4.04 K (1/2)

Trey was sitting in the banquet hall with Teres, trying to explain what a shortcake was to an interested audience of servants and a harried [Cook] when Gazi found him. The half-Gazer strode through the crowd and jerked her thumb.

“Come.”

It was indicative of her personality that no one asked questions. Trey and Teres were following Gazi out of the banquet hall in an instant.

“Why are we—”

Gazi’s head turned and she cut Teres off with an answer.

“A messenger has come for my lord Flos. He desires you to hear what is being said.”

“And wh—”

“War.”

The world precipitated a crash of broken pottery. A woman who’d been carrying a load of dirty dishes dropped them when she heard the word. Gazi glanced at her and the woman immediately bowed.

“War?”

Trey said it faintly. War? Now? Of course, Flos was the King of Destruction, but—

“It will be war.”

One of Gazi’s eyes turned to follow the servant as she bent to pick up the broken shards. She didn’t say anything, but Trey would have bet his eyeteeth—since he didn’t have any actual money—that the woman would be telling everyone in earshot as soon as she was out of sight. And Gazi probably new that, but she walked on.

As it turned out, war had already been declared by the time the twins and Gazi reached the throne room. They entered to hear shouting, and saw a young man wearing leather armor, covered in a thin layer of dust and sweat, shouting at Flos.

“—will not kneel to you! Hellios has risen, and our soldiers are marching towards this city at this very moment!”

Flos sat on his throne, flanked by Orthenon and Mars as he stared down at the messenger.

“So Queen Calliope desires war?”

The young man’s eyes blazed up at Flos. He didn’t seem to notice the twins as they edged around the room, nor Gazi as she strode up to the throne and took a place next to Orthenon.

“You know she does. Her hatred of you burns no less brightly than my own, King Flos of Reim. You killed my father, and for that you will answer at last.”

His father. Trey looked at the young man. Was he a [Prince]? Certainly, Flos seemed to be treating him like one, to let him yell at him in front of his vassals. But why had a [Prince] come himself? He certainly wasn’t attired like one, and he looked like he’d been on the road for hours, if not days.

“That I killed King Treland is reason enough to hate. But I would have thought your mother had more sense. She knows what war brings. She has seen it once. I doubt she would be foolish to wish for it again.”

His words made the young prince flush with fury.

“We have held our peace because you slept, in cowardice. But now that you are awake, it is war, Flos of Reim!”

“And why were you sent? Did your mother fear I would slay her messenger?”

“I took his place. I had to see the truth of it myself, that you were awake. I wanted to lay eyes on my father’s killer myself.”

The young man’s eyes burned as he put his hand on the sword at his waist. No one moved, despite the threat. Orthenon stared coldly down at the prince, Mars with intensity, watching his hands. Gazi looked bored; only one eye was one him. Two were for her King and one—

Trey shuddered. One was watching him and Teres. Watching them react to the prince.

“Tell me your name, bold son of Calliope. You have not given it. If I am to be at war with the kingdom of Hellios, I would know who brings such tidings.”

“I am [Prince] Siyal of Hellios. And I swear to you, King Flos, that I will have vengeance for—”

“Your father. Yes, I heard.”

Flos sighed. He stared down at Siyal with an expression Trey and Teres hadn’t seen on him before. It wasn’t anger. It was more like grim intensity. It was a very kingly expression in that sense, but there was something else in the way he looked at Siyal.

Disappointment.

“So you seek my head as a matter of vengeance. You would not be the first, nor the last. But why for Treland? He was not worthy of it. Far better to come after me for those countless thousands I slew, or your shattered kingdom. Why waste hatred for the death of a worthless king, even if he was a father?”

“How dare you.”

Siyal’s eyes blazed and he actually unsheathed his sword a fraction. At once, Orthenon and Mars both reached for their sword hilts. The prince halted, eying both of them.

“I did not come here to bare my blade, King Flos. But one more word of insult and I will shed my blood, regardless of the odds!”

