Erin stared at Numbtongue. The Hob wore a pair of steel cuffs that had just been placed on his wrists by a Gnoll [Guardsman]. The Hob looked at her, and then at the ground. He was wet, sweaty, and looked…beaten. So did the other Hobs. What had happened? Green blood still dripped from Headscratcher’s hands where he had held the bandages against Bird’s side.

They were under arrest. Olesm had ordered it. Erin turned to the [Strategist].

“You can’t do it. It’s wrong.”

“I can and I have to, Erin. Liscor is in danger. Senior Guardsman Klbkch!”

The Antinium had sheathed his swords. He was standing at the entrance to the Hive with the Soldiers. He turned.

“I am in my position as Revalantor of the Free Antinium, Strategist Olesm. My Queen rages. She demands the death of whomever injured Bird. As we speak she struggles to save his life.”

Olesm nodded.

“I understand. I will send the Watch to patrol the waters in full force. But there is a situation. The Goblin Lord is coming here. Liscor will soon be under siege. By both the Goblin Lord and Humans.”

“Wait, what?”

Erin exclaimed, but neither Olesm nor Klbkch looked at her. The Antinium Revalantor went still for a second.

“Explain.”

“I don’t have the time. Watch Captain Zevara has the details. I have to contact Pallass. Now.”

“I see.”

Klbkch didn’t waste time asking further questions. He turned and the Soldiers retreated into the Hive. Then Klbkch strode down the street. Leaving Erin, the Hobgoblins, and Olesm behind.

“Olesm, what’s this about the Goblin Lord? I thought he was defeated! On the run!”

Erin stared at Olesm. The [Strategist] passed a claw over his eyes.

“I don’t—I don’t have the time to tell you, Erin! I need your door, now. Guardsmen! Arrest the Hobs and put them in separate cells!”

He turned. Erin ran around Olesm and blocked his way.

“No! Olesm, the Redfangs did nothing wrong! They came here because of Bird!”

“I know!”

Olesm shouted at Erin. She stepped backwards. The Drake glared at her.

“I know! But the Goblin Lord’s army is about to sweep down on Liscor, a mysterious Hob just destroyed part of your inn and nearly killed Bird, and there are hundreds of Cave Goblins living in the dungeon! I do not want those five causing an incident! And if I send out the Watch with orders to find and kill a Hob, they will find and kill Hobs. This is for their good, Erin! Don’t argue; just let me do my job!”

He tried to push Erin aside. But she folded her arms.

“No.”

This time Olesm nearly hissed at her. But Erin wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the Hobs. Her friends. Employees and…they’d done nothing wrong. Nothing. She knew that. Olesm knew that. But still Numbtongue was in cuffs. Erin closed her eyes. Then she looked at her friend, the Drake with light blue scales. Olesm. And she clenched her fist slowly and spoke.

“You’re right, Olesm. But you’re wrong. You can’t arrest them. I won’t let you.”

Olesm sighed. His shoulders drooped and his tail curled up at the tip. He shook his head.

“You don’t have a choice, Erin. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Erin saw Olesm’s head raise. He blinked as she punched him. The [Strategist] staggered back and cried out in pain but he didn’t drop. So Erin kicked him in the stomach. She whirled and the Gnoll [Guardsman] raised his paws.

“[Minotaur Punch]!”

He tried to block her, but Erin’s fist punched right through the Gnoll’s guard and knocked him flat. The other [Guards] stared at Erin. So did the Redfangs. Erin turned and shouted at them.

“Run for it, guys!”

The five Hobs hesitated, but then they took off. Headscratcher, Badarrow, Shorthilt, Rabbiteater, and the manacled Numbtongue each sprinted off in a different direction. The Watch tried to chase them, but Erin jumped forwards. She hit a female Drake with another [Minotaur Punch] and knew she had only two left. She turned, keeping her hands up as the Watch jumped back.

“Come on, I’ll take you on! Fight me! Hiyah!”

Erin tried to menace them, but the Drakes and Gnolls rushed after the Hobs instead. Erin threw a fake jab at a Drake close to her, making him duck back.

Behind you! A bell rang in Erin’s head. She turned—

And Relc was standing in front of her. The Drake waved at Erin. The [Innkeeper] hesitated, but then she aimed for his chest.

“[Minotaur Punch]!”

The Drake [Spearmaster] raised one claw. He caught her hand. His arms strained a bit with the recoil, but Relc himself barely moved. He let go as Erin blinked up at him. The two stared at each other. Then Erin threw another punch, this time at his stomach.

“[Minotaur Punch]!”

Relc blocked her fist again. This time he shook his claw.

“Ow. That hurts.”

Before Erin could react he reached out and tapped her on the forehead with his knuckles. She frowned and tried to swing at him again—

And then found herself lying on the ground. She stared up blankly at the clear sky. Then someone’s face appeared in her field of vision. It was Relc. Erin stared up at him dizzily. The Drake scratched the back of his head.

“Hey Erin.”

“Hey Relc.”

“You’re under arrest.”

Erin blinked stupidly up at Relc.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

She lay on the ground for a few minutes. By the time the world stopped spinning Olesm had gotten to his feet and the Hobs were returning.

In chains. The Watch had caught them. Erin watched in despair as the Hobs returned. First Badarrow, caught by Relc. Then Headscratcher with a bloody nose. Shorthilt. Rabbiteater with several bleeding scratches on his leg. But not Numbtongue.

“Senior Guardswoman Beilmark. Did they give you trouble?”

Olesm winced as he clutched his stomach. Erin felt bad; she’d kicked him as hard as she could. The Gnoll who’d caught Rabbiteater shook her head.

“No sir. They tried to knock us down but they didn’t draw steel, sir. But the fifth Hob, the one we already shackled—he uh, made it out.”

“What? How?”

Erin looked up. Beilmark looked embarrassed.

“The fifth one—he ran down the streets shouting about a Raskghar attack. In the panic we couldn’t catch up to him and then he ran up to the battlements and jumped off.”

“Clever Numbtongue.”

Olesm glanced down at her and made a frustrated sound.

“That’s—keep an eye out for him! Don’t shoot him, but if he appears in the inn or the city—just keep an eye out! As for these four…”

He turned and looked grimly at Erin and the Hobs.

“Take them to prison and put them in separate cells.”

“The Hobs?”

Relc raised his brows. Olesm shook his head.

“All of them. The Hobs…and Erin. I can’t have them running around. And Erin causes trouble. This is an emergency and I can’t—I don’t want to lose my breakfast. So take her to a cell.”

He looked back at Erin.

“I’m sorry.”

Olesm didn’t wait for a response. He turned and hurried off. Erin stared down at her hands. Relc walked over with a pair of metal cuffs. He shrugged.

“You know, he does have a point.”

Erin stared at Olesm.

“Yeah. That’s fair too.”

Then she looked at the four Hobs sitting around her. They looked at her, tired, confused. And frightened, though they tried to hide it. Erin smiled weakly at them.

“I’m sorry.”

And she saw the guilt in their eyes as Relc closed the manacles over her hands. Then Erin and the Redfang Warriors went to jail.

—-

Klbkch did not waste time. When Olesm told him Liscor was in danger he made his way to the barracks, listened to a brief summary of events from Zevara and then spoke four brief words.

“The Antinium will fight.”

There was nothing else to be said. Not to Zevara who was trying to do a thousand things at once. Klbkch strode back through the streets of Liscor to his Hive and descended into it. Twice as many Soldiers were on guard near the entrance. They might not have known what was going on, but they could sense the tension in Klbkch. The Revalantor walked further into the Hive.

He felt as though the air was tingling around him. Klbkch’s antennae slowly moved back and forth. He didn’t grasp at the handles of his swords, but he was aware they were there as he walked.

War. It had returned to Liscor. Klbkch had not predicted this. The news had caught him off guard. But now he knew, he felt as through the entire Hive was humming. Klbkch recalled a distant scene and paused. He remembered a song, echoing, and for a second he nearly drew his swords.

Goblins and Humans. They were coming in numbers to drown Liscor. And the city was not ready. The Hive was not ready. But they would fight and fill the Floodplains with death if they had to.

“Prepare the Hives. Call the Black Tide. The Antinium march.”

Klbkch whispered. Then he forced his hands away from his swords. Not yet. Klbkch kept moving, but now the air was electric. Workers straightened and Soldiers turned as he passed. They could feel it. The Soldiers closed their hands into fists and stood straighter, and the Workers stared at Klbkch’s back. They could feel it too. But only those around Klbkch. Those who passed out of his range were cut off. Confused.

The Hive was in disarray. Workers and Soldiers milled about, only half going about their assigned tasks. The rest were—confused. As if their mental link with their Queen had been interrupted. As if she were dead. When Klbkch passed by them, they stared at the Revalantor and then moved smoothly back to work. But as soon as he passed from view they grew confused again. Because their Queen was occupied.

Klbkch could feel her presence as he swiftly made his way towards her chambers. The Grand Queen’s presence filled his mind. He could ‘hear’ her, sense her emotions and will. She was in turmoil. Then Klbkch did hear her voice, echoing from her inner chambers.

“Klbkchhezeim!”

He entered her chambers. The Soldiers standing guard were agitated, standing far away from the entrance to the room. Twitching, half-looking inside before watching the corridor leading to her rooms. Klbkch didn’t have to guess why. The scent of Antinium blood—hemolymph—was thick in the air. And inside the Free Queen’s chambers was a mix of confusion.

Strange Antinium milled about in the center of the room, surrounding a fallen Worker. The Free Queen of the Antinium herself bent over Bird, issuing orders as her feelers moved rapidly, scooping up gels and tending to strange, bulbous sacs filled with green blood and organs. Klbkch stopped, his mandibles opening with shock as he beheld the scene.

No wonder the Soldiers were agitated. Although they had guarded the Queen all their lives, they had probably never seen the Drones, the Antinium with bodies that resembled their Queen, before. They had no arms or hands, but six feelers with palps and hunched, insectile bodies even more ant-like than…well, the other Antinium.

The Drones had smaller mandibles than even Workers and they were physically tiny compared to their brethren. They were not designed for war. In fact, the nine or so Drones weren’t even properly formed.

They’d been crudely copied from memory, but the Free Queen had yet to complete their design. As a result, the Drones moved unsteadily, sometimes jerking as muscle fibers fired improperly. They were unbalanced compared to the relatively flawless design of Workers and Soldiers, but they were more precise than the other two types of Antinium at delicate tasks. As such they were essential here.

Because of Bird. The Worker lay on the ground. Bleeding. The Drones clustered around him, applying the Antinium’s unique gelatins and secretions to him. Another tended to a strange tube inserted into Bird’s chest. As Klbkch watched, he poured a bowl of blood into the tube, and then trundled over to the semi-translucent sac filled with blood and floating organs. The sac twitched as the Drone collected more blood from it.

It was alive. The blood sac wasn’t Antinium, though. Klbkch doubted it was even conscious. It was designed for one purpose: to provide raw materials for his Queen to harvest. He stared at it for one second, then looked at his Queen.

“My Queen.”

“More gel! Stop the bleeding! More blood.”

The Free Queen’s voice echoed as she bent over Bird. Her massive form was hunched, bending possessively over Bird, forcing the Drones to scurry around her. The Free Queen’s head turned to Klbkch as he approached.

