed his comrade, Odlig, as the other commander turned the corner. The Odlig made his way to the doorway before the two exchanged salutes, placing their fists over their hearts. Scéadu moved his trinket to one hand to join in the greeting.

Odlig and Malniza both possessed black hair and a pallid complexion, as was common among their kind though Odlig kept his shoulder length as was the norm while Malniza cut his shorter than most just above the nape of his neck. Most outsiders identified Dark Elves by their pale skin and usually dark hair. Black hair followed by brown was the predominant trait among them but there were also many that possessed red as well. Malniza was blessed with silver eyes while Odlig’s were brown like Scéadu.

Nothing of Odlig from his build to his gait suggested anything predatory. He lacked lupine facial features or pronounced canines. Unlike Malniza who was garbed in plate, Odlig wore a mix of red scale and chainmail. The individual links were reminiscent of teeth and by his side was a crimson blade. Both were covered from neck to feet in black leather to protect the few areas their armor left exposed. It was typical Dark Elven fashion to consider excessive ornamentation to be in poor taste except among sorcerers and artisans. Function was preferable to form in combat.

Malniza was the leaner of the two while Odlig had a balanced form from centuries of exercises to maintain the optimum physique. Odlig was stronger than Malniza but the master of the guard was still faster. The commander of the Undying tracked his muscle mass, maintaining it at the point just before it would cost him his agility while Malniza spent most of his time standing guard and possessed a figure born primarily from sparring.

One of the few oddities to Malniza’s fashion were his boots. They were weighted, the soles and the exterior far thicker than necessary. Many would struggle to walk in such gear, the weaker might not even be able to move in them but he regularly ran in them with no adverse effect. The bodyguard valued his ability to come to his lord’s side at a moment’s notice so he prioritized his speed.

Malniza still wore his old armor and ring from when he first joined the Honor Guard, trading only his golden cloak for his cape. The king detested gold. The Honor Guard’s rings and garb reminded each member how their lord wished for their duty to be unnecessary. It was a relief to Malniza when he discarded his mantle though he could never willingly part from his ring.

There was a distinct scar on his chestplate still noticeable in the white metal where it had been pierced but the black edging was still well maintained. The black pattern of the six wings that should have been on his chest plate had been removed shortly after the elf rescued his king. This was no slight against him, the king claiming he could see the mark of loyalty in Malniza’s heart and all others could see it in his eyes. The commander required no such sigil for his position to be recognized.

As for how the commanders were known, the original four commanders were marked by their rings. Each of which consisted of a silver band clutching a black gem. Within each gem was etched the animal they were associated with, Odlig’s contained a raven and Scéadu a scorpion. Malniza’s ring housed a crimson crystal grown from the king’s own blood. When he became a commander, Ordelas placed the image of a dragon within it.

The regiments and the Honor Guard used two of the three sacred colors in their uniforms, a primary and secondary. The Malniza no longer bore the iconography of the six white wings against black that his Honor Guard did. The Shadow’s Legion by coincidence or design were the opposite of the king’s bodyguards, their symbol being a black scorpion.

The heraldry of Malniza’s Honorbound was a crimson dragon against a nightsky while Odlig’s was a raven flying through a red sky. Strangely, they shared a similar reversal in their choice of armaments. At Malniza’s side rested his one-handed blade, Raven’s Talon, which had been awarded to him as the ultimate sign of the king’s approval. The hilt appeared ornamental, a raven with its wings spread wide to serve as a crossguard and jeweled red eyes, but it was perfectly balanced.

Raven’s Talon’s counterpart was Odlig’s Bloodfang. Odlig forged it for himself in response to Malniza receiving his gift from the king. Odlig was the Raven and Malniza received his talon so Odlig made for himself a dragon’s fang. It was an act of pettiness but Odlig had over a millennium to outlive his moment of recklessness.

Odlig and Sceadu flinched as a roar reached them from above. Malniza for his part strained against the impulse to respond to the yell, to rush to their lord’s side. The shout echoed its wordlessly intense rage. Odlig remained the most composed as Malniza failed to conceal his gritting teeth. The commander of the Undying turning his head to look up at the stairway they were to venture into and frowned. The noise was shortlived and silence followed after it. The commanders had no words to share over the matter.

Ordelas could defend himself but he was a troubled sleeper. It was something those that dwelled in the palace had to accept and his screaming did not warrant the attention such outbursts should have. Cernous should have been in the room with him so it was more likely the adviser had brought him unpleasant news.

In the last few months, Ordelas’s sleeping habits had worsened. He could spend years without night terrors but recently they seemed to occur whenever the king dared to close his eyes. The king had locked himself in the throneroom and had not returned to his bed in what one would measure to be a month much to his servants’ frustration and dread.

Ordelas was at times unpredictable but he was particularly erratic at this time, being far more sour and bitter towards those he would normally be at worst indifferent towards. His lack of sleep made his time awake more volatile. The only time he had been consistently worse was when he returned from his prison only to confirm Vernigen’s fate. The king might have murdered all present if his sadness did not win over his anger during that key moment. Still, he remained hostile for a surprisingly short time and was still bitter even three hundred years after his release.

Ordelas had swallowed his pride and allowed there to be peace for eight hundred years but even elves had limits to their patience. He rushed his search with a spell that scoured the minds of others. However, Ordelas’s spell lacked subtlety and the king was challenged to a duel for the outrage that inspired.

Malniza was there when his king was recently injured and to his shame, there was much he could have done to protect his lord. Unlike during the Great War, Malniza was present for his king’s time of need and stole him away once it became clear to him that Ordelas had lost.

He was not there when Ordelas was captured over eight hundred years ago. He was away fighting a battle. He was also not there when everything started. That he failed to be there in his lord’s time of need multiple times plagued him. The world would be a better place if he served his duty as he should have abd the war would have him be away from home, away from his currently sleepless lord.

The wounds Ordelas received were of his own making. The Dark Elf’s opponent, Malendar, had been notably resistant to the Dark Elf’s spellcraft. Anger requires an outlet, upon being partially warded by Malendar’s resolve, the remaining backlash struck Ordelas. Even as the physical damage disappeared as it should have, the spiritual damage of being harmed by one’s own art lingered. As a warrior, the closest Malniza could come to understanding the sorcerous matter would be if he was brought low by his own trusted blade. It would not be surprising if it took the king years to recover.

Even if he was the one that brought the pain about, Ordelas’s spirit required a salve and called out for the death of the one he failed to kill. His people were ready to answer. It was their honor and Tarica had been granted it.

Odlig returned his attention to Malniza. “He must have spoke of Vernigen,” Odlig concluded, referring to the advisor. “He likely asked what we were to do since he can not lead. It was something someone needed to say. It is especially bold for him to be the one to say that name.”

“You did not bring that to our lord’s attention?” Malniza asked as he glanced at the small stone pedestal that stood against the side of the wall to resemble a shrine. On top of it rested a box of semitransparent red jade. For a moment, he was tempted to bring its contents to his lord. It rested at the western edge of the room to correspond with the Wolf’s own tower adjacent outside.

Malniza was the protector of Vernigen’s ring. He kept it out of his king’s sight but within easy reach so it might be ready if Ordelas ever demanded to see it. Never once did Ordelas request its presence yet the commander knew his king would certainly notice its absence if it was ever taken too far from him.