“I hear your words, Siyal. But what I said was no insult. It was the truth.”

Flos cut off Siyal as the young man looked as if he might truly rush the throne. He stood up and stared down at the young man.

“You think your father was a man worth avenging? He was not.”

The King of Destruction raised his voice over the young man’s voice.

“Silence! He. Was. Not. Because I am a [King], know that I speak the truth. Your father was no hero, no great ruler, boy. He was a fool and a monster. You have a King’s word on that.”

“Liar!”

It was amazing, Trey thought, that Siyal could shout that at Flos, much less to his face. A King’s word…but Flos didn’t grow angry. He just stared Siyal down, and the [Prince] lost a bit of his bravado in the silence that followed.

“I will not lie, even for the fallen. That your father died does not change the nature of his sin. Neither did his Class. He treated his subjects like animals—no, worse than that.”

“He was a [King]! He deserved an honorable death, not an execution on the battlefield! How he ruled was no business of yours!”

“His people cried out for justice. They came to me, begging for protection, to bring down a king that cared more for his own wealth and that of his friends than his people. Is that the man you admire, Siyal? Or did your mother never tell you of his failures, only my crimes? I went to war for the thousands who died under his rule, not to steal land of wealth.”

Siyal’s face had gone pale as Flos spoke. He pointed a shaking finger at Flos.

“I will not listen to your lies. You are no worthy [King]. You dare to talk of a [King]’s duties when you abandoned your own kingdom? You—you have no right to speak of my father to me.”

Flos stared down at Siyal, that same cold disappointment in his expression. He shook his head slowly.

“You and I use the truth like blades. But I have the courage to face it. My failure and who I am does not change reality. Your father—”

“Silence!”

Siyal did draw his blade, then. And Orthenon and Mars did the same. They leapt off the throne’s dais, surrounding Siyal from both ends. He whirled to face them, face pale but jaw set.

“Orthenon. Mars. Enough.”

Flos stopped his vassals with one hand. He looked down at the [Prince] as Orthenon and Mars stepped back, sheathing their blades.

“You are fearless, Prince Siyal. Just like your father. But it takes more than courage to make a man. But at least you have that. Your father had neither.”

It was cruel. Flos’ words were harsh and cutting, and Trey saw the marks they left on Siyal. They cut deep, because Trey knew they were true. There was something in Flos’ voice, the way he spoke that made the truth self-evident. And some part of Siyal knew it.

The prince sheathed his sword. Tears stood out in the corners of his eyes as he glared up at Flos. His voice was rough, but steady.

“You have heard my message. Hellios declares war with Reim. My duty here is done. When we next meet, it will be under banner, bearing arms.”

He pointed at Flos.

“I will find you on the battlefield. I will hunt you down and claim your head with my sword.”

The King didn’t blink.

“I shall try to spare the effort to pick your face out from the legions of my enemies.”

He lifted a hand in dismissal. Siyal turned and stormed from the room, face crimson. All that time he had not glanced once at the twins. They were beneath his notice.

The two double doors closed behind Prince Siyal of Hellios, and Flos sat down slowly upon his throne. Only then did Mars and Orthenon turn to face him. After a second, Gazi stepped down and joined them.

And then Trey saw the curtains near one of the balconies move. He stared as Lady Maresar pushed them back. She calmly walked over to the others, putting an arrow back in the quiver at her side as she did.

Flos glanced at Maresar, at Gazi, and then the twins as they hesitantly came to stand before his throne. He smiled a bit at them, wearily.

“And so it begins.”

“War.”

This time Trey said the word and felt a chill. It was strange. One person said it, and suddenly it was true. He glanced at the doors Siyal had left through.

“Was he really a [Prince]?”

“Oh yes.”

Everyone in the room except for Teres nodded at once. Mars grinned as she tapped her chin.

“Did you see the way he kept it raised the entire time he was talking? The royals have a way of talking and standing that just screams their class. It makes you want to trip them whenever they walk past.”

