Seregor sat in deep contemplation, fingers curled over his mouth and clutching his cheeks. His elbow rested upon the surface of the desk within his room, which he had moved to face the large windows. Curtains pulled back, he now stared blankly to the night sky, stars twinkling faintly in the purple heavens. Finally stirring after what seemed like an eternity of complete stillness, he absently tugged at the collar of his uniform. His eyes wandered, glancing about the room. The wealth that neither he nor Rathernal had earned. He was reminded of it by everything in the room; the desk, the curtains, the bed. Even the walls themselves shouted it. Letting out a heavy sigh, he rose from the cushioned chair.

Zefrenilx would be arriving shortly with Dauth, and they would head for the officer’s meeting together. At least he had allies in the web of lies and deceit woven by Rathernal. At least there were those he felt he could trust. The week had shot by faster than he could believe. Dauth, proving more resilient than any had anticipated, was already up and about, seemingly ready for bloodshed. Though his friend might have lost his looks, he was apparently as agile and strong as ever. Aside from the telltale signs, one would never be able to guess what had happened to him several weeks prior.

Seregor wasn’t ready for this meeting, that he knew. That didn’t bother him much though, for he was aware that he’d likely never be prepared for it. There was, of course, dread and anxiety in his gut. They had become normal feelings. He would simply have to let what was to happen occur. There was not much else for him to do. All he could do was hope that they’d reach some kind of agreement so that he could be out of this place as soon as he could. Rathernal’s mere presence bothered Seregor. He could feel the castle’s lord, like some kind of mist in the air. A gas that floated unseen, creeping into his nostrils and ripping apart his insides.

He bit his lip and breathed deeply. If he were to last the entire meeting, he’d need to go in as calm as possible. Nerves and mind at ease. He had done a bit of research over the week that could allow him to rest somewhat easier in regards to this meeting. He truly was concerned for his people, and with all his heart wanted to see this war put to an end.

According to various intelligence reports he had received, the enemy force that had destroyed his troops at the village had soon after linked up with a larger group. With the formation of the new army, most of the drow soldiers in the country were out of combat for weeks, allowing the enemy almost unrestricted movement. A menacingly large force was based in a freshly fortified encampment to the southeast. It was likely that they had mistaken the unification of the drow as simply more turmoil within their ranks, and that the enemy soldiers there were simply relaxing. Seregor saw that as a good target to test the strength of the new Imperial Army.

There was a knock at the door. Turning to look over his shoulder, Seregor frowned slightly. The time had come. He was about to step into a room full of soldiers, for the first time their superior officer. Rathernal had known that Seregor wanted nothing to do with this position of supreme general. He still despised being given it. But if there was anything he could do, it was show Rathernal that he hadn’t chosen a fool that he could manipulate. He would make a difference. He would command this army, even if it meant openly defying Rathernal’s orders. Be Rathernal self-proclaimed emperor or not, he would learn that Itheax cannot be manipulated.

His chest swelling with pride, Seregor stepped to the door and gripped the knob, pulling it open. A fire shone in his eyes, determination previously unknown in his spirit. Zefrenilx tilted his head slightly as he saw Seregor, immediately able to detect it.

“I see that you are prepared, Seregor,” the old sorcerer stated, a smile creeping across his lips.

Seregor nodded solemnly in reply. Looking over the older drow, he turned his attention to Dauth. Both wore the black uniforms. Seregor’s brow arched slightly upon seeing his friend’s face, however, or perhaps it was because he did not see it. Dauth wore a mask over his burned skin, tinted black as the night. A slit where his mouth would be allowed him to breathe and speak, a fang coming down from each corner. The rest of it was fashioned to appear as a skull, right socket open and his eye gleaming red in the shadow. His left eye was covered by the shining metal, which Seregor figured was mithril. The thing showed no emotion, but indeed could it instill emotion. All in all, it was a terrifying piece of work.

“Let us be off then,” Zefrenilx said, and with that, they began for the meeting.

*****

Seregor found himself once again in the nearly cavernous dining hall, bathed in the soft glow of the braziers placed around the room. Save the absence of utensils and food, the hall looked exactly as it had the night of the pervious meeting. The tapestries were the same, the lighting was the same, and the atmosphere was the same. Even the people present seemed to be the same. All of them wore the black uniforms, which were now officially the standard uniform of officers within the Imperial Army. Seregor’s own uniform had been tailored to suit his new position, adorned with silver here and there. The same went for the attire of the other three generals.