It was a mere piece of jewelry. There were enchantments on it from both the king and Kírous but the champion’s spirit did not dwell in it. Yet somehow it felt like the last vestige of the fallen commander, evidence that he once carried himself with dignity. Ordelas was in more need of it than Vernigen.

“Of course not,” answered Odlig. “We do not need him to fight, we can let him rest.”

Malniza silently disagreed. Vernigen would have wanted to join them even now. Odlig knew that as well. The champion had lived to fight. He barely needed a cause, let alone Ordelas’s grand ambition to guide him.

Vernigen was the original leader of the commanders before passing the responsibility to Odlig. The title was truly more akin to being a first among equals the way all five fingers were needed to complete a hand. Malniza now held that position from when Ordelas gave it to him.

What Ordelas desired was destruction, nothing else. What came after did not matter. He promised to pass the result of the destruction to those that served him. The king’s campaign would bring about a pure world, not for himself but everyone else’s sake. His subjects knew this and offered their all to him in exchange for his sacrifice.

Unlike the elusive gods others might worship, Ordelas was present in his people’s lives. If they ever found their faith wanting, they only had to look up and witness the Veil. It was their king that shielded them from the harsh rays of the sun yet allowed starlight passage through. If Ordelas was not a god then he was certainly the most powerful sorcerer of his time to maintain such a massive and complex spell without falter.

Their king was the foundation of their faith. Even if he himself was prone to being unstable, he provided solidarity and unity through his existence and the One Dream.

It was the One Dream that compelled Malniza and Odlig forward. Between the two, there was little malice towards their enemies. Unfortunately, their king demanded destruction and there was no denying his will. They themselves understood Ordelas in a way that only those close to him could and understood their king’s intentions.

Ordelas did indeed possess hate but it was a pure hatred. It did not discriminate beyond those that personally raised his ire. Ordelas hated the world as a whole. Ordelas might have killed his own elves if he had not been bound by duty before discovering his rage. It had long ago been acknowledged by his commanders when the world was stripped of all resistance, Ordelas might indeed need to sacrifice them to complete their great work. That was the mercy their king could afford them. This led some like Scéadu to not look forward to the day they succeeded.

Outsiders proclaimed their ideals as madness but madness would be allowing the world to continue as it was. It was better to destroy it entirely than to allow it the opportunity to revert back after working so hard to improve it. Let it all turn to ash, only then would everything be peaceful and pure. Such a future was what everyone’s heart deeply craved yet their world chose to forever scorn them and rot just beyond the reach of oblivion.

Ordelas promised his people freedom. They could leave ahead of him but who could abandon the kind soul that strove for their liberation? They joined his pilgrimage to the beyond of their own will. If he so wished, he could will himself to die but he stayed for their sake and the Dark Elves loved him for that.

Ordelas’s will was that of his people’s and the will of the Dark Elves was that of their king’s. They needed no other master and he could not ask for more loyal souls. The king and nation were each other’s origin. They were one.

That was why the Dark Elves often garbed themselves in the colors of death. The three sacred colors encapsulated what they valued most. White for destruction, red for passion, and black stood for unity.

Desperate for a new subject so they might forget what they heard, Odlig pointed to the forming gem flower in Scéadu’s hands. “Who is that for?”

“An artist does not require a commission to create,” Scéadu scorned, continuing his work.

“Is it for Kyndri?” Malniza joined them.

The carving ceased. Scéadu bared his teeth. “That was a fluke.”

“It seemed something she would appreciate,” Malniza stated offhandedly.

Kyndri was the second in command of the Shadow’s Legion and leader of their most capable unit. She also happened to be Scéadu’s sister.

Odlig placed his hands behind his back. He made his expression and tone neutral. “Why, may I ask, would you understand what Kyndri might prefer? I do not recall hearing of the Honorbound and Shadow’s Legion having joint drills in centuries.”

The Malniza’s Honorbound primarily exercised with the Undying but even those two forces could spend years without interaction. They tried to practice together at least once a decade to maintain the fellowship formed during the Great War. The two forces had resumed performing drills together once every five days ever since their lord returned injured in anticipation of the inevitable. Malniza trusted his most reliable logistics officer to lead the exercises in his absence.

“We spoke several times,” Malniza stated.

Malniza met with Kyndri privately several times. She wished to know more about one famed as their kingdom’s greatest warrior. She was an artist like her brother but that was secondary to her. She was complex, an administrator, a squad leader, a ritual duelist, and more.

Their ideals did not correspond well. He enjoyed her company more than her sibling but there were familiar aspects he recognized that might have been inherent to Scéadu’s family, though she certainly lacked anything that could be called “cowardice.” What he and she could at least speak of with shared interest was music but it would be strange if two elves could not discuss such a subject.

That Kyndri was allegedly the most beautiful of all Dark Elves may have been a rumor propagated by the Shadow’s Legion but there was credence to such claims. An army led by an artist would have an eye for such things.

Her long, light brown hair paired with eyes of a wooden hue to compliment pale, nearly transparent skin that seemed to have never met the sun. Her small face possessed smooth features, less sharp than most warriors.

Even he could see how she was a muse. The Shadow Legionnaires' standards for perfection might have been affected by her very presence.

“Think nothing of it,” Scéadu dismissed. “She prefers those younger than herself for company.”

“I believe that is true,” Malniza affirmed. She was pleasant to be around at first but there was little kindness in her eyes.

Odlig exhaled. “That is a relief,” he whispered.

Everyone in the room heard him. Secrets did not thrive in the palace walls. What few there were had to remain unspoken. Elven ears could hear the faintest whispers and there were Honor Guard at every floor. The only place they did not freely enter were the four towers belonging to the commanders.

The only other location safe from the Honor Guard’s ears was Ordelas’s immediate presence. That way, the king could ramble or rave as he pleased if caught in a bout of madness. Unfortunately, Ordelas occasionally shouted loud enough for all in the palace to hear during such episodes.

Scéadu flexed his fingers and put the gem in some hidden pocket in his sleeve. “Do you find something wrong with her?”

“I know her little enough to judge her for any fault of her own,” Odlig’s voice slowly rose. “But if there is any apparent flaw, it is that she shares blood with you.”

Scéadu stepped towards Odlig. Odlig remained where he was but lowered his hands to his sides. The air grew tense as they stared at each other. The leader of the Undying’s posture spoke of no hostility but that meant nothing to a swordmaster, he could likely draw his blade before his fellow commander could take another step.

Instead, Malniza stepped between them. He doubted the two would resort to violence but for immortals, grudges accumulated. This exchange would be remembered for centuries to come and did every slight, miscommunication, and failed expectation was.

“He only jests,” Malniza declared. He looked Odlig in the eyes. “That was only a jive, correct?”

Odlig met his gaze and for a moment remained silent. Malniza silently asked him not to make the leader of the Honor Guard a liar.

Odlig turned his head for a moment in surrender. “Correct.” The commander of the Undying looked to Scéadu and bowed his head. “I went too far. Thank you for your understanding, Scéadu.”

Scéadu exhaled from his nose. To Dark Elves, it was better to thank another than to apologize. To apologize disregarded the efforts of those that acknowledged, endured, or corrected another’s mistake. It was also the height of bad etiquette to contest a sign of gratitude.