Orthenon frowned at Mars before turning to Trey.

“I am surprised he came alone, but yes, that was [Prince] Siyal. Doubtless he must have come here against his mother’s wishes.”

“Calliope knows I would not stoop to ransoming her son.”

Flos looked mildly annoyed by the implication. Orthenon bowed to him.

“Of course. But the roads are not safe, my King. He must have rushed here.”

“I saw his horse as he rode in. It looked dead. That fool probably rode it at a gallop all the way here.”

Maresar’s lip curled and Flos shook his head. He sat with his straight against his throne, staring at the ceiling.

“Yet his message was plain, and perhaps warranted such actions, at least in his mind. War.”

“It has come at last.”

Gazi’s eyes glittered with excitement. Orthenon and Mars nodded, and both looked…eager. It wasn’t a thought Trey would have associated with war, not in his world. But there was a spark of that in Maresar’s eyes, and when Flos looked down—

Trey could see it there too. That awful glimmer, that silent spark of terrible things. Terrible, glorious things.

“War.”

When he said it, Trey got goose bumps again. Only this time, Flos did not seize his sword and rush out of the room. Instead, he sighed.

“We have much to do.”

He looked at his steward.

“Orthenon, appraise me as we walk. Mars, spread the word. Lady Maresar, if you will send messengers to the furthest villages? We must ready my subjects to retreat behind the city’s walls at once. Gazi, be watchful as always. And you, Trey, Teres…”

He turned and the twins tensed with anticipation. Flos smiled.

“You have seen my kingdom in decay, at peace, such as it is. Now see it’s true heart. We prepare for war, at last. It is time to break my long slumber, my endless fast.”

He paused, and only Trey noticed the slight rolling of his eyes, and the look of chagrin on Flos’ face. He turned.

“Come. Follow.”

And they did.

—-

To Trey’s surprise, the rest of the day was not filled with people running about and general confusion. Oh, some people moved faster than normal, but Flos walked down his corridors at the same pace as always, and took time to greet the people he met as usual.

He had an explanation when Trey asked.

“War has been declared. But though Hellios is far closer than the lands of the Emperor of Sands, an army will not appear on my doorstep tomorrow. Or the day after, for that matter.”

“That is the convenience of a formal declaration of war.”

Orthenon nodded as he stepped out of a cluster of servants and messenger. He was the one working hardest, and Trey and Teres got to see exactly what going to war meant you had to do.

The first and most important thing was to make sure everyone knew there was a war going on. It wasn’t as if everyone had a telephone—or a [Mage] capable to receiving a [Message] spell. Within the hour, people on horseback were racing to all parts of the kingdom, bearing the news of war.

But that didn’t mean people were about to come rushing towards the castle with swords in hand, ready to fight, either. It did mean they harvested any food available, and made preparations to leave their villages and towns at once if an army came their way.

“You see, Teres, Trey, an enemy army will strip the countryside. Even if an army does not attack civilians—and there are many which would slaughter any of my subjects they came across—they will destroy villages and kill by their simple passing. Once we know from which direction the army approaches, we will begin evacuating those in need.”

Flos told them this in between readying his capital for war. There was so much to do he was giving Orthenon a hand in organizing. The walls had to be inspected, soldiers manned and watchful at all times, and gear had to be distributed. Not everyone walked around ready for battle like Mars—most people found wearing anything heavier than cloth fairly tiring, let alone plate armor or chainmail.

And not everyone got that, either. Helmets were in short supply, armor needed patching, some weapons could use a whetstone, while others had a broken haft. Potions needed distributing, pack horses and other animals found to haul all of the army’s supplies and equipment—the list went on and on. It wasn’t as if Orthenon and Flos had been neglecting doing any of this, but they’d had an entire kingdom to get working again. Now, all of these preparation were the first order of business.

Amid all of the busy work, Trey felt like the most useless lump. He could only watch as Flos strode around, taking care of matters that Trey wouldn’t have thought to address. At least Teres could say she was helping a bit—she scribbled down notes for Orthenon as he assessed the number of soldiers they had, how many saddles were in working repair, and so on.

