"Forget it," Orin growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll deal with your insolence later. Right now, take this."
He flicked the scroll across the table. It rolled to a stop against Aeloria's gauntlet.
She stared at him, one brow arched as she took it. "What do you want me to do with it?"
"Read it aloud. Let's hear the contents. You did learn how to read from her, didn't you?" Orin's eyes flicked toward Yoru, who stood rigid by the door like a statue carved from anxiety.
Aeloria unrolled the parchment, cleared her throat theatrically, and began.
"For this attack we will use only two thousand soldiers. The Cannibal will take four hundred troops and move through the Milya toward the southern Lonorith river, where our defences are the weakest. That is the logical place for Namesh to strike, but our enemy knows this too. That is why the Cannibal will only take four hundred soldiers. The potato-headed brute commander will take one thousand five hundred soldiers to Jorm, where they are less likely to attack…"
Aeloria stopped. A tiny giggle escaped her. Then another. Then she doubled over the table, laughing so hard the wolf crest on her breastplate rattled.
Orin's face turned the colour of fresh liver.
Yoru bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood, her shoulders shaking with the effort of staying silent.
"Continue. Reading." Orin forced the words through clenched teeth.
Aeloria wiped a tear from her eye, still snickering. "Sorry, sorry, it just took me a moment to realise you were the potato-headed commander."
Orin's knuckles went white on the armrests.
'Just you wait, Ramius. I'm carving that tongue out and feeding it to the crows the next time we meet.'
Aeloria straightened, cleared her throat again, and carried on with mock seriousness.
"The rest of the hundred-man scout squad will be divided between the potato squad and…" she snorted, "and the cannibal squad. They will act as the ears of both forces. I know what you're thinking potato—why only two thousand? Believe me, I would love to explain the genius of it, but your puny brains wouldn't understand, so just do as I say…"
She couldn't finish. Laughter exploded out of her again, loud and bright and utterly without fear. She slapped the table so hard the embedded dagger jumped.
"Shut up or die, Aeloria," Orin said in a voice cold enough to frost steel.
"Hey, I'm not the one who wrote it," she shot back, grinning. "Don't shoot the messenger."
Orin exhaled through his nose, long and slow, the sound of a man counting to ten in seven different languages.
"Yoru."
"Yes, Commander!" The aide snapped to attention so fast her armour creaked.
"Inform the other captains of the plan. Have them mobilise their troops by the end of the week. Go."
"Yes, Commander!" Yoru saluted, spun on her heel, and fled the war room before the laughter or the killing started—whichever came first.
The door slammed shut.
Silence fell, thick and dangerous.
Only the Cannibal and the Commander remained.
Orin leaned back in the high-backed chair, folding his arms. Aeloria had her forehead resting on the table, one finger idly tracing circles around one of the daggers still buried in the wood.
"It looks like you will be participating in the war after all," Orin said at last.
Aeloria lifted her head just enough to peer at him through the dark fringe of her hair. "Why didn't you want me to go in the first place? And don't give me some soft nonsense about being worried about me—not after you threw me into the middle of a hundred enemies on my first day and told me to survive or die."
She yanked the dagger free, spun it once, and stabbed it back into the table again.
"That's exactly why," Orin said, rising slowly to his feet. He towered over the table, over her, the morning light cutting harsh shadows across his face. "Because there is something far more important I need to teach you first. Something that can turn the entire tide of a battle in a single breath."
Aeloria pushed up from her chair as well, planting both palms on the table and leaning forward until they were eye to eye.
"That's what my teeth are for," she said, baring them in a slow, feral smile.
Orin did not smile back.
"Come to think of it, where did your scars go?" She asked, now that he was close, she could see clearly that there were no scars. It was like he wiped them off.
"It'd related to what I'm about to yeach you." Orin replied.
"It will be faster to demonstrate," Orin said, rolling his shoulders as if loosening for a morning stretch. "Come, little cannibal. I now give you permission to use those fancy teeth of yours on me."
Aeloria's eyes widened a fraction. "Are you sure, Commander?"
"Yes. I'll show you exactly why every soul in Runevale bows before Lady Nyxelene. Don't hold back. You won't be able to hurt me anyway."
He rested both hands lightly on the golden hilts of his twin daggers and walked to the far side of the war room. Aeloria followed, her boots ringing on the floor.
They faced each other across the open space, circling slowly, measuring.
Aeloria had no intention of truly sinking her teeth into the one man she had come to see as an older brother. She still remembered the shock three years ago when she learned the terrifying commander of the entire army was only twenty-six—barely seven years older than her.