“You are welcome,” Scéadu begrudged.

The air slowly cleared. Malniza and Odlig conversed but Scéadu did not return to his work, retreating into silent thought. He traced a few outlines in the air with his fingers, perhaps deciding his next designs.

A pair of Honor Guard came down to join them. “Our lord is ready for you,” one informed them. Scéadu puts his gloves on the hooks but Malniza and Odlig kept their weapons as they made their way up the stairs.

***

The king was fully garbed. An obsidian crown rested upon his head like a black halo and a silver scepter laid over his lap. The throne he sat upon gave the image that many silver wings stretched from his back.

The throne room was no stranger to supplicants but during such meetings only the king, his commanders, members of the Honor Guard, Ceronus, and two of the king’s assassins were allowed in. Not even the commanders were allowed aides and the two assassins were selected at random from those available, one to serve as coordinator of potential missions and representative of the king’s rangers while the other acted as a messenger to rest of their sisterhood if the unique services of a particular one proved necessary. Selected as coordinator was Saiko and Ruhin spoke for the rangers.

The rangers served under no particular commander and unlike the navy that was shared between them, the rangers were treated as under the command of the king. Unfortunately, the king rarely gave them instructions so they often acted independently or under the guidance of his assassins but were often cooperative with commanders. After the Great War, Ordelas decreed that in the state of an emergency, a selected commander would have authority to direct them. The commander chosen for that role changed with war plans but it most frequently proved to be Odlig.

A new addition to their company was the king’s new pet. The commanders were able to convince their lord to have the drake taken outside for the proceedings for the previous gathering but the king’s mood was already dower as it was.

When Bloodwing, as Ordelas named him, had hatched, he looked like a diminutive dragon, but later he grew at a startling rate. Even when the drake was on all fours, Bloodwing reached the curve of his master’s calf and would soon stand at the height of Ordelas’s knees if it continued. It grew too heavy to stand on its back legs alone as it did on the day it was born.

Even though the drake’s scales were black, they glistered in the faintest light. The transparent skin between the drake’s wings was blood red, as its name suggested. Its chest and back were so muscular that the creature’s head appeared to sit on its shoulders without need of a visible neck, its neck not stretching with the rest of its body.

The Honor Guard ordinarily answered only to Malniza and the king. There was an unspoken understanding that soldiers of a certain commander’s regiment might have to obey instruction from another commander under certain circumstances but it was regarded as taboo for a commander to give a direct order to another’s soldiers without the other’s permission. There was no such leniency with the Honor Guard. They had the authority to bar the path of any individual other than Malniza and the king’s assassins when there was not an exercise and even that small number could lose their exemption if the king demanded it.

All resources were brought in by the Honor Guard. If resources had to be retrieved by members of a commander’s regiment, the soldiers would have to stop at Malniza’s floor and the Honor Guard would carry the supplies the rest of the way. All witness testimonies were recorded in the palace by the king’s body guards and read out in the throneroom. The witnesses would be given their own room to wait to see if there was further information required of them which would once again be recorded.

The commanders had the right to present their own reports but any information not directly connected to any commander or their operations was to be presented by a member of the Honor Guard.

The Honor Guard responded to no prompt from any commander. Under ordinary circumstances, they would obey Malniza but his authority over them was suspended during the meeting so no one commander could guide the direction of discussion.

The Honor Guard only responded to Ordelas who spoke through Ceronusfor the time. For a resource to be made available, for example a map, the commanders would have to direct the request to the king who then had Ceronus direct the Honor Guard. Fortunately, for the sake of avoiding too many unnecessary steps, Ordelas placed a standing order that the Honor Guard repeat any information already presented if a commander asked for it so the commanders did not have to disturb their king for that common request.

The protocols were the product of elven patience. The number of steps involved made the process slow but also gave those involved time to contemplate.

The Dark Elves preferred to not think of themselves as paranoid especially towards each other. Malniza felt confident he could disclose military secrets to a random citizen and not a word would leave the kingdom. However, the people had grown accustomed to vigilance and reacted fiercely to the few rumors that might circulate. Omens of war would see forges come to life and towns request the attention of regiments so members of their militias might have an opportunity to serve under a commander. The enemy would notice such movements.

Odlig once did a survey and concluded that Malniza’s own Honorbound were the worst offenders of such behavior. Their lack of established hierarchy often meant if one learned a secret, all the others were obliged to it compared to a regiment that had ranks and distinct divisions. Kírous’s Purifiers were the best at remaining quiet, at least within the their inner circle, their own forces sometimes even abstaining from communicating with each other entirely.

The commanders began by establishing what forces they each could call upon. Previously, Scéadu had hundreds of troops in unspecified locations, toiling in their missions in foreign lands. None of them had been withdrawn from their tasks since then. The Shadow’s Legion were missing a score more due to Scéadu deploying more due to Ordelas’s instructions.

Malniza still had close to a handful missing. He was able to call back a majority of his Honorbound but a hunting party in Deassala, the land to the south was yet to return. Not a single one of Odlig’s thousands of Undying remained unaccounted for. The whereabouts of a majority of Kírous’s Purifiers had to be based on hearsay.

The Dark Elven army was divided into four regiments. Each was capable of being an army onto itself. There were once five but it returned to four as it was in the beginning.

Finally, fifty Honor Guard were offered for the war effort by the king himself. The Honor Guard member betrayed no emotion as he read out the words.

“Is this an offer or an order?” Malniza asked

“An offer,” Ceronus stated after the king muttered into his ear.

“Offer dismissed,” both Odlig and Malniza voiced as one. They looked to each other and tried not to share smiles for their moment of harmony.

But that moment quickly passed. “Explain,” Ordelas ordered, his voice a low suppressed growl, breaking convention.

Malniza rested on one knee and pressed his knuckles against the floor. He lowered his head. “We mean no disrespect, my lord. However, we can not risk having a single Honor Guard away from Raven’s Hold while we are all away in foreign lands.”

Odlig mimicked his fellow commander. Scéadu remained standing, as he had nothing to answer for. “It is possible for two nations to have their armies pass each other and have both nations besieged,” Odlig described. “In such a race, we would undoubtedly win but at what cost if our greatest garrison units happened to not be at their posts?”

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There was little difference between strategist and tactician in their language. The two concepts converged when Odlig was recognized as the best of both ideals.

“In a defensive battle, every soul counts all the more. Fifty behind a barricade has greater value than fifty in front of it,” Odlig continued. “Perhaps if we had berserkers who were quick to jump into the fray of battle minding our battlements I would speak differently.”

The commanders let silence reign for a response. That Ordelas expressed no satisfaction or told them to cease meant that they were to continue.

“Malniza,” Odlig addressed. “Do you have fifty among your Honor Guard that would leave a greater impact on the battlefield as attackers rather than defenders?”

“Fifty?” Malniza silently counted such souls. “No, not fifty.”

“Then we should keep our most valued warriors where they are most suited. Battles are won through strength and swiftness but wars are won through discipline and order. It does not matter how many warriors one has or how great each one is if they are not concentrated in the correct locations.”