Not so for Flos and Trey. The King of Destruction didn’t use lists, and he didn’t need another person to run messages for him. He told Trey that he just needed him to watch what he was doing. So Trey did.

He watched as the second declaration of war reached Flos in the throne room. And then the third. And the fourth.

—-

This time the messengers came together. Two delegations of armed soldiers approached the gates and demanded entry. The bulk of the soldiers remained at the gate, watched warily by soldiers from the walls, as a smaller delegation entered the throne room.

One man came alone, sweeping into the room with a bow towards the throne, his silk robes swirling around him as he approached the throne and then bowed again. The second man marched in with four warriors at his back, a scroll of parchment sealed with wax in his hands.

“I take it you two come for the same reason?”

Flos sat on his throne, staring down at the two unalike messengers. It was the man in robes who spoke first.

“Your Majesty, I come bearing word from my home country of Gemira. I am humbly [Ambassador] Illius, authorized to speak for the Quarass on matters of state.”

Flos nodded at the man as Trey stared at Ambassador Illius. He sounded like a complete ponce. That was, until Trey realized he probably was all the things he said. So…just weird.

“What does the Quarass will, Ambassador Illius?”

Flos knew. Everyone in the room knew. But somehow, the good ambassador managed to stretch a single statement into multiple sentences.

“The Quarass has determined that a state of war exists between our two nations. Having searched for an alternative, she has concluded that none may be found save by arms. We declare war upon the nation of Reim and I am tasked with ensuring this messages reaches his Majesty Flos so that an understanding is reached.”

Flos nodded as Trey rubbed at his ears and Mars yawned. The King turned to the man standing stiffly next to Illius.

“And do you come with the same tidings, messenger?”

“Your Majesty, it is not for me to say. I am enstrusted with this letter, and may not return until I have seen it to your hands.”

The man stepped forwards, offering the scroll. Not directly to Flos, but to Orthenon, who came down to receive it. Only after the steward had checked the scroll—for dangerous magic or poison, perhaps—did he deliver to Flos.

The King broke the seal and read from the scroll as everyone in the room waited. It took him only a few seconds, mainly because Trey saw his eyes skimming down the very long scroll all the way to the bottom. Then he rolled it up and nodded. He said one word.

“War.”

The ambassador and messenger both bowed their heads. Flos looked down on them. Trey was practically eating his fingers. Three nations had declared war? Three? But the King of Destruction looked as if he’d expected nothing less.

“I have read your senate’s declaration of war, messenger of Xar. And I have heard your words, Ambassador Illius. You may go.”

They went.

—-

Apparently, all of Flos’ vassals and Flos himself had known more nations would be declaring war. And apparently, Teres had figured it out as well, which meant only Trey was caught off guard.

“Well it makes sense, don’t it?”

She explained it to Trey when he pulled her aside—for what Trey had assumed to be a mutual freak out, but which became a stern lecture. Teres frowned at Trey as if not predicting war was a fault.

“You heard how scary Flos is supposed to be, didn’t you? Even if they think he’s just woke up, no one nation is going to pick a fight. It’s probably a lot of them that decided to gang up.”

Just how many was a surprise to both of the twins, though. Because not an hour after the two delegates had left, another declaration of war came to Reim. This one came in a box, and it was delivered by a [Runner].

In fact, it took a while to get to Flos. A servant came with it as Flos was walking around his city with Orthenon, making sure there were no glaring gaps in the wall. Only when Orthenon had spoken with the man did the small box reach the King.

“Is it another declaration of war?”

“I believe so, my King.”

Flos sighed. He eyed the package.

“I think I know which nation this one comes from. Elmvettelashar. Or whatever the name is.”

Orthenon shook his head at Flos’ incorrect pronunciation as the King took the package and began to unwrap it. It was tied with a bit of twine, and the package itself was a cheap wood box, hardly fit for a King. Trey edged away from the box nervously.