“He is dying.”

“Can you not save him?”

The Queen’s mandibles clicked together harshly.

“I am trying. But his body is torn. Whatever struck him created a shockwave. His organs are in failure. I am trying, Klbkch. But his internals are—who did this? Who?”

Klbkch bowed his head. He looked down. Bird was moving slowly, mandibles opening and closing. He was awake. The Antinium didn’t have anesthesia or painkillers. Klbkch spoke dispassionately.

“A Hobgoblin, my Queen.”

“Find it. Kill it. Send the Soldiers! All of them!”

“That would not be wise, my Queen. The waters are still risen. And there is another issue—”

A feeler shot out. The Grand Queen grabbed Klbkch and drew her head close to his.

“Do not argue with me, Klbkchhezeim.”

He held still. Klbkch opened his mandibles slowly and spoke cautiously. He had never seen his Queen like this. Why did she care about Bird so much? She would not have grown half as agitated to lose a thousand Workers. But Bird?

“My Queen. Liscor is in danger. I have just been informed that the Humans are driving the Goblin Lord to Liscor. Not to eradicate it as we had assumed, but to lead an assault on Liscor.”

The Free Queen froze for a second.

“Impossible. That would be an act of war. Besides, the Humans cannot breach Liscor’s walls.”

“That is what we believed. But the Strategist of Liscor believes they have obtained trebuchets.”

“Trebuchets? How?”

“I am unclear. But it is certain that the Humans intend to create a breach in Liscor’s walls and allow the Goblins to sack the city before occupying it themselves. My Queen, Liscor will be under siege in four days’ time.”

The Queen released Klbkch. She sat back for a second, her antennae waving frantically. Klbkch stared up at her as the Drones worked frantically. And then he heard a sound.

“Ow. Ow.”

Both the Free Queen and Klbkch looked down. Bird was lying down, still oozing blood. His mandibles opened and closed.

“It hurts. I am dying. Ow.”

“Bird.”

The Queen bent over him, the danger to Liscor and the Hive forgotten in an instant. Klbkch moved closer and a Drone hurried out of the way. Bird’s head turned.

“It hurts. Revalantor Klbkch? Is that you?”

“Yes, Bird.”

Klbkch looked down at Bird. Dispassionately. He had seen countless Antinium die before. Bird was one face of millions. Klbkch’s hands tightened on his sword’s hilts. Just another Worker. But Bird was an Individual. And he looked so broken lying there. His left side was missing.

What kind of a Goblin could have done this? By throwing a sword? Klbkch had fought Goblin Chieftains in the Second Antinium War. He had dueled Goblin Lords. But even the strongest Hobs he’d met there didn’t seem capable of doing that. Only a few had been that strong. And they had been—

Klbkch realized Bird was moving slowly. His right side was twitching. Bird’s mandibles were opening and closing and he was quivering. With pain? Klbkch searched for something to say.

“Stay alive, Bird. This is an order.”

“Yes, Revalantor Klbkch. I will try.”

“Klbkch. Move back. Bird, do not move. You are torn.”

The Queen’s voice was quiet. Her feelers pressed against Bird’s side, applying a viscous gel. But the regenerative gel the Antinium used was insufficient to this injury, as were healing potions. Bird was torn open. And no matter how desperately the Drones labored, they couldn’t stop the worst of his bleeding.

In a Human it would be different. In a Drake or Gnoll, too. But Bird had no arteries, no closed circulatory system. It was impossible to close a vein or stem the bleeding. All the Queen could do was restore his blood. But so long as Bird bled—

“Can you save him?”

Klbkch looked up at his Queen. She did not answer. Her feelers were wet with Bird’s blood. The Free Queen kept moving, directing her Drones, but Klbkch sensed the answer in her emotions.

She was frantic. She had not been taught to heal like the other Queens designed solely for that purpose. When she had crossed the ocean and left Rhir, she had been young. She was neither a Weaver Queen nor a Battle Queen who could save Antinium wounded on the battlefield. All she knew of the Antinium was a result of rediscovering it from memory, out of desperation.

“Do not die, Bird. Hold on. The bleeding will slow.”

“It hurts. It hurts.”

Bird stared at the tube in his chest as a Drone poured more blood into him. He clicked his mandibles and tried to turn his head.

“I fell. There was a Goblin with a beard. He had a sword. Where is Erin? She was very upset. I broke her tower. Where is my bow? I must have my bow. It is mine.”

“Be still.”

The Queen gently pressed down on Bird’s chest. He looked up at her, at Klbkch.

“I am dying.”

“Yes.”

Klbkch knelt by Bird’s side. He pressed a hand to Bird’s torn flesh and felt the gel and blood mixing at his touch. He looked up at the Free Queen.

“My Queen—”

“No. He can be saved. He must.”

The Free Queen shook her head. Klbkch stared down at Bird. Then he looked around.

Drones, hurrying about. The quivering sacs of flesh, the product of secret experiments. Staring Soldiers. Bird. The Queen searching through her reagents and catalysts for something. Panicked. Not thinking. Hive in chaos. Belgrade and Anand in the western area, restoring order. Pawn’s presence, stabilizing Antinium around him.

Bird dying. Garry standing by the door to his kitchen, staring at them. The Queen calling for more blood. Klbkch’s swords were by his side. Bird looking up. Asking for his bow.

Movement in a corner. A shape. A vessel, a body shaped in the image of a Queen. Holding a mirror. Jerking. Standing. Moving forwards. Speaking. A face reflected in the magical depths of the mirror. A voice.

“Klbkchhezeim. What passes here?”

Klbkch looked up. Then he turned and knelt.

“My Queen.”

The Antinium around him—stopped. The Free Queen, the Drones, the Soldiers. Bird. The small version of the Queen looked around. And then she raised her mirror. And reflected in the depths was a large form. A Queen of the Antinium stared out from the mirror’s surface. She sat in a grand chamber, surrounded by Antinium. An azure Antinium with a staff stood by her side, and Prognugators armed with silvery blades, replicas of Klbkch’s weapons, surrounded her. The Grand Queen of the Antinium spoke.

“Why does this Worker’s fate concern the Free Queen of the Antinium? Why are Drones present in Liscor’s Hive? Answer me, Klbkchhezeim of the Centenium.”

Klbkch felt the Free Queen’s shock ripple through his connection to her, but he didn’t move. The Grand Queen was here. The vessel she had sent looked around the chambers, inspecting everything. Seeing through her connection with it and the magic mirror it held.

“Grand Queen. An Individual of the Hive has been injured by an unknown assailant. He is—a valuable asset to the Hive.”

“I am?”

“A single Worker? Ah. One of your unique Antinium reported to the Hives. Very well. And the Drones? We forbade this Hive to experiment with new forms or create Antinium besides new Workers and Soldiers. Why?”

“A…necessity, Grand Queen. My Queen deemed them essential for the purposes of enacting the Rite of Anastases when I fell.”

That was a lie. The Drones had been present for nearly six years, hidden in the Free Queen’s laboratory, defying the Grand Queen’s orders. But the Grand Queen did not know that. She paused and her feelers rubbed together.

“We see. Very well. Klbkchhezeim, Free Queen, you are called to speak with the other five Hives. Abandon this…Worker so that we may speak.”

“No.”

The Free Queen spoke softly. The Grand Queen’s vessel turned and looked up at her.

“This was not a request.”

Klbkch spoke quickly to prevent his Queen from speaking again. It had been years since the Grand Queen and his Queen had communicated. And yet the two had never forgotten their past. A decade had passed since his Queen had settled in Liscor, but the Antinium never forgot.

“My Queen. This Worker is of great importance to the Hives. If necessary, I would require that the Hives wait. The importance of this Worker cannot be understated.”

“Really?”

The Grand Queen froze, her mandibles opening in shock. So did the Free Queen. Beside her, in the mirror, the blue form of Xrn smiled, raising her mandibles with delight. The Grand Queen regarded Klbkch for a second. If the Free Queen had said the same, she would not have listened. But Klbkch was a Centenium. The last of the ancients. So the Grand Queen slowly nodded.

“Very well. If Klbkchhezeim speaks of this Worker’s value—what say you, Queens of the Antinium?”

For a second Klbkch thought she was speaking to the Free Queen. But then the mirror flickered. The image of the Grand Queen sitting in her Hive vanished. Another Queen filled it. A smaller Queen, shadowed in a quiet place, surrounded by shadows. Antinium blending with the darkness. The only light came from phosphorous moss growing around the room, dimly giving light. The Queen spoke in the shadows, her words soft.

“If Klbkchhezeim speaks, the Silent Antinium listen.”

Her image flickered. The mirror brightened. Another Queen sat in the light. She was huge, the largest of the Queens, her body bloated. A ring of steel stood around her, Antinium covered in metal armor. Tersk stood by his Queen’s side as she waved a Feeler.

“The Armored Antinium assent. What strengthens the Hives is worthy of being saved. Preserve the Worker.”

Another flicker. She vanished and a third Queen appeared. Her room was filled with motion; Antinium with wings flew or ran. This Queen sat in the center of her Hive, as corridors and tunnels filled her cavern and her Workers and Soldiers moved in a constant stream. She twitched as Pivr, her winged Revalantor, brought her a bowl of meat to eat from. Her voice was quick, impatient.

“If it must be, it must be. Save the Worker but hurry. The Hive must discuss and the moment is now. Twisted Queen?”

The last Queen appeared in the mirror. And she was unlike the others. A ruined face and one eye stared at Klbkch and the Free Queen. Repaired mandibles opened. A voice spoke. The glowing sacs and bodies floating in liquid in the chamber around the Queen moved uneasily, unaccustomed to sound or light.

“Agreed.”

One word, and her image flickered and changed back to the Grand Queen. The large Queen was clearly displeased, but the others had spoken. She waved a feeler.

“Then it is decided. Save the Worker. Queen of the Silent Antinium, I call upon you.”

The body holding the mirror jerked. And then it’s mannerisms changed. The mirror shifted as it crept closer, suddenly less decisive, more reserved. The Drones moved back as one as the puppet moved forwards. The Silent Queen stared out of her mirror down at Bird. He looked up at her and whispered.

“Hello. I am Bird.”

She ignored him. The Silent Queen made the small replica lower the mirror so she could inspect the wound. She spoke, choosing each word with care.

“His system is severed. The liquid leaks. It must be redirected.”

“I know. But the damage is too great to contain. Each seal I form cannot contain the blood. If I had false flesh or chitin—”

The Free Queen’s voice was frustrated, and she felt helpless in Klbkch’s mind. The Silent Queen regarded Bird and then looked around the room.

“Not necessary. Apply a gel of congealed blood-fluid here and here. Increase the ambient temperature by three degrees. This Worker’s body temperature is dropping too quickly.”

The Free Queen immediately sent Drones to obey. The Silent Queen abandoned Bird and moved towards the blood sacs.

“These are containers preserved for blood? Parts?”

“Yes.”

The Free Queen spoke. The mirror flickered.

“You were not allowed to create other Antinium! This is unacceptable! A violation of orders! This—”

The image flickered back to the shadowed Queen. She inspected the living sacs of organs and then pointed with one feeler.