Nervousness boiled once more in his stomach as he took in the room. It was all so similar, so much like the night Rathernal had formed this army, this empire. He could not shake the feeling that before the evening was over, he’d again wind up sickened beyond his ability to handle. There seemed to be only one major difference between the two evenings. Only one variation that he could deem truly important. Dauth was now present, though in place of Anylia. He didn’t know if it would really change anything. But having his lifetime friend sitting at the table with him lightened the burden that had placed upon his shoulders, if only slightly.

Slowing his breathing, Seregor made way to his seat. It was the one closest to Rathernal’s, directly across from Zefrenilx once again. The sorcerer and Dauth had split up with Seregor at the entrance, each making way to his respective seat. Zefrenilx’s towards the head, Dauth’s on the same side but further towards the table’s middle. Looking to his friend, Seregor caught the flames bouncing off the polished surface of the mask. Suddenly, seized by a sharp pain at his temples, Seregor turned away. His mind was playing tricks on him. He could have sworn he saw a burning building in the reflection on the mask.

Thankfully, his thoughts were once more interrupted. “All stand at attention.”

There was the sound of dozens of boots hitting the floor as those present scurried to their seats and stood up perfectly straight, arms at their sides. Seregor did the same, bringing both arms up against himself quickly. He bit his lip as he managed to hit his wound, shutting his eyes, struggling to not make a sound. In his head, he let out a small string of profanities.

“I present to you, your emperor, Lord Rathernal.”

Seregor kept his gaze locked forward, as was necessary. He had received what was deemed proper military training as a youth in Denmas. In the corner of his eye, however, he saw Rathernal step out from behind the huge chair, decked out in an even grander uniform of black and gold than he had worn the night of the banquet. Rathernal paused and looked over the collection of officers he had gathered before him, and then eased into the chair.

“Be seated.”

Another chorus of sound as everyone simultaneously sat down. All heads turned to the table’s head. There was Rathernal, his half-smile bigger than ever. His eyes were bright. Undoubtedly, this accomplishment that was the forming drow empire had inflated his ego. The lord took his time to survey all those gathered, pausing once more as he came finally to Seregor. He tilted his head slightly in a lazy nod. Seregor returned the motion, his eyes already narrowing with disgust.

“Welcome my soldiers. This evening we have much work ahead of us,” Rathernal began, his voice carrying throughout the massive hall. “We now have the army, my people. All we lack is a course of action to make use of it. That is our purpose here tonight. The war cannot be stopped so we can organize ourselves at whatever pace we please. We require a strategy, and we need it before the rising of the sun. With that, let us begin.”

There was silence after Rathernal finished. None dared to open their mouth. Likely, the vast majority of those that were attending this meeting were already ensnared by Rathernal, and dared not speak lest what they say displease their new emperor. Seregor used it as a time to gather his thoughts.

“A gathering of our people’s greatest leaders and nobody has anything to suggest?” Rathernal shot a soft snicker at Seregor. It was as though the former felt he had won already.

Again there was more silence. Finally, Seregor mustered up his courage. Rathernal guessed that Seregor was incompetent, nothing more than a grunt that he could manipulate.

“I have come up with a battle plan,” he finally said, his voice starting soft, then rising as he continued. The first sentence Seregor spoke aloud at the meeting lightened his load. He watched Rathernal, the emperor’s thin brow arching faintly. The smirk faded.

“Do go on, Master Seregor,” the lord muttered, now sounding slightly annoyed.

Seregor was taking back ground, and Rathernal hated it. But he could not let the joy he was beginning to feel show. “I have taken the liberty of gathering recent intelligence reports from the scouts that we do have in use. Though our forces might have been at a standstill as we organized this army, the enemy most certainly has not been.” His nervousness lessened with each word. If there was one thing Seregor knew, it was war. He hated it with all his soul, but he knew it well nonetheless. “The elven force that destroyed my soldiers those weeks ago linked up with a much larger group. Our reports estimate them to currently be about twenty thousand strong. In our period of inactivity, the enemy has taken the time to muster their strength into more concentrated areas.”

“Aye, that I can confirm,” Zefrenilx added in, a slight smile on his face. “Gathered from the experience I have in the field and these intelligence reports, I can only conclude that the enemy is preparing for an all-out offensive. This army Seregor speaks of, one hundred score elves, has set up camp not far from this castle. They likely will be making a move to wipe out what strongholds we possess.”

Rathernal nodded as he listened, having regained his composure. He once again wore his arrogant smile. “I see. Well, we most certainly cannot leave this threat be, can we?”

“Our strength can utterly destroy them!” shouted out Orthynx energetically as he rose. Zefrenilx shot the youth a glance that made him take his seat at once, hanging his head slightly in shame.