“What about traps? What if there’s a b—poison or something?”

Flos shook his head.

“This came through the Runner’s Guild. They do not allow such deliveries. It would ruin their neutrality. And this is a declaration of war, I am sure of it, as is Orthenon. Less formal perhaps, but cheaper. Let us see what they have—ah.”

Flos’ hands had unwrapped the parcel. Trey recoiled and Teres clapped a hand over her mouth when they saw—and smelled—what was inside.

The King’s face didn’t change as he showed the contents of the box to Ortheon. The steward stared with disgust at the slightly rotted heart in the box. Flos handed it to him and Orthenon immediately handed it to a servant with orders to burn the box and everything in it. Only then did Flos notice Trey and Teres’ pale faces.

“It’s not a human heart. I think it’s probably a goat’s.”

Teres was able to ask the question. Trey felt if he opened his mouth something else would come pouring out.

“But—why—?”

“Ah. It’s an ancient tradition. This is the way the people of Elmvett declare war. In the past they would have used a real heart, but this is probably more convenient.”

The King waved away the smell and the twin had to go sit down for a bit. That was the fourth declaration of war. The fifth and sixth arrived the next day. But before Trey heard them, the first assassin was discovered in the castle.

—-

Trey awoke the next morning to a scream. He rushed out of his room, and Teres ran out after him with the sword Orthenon had given her. They followed the raised voice and people running and found Gazi.

She was kneeling over the body of a child.

Her sword was drawn, and there was blood on it. Trey knew what had happened, but he didn’t want to know. He stared at Gazi with dull horror beating in his chest.

She straightened, after wiping her sword on the dead child’s clothing. She turned and paused when she saw Trey and Teres staring at her. But then her head turned. She bowed as Flos strode towards her down the corridor.

The King stopped when he saw the body. He stared at Gazi, and Trey saw his face pale. He knelt by the small corpse and the pooling blood. She had raven hair. It was a she. Flos gazed down at the child and then up at Gazi. He sighed, and it was as if part of his heart left with it.

“Ah, Gazi. Did she have to die?”

The half-Gazer bowed her head. Then she produced something and held it out carefully to Flos. He took it.

It was a dagger, coated with something dark and brown on the tips. Flos didn’t touch it. He only stared at the dagger and then dropped it.

“An [Assassin].”

Maresar spoke softly behind Trey and Teres. They turned to her. She had an arrow nocked as she stared at the child’s body. There was no sorrow there, just concentration.

There was on Orthenon’s face, and Mars. They came at a run, Orthenon first, Mars slower, running with sword and shield in hand, wearing her plate armor as always. Mars turned away from the body and Orthenon sheathed his sword harder than necessary. Flos stared at the crowd of servants and soldiers, and then at the twins.

Neither one of them could look at the body. But they couldn’t look away. Trey stared at Gazi. And then at the child.

“How?”

Flos looked at Gazi. She answered softly. As if by reflex, she smiled as she spoke, that same, damned smile that Trey hated so much. It wasn’t a smile. It was a grin. Something devoid of actual emotion.

A mask.

“A group of refugees arrived last night. They claimed to have been driven from their village by soldiers. They had marched for days. Some died. They were all starving.”

Orthenon rubbed at his face.

“I heard the report. I ordered them fed and given a place to sleep. And this child—”

Gazi turned to him, looking vaguely surprised.

“You knew they would send assassins the moment my lord woke.”

He didn’t reply. He just stared at the body and turned away. Orthenon walked down the corridor as Flos stood. He stared down at the child’s body and then looked at Gazi.

“I ask much of you.”

He did not say thank you, or that it was a job well done. If he did, Trey thought Teres would have attacked him with the sword in her hands. He did not know what he would have done. Gazi nodded once. Then she turned. She sheathed her sword and began to walk in the other direction down the corridor.

Someone covered the child’s body with a cloth. Someone else carefully picked up the dagger and wrapped it in several layers so the deadly poisoned edge was not visible. Flos walked towards the twins. They stared at him.