“There. That is necessary. Splice that organ with the Worker’s injuries.”

The Free Queen’s antennae waved with surprise.

“Would that work?”

The little vessel and the Silent Queen in the mirror nodded as one.

“The Worker design was created uniformly. With flesh and chitin, a seal may be created.”

She looked up at the Free Queen. For a moment the Queen of the Free Antinium hesitated, then she moved. She reached out and gripped the sac. She tore the membrane. Antinium blood splattered. Something died. The Drones swarmed over the sac, cutting with knives. The Silent Queen crept back to Bird and oversaw the treatment.

Klbkch watched impassively. This was not like the weaving of old, where a Queen could replace a limb or body part in minutes. This was crude. But it worked. The organs replaced the damaged ones in Bird’s body as the Worker quivered. The membrane and more regenerative gel was packed into place, creating an oozing mass. And then raw chitin was delicately placed just so, to cover the rest. It was sealed in place with a different type of gel meant for sealing wounds.

The bleeding stopped. Bird lay on the ground, surrounded by blood as the transfusion tube was removed from his chest. He stared up at the Free Queen and Klbkch as the Silent Queen sat back, her job done. The Drones moved back, disposing of the rest of the organs and beginning to pack away the tools and different mixtures they had brought here. Bird opened his mandibles and spoke.

“That hurt.”

Klbkch stared down at Bird. The Worker stared up at him.

“Am I going to live, Revalantor Klbkch?”

“Yes.”

Bird nodded slowly.

“That is good. I am Bird. Ow. Ow. I am much in pain. Ow. But I am brave. La, la, I am a brave little Bird…ow.”

He fell silent. Klbkch saw his mandibles open a bit, and wondered if Bird had passed out…or gone to sleep. The Silent Queen’s image flickered and another intelligence took control of the body. The Twisted Queen, her broken body a reflection of Bird’s own, stared down at him. Her feelers moved slowly towards him and both Klbkch and the Free Queen grew concerned. But the Twisted Queen did not touch Bird. Instead, she looked at Klbkch.

“Why. Does it speak? Why is it. Named?”

“It is Individual. You were informed of my success. And you have known of my designs for the Antinium.”

The Free Queen spoke coldly. The Twisted Queen looked at her and did not reply. The body jerked. The Grand Queen spoke briskly.

“The success of the Free Antinium is documented. Now the Worker has been preserved, we are called to more important issues.”

She made the body move back. Klbkch pointed, and the Drones carefully lifted Bird out of the way. They moved back as the vessel, the Free Queen, and Klbkch stood in the center of the room. The Grand Queen’s voice echoed out of the mirror.

“We are called to action, Free Queen. So we gather. The five Queens of the Hives are present. We deliberate. We call on you to join us.”

The Free Queen hesitated for a fraction of a second, then lowered her head.

“I am a servant of the Antinium, as are we all. What do the Hives call the Free Antinium for?”

The vessel raised the mirror it held. The view of the Grand Queen splintered into five parts. The five Queens sat and spoke. Each in their Hive. Each watching, regarding the others. In unison and apart.

“For war.”

The Armored Queen and her legions standing to attention.

“For planning.”

The shadows moved as the Silent Queen raised her head.

“For excellence bar none.”

The Flying Antinium and their Queen buzzed, their wings beating restlessly.

“For. Change.”

The Twisted Queen sat as things grew and died around her.

“For victory.”

The Grand Queen spoke simply. And her Prognugator, Xrn of the Antinium, raised her staff and called a map of Izril into the air. Klbkch knelt and his Queen leaned forwards. And the humming was back in the air. War. The Free Antinium looked up across their Hive and felt it.

And a little Worker, in pain, lying in a corner of the room turned his head a tiny bit. Just a bit because everything hurt. He stared at the mirror, the kneeling Revalantor, and the six Queens gathered for the first time in a decade. His antennae waved a bout and he looked at the Drones standing silently around him.

“Excuse me. Who are they?”

—-

While the Queens of the Antinium spoke, another conversation took place further north. Two others were magically linked, but not by an artifact. One spoke and then the other did, using the same mouth. They saw through the same eyes. But they were not the same. One’s voice was Human, male, old but not decrepit. The other was young, a Goblin’s voice. And the body walked through the camp, staring at the Goblins, the distant Human forces who had paused for the death of Tremborag of the Mountain.

Reiss, the Goblin Lord spoke to his master, Az’kerash. Behind him lay a Drake’s body. Oteslia Blackwing. A group of Goblins scurried forwards and bore her away. The rest were silent. Snapjaw, Eater of Spears, and the Goblin Lord’s tribe stood back, watching their leader with unease. They knew. But for the moment, no one else did.

Rags was busy trying to organize the remainder of Tremborag’s tribe. Garen Redfang snarled and tended to the few thousand who had decided to join him. Reiss and Az’kerash watched it all and spoke. The first thing Az’kerash said was simple.

“Have you leveled since we last spoke, my apprentice?”

Reiss stirred. He blinked, but then realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. He shook his head slightly.

“No, master.”

“A pity. But you have mastered the art of raising Draugr now?”

“Yes, master. I have.”

“Good.”

A smile passed Reiss’ lips. It was not his own. Az’kerash tapped a finger to his lips and Reiss did the same.

“In that case, study from the Tome of Greir Rot next. The section on undead enhancement, I think. Empowering your Draug and lesser undead will allow them to win battles until you are capable of reaching the next stage of undead animation.”

“Yes, master.”

“When you have learned those spells, inform me. The next step for a [Necromancer] at your level would be to amass an army of expendable corpses supplemented by an elite core of Draug and high-ranking undead. Or focus on a select group of customized creations. Either way, the challenge you will face lies not in outnumbering your enemy, but dealing with warriors and mages who can slay even Draug with ease and survive most mundane attacks. But as a Goblin Lord, your focus will be different. It is a curious change, but one that will make you stronger if you survive.”

“Yes, master. What is the solution for dealing with warriors and mages?”

Az’kerash frowned with Reiss’ face.

“Simple to speak of, difficult to achieve. Ideally, you would learn new spells to supplement your abilities. Or create minions with supreme offensive abilities. Naturally, either option is difficult to properly work towards. [Necromancers] struggle to excel against small groups of high-level foes. It is the weakness of our class which I have long sought to address. As you know.”

“Yes, master.”

Reiss spoke carefully. He was waiting. When he and his master spoke like this, they could have been any master and apprentice. Az’kerash’s tone was interested, almost affectionate. When Az’kerash spoke of his passion, of Necromancy, he sounded like a teacher. But still Reiss waited. And he did not have to wait long.

“So much for your progress. Now we speak of what has passed since I last contacted you.”

“Yes, master.”

Reiss tensed, though he knew the Necromancer could feel it through their bond. He couldn’t help it. Az’kerash paused. When he spoke this time, his voice was cold and dispassionate.

“I am disappointed in you, my apprentice.”

“Yes, master.”

“I gave you an order and trusted you to lead your army after Zel Shivertail’s defeat. I ordered you to preserve his body. You failed to do so. I expected you to defeat this Goblin Chieftain of the Mountains and cause havoc in Human lands. You failed in that mission as well. I find you fleeing from the Humans instead, your undead army destroyed, with two other Goblin Chieftains defying your will. This is unacceptable.”

“Yes, master.”

Reiss waited. Az’kerash looked about, focusing on the milling Goblins, on Rags, and then on the distant Humans.

“Tyrion Veltras has gathered a powerful army to him. I see the banners of multiple [Lords] and [Ladies] of note. And he has enough [Mages] to humble you a dozen times over, my apprentice.”

“Yes, master. What should we do? What is he doing?”

And where have you been? Reiss didn’t ask that last part out loud. To the south, he knew, his master was sitting in his castle, surrounded by nothing but death. Az’kerash, Peril Chandler, the Necromancer of Izril, regarded the Humans and Goblins for one long minute. Then he smiled and spoke.

“The Humans are using you as a weapon against the Drakes, my apprentice. They think they can use you to start a war. I suggest…you let them.”

Reiss’ heart began to beat faster. He stared at the Humans. He bit his lower lip, and hesitated. Then he gritted his teeth.

“Why?”

—-

The Queens debated. The Necromancer spoke with the Goblin Lord. Erin went to jail. The young woman chattered nervously as she was led down the stairs to Liscor’s prison. It wasn’t that she was afraid of being beaten and locked away forever; she’d been treated quite civilly, in fact, especially since she’d just punched Liscor’s Chief Strategist and several members of the City Watch.

No one had hit her with sticks. Nor was she dragged along in chains while her captors hurled insults at her. Instead, she was escorted quite politely, although there was a heavy escort, and all the [Guards] kept out of arm’s reach.

Relc hadn’t been allowed to take Erin to prison. He and Olesm and the other high-level officers of the City Watch had gone straight to Erin’s inn. To take her door and deal with whatever was happening. Liscor being under attack. Erin had no idea what it was all about and the [Guardspeople] around her didn’t tell her anything. She walked down the steps to the prison, the Hobs following in a line.

“So this is a prison? It’s cleaner than I thought it would be. I’ve never been to prison, you know. I’ve never even been in trouble with the law. Except for that one time I got in trouble for throwing snowballs at cars. I didn’t know it was dangerous! I never did it again. I was a good kid. I think.”

The Drake guiding her grunted. Erin kept chattering, the pit in her stomach sinking further the lower she went.

“Am I going to be on a watch list? Or will this be on my permanent record? Do you have records? Wait—am I already on your watch list? Hey, do I have a file and if I do, can I see it?”

One of the Gnolls behind Erin groaned under her breath. Erin had been talking nonstop for the last ten minutes they’d been walking. And even the City Watch’s stoic silence could only take so much. The Drake in front of her grunted.

“You don’t have a file, Human. Do you think we’re made of parchment? We just remember your face.”

“Oh, really? So if you saw me next time…”

“We might break your arm by ‘accident’. Or kick you in the face if you keep causing trouble. Or if you don’t shut up.”

Erin clamped her lips together. She walked down the last of the stairs in silence, much to everyone’s relief. The Drake stopped by a door, opened it with a key, and pointed inside. Erin stepped apprehensively into the prison and looked around.

It was actually pretty nice, as prisons went. Okay, sure, it was clearly a prison and there were cells, but they were big ones, some clearly meant to lock up groups while others were smaller. At the far end, a few cells looked enchanted; the metal bars were semi-translucent or seemed to glow, suggesting that they were reinforced or magicked in some way. And the furthest cell didn’t even have bars; the opening was encircled by a double-layer of tightly-written runes which glowed pale yellow in the dim light.

But the thing that surprised Erin most was…that there weren’t many cells to begin with. Liscor didn’t believe in having large prison populations. Troublemakers were fined, ejected from the city…or killed. The patrol of guards led Erin down the short jail, and she saw several people behind bars. Drakes, and a few Humans, all who looked like they’d been in some sort of fight. A pair of Gnolls, one of whom had been very unhappily sick, a Garuda…

“Bevussa?”

Erin stopped, much to the annoyance of her captors. Bevussa waved at Erin and smiled weakly from behind the enchanted bars of her cell.

“Hey Erin. Fancy seeing you here.”

“What are you doing here?”