The original Honor Guard were veterans that by either fate or coincidence served under all four of the original commanders. That was before they became Dark Elves and the validity of the force renamed the Purifiers came into question and commanders grew more jealous of their soldiers. Malniza of course was an exception, having only served Vernigen.

Before the Honor Guard ever formed, Vernigen and his warriors served as their lord’s protectors and Malniza was simply transferred into the newborn Honor Guard.

The Honorbound inherited an aspect of that tradition.

As the Dark Elven armies grew, so did the number of the Honor Guard. The qualifications had to be adjusted and it was settled there would be one member of the Honor Guard for at least every hundred soldiers in the regiments. As leader of both the Honor Guard and Honorbound, he would expect the Honor Guard

“That is enough,” Ceronus relieved them. “You may stand.”

The two rose to their feet and more information was provided. The Honor Guard counted the ships prepared, listed the number of those in the auxiliary force prepared for deployment, and provided many other relevant details such the enemy’s anticipated deployment. With their own assets established, the three discussed their formerly decided course of action. All had been informed personally by the king of what he knew of Tarica’s failure. The king would not have it announced aloud by the Honor Guard.

“As our lord demanded,” Odlig reviewed. “We were to strike upon news of the assassin’s success. All four of us would lead our forces against our kin as one. As for who is to attack those in the forest and ocean when the time came, that was to be decided amongst ourselves.”

The king was willing to let his commanders do as they pleased as long as his enemies were crushed. Until then, it had been Ordelas who advocated patience but he had been unwell as of late. He had been recently wounded and the memory of that pain fed his anger.

“Kìrous never left his home to discuss his part did he not?” Scéadu wondered aloud. “Or did he speak with you without me.”

Malniza held back a twitch of his lips. “You were not absent from any gathering Kírous chose to attend,” was the politest he could phrase it. That Kírous refused invitations three times in succession in the last decade troubled him. The next time, he would have to retrieve the elder himself.

“We were to attack immediately,” Malniza remembered somberly. “Without warning. Without any declaration beyond that of her mission’s success.” Perhaps by repeating it his comrades would realize how horrendous the act was.

“It was for our benefit,” rationalized Odlig, knowing what was truly troubling his ally. They had worked together for a millennium and a half. “An enemy that is in turmoil is weak.”

Everyone knew Malniza found such tactics deplorable, yet he never openly disagreed with Ordelas. He was not one to approve of any assassination, even of the most appalling enemy, let alone someone of great repute, like the Malendar who was to die.

Malniza held his tongue whenever his king’s commands were involved. He would occasionally point out matters that concerned him, but he never once slighted his lord. However, his lord had not spoken. This was his opportunity to remind his lord of their pride as elves.

“Yes, I understand, but I am a traditionalist when it comes to warfare,” defended Malniza. The Dark Elves could not afford to fight in fair combat as Malniza wished, and all knew it. There was no doubt that they possessed the greatest warriors in history, but their nation was trapped between the opposition of the dwarves, orcs, and their own kindred. Even without counting the humans across the ocean, they were gravely outnumbered. Any spark they tried to light would inevitably lead them to war with the entire world because of their geographic position.

Ordelas realized this truth as well and demeaned himself by actively participating in the affairs of other cultures. It was a sacrifice on his part for the sake of the Dark Elves’ survival. Their enemies were numerous, but worthy allies were hard to find. He agreed to peacefully meet with the other rulers and was forced to bide his time while he searched for something that would tilt the balance back in the Dark Elves’ favor.

There was little doubt that Odlig attempted to persuade their king from this new path. However, it was equally certain the strategist was already formulating a scheme to meet with his lord’s demands. Of the commanders, he was the one whose plans were most often accepted. Responsibility was divided among the commanders. Scéadu monitored the tunnels, Kírous oversaw sorcerous and religious affairs, Odlig maintained national defense, Malniza led the Honor Guard, and Vernigen was and always would be Ordelas’s champion.

“If we continue with this invasion, would we have permission to deploy the auxiliary force?” Malniza inquired. “We no longer have the element of surprise. The enemy will have greater defenses than we anticipated unless we move immediately.”

“I would recommend against the auxiliary force’s first offensive deployment to be against Light Elves,” Odlig advised. “They should be fit as an invasion force but I trained them with defense in mind as our king ordered. They should not be tested for their offensive capabilities against those that were our equals.”

Malniza nodded in acceptance and offered no questions. Odlig and the Undying had been placed in authority of the kingdom’s defenses. Instead of allowing his own regiment to grow bloated, the Undying as a whole were placed in command of a massive defensive force dubbed the auxiliary force. The auxiliary force was many times larger than any single regiment and were confusingly counted as both part of the Undying and not part of the Undying. To be a true member of the Undying suggested a personal connection to Odlig.

They technically did not count as Undying to avoid saying that Odlig had a force equal in numbers to all the other regiments combined but were treated as Undying by outsider.

The reserve members were trained well enough to fit specialized roles. Not generalized enough to be able to enact the complicated plans of Odlig but by spending centuries training for a role to equal in that singular capacity a true Undying member.

Light Elves had declined but were still a threat. In the Great War, a Dark Elf was expected to defeat a Light Elf in one-on-one combat but it would be hard fought. Compared to most other forces where a Dark Elven soldier would be expected to fight several such opponents at once, to say a Dark Elf would have to resort to fighting in near equal numbers was the highest compliment they could give a foe. There were more Light Elves than Dark Elves and Light Elves had more allies due to their more peaceful history. Those advantages had been counteracted by the Dark Elves’ use of dragons and sorcery. After the Great War, Odlig had been placed in authority to breed war beasts to meet similar purposes. His people also employed cauldronborn agents, having begun growing false members of other races once changlings proved unreliable.

“If we desire greater numbers,” Scéadu contributed. “Now might be the best opportunity to deploy your beasts, Odlig.”

Malniza frowned. He could not help but feel discomfort abd disgust at the subject.

Odlig took a moment to contemplate. “I do not disagree. Would you wish to direct them?”

Scéadu waved the offer away insistently. “Roaring beasts are not compatible with covert operations.”

“True. What of you Malniza?”

“I would rather not have animals fight my battles,” Malniza declared before bowing his head in gratitude. “But if you have something you believe can serve as a tool, then I will accept all you have to offer.”

“For you. I would offer riding beasts. You will undoubtedly value mobility and your maneuverability would be compromised trying to herd an army of creatures.”

That proved to lift some weight from Malniza’s shoulders. “Thank you. My brothers and sisters will find great use for such aid. However, if Scéadu and I are unfit to direct a horde, are your Undying able to balance fight alongside wild savagery and still maintain orderly ranks?”

“That would prove difficult,” Odlig confessed. “In truth, none of us should fight on the same battlefield as an untested force. The best suited for the task left among us would be Kírous but he is not here to accept or reject the offer. I recommend the warbeasts be led separately and be sent to secondary objectives to serve as distractions while we focus on key points. Whether they succeed or not, we would still win. And once we have reports of their efficiency, we can reevaluate their deployment.”

“Agreed,” Malniza declared. He needed no further persuasion. If they tried to force the duty upon Kírous, they might find him uncooperative. It was best to it make any decisions regarding the Purifiers. Not even the king gave direct orders out of regard for the eldest among them all.

“Agreed,” joined Scéadu.