This was the feeling Trey remembered. This was it, pure and raw and sudden, cutting through the vague acceptance of this world, all the time he’d had to adjust to a new reality. Suddenly, he truly was a stranger in a strange land.

Until he remembered they did this very thing where he came from too. Not at home, but in his world.

Flos looked into his face. The King was silent for a while. Then he spoke.

“Some nations use assassins, Trey, Teres. This reeks of Germina. Ambassador Illius’ people train such killers and the Quarass…she would do this.”

That was all he said. He turned away and began walking towards his throne room. It took a long time before Trey and Teres moved. And when they did, they stumbled. They walked along the stone corridors, hearing the hushed voice and knew they did not belong. They did not want to belong.

Not here. And Trey remembered Gazi’s smile.

And he hated her for it.

—-

There were more shadows in the throne room that day. Flos sat heavily on his throne, and he did not smile. The fifth declaration of war reached him as Orthenon was speaking quietly.

“War with Ultea. A rider rode up to the gates and shouted it.”

Orthenon relayed the message, a look of disgust on his face.

“Barbarians. They didn’t confirm it was a true messenger from their nation. Anyone could have claimed the same.”

Flos was in no mood to debate the issue. He clenched one hand as he sat on his throne, looking as though he would have rather drawn the sword at his side instead. It was another plain sword from his armory. Not enchanted.

Not like Gazi’s.

“It is enough that I hear war declared, Orthenon. When we see their banners marching, we will know the truth.”

The steward nodded. Flos turned towards the twins, standing like ghosts. His voice softened, but he did speak to them of war.

“It is not like your world. There are no signed treaties, at least, none that require my signature. Some nations do send formal missives, but many are like Ultea and use action, not words. Other nations are subtler, but some do not bother with declarations at all.”

The twins made no reply.

—-

The sixth declaration was the most dramatic of all, and if it hadn’t been for Orthenon and Flos, Trey and Teres would never have spotted it. The King was walking out of his palace when he uttered an oath and stared up. Orthenon stared up and the twins barely saw a flaming arrow before it struck the wall of Flos’ palace. It did not shatter, but rather dropped downwards, out of sight.

Flos strode to the battlements. Trey and Teres saw a rider with a bow in hand. They had shot the arrow at the walls. A banner—dark blue, emblazoned with a white bird clutching a second flaming arrow in its talons—flapped wildly, attached to the horse’s saddle.

The meaning was clear. War, from a sixth nation. By this point Trey was numb to it.

Flos stared at the rider, hands gripping the battlements tightly. He turned his head towards his steward.

“Orthenon. If that arrow struck one of my subjects, catch that rider and kill her.”

The man nodded and strode away. Trey stared at Flos. The King’s eyes followed the rider until she had vanished. She was allowed to go; no one had been harmed by the arrow as it fell to earth.

Twenty minutes later, Flos was in the war room with all of his vassals, including Lady Maresar and the twins. He sat on a large chair clearly meant for him, staring darkly at his steward as the man spoke.

“Ultea, Oblinat, Xar, Gemira, Hellios, and Elmvett have all declared war against us now, my King. It is safe to assume they have formed a coalition and will send an army of combined forces to assault the city. I have received reports that most of the armies are on the march already.”

Trey felt a cold pit in his stomach, but Flos just nodded as if that was inconsequential. Trey couldn’t help but keep glancing left, to where Gazi stood with arms folded in one corner of the war room. No one was standing with her. Teres was deliberately sitting with her back to the half-Gazer.

Now one of Gazi’s eyes turned towards Trey. He looked away quickly.

“Will any more declarations arrive?”

“Doubtful, my King. These are all the ones I had predicted.”

Orthenon stared grimly at the map of Chandrar as Flos stood up and paced back and forth in front of the table. He turned to Orthenon.

“After yesterday, how many soldiers do we have in our army?”