The young woman ignored the Drake who was trying to lead her onwards. Bevussa grinned sheepishly.

“I uh, got into a fight at the Adventurer’s Guild and punched a few people. You know, over the lottery? I’m in here for the day. Some of the other Gold-ranks are too. Keldrass is in the other cell. Say hi to him, would you?”

Erin blinked. The Drake growled at her and she remembered to keep moving.

“Whoops, sorry about that. Hey Keldrass! Bevussa says hi.”

“Tell her to eat her own tail.”

“Shove yours up your ass, Keldrass! I wasn’t even aiming for you!”

It definitely seemed like Erin had missed something. She kept walking and noticed they were headed to the back of the enchanted cells. She gulped. The City Watch wasn’t taking this lightly, for all they were treating her and the Hobs nice. She turned her head. Four Hobs stared at her back. Erin whispered quickly.

“Okay guys, look. I’m not sure what’s in there, but I do know how to survive jail. According to TV. The trick is that the instant we get in there, we have to find the biggest guy—or girl—and beat them up.”

The Hobs brightened up considerably. They could certainly do that! One of the female Gnolls looked askance. She glanced at her companions.

“Is she serious? She does know we’re putting them in separate cells, yes? What kind of prisons do Humans have?”

The others shook their heads. Erin blushed. She reached the end of the hallway and the Drake pointed.

“In there.”

“Oh. Just me? Uh, thanks for not hitting me or anything.”

Erin gingerly approached the cell. It was fairly spacious—fourteen feet by fourteen feet, quite unlike the image of cells Erin had seen in her world.

“Hands.”

She jumped, but the Drake only wanted to unlock her shackles. Erin blinked as he took them off and then pointed. She backed slowly into the cell. The Drake grunted irritably as he closed and locked her cell door with a magic key. She thought he’d just leave her there, but to her surprise he looked at her.

“You’re lucky we owe you one, Human. You helped during the Face-Eater Moth attack, and with Skinner. And the Raskghar. My kid likes those hamburgers. Don’t make this a habit.”

“Oh. Thanks?”

The Drake grunted and walked past Erin. She heard more cells opening and saw Headscratcher entering the cell across from her. Doors closed, the City Watch marched past her. The Drake paused again in front of Erin’s cell.

“Don’t cause trouble. Don’t shout. You can talk if you want. Odds are Olesm lets you out in a few hours or tomorrow for hitting him. There will be a fine. If you’re here long you get fed.”

“Got it.”

He nodded. Erin was left alone. She stared at the faintly glowing bars of her cell and gingerly touched them. They felt warm, but they didn’t shock her or explode. She gripped them with both hands and stared out. Two Hobs, Headscratcher, and Badarrow, were in her line of sight. Rabbiteater and Shorthilt were presumably locked up on her side of the dungeon.

“So…about my theory of beating up the biggest guy here. Uh, anyone see him?”

The Hobs dutifully looked around. The cells they were in were largely uninhabited, even by Gold-rank adventurers. Erin spotted empty cells around them, and then she looked at the furthest cell, the one guarded by runes. She saw someone standing there, immobile as a statue. Her heart leapt and she recoiled.

“Calruz?”

The Minotaur stared blankly ahead from behind the barrier to his cell. There were no bars in front of him, but the air looked…twisted. The runes shone constantly. Despite that, the Minotaur’s feet were still shackled. Not his hands—it was hard to put cuffs on someone with only one arm.

He didn’t move at first. The Minotaur was looking forwards, and he’d been so still that Erin had missed him in the shadows cast from the glowing runes. He stood at the left side of his cell. He looked…different. Erin had seen him after the Watch had arrested him. Then Calruz had been burned, wounded, barely recognizable. Now, he was still recognizable but for different reasons.

Some of the hair had begun growing on the places Calruz had been burned. It was uneven, and the Minotaur’s fur was uncombed, dirty. His face was grimy and the scars on his arms and legs stood out. He looked nothing like the proud captain of the Horns of Hammerad that Erin had known.

“Uh…Calruz?”

Erin and the Hobs stared at him. The Minotaur did not respond. The Redfangs eyed him. He was clearly the biggest person in the dungeon by far. They eyed his bulging muscles then patted their own arms for reassurance. Erin stared at Calruz and then looked at the Goblins.

“I don’t think we have to beat him up. It’s more like…an option? Don’t worry about it.”

The Hobs relaxed a bit. Erin stared at them and realized they hadn’t really gotten the joke from the start. She scratched her head and noticed that they were still shackled both hand and foot. She searched for something to say, but she really didn’t have anything.

She’d punched Olesm. Numbtongue had gotten away. Liscor was in danger again. Only this time it sounded really bad. The Goblin Lord. Erin hesitated, then sat down. She looked around her cell and decided it did fall behind prisons from her world in two ways: there was only a bucket in the corner for a toilet, and there was no bed. Drakes clearly believed that you should also suffer while in prison. She wondered if there was a torture chamber in Liscor too. Probably not.

She sat down on the cold stone floor and shivered. Headscratcher was gingerly pulling at the bars of his cell and Badarrow had already lain down. Erin stared at them.

“Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to get you into this.”

The Hobs looked at her. Headscratcher looked incredibly guilty, and shook his head. He pointed slightly up and to the side, mimed shooting an arrow, made a snarling expression and then a look of shock and tapped his chest and pointed at Badarrow who nodded. He shook his head twice and then tapped his chest again before opening his hand and slapping his palm across his right arm, grimacing. Erin stared at him.

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Headscratcher sagged. Erin wished Numbtongue were here. Well, not here, but the Hob was the only one of the Goblins who was able to fully speak English, and her understanding of Goblins’ sign language wasn’t nearly advanced enough to interpret what that had meant. She looked around her cell again, but there was nothing to really look at. So she talked.

“I think they’ll let us go soon. Tomorrow, like the Drake said. Me, at least. I didn’t really expect Olesm to arrest me, you know. I mean, I guess after I punched him, yeah. But…I think he’s trying to protect all of you in his way. But it’s wrong. You know?”

Headscratcher shrugged. A Goblin’s reply. Erin half-smiled. Then her face fell.

“Is Bird going to be alright? Klbkch said the Queen could save him. But can she? It looked bad. Really bad.”

The Hobs looked at each other silently. Erin could read that. They didn’t think Bird had a chance. But she refused to believe that. The Queen had brought Klbkch back to life, after all! She could do the same for Bird. Klbkch had said she would save him if she wished. That meant she would do it. She would, right?

Hadn’t she given Bird money for his new bow?

Erin felt sick as she remembered Bird bleeding. She looked up, about to ask Headscratcher what had happened, even if he didn’t make sense, when she saw Calruz had moved. The Minotaur had turned. He was staring at her from his cell. Erin jerked and scrambled back. The Minotaur stared at her with a vacant expression. But then his eyes sharpened.

He moved forwards and the air rippled as he pressed his hand against the magical wall of his cell. His lips opened and he made a rasping sound. Erin stared as the Hobs stood up warily and stared at Calruz. The Minotaur made the sound again, then coughed. He was trying to speak.

“You. I know you.”

He looked at Erin. She stared at him, heart racing. Calruz looked at her, blinking. Erin hesitated. She remembered Calruz. She looked down at her hands and remembered him roaring at her, teaching her how to punch. How to fight. Back then—

And now. She looked at Calruz and remembered what Ceria had told her, what Erill had spoken about. Of Mrsha. She thought of the Raskghar and the bloody stone where Gnolls had died. Calruz blinked at Erin.

“I know you.”

“That makes one of us.”

Erin turned away from Calruz. She couldn’t look at him right now. Not yet. She sensed Calruz’s eyes on her, but kept her gaze ahead. She stared at Headscratcher. The Hob stared at Calruz and then looked at Erin. He stared at her and then spoke.

“Sorry.”

She blinked. The word was rough, and Headscratcher said it awkwardly, but he had said it. Badarrow opened his eyes. Rabbiteater and Shorthilt came to the front of their cells, looking at Erin sidelong. She sat behind the glowing bars of her cell.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

“No. Us. Sorry.”

Headscratcher tapped his chest insistently. Erin stared at him and shook her head.

“It was another Hob, right?”

That was what Numbtongue had shouted at her in the panicked moments. Headscratcher nodded.

“Bad Hob. Us fight. Sorry.”

“It’s not—”

Erin bowed her head. She listened to the echoing voices in the prison as other people in the cells spoke quietly as well. She heard her heart beating altogether too fast, and heard something else. Drum beats in her head. A warning she hadn’t noticed.

“I think something bad is happening, guys. I think Liscor really is in danger this time. Do you…think so?”

She looked up at the Hobs, hoping they’d disagree. But they sat or lay on the ground or in Headscratcher’s case, just stood. The Hob looked at her and his red eyes glowed in the dim light. Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes. I think is bad. Very bad.”

Erin nodded as well. Her stomach churned and she looked north, past Badarrow. She didn’t know how, but she knew it was north. She could hear something coming.

“Yeah. Me too.”

—-

“War. This is an act of war.”

Niers Astoragon strode across the maps in the war room in the citadel that was his home and the base of the Forgotten Wing company. His students looked down at him as they poured over the map. Niers stepped over a hill and nearly walked straight into the High Passes. He grunted and kicked; the magical projection wavered and he walked through the mountain range, emerging in the flooded basin that was Liscor.

Illusory water ran around Niers’ boots as he stared down at the city protruding from the water. Rainclouds hovered around Niers’ stomach, pouring water down into the basin. The Titan of Baleros frowned and stroked at his chin irritably. He was growing a beard after going clean-shaven for a few months and the stubble irritated him.

“It’s not raining in Liscor anymore. Someone adjust the projection and get these clouds out of here. Keep the water.”

“Yes, sir.”

One of his students moved and delicately tapped something on the map. The magical rendering of Liscor changed as Marian, a Centaur and one of Niers’ advanced students, changed the timescale of the map ahead slightly. The rainclouds vanished and the water levels began to lower.

“Stop. That will do for now.”

Marian took her hand away. Niers stared down at Liscor, now surrounded by mud and stagnant water in the valleys. He made a face and walked through the High Passes again.

“I hate magical maps. Where the hell did we put the paper ones? Venaz, Yerranola, find me a decent map of Liscor instead of this.”

The Minotaur and Selphid wearing a Dullahan’s body moved back from the table and began checking the maps stored by location on the far wall. Niers let them work as he kicked his way back through the mountains again.

Magical maps weren’t actually all that bad. They were a hundred times as expensive as an enchanted sword given the cost to make them, yes, and they could only depict what the [Mage] who created them knew—hence the vague, cloud-shrouded tops of the High Passes and other sections of the map which were featureless—but a single magical map could replace a hundred paper ones.

The one Niers was using could depict every known location in the world to great detail. Obviously the trees and grass and so on were just made up, but the large geographical features were all there. It was worth a fortune in gold, so much so that a good number of [Kings] wouldn’t have been able to afford such a map. Niers stomped across it in his boots, grumbling and kicking at cities and watching them vanish and reappear as he waited for his students to get him a proper map.

The trouble with magical maps for Niers was height. The High Passes were as tall as he was, which meant that he couldn’t see everything. He nodded as Venaz pulled out a map of Izril.

“That one will do. Lay it here.”