“The best for such a mission would be you, Scéadu,” Odlig stated. “You could scout for armed outposts and the beasts would be led there. You would simply need to observe.”

“How will we progress if the beasts all die or fail?” Scéadu inquired.

“We will learn we are wasting resources and effort feeding and training those creatures. If they fail, then we can disband the project and seek alternatives.”

It was strange to hope for failure but for a moment Malniza’s thoughts turned Odlig being liberated from the role of beastmaster. The prospect of begetting monsters to extinguish nobler souls troubled him.

“But once my observations are complete and their capabilities tested, we would redeploy them?”

“Correct.”

“Good. I was hoping to take to the seas if the Marine Elves join. I imagine those that travel by hoof and claw would prove unsuited for waters.”

Scéadu possessed naval experience. Malniza would trust him with the position more than himself though he would prefer Odlig protected the waters. Naval combat was its own unique theatre. It was slow compared to the chaos of melee, relying on currents and winds rather than one’s own feet.

Few could be expected to outmaneuver Marine Elves on the water. None of the commanders could reliably win against them without relying on the arcane nature of their ships or the other unique resources available to them such as sorcery, flying beasts, or other tricks.

But truly, Scéadu only had two options if all their westward kin rallied against them, Malendar or Satros. They could not expect Scéadu to attack Florena’s forest. Hopefully, there would be no need to engage the forest at that time.

“With Marine Elves in mind. I believe we should take the reports of advances in skycrafts as accurate and make alterations to accommodate enemies from above,” Odlig advised.

“I believe that justifies my proposal to immediately besiege the capital,” Scéadu explained. “Constrict forms of communication and burn the city to the ground before anyone can respond to calls for help.”

“What do you propose if help arrives before we are complete or intercept us on our way home?”

“We implement our airborne forces. Your substitutions for griffins prove effective, correct.”

“They are supposed to be secret,” Odlig replied dejectedly. “They require our lord’s direct orders to unveil.”

Malniza knew the pride Odlig took in that particular plan of his. He turned away from the other commanders and kneeled to the throne. “My lord, would you grant us permission to deploy our winged steads.”

“No, the king wishes for his vengeance to be swift,” Ceronus answered after hearing Ordelas’s response. “There is little reason to reveal a secret to the world for an enemy that we will not bring our full potential against.”

“Understood, my lord,” Malniza accepted before rising to speak with the others. “If we can trust Kìrous follow along our path, I believe he would be able to remove them from the sky. But… I think we should rely on our own forces. I recommend we all have basic drills to refresh our soldiers' memories for eliminating aircrafts.”

Odlig nodded. “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” Scéadu decided.

“If we have decided what we will bring. What route should we risk?” Malniza pressed the discussion forward.

“We can not take the pass anymore in a straightforward assault,” Odlig stated. “They will be expecting us. We could send an naval force and deploy in the north and capture the pass from behind so our other forces can march through unharmed.”

They could take the pass as they formerly planned but no one moved to correct him. It would have been too petty and self-destructive to argue against him for that fact. There was a valley at the border between Light and Dark Elven lands that sloped in such a way that either defending side held the high ground. Two downward inclines met in the middle and proved to mutually benefit both nations and locked them into a stalemate lest the attacker be easily found at a disadvantage.

“My Honorbound can accomplish that task,” Malniza proclaimed.

“You were who I would recommend,” Odlig concurred.

“If we are already employing our navy, why not make our initial attack a siege upon the capital?” Scéadu considered.

“Because it is in the heart of their territory like Raven’s Hold,” Odlig explained. “We can not deploy in the middle and not expect to be trapped between the walls of the capital and reinforcements. We could land as far as the western edges of the realm and eliminate any military units between us and the capital so we do not have to fear reinforcements arising behind us.”

“But our supply lines would be strained if we chose to come from the west,” Scéadu assessed.

“Correct.”

Supply lines did not mean much for elves. They could subsist from the land but their campaign was to leave only salted earth and rubble behind. These were one of their greatest enemies. If the war grew prolonged, they might find themselves hungry.

Matters were all the more complicated because they intended to strike before winter during harvest season. They had some left time to decide. If not, they hopefully persuade Ordelas to wait another year. The enemy would be more prepared but so would they and fortifying the pass would mean little if they struck from the shore. The concern would be if the Marine Elves became involved.

Winter cursed all equally but it favored the prepared. They would attack during harvest season, interrupting the yield of crops could lead to many hungry during a long winter. While the Dark Kingdom completed its own harvest and was prepared for any counterattacks,

Days passed as they delved into greater detail. The king refused to close his eyes so all remained awake, stopping only for meals and to pardon themselves for basic hygiene. Malniza saw Ordelas put away his food while Ceronus watched over the proceedings. They made further propositions, rejecting and accepting them as deemed appropriate as they selected targets and paths.

Eventually, the subject of the siege of the capital itself was reached. Malniza wished for open battle but Odlig and Scéadu disagreed.

“It is what Vernigen would have wanted,” Malniza speaking for the one that could no longer speak for himself. “We are bearing our four forces against our rivals. We can not defeat them with petty tricks, not if they are our sole focus. What will that say of that we could not defeat our opponents in honest combat.”

“Vernigen is not here with us anymore,” Scéadu made the mistake of saying. Odlig failed to conceal a glare. “Do not think you have the right on his say on such matters. His thoughts on this no longer have value-” He bit his tongue. The aroma of blood spoke of how his comrade’s sharpened teeth cut into it.

The air grew heavy. From his strained expression, Scéadu appeared to be at the epicenter of it all but even Malniza felt the immense pressure all around him. Scéadu’s knees bent slightly and he bowed awkwardly. The sensation of a great burden rested upon his shoulders.

That was the weight of pure bloodthirst. The air itself was thick with it, pushing out the air. One could choke in it.

The king covered his face with one of his hands as if to shield those gather before him from his sight but a glowing red eye glared out from between his fingers. “What did you say about Vernigen?” he asked menacingly.

Scéadu dropped to his knees. “I did not complete my thought, my lord,” he apologized. “His thoughts do not have value here because he is not here to voice it, sane as Kírous.”

The king’s eyes lost their ominous light and he returned to them. “Vernigen will return to us,” he stated sadly as if to reassure himself.

None dared to deny him or risk lying to him and said nothing. The king accepted their silence as affirmation.

The weight lifted but a taint of murderous intent lingered, scratching at Malniza skull. He turned his gaze from the king to the one beside him. Odlig’s eyes were fixated not on their lord but Ceronus with raw hostility radiating from them.

They carried on with a renewed sense of caution that stayed with them as they completed the plans. They then turned their attention to other threats those that might somehow contribute, the dwarves, orcs, and humans.

They needed to discuss human lands more often than any other potential threat. The dwarves, orcs, and fellow elves remained relatively stable. Orcs migrated and dwarves fought the rare civil war but trying to track the politics of humans was like watching sands dance in the wind.

They reviewed a world map. The words upon it were in the human tongue. A single large continent rested on the east and two dwelled in the west with a wide ocean between them. Most maps portrayed Occidtir on the eastern side of the world. Elves that traveled such routes rarely required maps so it was humans and dwarves that circulated such papers.