Orthenon paused. He looked at Teres, and she was the one who answered.

“Just over six thousand soldiers. Six thousand two hundred and fifty…six.”

Flos nodded.

“Six thousand soldiers. A fine number, all things considered.”

“But very small.”

Mars mumbled that. She was playing with a dagger in her gauntleted hands. She hadn’t spoken much before this; Trey hadn’t seen her around the castle as Flos and Orthenon were moving about. Orthenon eyed her and nodded shortly.

“We will have more. Possibly as many as two thousand from the refugees headed towards the city. Not all will be raw recruits either; there may be a good handful of veteran warriors among their number.”

“Continue adding them to the ranks of our army as needed, Orthenon. But will it be enough?”

“I do not know, my lord. I can only work off of rough estimates of each nation’s strengths, but from what scouts and fleeing refugees have said, each nation has sent around ten thousand soldiers to do battle.”

Ten thousand soldiers. Trey felt his heart stop for a second. Against six thousand—

Flos nodded. His mouth twisted wryly.

“Ten thousand soldiers used to be an army large enough for any one nation. Not so these days, I suppose.”

“Not to go hunting for the King of Destruction’s head.”

Gazi shifted as all eyes turned towards her. She looked at Orthenon.

“Do you have a total number?”

Orthenon paused.

“One claim puts the army at seventy thousand.”

Someone made a small sound. Trey realized it had been him. Orthenon’s head turned towards Trey and his tone changed, becoming slightly more reassuring. It didn’t work.

“That number is probably highly inaccurate. There may well be over fifty thousand soldiers marching—perhaps as many as eighty thousand depending on whether it was an experienced [Scout] that counted or a [Farmer]. But of that number, a decent portion won’t fight in battle.”

“So? We’re still dead, right?”

Trey didn’t want to be a downer, but he had to speak the blindingly obvious truth when he saw it. Flos drummed his hands on his chair’s armrest as he sat back down.

“[Porters], [Cooks], [Hostlers], and [Healers]…they would account for several thousand depending on the size of each army. Still, Trey is correct that we are largely outnumbered.”

He had to say the situation was hopeless, right? Even if he was the King of Destruction…Trey waited, but Flos just shook his head.

“Putting numbers aside for the moment…Orthenon, based off of your knowledge of the nations that sent these armies, how many high-level warriors are we likely to encounter? Any specialty troops?”

“None that I know of. I would assume they would be obvious if they were included, but it seems that Gemira and Oblinat have declined to commit their most experienced forces.”

“Wise of them.”

Maresar whispered that. Flos nodded. He looked at the twins. He was still explaining. Still explaining, as if this meant…nothing.

“A battle is not decided merely by numbers in this world, Trey, Teres. Nor in yours, I suspect. But aside from the quality of arms and strategy, the existence of high-level warriors and mages can change the course of an entire battle. In fact, the enemy [General] alone can tip the scales between victory and defeat if his level is high enough.”

“So can armies geared towards a certain type of fighting, where all their soldiers have the same kind of class. Highly mobile armies, armies where the most common soldier knows a Tier 2 spell…if we don’t see them here, it is to our advantage.”

Orthenon’s calmness was getting on Trey’s nerves.

“But they have over fifty thousand—”

“Trey. I understand your concerns, but we must appraise our enemy fully before worrying.”

Flos gently patted Trey on the shoulder and let him take his seat. Trey sat, fidgeting on the chair as Flos looked at Ortheon. The steward continued.

“The highest level [General] in the region would be [Duke] Balimar Wulten. I assume he will lead the coalition army.”

“An aristocratic general?”

“No.”

Orthenon shook his head to Flos’ clear disappointment.

“He gained the [Duke] class from achieving distinction in battle, not at birth. To my knowledge his one main class is [General].”

“A pity.”

Flos sighed. He looked at Gazi.

“So. We know there may be as many as eighty thousand, and no outstanding units have been spotted. I hate to ask it of you, Gazi, but you are our highest-level [Scout]…”