She lunged.
Orin's daggers flashed from their sheaths in twin silver arcs, slicing inward toward her shoulders. Aeloria dropped low as she felt the wind of the blades kiss her hair, but the right dagger was already reversing, stabbing downward like a striking viper.
'He's too fast.'
She threw up her left forearm to block. Steel met flesh and bone. The dagger carved deep, blood spraying, and in the same heartbeat Orin's boot slammed into her stomach. The kick lifted her clean off her feet and hurled her across the room. She crashed through one of the heavy oak chairs, splintering it into kindling, and hit the floor hard enough to rattle the table.
Before she could draw breath, Orin's voice rolled through the room, low and resonant, each syllable carrying weight that made the torches flicker.
"Lä drüzha vëló, ŕäš drüzha vënäš ävë.
Thälïn zhürën ävə söl, ën thäl hävën.
Drüzhaœ şhëlë vəläin žhënœ.
Lä druvë vëló, ŕäš vəläin äsë ävə söl.
Drüzha šëvən, növë nälïn žhënən thäl ävën.
Moräth Šëlvn: Řäënthirin Välən.
("A will to move, but the earth disagrees,
Your struggle is meaningless, you'll soon see.
Swam of the earth swallow her knees,
A will to fight, her efforts in vain.
Nature of stone, to my will you shall bend,
Primal Genesis: Jorney's End.")
The floor beneath Aeloria rippled like living flesh. Grey stone turned black and viscous, swallowing her boots, her calves, her knees in an instant. She tried to leap free; her muscles strained, but the ground held her as though she weighed a thousand tons.
"What… what is going on?" she gasped, her eyes wide.
"This," Orin said, already standing directly in front of her, one dagger resting lightly against her throat, "is Šërēĺįťh."
He flicked his wrist. The stone released her as suddenly as it had taken her. Aeloria dropped to the floor in a heap, staring up at him in stunned silence.
"With this power," Orin continued in a calm tone, "the number of people under the heavens who could truly challenge you can be counted on one hand."
'So this is the power the queen holds…
With this, I can finally…'
Orin's next words cut the thought in half.
"A quick warning. Never make the mistake of believing this is the limit of Lady Nyxelene's strength. She is far beyond what you just felt."
He offered his hand and pulled Aeloria to her feet.
"Let me tell you a story. Once, long ago, there existed a kingdom in the heart of Squora—the same barren waste where nothing grows."
Aeloria's breath caught. Memories of endless dry land, steep clifs, memories of thirst, of holding her dying daughter, clawed at the back of her throat.
"A kingdom? In that place? How…?"
"Let me finish," Orin said gently, guiding her to sit on the edge of the table. "I don't know what they did, but they committed the sin getting on her bad side. One night she simply… vanished. No one saw her leave the palace grounds. We thought she had been kidnapped. The entire army mounted up and rode for Squora, ready to burn the world to get her back. We arrived at dawn."
He paused, eyes distant.
"There was nothing left.
The city, the walls, the rivers, the fields—everything was gone. Only flat plains and cliffs stretching to every horizon, and across it, millions of tiny droplets of blood frozen in place like red stars. Not a single building, not a blade of grass, not even bones. And to this day nothing grows there. Animals that wander in die within hours. That is the power."
Aeloria swallowed hard, then let out a shaky, incredulous laugh. "How… how did she become that strong?"
Orin gave a small, tired shrug. "Even if you opened the Book of Life itself and traced her name back to the first page, you would find only blank parchment. Some things are not meant to be known."
He turned away, sheathing his daggers.
"Go home. Rest. Tomorrow before dawn we begin your real training at my personal grounds. And Aeloria—" His voice dropped to a whisper that somehow filled the entire room. "This is secret. No one—no one—must ever know you are learning Šërēĺįťh. Not Yoru. Not anyone. Swear it."
Aeloria met his eyes and nodded once.
*****
The training went far more smoothly than Orin had dared hope.
What had taken him a full month to grasp under brutal trial and error, Aeloria absorbed in five days.
Her body already carried the gift of her daughter's desperate love; her mind was sharpened by years of hatred and guilt. The ancient words settled into her like they had been waiting for her all along.
And now the day of the Namesh confrontation had come.
Two thousand soldiers marched in perfect silence toward their assigned positions beneath a sky the colour of old bruises. Ramius's plan was flawless—elegant, vicious, and certain.
The only flaw no one had foreseen was that an univited guest might pass through. Aelora came face to face with the man in black, and she immediately knew....
Hello everyone, please drop a powerstone one your way out if you can, good day, and see you tomorrow.