Not that it mattered as the world was round but elves insisted to refer to Occidtir as the West and even dwarves usually named it such in their official records. Though merchants of the dwarves often called it the East as that was the direction their trade routes followed. Not only was it the straightest route but it allowed them to avoid crossing Dark Elven territory.

Occidtir was comprised of a single large curving mass with pieces broken off in the north eastern side where seas filled in the gaps between. Another large island, almost a continent in itself laid nearby on its eastern side to threaten trade routes.

Ushua, where elves lived was a simple long narrow strip in comparison. Deassala beneath them was referred to the broken continent, comprised of three pieces, a fragment drifted in the northwest and a quarter of it in the south was broken off.

“The alliances’ borders do not look much different from how they were a few decades ago,” Malniza commented as he evaluated Occidtir.

A few names were no longer there, subsumed into their neighbors and he did not recognize others. Humans, unlike elves, gave their nations names. Elves gave regions names but rarely granted a name to their cities and villages. Raven’s Hold was the name the capital inherited from when it was the site of a battle.

Light Elves and Marine Elves were beginning to adopt the custom as to not confuse outsiders. From what little intelligence that could be gained of the Forest Elves, they still referred to most locations as the forest as a whole.

The three great alliances were defined by geographic features. The names sometimes changed, for the sake of simplicity Malniza thought of them as the East, West, and South alliances. An abnormality being the east and west maintaining a hold in the north in spite of a range of mountains running from east to west crowning the north. The south was kept distant from east by the sea and those from the west would have to cross mountains and deserts. There were at least several independent nations left. Scéadu proved the best at assessing the borders. He remembered every previous iteration of such maps and could list out their receding and growth.

“Three is a very stable number,” Odlig evaluated. “It can be seen through those of us gathered today and our opposing kin. If Malniza and I were to disagree and it was only us, we would have to argue continuously to reach a decision point but with a third person, the balance can be tilted.”

As much as it troubled Malniza, it was indeed easier to reach decisions with only Scéadu and Odlig to consider. He would have likely sided with Vernigen’s choices, if the champion was there then there might have been a stalemate and Kírous would be difficult to determine.

Malniza took a moment to imagine he was a human. Someone who valued wealth at all costs. Why would a number stop them from continuing their history of strife? “With three alliances one could not fight the other without risking the third power becoming involved when both sides are exhausted,” he assessed. “Am I correct? Such paradigms existed before.”

Also, there was the concern of inhuman foes to keep humans united at least in regards to any coming invasions. There was a pact dating approximately a thousand years where the first High King of humanity and the many nobilities swore to defend against all outside threats. However, humanity lacked the tendency to keep promises.

It appeared the alliances maintained cohesion through trade as well as force. An independent nation could be potentially starved of resources by their neighbors if they lacked the proper assets.

“Your observation is not unfounded,” Odlig confirmed. “The most likely scenario would be two sides allying together to eliminate the third and split the spoils. That would work in our favor as then there would two remaining powers resulting in tension. The two powers would then begin to fragment. But currently they are unlikely to battle with the goal of elimination.”

“Because of their black boxes,” Malniza recalled.

Black boxes were weapons created by humans to kill humans. The closest Malniza could reach to understanding that mindset was accepting the creation of poisons that might affect Light Elves. A sword cut all even the user but forging a blade that only hurt elves would seem meaningless when there were also orcs and dwarves to consider.

Scéadu’s lips pressed together as if to seal themselves at the subject. It was no secret his scouts were involved in investigating the matter. He knelt to Ordelas. “Am I allowed to disclose my orders?”

“You may,” Ceronus answered.

Scéadu explained the progress his legion made. They learned how certain nations either claimed they never produced their own black boxes or destroyed them. Rumors would have such statements be accepted as lies. Others had them securely locked away and several if investigations proved true lost the containers. However, several locations were confirmed and the objects could be stolen at any time but awaited the opportune moment.

“Are you saying they lost track of such weapons after only two hundred years?” Malniza asked, incredulous.

“We lose track of our own soldiers,” Odlig compared. “If we are to be fair to them two hundred years is long enough for ten of their generations. Unfortunately, I believe it was only the plague that was two centuries ago. The black boxes were crafted afterward.”

“Our soldiers move of their own will,” Malniza countered. He understood the similarity but their elves were not objects to lose. He might have been offended if Scéadu said as much but Odlig was undoubtedly trying to not underestimate their foes rather than belittle his Undying. “But I understand.”

“What I wish to understand is our final intention. I see the objective is to gain access to the boxes but what is the goal?” Odlig asked Scéadu. “Are we to use them in later engagements?”

Scéadu smiled wickedly. “We are to arm the Corrupt with such weapons.”

“Ah, the Corrupt,” Malniza recognized.

The amount of support the Dark Elves provided those humans bordered on charity. The Corrupt were a society born of prisoners sent to the isle to the east of Occidtir or Exile’s Isle as the humans often called it. They took pride in their stigma called themselves by what their enemies claimed them to be.

Those people could undoubtedly survive on their own as they did before but Malniza’s king seemed inclined to send them materials. Those that accepted the gifts changed with the generations, some of those that were open regarding their benefactors might be targeted by other humans or make themselves enemies with their neighbors.

The force that caught the king’s ear was a gathering calling itself the Storm.

After fighting humans hired by dwarves and Marine Elves, Malniza had to acknowledge there were some good humans. Unfortunately, when those good people died, there was no guarantee their descendants would prove to have the same quality of character.

Scéadu summarized the plan. The Shadow Legionaires were to locate a black box that was accessible and acquire visual confirmation before recording the quality and dimensions. The Shadow’s Legion would then produce a counterfeit, switch the original with a counterfeit, possibly employing an assassin as support then bring the genuine one home to be recreated. Finally, the copies would be passed to the Corrupt. The first phase had to be completed within a decade or else the humans might relocate the devices.

“Must it be so complicated?” Malniza asked.

“It should not be simple either,” Scéadu scoffed. “Not unless we intend to steal it and let the humans doubt each other.”

“I would request the latter,” Malniza stated. “As you said, if it was simply gone, they might suspect each other rather than us but we leave traces with each additional step.”

“Indeed if one mistake was made, our involvement would be known,” Odlig agreed. “But if accomplished correctly, it would allow for the greatest number of options. We could steal it at anytime to instill paranoia but we could also leave a fake in their couthers for them to resort to only for them to realize that it had no effect. Though either choice could be connected to us once we distributed copies to the Corrupt. However, a fake could still be used as a deterrent if we did not inform our allies that the enemy’s was indeed false. However, there could be multiple others in our enemy’s possession and by chance will not use the false one. We would have to watch for developments.”

“In that case, one might as well raid every vault and armory and swap the real ones for counterfeits so our allies could invade without fear,” Malniza declared, knowing he proposed nonsense.

“That would require infiltrating every individual nation… But I see what you mean,” Scéadu pondered. “If we had centuries, we could accomplish that much. Even if you meant it as a jest, it is quite inspiring.”

“Yet we might want them to keep the boxes so they can turn their weapons upon themselves,” Odlig complicated matters.

“We could juggle this topic for a year. Are any of us opposed to us having our say on what we believe is best at this moment?” Scéadu inquired.

