A wagon rolled down the streets of the dome, driven by a Livasai Corps knight. The cart itself needed no guard, as only little would be daring enough to disturb the woman sitting in it, with her legs crossed and her hand furiously scribbling on a sheet of paper.
The carriage suddenly halted, alarming Lady Lyda. "What has made you to stop, Ravagh?" she asked her knight.
"Nothing more than a little disturbance," answered a man, opening the doors of the cart to enter.
She gave him her ever so cold stare, "Livasai, you again."
"Excuse my company, but what choice has a man," he said in his modulated voice.
"Move on, Ravagh," she said to her driver.
General Okhotnik raised his hand, as if to cast a spell.
"My cart is well fortified and soundproof already," she said.
"A little layer of protection won't hurt," he replied, proceeding to complete his soundproof spell.
He looked at the notes in her hand. "My goodness, Lyda. You have even drawn a plan for the mission."
"You don't appear to be doing much, and if I had not known better, I would have believed you were only joking the other day."
"Well, I am not," he said. He perused the note once more, "A good thing you have here, but I don't plan this much bloodshed."
"What then do you suggest? You can't depose him by putting him in Devil's Jaws, we have to kill him."
"Of course we will."
"Be that as it may, I don't think it will be feasible without what you call so much bloodshed."
"How so?"
"As much as I hate to admit it, Trost is an archmage, and we are both grandmasters. While we both have achieved many feats in the past, this one will be no doubt difficult, and I can't guarantee we will both walk out of this alive. We cannot afford to jeopardize the lives of our young knight-grandmasters over this. Furthermore, Trost is a Lord Commander, and as such has control over South Capricorn."
"If what you mean by control is military power, then you are wrong. We control most of the soldiers already, and you know that. Even the Orman guards are largely our men. You are right about one thing though; Trost is an archmage, and we are grandmasters, so there is no assurance of our lives at the end. But you should know I have a plan, like I always do."
"What plans have you then?" she asked.
"I will call an archmage to our side," declared the General.
Lady Lyda gave a sarcastic chortle. "You know too well that's impossible. All the Capricorn archmages are antagonistic to the Crossing Rapiers."
"Well, I don't intend to meet them either," said General Okhotnik.
Lady Lyda appeared a little confused. "You don't mean Libra, do you? They have only one or two archmages, and I doubt any of them will ever listen to you."
"Good thing I am not going to them too," said the General.
Lady Lyda threw her hand back on the cushion. "Which archmage then do you have in mind?"
"Gunparch."
"If that is a joke, Livasai," she said, "then I must say it is humorless. You know he is a neutral mage."
"I am not joking, I really mean archmage Gunparch," said he.
"Like I said, he is completely neutral."
"He is, until we drag him out of neutrality."
"How?" she asked.
He raised his hand, producing a document from his living space. "We will attack him, and then he would be forced to react."
"And you think our men will survive the attack?"
"Details are for another day, I came to discuss something different, although related to our grand scheme." He rolled out the document in his hand, spreading it on a small table in the wagon.
"Whose is this?" Lady Lyda asked him.
"Adnan, he wants Trost to eliminate the Tharis for him."
"And that idiot will surely do it."
"Sad as it is, we are the ones to dispatch the soldiers."
"So you will eliminate them?"
"Although the Tharis have their original sins against Capricorn, a mass extermination is too far a measure. Nonetheless, it will be a noble sacrifice, because our plans revolve around them."
"And will you give me those details now?" she asked, frustrated by the General's way of jumping between topics.
"Aye aye, I will, but not all," replied General Okhotnik. "What good do you think the elimination of the Tharis would bring to the Azborgs?"
Lady Lyda furrowed her brows in thoughts. "If Adnan is aiming for a second chancellor, then he will have to eliminate the Nelts too."
"Excellent thinking, my lady," he said, sticking out his index finger. "And there, Lyda, is where we strike."
She examined the document again. "It doesn't state anything about the Nelts though."
"Of course it doesn't," answered General Okhotnik. "It contains only that which Trost feels I should know, but my years of experience across the continents gives me such foresight. It is a simple plan they have, one which we both have seen carried out excellently a number of times before by others."
"If this is their plan, and you manage to get Archmage Gunparch on our side, then I can see victory waiting for us."
"That dream, I will bring into reality."
"I can't wait."
"So Lyda, I must be on my way now," said General Okhotnik. "I have an important meeting with Trost in few minutes."
"Okay then General," said the lady, "safe journey."
General Okhotnik packed up the document, and then moved out of the carriage to Orman castle.
"Look," Ashviel said excitedly to his comrades, "a light."
They had been travelling for four nights since Master Vauxall's departure, and even with the body-honing techniques, it took them that long to get out of the wasteland. The sight of human habitation therefore brought a delight to them.
"Finally," said Kael, "light at last."
They walked into the streets of the village. It was like most other villages, and they had to knock from door to door before finding a lodge. It was an old traditional building, quite large and spacious, making it look out of place in the village.
The innkeeper, an old woman, was sitting down all alone in the large room when they entered. She went to greet them eagerly, and it was obvious the inn does not have much visitors. She however did little to suppress her frown when she noticed the swords by their sides.
"Mages only cause troubles," she protested angrily. Minutes were spent persuading that they had not come for trouble, but were only travelers taking a rest. Kyra was becoming tired of the whole situation.
"We are from Sir Mat Helsing," she told the woman.
Ashviel was surprised that the woman knew who Sir Mat was. In his opinion, mages were rare people that villagers should know nothing about. What surprised him even more was how the old lady's attitude softened immediately she confirmed they were from Sir Mat. Apparently, the knight was a very popular one with them.
"Fine," said the old lady, "you can choose any of the rooms you want."
They thanked her and went round the inn. It was dusty from disuse, and it took some time to clear their rooms. They parted ways after, Kyra going to her room while Kael and Ashviel shared the same room. Kael had been worn-out the whole day, and wasted no time in sleeping on the cozy bed.
Ashviel sat on the bed, a mirror in his hand. He looked at his reflection and noticed a tiny strand of hair in his jaw. "Whew, I guess I'm not growing any younger," he whistled to himself.
It had been almost a year, yet nothing much had changed in his face apart from that. He had gained a little muscle from training though, and of course added on a little more weight.
"Well, what was I expecting?" he whistled gain.
He ran his hands into his pitch-black hair, untangling the fine strands that had snarled up. He stared into the reflection of his eyes and reflected deeply on his past. Just a year ago, he had no idea his life could ever turn out the way it had. Nevertheless, he was grateful he was not dead, and to that, he owes Master Vauxall his life. He was now a mage, and no longer a child throwing a fit. He thought about his skills. He had learned circulation techniques, mastered three magic attack-spells, could fairly perform Tsezgera, and had an array of sword techniques in his arsenal.
Yet he knew that was not enough. He had to get stronger; he had to go to his enemies' lands — Capricorn. He clenched his fist tight, and then released them to drop the mirror before retiring to his bed.