Letting out a slight sigh, the sorcerer spoke once more. “Our theoretical strength can utterly destroy this force. If we take everything into account, we can only afford to spare, at most, fifteen thousand soldiers to combat this force. That force is not even nearly half of their full numbers. We must keep our strongholds fortified, and to do that can only use a limited amount of power to go out and fight.”

“If the soldiers that we use to fight them are among our best, we have a much better chance of taking out this enemy force,” Aertha said. “My archers alone can remove hundreds, if not thousands, from battle, even before melee begins.”

“But we cannot risk placing all of our elite soldiers in one large unit. There must be balance. A castle full of inexperienced soldiers can fall quite fast,” Zefrenilx replied to the suggestion.

Seregor once again lapsed into thought. He wasn’t paying full attention to the discussion. Instead, he was planning. Working things out in his head. He knew that there were ways to defeat such a large force whilst being outnumbered. His gaze lowered to the table, though he was not focused on it.

“There are ways to eliminate a larger force without taking terrible losses.” All turned their attention to the source of the raspy voice. There sat Dauth, single eye shining in the fire’s like in the eye socket of the skull mask. “I have done it with Seregor before. It is possible.”

“Aye, it is very possible.” Seregor spoke, though his gaze was still lowered. “Under the proper circumstances, that is.” He finally looked up. “The enemy encampment is situated near a forest. Reports say that their rear is right up against the trees. We could use that to our advantage.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Aertha. Her tone was serious as usual, but now her expression clearly stated that she was focused entirely on the matter at hand.

“An enemy camp that large isn’t quickly mobilized. They are likely resting up their soldiers for their big push into the land we hold. I’m sure that they suspect something due to our inactivity, but not a surprise attack. If we move under cover of darkness, we should be able to get a considerable force close enough to engage them before they can realize.”

“How is that going to help us? Once we get there we’re still up against twenty thousand enemy soldiers.” Orthynx was now in a glum mood, his voice discouraged. He had probably let Zefrenilx’s scolding get to him too much. His spirit, if only for the time being, appeared broken.

Seregor bit his lip. A bad habit that he had for as long as he could recall. “That force would be more of a diversion. They have to hold out long enough to allow another force, moving through the forest, to flank the enemy camp. If we can accomplish this at night, there’d be great confusion. Victory for us could be very possible.”

Seregor was almost stunned that Rathernal had not really put anything into the conversation. The self-proclaimed emperor simply sat upon his throne of a chair and listened with his devilish half-smile. Zefrenilx stroked his chin as he pondered Seregor’s suggested plan.

“It could very well work. But it all depends on how many soldiers we can muster and how soon,” the old sorcerer stated as he thought.

“If you pardon my intrusion, my lords,” a voice said from the table’s middle. Seregor turned to the person that had spoken, a younger drow with neatly trimmed black hair. “My name is Farthas, my lords. I have been placed in charge of organizing our soldiers, to a degree. It is possible to gather a bit under fifteen thousand of our soldiers, prepare them for battle, and mobilize within two weeks.”

Seregor’s eyes lit up. He had been prepared to make due with as little as eight thousand, but with fifteen thousand troops he was sure that the plan could work.

“Then it is settled.” Rathernal had finally spoken. All eyes were once more upon the new emperor. “Farthas, you are to immediately begin mustering these needed soldiers. I want them prepared to move out in a fortnight. Organize them into four regiments, one for each of our four generals. Seregor and Aertha, your forces will be the ones to attack the enemy camp head on. Zefrenilx, Orthynx. The two of you are to lead your soldiers through the forest and flank the encampment.”

Seregor lowered his gaze once again in frustration. He had taken a chance tonight. He had actually played his role as leader of the army. He’d come up with an acceptable plan of action, and was prepared to follow it through. But Rathernal had to show that he was still in charge. Rathernal had to make those orders, just to spite Seregor. The emperor’s face was twisted in a grin, the fiery eyes locked on Seregor. His gut churned. He felt nauseous.

“If it’s at all possible to have preparations completed before two weeks from now, we will move out earlier. Speed is our ally here. The enemy must not be able to move. If they do, I trust the generals will formulate a way to deal with it.”

Seregor rubbed his cheek absently. The victory against Rathernal that he once thought he’d won was now nothing more than another loss. But it was a step forward. At least now he knew there was hope. Letting out a tired sigh, his mind raced back to the past, before everything was so complicated. Before everything was about politics. At least he would be getting away from Rathernal soon. Unfortunately, two weeks was not nearly soon enough.