“I believe we should proceed with the original plan, acquire one and leave behind a replica,” Odlig proposed. “If we change plans, we can steal the counterfeit at a later time along with others if paranoia is our goal. We could perhaps even return the true one if we believe they might turn it upon their neighbors.”

“Agreed,” stated Scéadu.

Malniza paused and the two watched him. Activity already blazed behind their eyes to argue against his rejection. “Agreed,” he said reluctantly.

“Did I hear correctly?” asked Scéadu. “Or did you accept one of my missions without protest or alteration?”

“I would rather we suspended such operations so we have all our soldiers prepared to battle Malendar,” Malniza stated clearly. “But after we defeat Malendar and our kin, humanity might be our next enemy. My suggestion would be to simply steal and destroy such weapons so the Corrupt know that the devices can not be used against them. But I see the purpose in this plan and what I want can not be accomplished in a century’s time.”

Malniza could at least approve of it continuing. It was still some time before it reached the next phase, and acquiring a device did not guarantee its use. He could not vote against an opportunity when he offered no alternative.

“Unfortunately, it might be some time before those boxes are prepared. Perhaps we should send the Corrupt another gift to remind them they can trust us before offering them such instruments of doom,” Scéadu assessed.

“That would be wise,” Odlig agreed.

“We can send them a new breed of parasite.”

Parasite weaponry was incompatible with elven physiology but their work with flesh and combat afforded them some mastery over the concept. They could at least use such organisms to make their other monstrosities more aggressive. One shipment would be enough to satisfy their allies as the humans could breed their own once they had some live specimens. It would not surprise Malniza if the humans had better understanding of the organisms than elves did.

One of the less pervasive strains was used to make animals more aggressive. A potential example their less savory allies might imagine would be using them for dog fights before a strain became communicable with humans and it became a case of selective breeding by collecting samples from the more controllable cases.

It, being a parasite, would take a while before the side effects become apparent which was increased aggression and increased hunger. The increased stimulation and food intake resulted in quickened muscular growth. It would not be immediate, it would be a build up overtime as if injected with cultivating fluids regularly.

A complication would be that their allies often lacked food to spare. Cannibalism did not prove impossible. Another terrible implementation would be implant them in cauldron born to have dangerous fighters with minimal training required.

Malniza had nothing to contribute to that discussion. They reviewed key points of weaknesses and eventually their gathering came to an end. The commanders escorted themselves out as the king, after listening to them only addressing them directly twice turned to face the throne. Odlig lingered with Malniza in his chamber as the world outside began to thunder.

“So, the war will begin in earnest,” breathed Malniza. Both commanders dreaded this inevitable moment. It had not even been a thousand years since the Great War raged. For Malniza, there was glory in duty and service to a cause but war in itself was still a hardship. He lost many brothers and sisters and he would lose more now.

“Yes,” agreed Odlig. “I have permission to tell my family when I get home. That is the first thing I intend to say to them.”

Odlig married in the years after the Great War. Centuries of peace led to many opportunities of happiness but that happiness could be taken away.

***

The skin along Ordelas’s palms ripped open as he placed his hands upon the Winged Throne. The pain was barely a sting to him anymore. His blood ran along the outline of feathers, loosening them.

His magic was versatile but it was simple. It required destruction, sacrifice, or pain. Killing, breaking, and maiming proved all too simple but if he wished to create, it came with suffering. He could heal others but it would inflict them with a taste of the agony that came with life. Someone had to bleed, either himself, his allies, or his enemies.

He preferred it be his ichor to be shed. His magic being connected to such a domain freed him from the fear of blood loss. His wounds could weep an ocean of his essence and he would still live.

The wings lowered and laid themselves out as a three layered keyboard as his seat distanced itself from them. He sat down and brushed his fingers upon the topmost layer to usher in a chord of thunder and crashing lightning.

The topmost layer summoned the sounds of the heavenly elements, the storms, the gales, the violent death throes of stars. The middle conjured voices from screaming to joyous chanting. The bottommost called on the rumbling and quaking of stone, the snapping of trees, and more. All the world’s could be conveyed through a feather though his own temperament affected the outcome, like the breaths of a player influencing a flute.

His land was sacred, made fertile by a calamity predating the being split apart. The dwarves when they first dug into it discovered a vast network of pipes, one of the few surviving remnants of the Old World. They understood not what they found, it had been broken beyond repair. They disassembled the structure and harvested the materials, leaving behind an array of tunnels that the dwarves inevitably expanded as Ordelas’s people when they received it.

By fortune or fate, Raven’s Hold was built over where the relic’s heart once was.

It was forbidden knowledge even his other was unable to fully disclose. But for one indoctrinated in sorcery, it became obvious. Music in itself was akin to magic and the mountains that surrounded his nation served to make it an amphitheater. What once was there was an instrument, one that no one could recreate in this era.

A cloudless storm raged outside and reverberated through his city. His fingers danced frantically across the top as if to rouse himself. However, nothing came to him at the moment and he slammed his hands down on the instrument. The room shook violently as he held down. For several moments, he let it continue, hoping the tower might crumble and crush him.

The commander’s discussion reminded him in every moment they spent revising that Tarica failed. In the days they spent, he sensed nothing from her other than she was alive. He received no message or sign that she might return.

He slammed a fist against the instrument to be answered by a cacophony of screams. The three gathered also made the fact two were absent all the more acute. If it was just one, just Malniza, Odlig, or Scéadu, he would not be so clearly reminded that someone was missing.

“What troubles you so, my dear Ordelas?” his other whispered sweetly into his mind.

“Malendar still lives… No…” he corrected himself as he fanned his hatred to fill the gap where two should be. “Everything.” He could have with vomited with disgust as malice filled his stomach in the place of food. “Everything is still here.”

He let the others go out to retrieve Tarica. Until word of her came, they would be absent as well. He distanced himself from his greatest sin so that he could have no distraction from his objective, no reminder of the cost he might pay and how weak he truly was.

“You will have the opportunity to set it all to the torch once again. One way or another. You must simply take it this time.”

He had the chance to destroy the world once, completely and utterly. He only needed to reject everyone. He returned from his imprisonment to regret that decision time and again.

“If the instruments were gathered here once more, would you play the song?” his other asked.

Ordelas closed his hands into fists. “I would rather destroy everything by my own hands. If my enemies stand against me, I would have them burn in the horizon, not serve as kindling for my own sacred pyre.”

“That is pride, my dear Ordelas,” his other warned gently. “It was pride that led to this world’s unjust creation.”

“No, it is hate,” he argued. “I hate them to the point I will allow them no part in my salvation.”

“That is pride,” the spirit repeated firmly before the words softened but carried the weight of a parent lecturing a child. “If you hated them, you would spite their efforts to stop you.”

Ordelas lowered his hands. “If I play the song. They will be gone.”

Without the music, he could hear his heartbeat. The heart beating in his chest served as a reminder that, from the beginning, he could never turn back. He was given too much to accomplish nothing and lost too much to abandon his ideals. However, the world he saw would never meet his standards.

“You need to let go Ordelas. If you care about them, you must set them free. Vernigen is gone. Tarica is missing. Others will join them. It is inevitable. The more you cling to them, the more it will hurt to be seperated, one by one.”

Ordelas steeled his mind. “Neither of them are gone,” he growled.