“Professor. Let me.”

A scaly claw descended and Niers looked up. Umina, the Lizardfolk girl and one of his youngest in the advanced class he taught, offered him a perch. Niers leapt up two feet into the air and landed on Umina’s claw. Venaz replaced the maps and Niers hopped down.

“Better. Now, as I was saying. War.”

He grabbed a pin and stuck it into the map, marking a spot just north of the High Passes’ other entrance. Niers pointed to the pin and spoke crisply to his assembled students. They straightened up, looking both nervous and intent. They knew this wasn’t a game. Niers had called them into the war room for a special lesson, and they were all aware of what was happening.

“The Humans are marching on Liscor. They’re driving the Goblins ahead of them and they intend to take the city using the Goblins as a pretext. Normally that would be suicide even with the army they’ve brought. Liscor is a Drake city, which means they’re fortified and their walls are extremely hard to crack with magic. But somehow, some way, the Humans are prepared. Tyrion Veltras has trebuchets. You’ve all read the [Message] that Liscor just sent out. Now, tell me what’s going on and what’s about to happen.”

He looked at his students. They hesitated, but they knew better than to wait for him to single one of them out. Wil, one of the Humans of the group, cleared his throat and lifted a slip of paper.

“Liscor made the first report, Professor, but the analysis was confirmed by multiple [Strategists] and [Tacticians] within minutes. It appears that somehow, the Drakes were all aware of the Human’s plans at the same time.”

“I suppose they all coordinated beforehand? Or have the Drakes learned telepathy?”

Niers raised one eyebrow. Wil hesitated.

“No, sir. It’s all too quick to be a coincidence. Either the Drakes knew ahead of time, or, more likely, someone tipped them off. About the trebuchets, that is.”

“Good.”

Niers nodded and Wil breathed a sigh of relief. The Fraerling looked at another of his students, a Dullahan holding his head up for a better view.

“Cameral? What are the Drakes saying?”

The Dullahan shifted his head to address Niers directly.

“They’re panicking. There are countless requests coming in for confirmation, asking for instructions, or outright denying the reports. The Walled Cities have begun a closed communication and there’s no way of knowing what they’re saying, but I have every official announcement they’ve put out.”

“And?”

“They’re not moving yet. Which is unusual. Liscor’s put out an all-call warning and request for immediate reinforcements, but Pallass has yet to respond. Given the speed at which Drakes usually handle messages of this kind, this is unusual. And the other Walled Cities are equally slow to react. Salazsar’s pledged aid, as has Oteslia, but the other four Walled Cities are…they’re not replying.”

“And why is that?”

Niers prodded Cameral further. The Dullahan was good at explaining the situation, but he was reluctant to give out his personal take on the situation, which was a trait Niers had noticed in many of his Dullahan students. They regarded being wrong as a failing and so they said nothing, which was even worse. Cameral wavered, but then someone snorted to his left. Venaz leaned forwards.

“It means they’re wavering. They think Liscor will fall, so they’re not replying.”

Niers sighed. Venaz snorted, clearly pleased to have gotten the jump on Cameral. He had no problems stating his mind.

“Do you have proof, Venaz, or is this a hunch?”

The Minotaur straightened at the reprimand in Niers’ voice.

“I do, sir. Look at this. This is a message from Manus. It disputes Liscor’s claim and requests confirmation, despite the confirmation from over a dozen [Strategists]. They know the attack’s coming, but they want to buy time. Pretend it isn’t so they don’t have to respond right away.”

“And why is that? Surely they’d want to reinforce Liscor right away, especially Pallass, who we know has a connection to Liscor via that magic doorway.”

Venaz snorted.

“You’d think so. But as I said, they think Liscor is going to fall. The Humans surprised them and the Drakes don’t think they can hold Liscor. So they’re refusing to act, like cowards. See, here’s another [Message] requesting confirmation.”

A harried Selphid [Maid] in a Lizardman’s body arrived with a basket full of [Messages] written on slips of paper. Venaz snatched one from the top and showed it around. Niers nodded.

There was no doubting the contents of the [Message] or that it came from Fissival this time. While the top-level Drake communications were secret and thus harder to obtain, general [Message] spells could be copied and obtained by anyone in the world if they had enough coin. And Niers was known for treating his networks of informants well for valuable information, so each [Message] spell sent was being sent not just to their intended recipients, but also to Niers and everyone else who was paying for access at the moment.

As such Niers and his students were reading [Message] spells at the same time as they arrived on Zevara’s desk in Liscor. Faster, probably, since Niers was paying the [Mages] a lot more than Liscor. Niers let his students pore over the [Messages] and report their contents for a second, but nothing noteworthy had arrived yet. He clapped his hands briskly for attention.

“Very well, that’s Venaz’s analysis. But if that’s so, that begs a question: are the Walled Cities right? Will Liscor fall? Give me your analysis…Marian.”

He looked at the female Centaur. She pawed the floor with a hoof nervously, but then tossed her long hair and replied confidently.

“I’d think so, sir. Given the fact that two armies are converging on Liscor, Goblin and Human? Liscor has barely ten thousand defenders if we factor in the City Watch plus the average amount of citizens who can fight in a crisis. Yes, they have Gold-ranks, but adventurers are known for fleeing cities in times of war. And the armies Tyrion Veltras have brought aren’t ordinary either.”

“They are not.”

Niers nodded appreciatively. He knew he should let Marian explain, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, this wasn’t so much of a test of his student’s ability to see what was going on, as a lesson in war and politics by observation. He strode back over to the pin and tapped it with his knuckles.

“Two hundred thousand soldiers. That’s a powerful army, but it would deceive to just count it by numbers as well. Veltras has brought [Knights], [Mages], and most importantly, a host of [Lords] and [Ladies] and their personal retinues. That puts this army head-and-shoulders above an army of the same size comprised mainly of low-level [Militia]. And the Goblin Lord’s army is certainly no idle force either. If past Goblin Lords are any example, he would have Hobs by the thousand and powerful [Shamans] of his own. This one even has an undead army, although reports indicate it was mostly eradicated. Still, faced with all that, would any of you consider defending Liscor?”

His students looked at each other, clearly uneasy at the thought of trying to defend a city with that alone. Umina raised a claw.

“Well, sir, I don’t know if I would, but I’d point out that Liscor does have an Antinium Hive. Marian forgot to mention it.”

The Centaur blushed and Umina shot her friend an apologetic glance. Niers nodded.

“Never underestimate the Black Tide. But we know Liscor’s Hive is small—smaller than the other five older and more established Hives, at least. Do they have the numbers to supplement Liscor’s garrison? Can the Antinium defend as well as they attack?”

“It doesn’t matter. The Drakes should defend Liscor no matter the odds!”

Venaz clenched his fists. He ignored the skeptical looks some of the others shot him and turned to Niers. The Titan raised an eyebrow.

“You’re confident, Venaz. Explain.”

The Minotaur nodded eagerly. He was practically ablaze with energy; discussion of real-life tactics and strategy got the Minotaur fired up like nothing else. Eagerly he paced back and forth, pointing to locations on the map of Izril as Niers stepped back to give him room.

“Liscor is the lynchpin of the Drake defense. Everyone knows it. It’s held off Humans advances just by being there. An army marches past and it’s cut off. Supply trains get raided. Liscor rains and cuts off a warfront entirely. Assaults by sea and attempts to circumnavigate Liscor fail because the Drakes can always counterattack from that location as well. It’s vital. And if it falls, the Humans can take the offensive in every war rather than the defensive one. The Drakes cannot lose this city. It’s worth throwing every soldier they have into holding it, rather than letting the Humans claim it.”

Venaz spoke with passion, and Niers saw a few of his students nodding hesitantly. The [Grandmaster Strategist] just sighed internally and scratched at his growing beard. He looked for the right student to call on and saw Umina scratching at the colorful frills on her neck uneasily.

“Umina. You have a thought?”

She jumped and blushed.

“I uh—well, I just think that Venaz might be wrong, sir.”

“How?”

The Minotaur turned and stared expectantly at Umina. She turned pale, but Marian trotted over and stood by her side. Umina seemed to draw strength from her friend and took a deep breath. Niers nodded as he saw her eyes focus. She was one of his best students, better than Venaz or Marian or anyone else when she was confident.

“Well…first of all, I’d point out that Tyrion Veltras has prepared for this attack. He’s clearly aimed for this from the beginning. No one saw it—except for you, sir.”

She grinned at Niers, who waved the compliment away. His students nodded, impressed. Of course the Titan knew. Niers wanted to smack them all on the back of the heads. Hero worship. Oh, he had to knock that out of them or they’d never graduate.

“I didn’t predict the trebuchets, Umina. I thought that Tyrion Veltras was going to bombard the walls down with magic; create a breach for the Goblins. It would be harder, but he has the [Mages] to do it. Or bring a bunch of ladders and enough wood for siege towers in bags of holding and ‘accidentally’ let the Goblins have it.”

“Even so, sir. Tyrion Veltras set this up and so he knew the Drakes would find out sooner or later. If I were him, I’d expect the Drakes to do exactly what Venaz is suggesting. And if I were him…I’d want that to happen.”

“Explain.”

Niers covered a smile. Umina walked to the map and touched the icon marking Liscor.

“They send elites. As many soldiers as they can to fill Liscor. I’d send the Goblins at them—force them to fight or die. Hold the Goblin Lord hostage maybe? Is that why Elia Arcsinger is—? Either way, I’d get them to attack first. Weaken the Drakes. But then I’d move in with my army. If the Drakes send fifty thousand, a hundred thousand of their own to defend the city, all the better. I’d smash their entire force and weaken both Liscor, Pallass, and every Drake city that sent soldiers.”

She traced lines from Pallass to Liscor, from smaller cities, her claws running across the map. She looked at Niers and her eyes were cold.

“Liscor is a trap, sir. And if I can bag as many high-level soldiers in it as I can, I win even more. I want them to try and hold Liscor. Because if they’re in the city, they can’t retreat. Drakes don’t run. I’ll slaughter them and break their spirits in one blow.”

The room was silent. Umina looked up and met Venaz’s eyes for a second, then looked away. Niers enjoyed the incredulous look on the Minotaur’s face. Sometimes he forgot that a ‘female’ like Umina could be as ruthless as he was.

“Well done. It’s not what I would do necessarily, but that is how Tyrion Veltras thinks. You have a gift for thinking like your opponents, Umina. Hone that talent. It will serve you well. Well done indeed.”

It was one of Niers’ highest compliments. Umina turned red with pride and Marian laid a hand on her shoulder in delight. Niers waited a beat, and then turned to Venaz. The Minotaur looked uncertain, dismayed. Niers walked down the map, past Liscor and to the northern-most Walled City. Pallass. He stared up at the Minotaur.

“Umina’s given an excellent example of the dangers of trying to hold Liscor. However, Venaz’s points cannot be discounted either. But one statement was incorrect to begin with. You are wrong, Venaz. The Walled Cities are hesitating, but they haven’t abandoned Liscor just yet. They’re doing the same thing we are: weighing the odds and deciding if they should rush to Liscor’s aid or form a larger army and try to take the city back. The problem is Pallass.”

