Viscount Como gritted his teeth as he saw the carriages move farther and farther away. He had his hands balled at his sides; his entire jaw was clenched.
He turned to the old butler, his eyes cold. "Call my daughter," he said evenly. "Tell her... There is a matter of noble duty."
The butler bowed, and left the room. He returned in a short while with a girl of around fifteen years old. She had deep chestnut hair, and calm blue eyes that suggested a deep and silent strength. She wore a simple yet elegant dress of deep green, and stood with straight posture, although her gaze was full of confusion.
Her name was Carenia.
"Father?" she said, looking back and forth from him to Elereen, who stood with her arms folded, her face inscrutable.
Como forced a smile that never had a chance at reaching his eyes. "You will be going to Eclion," he said in a soft voice. "Alfrenzo… wants to see you."
Carenia blinked, startled. "Eclion! Why? What does he want with me?"
"It is... some official business," Como said quickly. "Elereen will accompany you. You will do what Alfrenzo said. Show him the respect he demands. And get back safely."
She hesitated, then bowed her head. "Yes, Father."
Later, as he watched her carriage depart, Como's eyes were cold. He murmured to Elereen, "His bloody methods will be his demise. The crown will not abide a shadow in their realm for long. Alfrenzo's tyranny will bring the line of the kingdom itself over the edge of the blade."
Elereen said nothing, her lips pressed firmly together.
So far to the north, Eclion had bloated into something so beyond the old Baron Ronney's belief, that even he would have fallen on his starched collar in disbelief. While it was a mere, humble forest village in the past, it had grown beyond that and not just into a large, extended village or small town, it now rivaled Ronney's capital, rich and much larger.
Wide well made avenues bored with soil and stone pillaged through the settlement. Blocky wooden buildings and stone warehouses lined the avenues. Streams of carriages were on the move, merchants and craftsmen shouting their goods from stalls and open shops. The ring of hammers mixed with the smell of charcoal, from in the smoke of the forges all merged with the hungry fragrance of spiced meat, and the spongy, warm scent of fresh bread baked entirely too early by sleeping bakers.
Children scurried happily through the streets, filled with laughter and excitement. The children weaved their way through the wagons and deliveries, as if they were born in a city bustling with business. Among these children were elves - calm, elegant and their quiet authority comfortably occupied the same place as the humans around them.
Closer to the center of the busy trade were the palace. A small palace - of pale wood and stone, shining in the winter sun. The spires, which were slightly higher than the roofs were decorated with vertical banners of forest green and silver, all made of delicately carved beams of wood. The throne where Alfrenzo typically held court emanated power with a hint of looming menace.
The procession was led by Thalanar, followed by elves and young human apprentices, with stacked crates of seized weapons and potions. Dion waited back to ensure the seized items were being brought inside the now-huge warehouse that was previously just an barn.
As they entered the palace Nalia was saying something to Lyssari in a soft tone. "Trust the flow of mana," Nalia instructed. "Mana is like a river; if you force it, it will leak out of your fingers."
Lyssari was focused, frowning as she tried to remember every word Nalia spoke.
The grand hall of the palace lit up with mana lamps, the light bouncing off the polished floors. Thalanar, Lyssari, and Nalia waited in silence, only the soft vibrations of magic, and hushed plans filled the air.
The door swung open, revealing Faren first, closely followed by Hunter - the great man moving about without sound. Finally, Alfrenzo entered, combined with whatever convert process had been created for him - the sound and presence filled the room immediately.
He still wore the mask and cloak, but as he stepped forward, he slowly took them off, first the mask crashing onto a table, and finally the battered voice modulator from his throat.
Underneath was Luenor - soaked with sweat, pale beyond his years but unwavering. There was dried dark blood still streaked across his cheek.
A healer burst forward, landing a small case of salves and bandages; Luenor waved to her as he pulled from his cloak and his ruined inner armor to let the lady see the lattice of scratches and bruises crisscrossing his little body.
"Thalanar", he said softly, his voice worn but steady, "Tell me what we got from Moore's army."
Thalanar leaned forward. "Potions of healing and mana—over fifty. Blades of decent steel, some enchanted. Scrolls of minor enchantments. Enough to equip a company."
Luenor nodded, wincing as the healer applied a salve to his shoulder. "Good," he said. "We will need it all."
He turned to Faren. "Send for Telmar. I want to know how the Marquis will take this defeat."
Telmar walked in shortly after, his face hard. He had two men in black cloaks with him, each carrying between them a young woman with a gag in her mouth, her eyes wide and scared.
The elves in the hall stiffened, and Lyssari took a reflexive step closer to Nalia.
Telmar's voice was low. "This woman is a spy, my lord," he said. "Sent by the Marquis to map our streets, to find out how our trade flows, legal and otherwise."
Luenor narrowed his eyes. "That took some guts."
Thalanar stepped in closer, his voice low, but cold. "We will find out what secrets she holds."
He turned to Lyssari, and his face softened. "Go outside, Lyssari," he said softly, "this is not for your ears."
Lyssari hesitated, but at Nalia's nod, she slipped from the room as quietly as she had entered.
Thalanar's fingers were faintly glowing as he placed them against the forehead of the woman. Her eyes widened and a thin gasp escaped her lips. She fought him for a moment—then her will broke, and the words rushed from her, frightened and disjointed.
She told them all she knew—spies travelling across the Marquis's lands, routes and signals, hidden funds that ensured silence and loyalty. She spoke of hidden caches of weapons, letters and information crossing half the kingdom by secret.
When she finished, she slumped and gasped for air. Thalanar turned to Luenor and thought for a moment. "She knows much about the war," he said. "We must act quickly before the Marquis entraps them."
Luenor nodded, putting the voice modulator back in his cloak. "Find out what else she knows," he said quietly. "I will see how the city walks."
Outside, the winter sun gleamed off the stone and wood of Eclion. Luenor stepped into the street, the noise and life of the growing city washing over him like a tide.
He spotted Lyssari, her hair glinting in the cold light, her eyes following the merchants with quiet wonder.