“But there are others that you will never see again. Those you can never apologize to if your failure undid their efforts. This may be your last chance at vindication. If this war turns against you and your enemies stand at your gates, they will not forgive you again.”

“I do not want forgiveness.”

“Yes, but you must either endure to spite them or set them ablaze along with yourself lest your ambitions be but cold ash and all you have done be in vain. Not only will your efforts be cast aside but all your people’s sacrifices will be for naught.”

“I will… play the song,” Ordelas promised. “But only if there is not a single loyal soul left in the palace and when all hope of reclamation is lost.”

“If it comes to that. You will not regret it.”

“I will have no regrets because all will be gone,” as he began playing.

***

Malniza and Odlig spoke between lapses in the music. Elven songs could easily last days but their lord appeared to be indecisive in what he wished to play. It appeared that he gravitated towards a slow, deep procession into melancholy.

Malniza asked of Odlig’s sons and wished to hear how the two had progressed when he last saw them.

“My sons are still not old enough to join a regiment,” Odlig reminded. “Zoden is certainly eager but they will both be in the miltia if all fares well though they have a young sister to look after.” Though to the two commanders the span of decades seemed miniscule, those few years were still painfully precious.

All Dark Elves were trained for the military but only so many could be in active service. The tithe was when the other cities and villages would send their best warriors to Raven’s Hold for review. The commanders then selected those they wanted to count among their forces. With Vernigen gone and Kírous exempted, that left primarily Odlig and Scéadu to choose as they pleased while Malniza often took in the ones that the newly recruited displaced.

Those that remained unchosen were returned home or offered an opportunity to become rangers. Rangers were rarely selected within Raven’s Hold itself as that was Ordelas’s privilege and he could be impossible in his standards or simply not arrive to observe the selection. The king rarely interacted with them directly and more often spoke through one of his assassins instead, particularly the masked Ruhin. It was for that reason Ordelas allowed rangers to act as his proxy outside of Raven’s Hold and recruit from local militias as well.

“May I ask you the favor of you?” requested Malniza as he clapped his hands together. “I can not leave Ordelas as he is, not today. Can you inform my brothers and sisters of the revised plans so they might prepare? It would be best if a commander told them over a simple messager and they would respect you.”

Odlig smiled heartily. “I would be honored to do so but your Honorbound are more prepared for war than any other. My Undying are present but require more time but the warriors you have would be ready to storm the enemy’s gates by the day’s end. You still have time to rally them, yourself.”

“I understand.”

“Of course, I can inform Kírous of this, spare you some time to brief your soldiers without interruption,” add Odlig. “Though I would not be surprised if Kírous already knows what has transpired. If you still have not spoken to the Honorbound in a matter of days, I will do as you ask.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Malniza would in all due likelihood still be sent to collect Kírous. Scéadu and Kírous could disregard Odlig if they so pleased but Malniza’s words were those of Ordelas’s if it was for a summons. Kírous was the worst of them all in regard to answering. The eldest of the commanders ignored even Ordelas’s direct orders at times, answering to his king’s call when it was convenient while Scéadu was quick to yield if Ordelas involved himself.

They spoke some more. “Myriso would ask you to visit so you might see Wrin and I would ask that as well,” Odlig invited.

Malniza had not visited for several years. Last time he ate in Odlig’s home, Odlig’s wife Myriso was pregnant with their third child.

“I would be honored. When this campaign ends. I will visit to see Wrin,” he promised.

“I will hold you to that. But I will also ask that visit all the same if this campaign is postponed further and the king proves restful.”

They spoke further still but another elf came up the stairs. At the sight of Elda, they brought their conversation to an end.

Elda’s stark black hair brushed her calves even when braided into a single long ponytail. If left to flow freely, it reached her ankles.

Her skin hinted at the faintest trace of a lingering tan from when she set foot away from home and shadows failed to protect her from the sun’s rays. It matched with her amber eyes that took in everything.

Her every step was audible, carrying a clear sense of confidence. She like him was a predator relied little on stealth when they could both outpace their foes like a bird of prey.

Malniza placed a fist over his heart and saluted Odlig. “I wish you and your family good fortune.”

“As I do you and your warriors,” Odlig returned the salute and the two parted ways.

Odlig tilted his head to Elda as they passed each other by. Malniza took his place at the passage to the throneroom.

“What brings you here, Elda?” he asked respectfully even as he stood in her way.

Just because she was the king’s daughter did not afford her special privileges. It was her conduct that earned her some regard.

Due to her never participating in an assassination drill as a perpetrator, the Honor Guard came to acknowledge her as a constant yet volatile ally. If she detected any weakness among their ranks, she would challenge them to ensure they remained fit for duty.

Compared to the competitive relationship they shared with Ruhin, her presence warranted welcome.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you bar my way?”

Her fangs were even more prominent than her father’s. His canines were long but Elda possessed a rare jawline where her eye teeth appeared to be pushed outwards by those surrounding them, making them all the more noticable. They were noticeable whenever she smiled or spoke, a sign of good fortune.

“Ordelas does not wish for your presence,” Malniza stated calmly. “Please, tell me, what brings you here?”

She gestured to the walls around them. “Do you not hear this? Ordelas aches. Let me speak with him.”

“I can not let you pass,” he insisted. He made sure to not raise his voice to avoid any escalation.

The king raised her well as far as Malniza was aware. From how fate had treated her, it was inevitable that the daughter of the king would develop faults, the only flaw she seemed to have learned from Ordelas would be her predisposition towards action over words to relieve her anger, in some ways even less restrained than he was.

Though, she did often spar with members of the Honor Guard to test whether they were competent enough with their weapons to protect their lord. She would do little to hold back but the bodyguards would be unsuited for their roles if they could not withstand her for a time even if she might go too far.

“If the king refuses an audience with all, surely I am the exception,” she reasoned.

“You are the exception,” he confirmed sorrowfully. “Only you are not allowed at this time.”

She winced as the king struck a particularly powerful key and thunder boomed overhead.

“I must ask you to leave,” Malniza stated.

She crouched and spread her arms. Her posture reminded him of something feral, what he might look like when he allowed rage and instinct to reign dominant. “And if I do not?”

“Will you challenge me and say I am weak?” asked Malniza. If she defeated him, she could pass .

She examined him, she listened for his every breath, she probably even heard his heartbeat from that far.

He listened to it himself, the slow steady rhythm. He did not slow his breathing to slow it further or let excitement speed it. He let her hear the tempo he developed from years of battle. The last time he measured his heart rate while at rest, it beat about once every three seconds.

She straightened herself. “No,” she relented.

Elda was one of the few people able to keep pace with him. He was still faster than her but she could perceive his movements better.

“Do not force me to escort you away,” he requested. “Do so for me.”

“Do we owe each other anything?”

“You owed me a “Thank you,” he recalled three centuries ago.

She bared her teeth. “You dare use Ordelas’s principles against me?

“You would be straying from his will if you visited him at this time,” Malniza reminded.

She would be violating both will or ideal if she continued. Her disposition might allow her to act against one but her faith could not have her discard both at once.

She bowed her head. “So, you may not say I forgot once more, “Thank you.””

“I will inform you when Ordelas welcomes you once more,” Malniza promised. “If I am still here.”