Venaz’s brows shot together. The Minotaur folded his hands behind his back as he stared at the Walled City that Niers was tapped with his left foot.

“How so, sir?”

Niers nodded. The Minotaur wasn’t arguing back as he normally did. He was listening, trying to figure out where he was wrong. Better. He was learning. Now he just had to understand how other species thought politically. Niers pointed down at Pallass.

“They’re the ones ideally placed to support Liscor. The problem is their leadership. They have a democracy, which means their ruling body, the Assembly of Crafts, has to come to a consensus on what to do. That makes Pallass historically the slowest of the Walled Cities to react to incidents.”

“Idiots.”

Cameral muttered under his breath. Venaz nodded as well. Umina and Marian, who both came from democratic societies, shot the two dirty looks. Niers ignored his students as he went on.

“Say what you will about the system—it leads to stability, but it means paralysis at times. And the problem is that this is exactly the kind of situation that has Pallass split on what to do. They’re wavering, arguing, trying to figure out what to do. But that’s the real crisis. If they wait too long, the choice will be out of their hands.”

“Claws, Professor.”

“Whatever. Pallass is indecisive. And if they won’t move, the other Walled Cities will hesitate. The hesitant factions in Pallass can just deadlock the Assembly and keep the war hawks from sending aid to Liscor until it’s too late. And I think that’s exactly what Tyrion Veltras is counting on.”

The students murmured with interest. Niers nodded. Do you see? He wanted to ask them. Tyrion wasn’t fighting just a war on the ground. He was using the politics of the Drakes against them. He might hate the Drakes, but he’d studied his enemies well. He knew their climate, their systems of government—and he knew Goblins as well.

He would have made a fine [Strategist], although Niers would have never suffered him in a class. He knew Tyrion Veltras. He had met the man. Tyrion was like a sword. He could employ strategy, cunning, and he could be devious, but like a sword he could only cut. And he went straight for the heart.

Niers was about to have two of his students simulate an attack on the city and propose viable strategies for defense and offense—Wil and Marian probably, and he’d kick Marian in the ear if she suggested trying to use hit-and-run skirmishing tactics in the muddy floodplains against the Humans with their cavalry—when he saw Cameral checking at something in his hands. He looked up sharply as the Dullahan raised his head for attention.

“Professor! My scrying orb just lit up. Wistram is broadcasting one of their [Scrying] moving images again! It looks like someone is transmitting the spell from Pallass!”

Niers’ head snapped up. He grinned.

“Now that’s interesting. Get a large scrying orb set up now. I think we’ll all want to see this.”

—-

They weren’t sending reinforcements. They were asking for confirmation. Confirmation! They weren’t sending reinforcements. They were not—

Olesm ran across the water bridge leading from Liscor to The Wandering Inn. He huffed as he ran and tried to watch the water for Rock Crabs or larger fish monsters, but he ran as fast as he could, ignoring the disturbance he was causing in the water. A Quillfish shot a spine at Olesm and he swore, but he kept running.

Pallass wasn’t responding to his [Messages]. They were wavering. They think Liscor’s a lost cause. Or they’re hesitating. Or—

He had gotten back to the City Hall and seen Wall Lord Ilvriss arguing with his fellow nobility in Salazsar as Zevara frantically sent more and more [Messages] and received noncommittal answers. There had been no door, and Olesm had been told that Embria had gone with the patrol to The Wandering Inn to secure the door half an hour ago and not returned. So Olesm had ran here. He ran up the hill to the inn and saw [Guardsmen], [Guardswomen], and [Soldiers] milling about on the grass. Olesm gulped for air and then shouted at the Gnoll wearing a Senior Guardsman’s insignia.

“Senior Guardswoman Beilmark! Why isn’t the door in Liscor? Where is Wing Commander Embria?”

The Gnoll turned.

“Olesm, er, Strategist Olesm, we tried to remove the door, but one of the [Barmaids] blocked us. And she has uh, adventurer support! Wing Commander Embria went through the door to request aid from Pallass, but she hasn’t returned.”

“She did? I’ve got to get her.”

Olesm ran through the doorway, ignoring Beilmark’s warning shout. They had to get to Pallass, get them to start sending soldiers through! He charged through the door, saw Moore raising his staff like a headman with an axe, and froze.

“Moore, don’t! It’s Olesm!”

Lyonette cried out. Moore hesitated. He lowered his staff. Olesm stared at him and then realized why no one had tried taking the door. He pointed at Moore with a trembling claw.

“We need—that door is—Erin’s in jail! Bird might die but he might live! I need to get to Pallass!”

“What?”

The adventurers and Lyonette, all of whom were clustered around the entrance, stared at Olesm. He ignored Ceria, the Horns, Jelaqua, and Moore and Mrsha racing about him and charged for the door. It was open. Bright light streamed through and Pallass’ streets were ahead of him. Olesm ran through, and felt the door blink out behind him. He whirled and saw only brick wall.

“Ancestors damn it!”

The door was out of mana! Embria must have depleted it before Olesm! The door could only take two people after all—wait, was that right? Hadn’t Hawk, Wall Lord Ilvriss, and Erin all gone through one time? Didn’t that mean three—?

Loud voices made Olesm turn. He saw a huge crowd of Drakes and Gnolls gathered down the street. And standing on a wooden platform—Olesm’s heart sank—was Wing Commander Embria. She was arguing with a paunchy Gnoll dressed in a [Senator]’s robes, shouting, really. The Gnoll was smiling, well, fake smiling, and answering back as the crowd jeered Embria.

Olesm ran for the two of them, cursing inside. As he ran, he passed by a pair of Drakes who were speaking to a Human in flamboyant clothing who was holding a scrying orb up in front of him. The two Drakes were speaking into the scrying orb for some reason. One of them had a monocle. They sounded…familiar.

“This is Noass and Sir Relz of Pallass, newly made [Commentators] with a Human [Magician] providing us the [Scrying] spell. We happened to be on the scene when we met—er, what did you say your name was, sir?”

“Eltistiman Verdue, [Magician] for hire at your service.”

“That’s right. We are speaking to you from Pallass where, at this moment, [Strategists] are warning of an attack on Liscor. However, the Assembly of Crafts has not yet issued an announcement. Senator Errif is speaking to a crowd and what appears to be a Wing Commander from Liscor of all people! She arrived through the door—”

“—in rather a huff, Relz, wouldn’t you agree? Rudely storming up to the [Senator], in that classic Liscorian aggressiveness—”

“—too true, Sir Relz, too true. But Senator Errif has been giving her a piece of Pallass’ mind! Attack on Liscor? Not likely! Does she have proof? Should we move an army through that door to Liscor on one [Strategist]’s say so?”

“There are apparently a lot of [Strategists] supporting this claim, Noass.”

“Indeed, Sir Relz, indeed. But what’s best for Pallass? We have to ask that, as harsh as it may be. If we look at the odds, this Human [Lord], Tyrion Veltras, is bringing not only two hundred thousand soldiers, but the Goblin Lord’s army is being driven before him. Of course, this is all apparently due to the Human’s inability to catch the Goblins, but if they were to accidentally assault Liscor—”

Olesm dashed past the two Drakes, ignoring the cry out of outrage from the one with the monocle. He shouted as he pushed through the crowd.

“Excuse me! Excuse me! Let me pass, please, I’m Liscor’s [Strategist]!”

“It looks like we have Liscor’s actual [Strategist] on the scene, Noass—”

“Unprecedented! Can Drakes just walk through from Liscor to Pallass? And what’s he doing? Looks like he’s joining the Wing Commander. Let’s go in for a closer look. Make way, please! [Commentators] passing through!”

Olesm fought to get to the stage where Embria was arguing with the Gnoll [Senator]. He felt the crowd open up—not because of him, but because of the two Drakes following him! Olesm growled, but dashed up onto the wooden platform. A [Guardsman] dressed in Pallass’ colors held a spear up threateningly. Olesm held up his claws.

“I’m Liscor’s [Strategist]!”

The Gnoll didn’t look convinced, but an amused, growling voice spoke from above.

“Let him up, [Guardsman].”

Olesm scrambled onto the wooden platform and looked around. A sea of faces stared at him. Suddenly he felt dizzy. He hadn’t thought this through. Apprehensively he stared at the smiling Gnoll and Embria. The Wing Commander was red—well, redder in the face and her tail was practically tied in knots. The Gnoll on the other hand was silky smooth. He growled at Olesm, his voice magically amplified by a broach on his chest.

“Well, it seems Liscor’s [Strategist] has come, yes? Many folk seem to be fleeing from their posts in Liscor to come to Pallass to ask for aid.”

“I am—I am asking for aid! Liscor sent a reinforcement request and Pallass hasn’t answered!”

Olesm gasped, trying to raise his voice loud enough to be heard over the jeers from the crowd. Errif, the [Senator], raised one paw.

“Please, good people. We have of course heard Liscor’s plea and we take it seriously. Yet, the [Message] spell we received claims Liscor will be attacked! But can we truly take that as truth? I received a frenzied report about Humans plotting to attack Liscor with the aid of Goblins—this is a serious accusation! It would mean war if true.”

“It is true! The Humans have trebuchets—”

Embria began to shout, but Errif kept speaking, and somehow his words drowned hers out, though he was quieter. A Skill. Olesm saw him smiling at the crowd, speaking mockingly.

“They might! Who knows? They might! But to declare a national emergency and expect soldiers within minutes of calling it? Striding into Pallass to do so? That is hardly appropriate, yes? Give us a day or two to verify your reports. If this is true, we can send reinforcements, yes? My fellow [Senators] in the Assembly of Crafts, the Scalethrift party, don’t believe Pallass should blindly rush into things.”

“Days? In two days, the Humans will be right on top of us! We don’t have two days, you furry—”

Whatever Embria had been about to say was cut off by Olesm’s desperate claw. The crowd roared in outrage and Errif frowned at Embria. He raised his voice.

“Wing Commander, please, show some respect for Pallass’ systems of government!”

Pallass’ citizens cheered and some began to throw things at the two Drakes. Olesm felt a shoe bounce off his back. He stared at Errif. He couldn’t be serious! Olesm raised his own voice desperately, shouted over the crowd.

“Senator, this is no mistake! We need the support of the Walled Cities now! If you could send a few thousand [Soldiers] through now—”

Errif frowned at Olesm.

“The Assembly is debating. We will not take action until a vote is called.”

“Why are you here, then?”

Embria demanded. Errif sniffed.

“We are on break. Wing Commander, Liscor’s Strategist, the Assembly of Crafts has heard your request! We will consider it! But I remind you, Pallass is not at the beck and call of Liscor. We will have our own [Strategists] go over your report. And when we are certain, we will do what is best for Pallass and Liscor!”

He raised his furry arms and got a cheer. Not a huge one; some Drakes and Gnolls in the crowd looked uneasy, like Sir Relz and Noass. But it didn’t matter. Errif had said his bit and he was beckoning for Pallass’ City Watch to remove Embria and Olesm from the stage. Embria swore at the [Guards] and Olesm felt something rising in him.

They weren’t going to help. They were going to stall like this and then claim it was too late. Or Errif’s party was, at any rate. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.

Olesm felt something hot in his stomach, searing him from within. He stared at the pompous Gnoll [Senator] with his paunchy belly and smug, superior expression. He thought of Liscor, his home, and of the Goblin Lord and his armies. He thought of trebuchets, of the walls he had stood on for so many years, of his friends and family, and his duties. He thought of Erin too. His stomach hurt where Erin had kicked him. And Olesm felt all of the panic, fear, and anger building in him until he did something completely uncharacteristic:

He lost his temper.

—-

The image projected across the world from Wistram had shown all of Errif’s back-and-forth with the Drakes on the stage. Truth be told, it hadn’t been too gripping, but the reactions of the Drakes and the Gnoll’s statements were of great interest to anyone following the events in Liscor. Wistram certainly thought so, or they wouldn’t have broadcast the image and audio. But it wasn’t exciting.

That was, until the Drake with pale-blue scales who claimed to be Liscor’s [Strategist] shoved the [Guardsman] trying to remove him from the stage. Instantly, the Gnoll [Senator] was in front of Olesm, bursting with patriotic indignation.

“You will not lay your claws on a member of Pallass’ Watch! [Guardsmen], arrest this—”

“Be silent!”

Olesm screamed in Errif’s face. A thousand scrying orbs around the world reflected Errif recoiling as a bit of spit struck him on the nose. Olesm turned and bellowed at the [Guardsmen] now reaching for their weapons.

“Stand down! That is an order!”

He pointed at a Drake with a sword. Errif growled, forgetting his amiable smile.

“You do not give orders! I am a [Senator] of Pallass, and you are—”

He went ‘ulp’ as Olesm grabbed him by the robes. The Drake shouted in Errif’s face.

“I said, shut up! That is an order! I outrank you, you stupid furry idiot!”

Errif gaped at him. The crowd gaped at him. Sir Relz and Noass’ jaw dropped as they hovered in the edge of the scrying orb’s field of vision. Olesm turned. He shouted at the stunned crowd.

“I am the Strategist of Liscor and my city is in danger! When I give orders, only a Watch Captain or a [General] can challenge me! I outrank you. I outrank a Lord of the Wall and the entire damn Assembly of Crafts at this moment!”

He pointed back at Errif, who was lost for words. In the scrying orb, Sir Relz stared at Olesm and then seemed to recall that he was supposed to be commentating. He turned back to the scrying orb with wide eyes.

“That’s Liscor’s [Strategist] claiming he has authority over Pallass! That’s…I mean, that is how military protocol works. But in another city? Is that fair? Noass?”

The other Drake jumped. He looked around and seemed at a loss for words. Then he looked back at Olesm.

“It—it may be, Sir Relz! But hold on! Let’s got a word from the [Strategist] himself. You there, sir! We’re broadcasting this moment as we speak—no, we’re sending this live across the world! What do you have to say about the claims that Liscor is in danger?”

“Wait, what?”

Errif turned pale as he stared into the scrying orb. Olesm gaped at Noass. He stared into the scrying orb and then seemed to realize what Noass was saying. His scales nearly turned white with shock for a second, and then he visibly caught himself.

“I—I—”

“Is Liscor really under attack or is it truly an overblown alert? What if Liscor, if you are wrong and the city is not in danger? How will you ensure Pallass doesn’t waste resources and soldiers on Liscor? What if you place Pallassian lives at risk?”

Noass pressed Olesm, beckoning whomever was holding the scrying orb forwards. Olesm paled even further, but then his claws balled into fists. He shouted back down at Noass, suddenly furious.

“You want to talk about risk? While Pallass is debating, an army of Goblins is marching on Liscor! The other Walled Cities are hesitating! None of them—no, only Oteslia and Salazsar have responded to a priority distress call! It is the duty of Walled Cities to immediately respond to threats, and I have called for aid! Where is it? Why do I have to repeat myself? Liscor is in danger! If I’m wrong, Pallass wastes time. If Pallass is wrong, Liscor falls.”

Noass hesitated, and Sir Relz raised his monocle.

“But Sir Strategist, if the danger to Liscor is real, then the risk to Pallass’ own is—”

“This is not about danger! This is not about risk!”

Olesm bellowed at Sir Relz and the Drake recoiled. Olesm pointed around the crowd, shouting louder and louder.

“Liscor is in danger! If we fall, Pallass is next! I don’t want to talk to a cowardly politician or a bunch of idiots looking at maps! I want [Soldiers]! Is this a Walled City or a Human slum without discipline?”

The Drakes and Gnolls stared up at Olesm. He whirled and pointed at Errif, who was clearly trying to interject and not finding a way to do so. He advanced on the Gnoll, who backed up, looking alarmed.

“This isn’t a matter of politics. This isn’t about whether Liscor will win or lose a battle. This is about duty. About law! When a city calls for aid, other cities answer! And if you or anyone else gets in the way of the chain of command, I. Will. Arrest. You.”

The Drake poked the Gnoll [Senator] repeatedly in the chest, sending the Gnoll stumbling backwards until he nearly fell off the stage. In the scrying orb, Olesm turned and stared straight at the viewers. He shouted, his face flushed, his tail lashing the ground.

“I am the [Strategist] of Liscor and I am calling for reinforcements! Give me your best or hide behind your walls like cowards but we will be in Liscor, holding the line! If we have to defend Liscor by ourselves, we will! True Drakes do not run!”

He paused for breath, panting. The scrying orb swiveled left and right, revealing a crowd staring up at Olesm in shock. The Drake finally seemed to come back to his senses, and he turned pale again. He looked around, then leapt from the stage and tried to push his way through the crowd, back to the door to Liscor.

It looked a bit like he was running away, but that didn’t matter. Drakes and Gnolls roared and swarmed around Olesm and Embria while Errif found himself besieged from all sides by a suddenly angry crowd. The image jostled as it moved back and forth for a minute. Shoving bodies and confused shouting was all that was heard and seen. Then the [Mage] won clear of the crowd and moved back several feet. A disheveled Drake with a monocle appeared, panting a bit.

“And that was Liscor’s [Strategist]! A terrific appeal to Drake pride, and of course Pallass’ citizens are in arms at the thought of abandoning a fellow Drake city in its hour of need! There’s no way we’ll get to the [Strategist] himself—I seem to have lost Relz—but we’ll try and get a response from Senator Errif! Human, to me!”

—-

The scrying orb became a jumble of shouting voices and the Drake with the monocle shouting for people to ‘make way’. It didn’t matter. Niers Astoragon silently pointed, and the [Diviner] raised a hand. The scrying orb went dark.

The students looked down at their professor and saw him staring at the blank orb. The Titan of Baleros had a wide grin on his face, a look of uncharacteristic delight his students had seldom ever seen. He breathed out slowly.

“Full marks.”

He whirled and strode away from the scrying orb. Slowly, the other students came back to the here and now. Venaz clenched a fist, Marian shook herself in place. Umina looked to Niers.

“Professor, what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Full marks! That Drake—that was Olesm Swifttail, wasn’t it? He may have just saved his city.”

Niers couldn’t stop grinning. He turned and looked at his students. They stared at him, some half-understanding, others confused. They couldn’t feel it yet. But Niers could, and he wagered Olesm and a good number of other people in this world had caught on. The King of Destruction had figured it out.

It was the scrying orb. The ability to send an image across the world to everyone with an orb of their own in the moment. It was a sense that Niers had, that Olesm had picked up on.

The idea of the world stage. Niers paced back and forth.

“That Drake’s done it. Marian, get me every [Message] spell that comes in the next few minutes. Run! The rest of you—remember that. Remember this, because this is history. I can feel it. I feel like a new war is beginning. A war of words, of public opinion! Every city and nation will have to consider it. It won’t just be [Message] spells, it will be people seeing their leaders making decisions. What will happen to the Drake chain of command if their people see them making choices they don’t like? What will happen to a [King] whose people broadcast his every failing? What—”

“Professor!”

Marian raced back into the room, holding a basket of [Message] spells. Niers turned.

“Well?”

The Centaur tore through the pieces of paper. The first one made her exclaim.

“An announcement! Oteslia has deployed its Winged Riders! They say they can reach Liscor in six days!”

“Six? From across the entire continent?”

Venaz roared in disbelief. He grabbed another piece of paper and his eyes bugged out.

“Zeres has pledged an army of eighty thousand regular soldiers and five thousand of their elite Saltscale Wardens!”

“What? But they were just—”

Wil looked stunned, but his friend, Cameral, had caught on. The Dullahan fixed his head to his shoulders and grabbed another piece of paper.

“Every Drake city just saw that. Do you think they’ll sit still? He called them out! If they did, their people would riot! If my people saw something like that—Manus is pledging an army of their own!”

The students grabbed for the basket, exclaiming, reading out report after report as the cities scrambled over themselves to be the first to send aid to Liscor. Niers’ smile didn’t vanish—he could imagine that right now, at this very moment, Tyrion Veltras was not smiling.

At last, the frenzy died down. And Niers’ students turned back to him, waiting to see what had changed. Niers stepped over the map, looking at the [Messages]. Thinking.

“This changes much. And nothing at the same time. Liscor will have its reinforcements, faster than Tyrion Veltras expected. But…”

He looked at Marian. The Centaur nodded.

“Even the fastest armies won’t get there in time. A force from Pallass? Yes. And they’ll be moving troops through the magic door. But they still need to hold out.”

“Exactly. And that door is a weak point. If I were that Drake, I’d put my best soldiers on the door. Or my most expendable ones.”

Niers frowned to himself. He looked at the map of Liscor and didn’t let his elation cloud his judgment.

“Whether they hold out in time for reinforcements now depends on how many soldiers they can bring through from Pallass, how strong the Goblin Lord’s army is…and how far Tyrion Veltras is willing to go. It’s still in his favor, but…”

Niers shook his head.

“They have a chance. More, if there are other factors I don’t know about. As it is, I give Liscor a chance.”

He looked down at Liscor. Then his eyes travelled to something else. The paper map had no fine details on it. The mountains were just mountains and the city of Liscor was just an illustration. But the map had one thing going for it the magical one did not: it could be changed by Niers himself.

Liscor was already tiny on the map of Izril, a single city surrounded by mountains. But Niers had added something nonetheless, marked a spot just east of the city. A little dot, set just outside of Liscor. It would have looked like an ink stain or a speck if you didn’t know it was there.

The identity of Niers Astoragon’s mysterious chess partner was unknown, even to him. But he had [Scryed] his opponent once. And he had not seen him. Her. It. But Niers had seen the room his chessboard was in for a moment. And he had remembered it. He couldn’t help it. It hadn’t meant much; the room could have been any wooden structure anywhere in the world. But then had come the day of the Face-Eater Moths attack. And Niers had seen it.

The same inn. The same interior as the one he had seen for a brief second. And he had known. Niers had conducted a bit of information gathering, found out the name of the inn. Nothing else; he hadn’t wanted to tip his hand to anyone that he was curious. But the name of the inn burned in his mind.

Was his opponent staying there? Had they been moving from the inn on the road? Or were they…?

For a second Niers stared, and then he pretended to be inspecting Liscor. He shouldn’t have put the marking there. It was a mistake. Of course, no one would notice. It was a tiny dot, so small only a Fraerling would notice. Or a keen-eyed student. Niers looked back up and murmured to himself.

“More than a chance.”

His students watched him, waiting for his conclusion. The Titan of Baleros had none. He took a seat on a closed ink bottle and shook his head.

“I don’t know how it will turn up. But I am sure of one thing. I’ll bet all my hats and Venaz’s horns that there’s a lot more we don’t know about. If I were Tyrion Veltras, I’d watch my back. Everyone in the world knows what he’s planning. But I wonder if he knows what everyone has in mind? Because believe me…”

Niers walked over and tapped the bright red pin marking Tyrion Veltras and the Goblin Lord’s army. He looked around and smiled like a wolf.

“Nothing’s ever this simple.”

—-

The Necromancer smiled as he relayed the last of the [Message] spells to his apprentice via their mental link. He could sense his apprentice’s growing sense of unease, but Az’kerash was calm. In his study he stared at the twisted flesh and bone sitting in front of him. Waiting to be shaped. He was close, he could feel it. The last iteration of his Chosen had been a failure, but these would be true masterpieces. Still, there were matters which required his attention.

“This is an opportunity, my apprentice.”

“I do not see it, master.”

Reiss spoke through their link. The Goblin Lord stared at the Human army and imagined them coming down on Liscor’s walls. So that was their plan. They would send the Goblins to attack Liscor, then fall on them once the city fell. He bared his teeth.

“We will not do it. This plan will fail. Attacking Liscor is certain-death. Foolish-death. We will let the Drakes battle the Humans and escape—”

“No.”

Az’kerash’ voice was firm. Reiss tried to protest, but an invisible force took control of his tongue, his vocal chords, his jaw.

“You fail to understand Tyrion Veltras’ will, my apprentice. He will not let you flee. You think you can outrun his army? He will burn you and slaughter your tribe to the last rather than let you flee. And it does not matter if Liscor repels your army. It does not matter how many soldiers Pallass sends today.”

My apprentice. Reiss bit his tongue. He had a name. A name given to him by a dying Drake. His name. But he didn’t tell his master. Instead, he tried to sound innocent, confused.

“It does not?”

“No. They are doomed, regardless of how much they struggle. Even if the city of Liscor holds off your army, my apprentice, Tyrion Veltras will not be stopped. He intends to take Liscor and he will take the city regardless of how many defend it.”

“Then we die. We die if we win, but we die twice over with reinforcements from Pallass.”

Reiss felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. But then it stopped. A chill entered him as his master’s energy flowed from him to Reiss, giving him strength. Reassurance, black, like midnight, ran through Reiss’ veins.

“Pay no attention to the doorway, my apprentice. It will be dealt with momentarily. Rather, consider Liscor and your fate. Do you think I would abandon you after all the time I have invested in you?”

Yes. Just like Oom. Just like the others. But Reiss didn’t say that either. He pushed the words down, daring not even to think them in his head. There was nowhere safe from his master. Nowhere but the depths of his heart, the beating soul he clung to. Still clung to. It was the one place Az’kerash could not look; his master’s heart had ceased beating long ago.

“What can we do, master?”

“Why, let the Humans play their game, my apprentice. Be the pawns in their trap. Take the city. Kill the Drakes. Slaughter the Antinium in their Hive.”

“But if we do—”

“Your Goblins will die. Yes. And Drakes will die. And the Antinium. And Tyrion will expect to sweep in and clean up the survivors. But he will not. Because on the day Liscor falls my apprentice, I will be with you. And I will raise every soul that falls. Every last one. Drake. Gnoll. Human. Goblin.”

Reiss’ heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“Master? What are you saying?”

A smile flashed across Reiss’ lips that was not his own. His lips moved and spoke another’s words.

“Exactly what I claimed. On the day you do battle, I will lend my strength to yours. I will reanimate the fallen and give you warriors to slaughter the Drakes. They will not be able to defend against that. Imagine it, my apprentice. Imagine a zombie or Ghoul or Draug rising for each of your enemies you slay. Every single one, in a city of Liscor’s size. Only the Antinium will be spared and they will fall against your hordes. With them you could hold Liscor, could you not?”

“But the Humans—”

Reiss protested, but his mind was racing. How many citizens did Liscor hold? Ten thousand? No, many more than that. A Walled City held hundreds of thousands. Did Liscor hold a hundred thousand citizens? More? A hundred thousand undead plus his army…

“Perhaps you do not think it would be enough?”

Reiss bit his lip. Yes, even with those numbers, they would have to hold shattered walls. And they would be wounded, tired after fighting an entire city even if the undead rose. But again the smile flashed across his lips.

“Yes, my apprentice. Tyrion Veltras has an army dangerous enough on its own. But I promised you I would raise every soul that fell. And that includes his warriors. And he has brought [Knights]. Adventurers. They will become lethal undead far stronger than the rest. The strength of the living is matched by the power of the undead. But if that is not enough, if you hesitate, I will offer you one more token of victory. My Chosen.”

“Them?”

This time Reiss’ heart did skip another beat. He felt it, and he felt his master’s joy.

“Yes. Not Kerash. I cannot risk him. But I will give you Bea. I will give you Venitra. Ijvani has not yet returned to me, but two are enough. Bea will bring death to the Antinium and Venitra will take Tyrion Veltras’ life. Is that not enough?”

It was. It was enough. Two of the Chosen. Reiss remembered them fighting. He had seen Venitra kill. He closed his eyes and remembered them standing over Zel Shivertail. They had not killed him, but they had come close.

Two. With two, he could—Reiss’ mind raced. Az’kerash spoke with his lips, forced his eyes open.

“So, my apprentice. Do you still fear Liscor and the plans of the Humans? Or do you see victory? Because should you take Liscor and hold it, you will have a city of your own. A place to defend. A home for your kind.”

And there it was. His dream. A shining city on a hill. Reiss’ eyes opened wide. He stared at the image in his mind. Of all places. Liscor. He imagined rebuilding the walls. With his master’s power it could be done in a day. And if he could defeat Tyrion Veltras, could it be possible that the Drakes would…? If he left some alive, if he…

“Well, my apprentice?”

Reiss stood in place, staring at the Human army. Around him Goblins milled about, staring at his back. The Goblin Lord slowly turned and they flinched from his gaze. But he was not looking at them. His eyes found a Goblin with a crimson blade, who stared at him suspiciously from the back of a huge wolf. And another—a small Goblin who wept for the Great Chieftain who had been her enemy.

“Yes, Master. I do not fear the Humans. Give me power and I will take Liscor for you.”

For him. For Goblins. Reiss heard Az’kerash laugh as if he could hear the lie. His master spoke one last time, in his head, not with his mouth.

“Then prepare, my apprentice. Prepare and grow your army. Two Chieftains must kneel and I must strengthen myself for the ordeal to come. But know that I am with you.”

And then he was gone. Reiss understood the irony of that, but he could still feel his master’s magic filling him. He clenched a fist and looked up. His blood hummed. He stared back at the Humans and then began to walk slowly. And he saw it. A vision of a city filled with Goblins. A safe haven.

Victory. One last battle. Reiss had told Osthia that he had three battles to win, long ago. Now it was one. All he had to do was take Liscor. With his master’s help it was possible. More than possible. All he had to do was gather the last two tribes to him. Reiss paused. After Tremborag’s death, it should be easy. All he had to do was convince Rags and Garen to kill them all. All he had to do was wade through the blood of the innocent. Reiss closed his eyes and touched his heart. He felt it beat, and quiver, then stop for a moment. It hurt. But it had to be done. For a dream.

One last time.

—-

“We are gathered here for one reason. To discuss Liscor and the plans of Humans and Drakes.”

The Grand Queen spoke softly. The vessel that reflected her image raised its feelers and gestured to Klbkch. It tilted the mirror and five faces flashed at Klbkch for a moment. He stood before her, next to his Queen, the Free Queen of the Antinium. They listened as the Grand Queen went on, speaking to all the Hives at once.

“A decade ago, the Hives conferred and it was decided that a Hive would be established in Liscor. To forge an alliance. To secure a foothold. To allow the Queen of the Free Antinium to conduct her…theories. Now the situation has changed. So the Hives are met in conclave here to discuss. I am the Grand Queen of the Antinium. And we see in the Goblins and schemes of Humans an opportunity for the Antinium. We see their deaths.”

She looked at the Free Queen. Klbkch could sense his Queen’s resentment, her tension. And fear, too. For despite their objections to her, contempt, fury, both Klbkch and the Queen of the Free Antinium looked on the Grand Queen and knew she spoke for the Hives. They felt her pull, even in Liscor.

“The situation in Liscor has changed. Pallass has agreed to reinforce the city, as have the other Walled Cities and lesser cities. However, they will not reach Liscor before the Humans and Goblin Lord. So the city will be besieged. My Queens, your thoughts?”

The mirror flashed. The body twitched and another presence took over. The Queens spoke, each one different, each one inhabiting the vessel before ceding control. They were five-in-one. Each time one of the Queens took over control of the body it would stiffen, then move as they willed it. Five voices, all similar, but each different in how the Queens spoke. Each Queen unique, as were their Hives.

“Unprecedented. The opening of war.”

She sat still, her moving mandibles the only changing thing about her. The rest of her was still and silent. Watchful, waiting. The Silent Queen.

“Is it certain? Beyond doubt?”

She looked to Klbkch, as if he could answer her. The Silent Queen, weaver of bodies. She had been chiefly responsible for bringing back Galuc’s form in the Workers and Soldiers. And she had been the first to create the forms of old. The Silent Antinium, assassins camouflaged, stalking. The mirror flickered. The Grand Queen reappeared.

“We have monitored the messages sent between cities. Our Listeners have conveyed the truth and lies. It is so.”

The Grand Queen’s voice was authoritative. She sat tall, and her feelers moved slowly, decisively. It seemed as though she counted each word and weighed it, and her mandibles clicked. Counting, assessing, ever weighing odds and chance with cold logic.

“Pallass’ decision is of no consequence. The statistics show that the amount of soldiers they may transport through that door is extremely limited. Nevertheless, the door presents an unknown variable. An asset. Or hindrance. But the assault on Liscor is the primary focus.”

Her image changed. Light shone. A Queen stood amid steel as her Soldiers waited, wearing armor and bearing weapons made of metal.

“If it serves the Antinium, let the Humans fail here. With Liscor’s Hive it is surely possible to defeat both Goblins and the Humans even with compromised walls. Can the Flying Antinium not reinforce?”

The words were thoughtful, the body language direct, and faithful. The Armored Queen’s feelers moved slowly as if slowed by fatigue, but her posture was respectful, militant. She sat in the light, a bloated body ravaged by countless births.

Of all the Queens, the Armored Queen had sacrificed the most before they had rediscovered how to create Antinium without the actual eggs of Queens. Yet she had never complained, never wavered. If she had broken, it was only in her faith in the strength of the Antinium during the first war. She had turned to steel instead. Now it shone, reflecting from the mirror as she spoke.

“My Prognugator, Tersk, speaks highly of the Free Antinium’s combat potential. Between their might and that of Liscor’s own, surely the trebuchets may be destroyed before they can assault the city? And if the city is breached, the Antinium are more than a match for Goblins.”

“Revalantor Klbkch. Your analysis?”

“We have the means. Our tunnels may assault the Humans regardless of where they place their trebuchets. They are