2412, Xavem 30, Reshpe

Cyrdel watched people file inside the war room.

Calling it a war room was a bit of an understatement. It was a freaking armory, conference room, and a library all rolled into one. The circular layout and domed ceiling wasn't architecturally possible considering what Cyrdel knew of the Capital's layout. Then again, the ice sprites had hidden brilliance. Besides, the floor plan was the least of his worries now.

Like a recurring theme on all the rooms in the Ice Capital, the war room's walls were decorated with sculpted ornamental arches. By this time, Cyrdel knew that these arches were not just mere decorations but were actually transport systems. The dark shadow that seemed to ebb from them was enough proof.

The domed ceiling hosted the light source that shone down into this room. Cyrdel craned his neck to look at the bright ball of luminescence that appeared like it was behind the wall of ice. Cyrdel knew better. It was the ice itself.

When he first stepped foot inside the Ice Capital, he thought that the walls must have some kind of space between them where the light source resided. When he had the time to inspect it further, he realized that the ice shards of the ceiling that collapsed the first time he arrived here still glowed even though they're "disconnected" from the source.

With that logic, Cyrdel concluded that there were fairies here who could produce luminous ice and could control when they would shine light or not. Amazing. He hasn't known any race that could produce light apart from the pixies. This was an innovation at its finest.

If there was anything he loved more than Ravalee, it's innovation.

One of the arches to his left shone, replacing the dark shadow wafting by it. A figure stepped out before trudging towards the circular table installed in the war room's center. Cyrdel had to bite his lip to prevent himself from doing any facial expressions except that frozen nonchalance he was taught to have during formal occasions.

The figure wore what could easily be called an ice sprite light armor, with a simple breastplate and simple shoulder pads and greaves atop the ice-blue robe. The metal cast glinted when the figure pulled a seat back and settled in it.

Cyrdel kept his stance rigid even though his shins and ankles hurt from standing. The man who had just arrived and a woman with red hair were the first ones here. If the number of seats has to be filled, then he'd be standing for a while.

He restrained the urge to run for a seat and sit down. The attendant who fetched him from his given room hissed the instructions at him like he's tired of repeating it over and over again for non-ice sprites.

Rule one—guests shouldn't speak when the Grand Marshal hasn't asked. It's considered disrespectful and won't sit well with the other Generals if violated.

Rule two—one mustn't find a place on the table until the Grand Marshal and the rest of the Generals arrive to take theirs.

Rule three—don't be late.

That's why Cyrdel was standing by the wall for over an hour. He did well to stay close to the wall to avoid being in the way of hurrying Generals. More arches flashed and more figures stepped inside. A total of eighteen chairs flanked the table. Who else aside from him was going to attend?

One arch to Cyrdel's right shimmered and arguing could be immediately heard from it.

"You took too long in the washroom. That's why we're late," the female voice that sounded like Airese hissed.

"We're not late," a voice sounding like Eldan retorted. "Look, there's no one there."

Some scuffling. "I sense five people!" Airese's voice said.

The light flickered off, revealing the couple dressed in their beige robes. They were all smiles like their argument hadn't just happened. Without another word, the two bowed to the already present Generals before stepping into the room. They took their place beside Cyrdel near the wall and gave him a curt nod. He returned the gesture.

My, what a lovely morning, Airese's jovial voice flashed through Cyrdel's thoughts. He flinched, sucked in a breath, and whirled to the brownie. Airese stared at nothing and everything ahead, her face a serious mask even though the voice that just spoke in his head was full of energy.

He exhaled through his nose in a long, quiet drag. He should have been used to this by now given that he'd been with Ravalee for as long as he could remember.

Ravalee. The thought of her made his stomach twist. What she said on the corridor when Nyxis and June were confronting each other shook him more than the fact that Nyxis just punched a person. She was going to do what? Oh, she's just going to sacrifice her soul and use her form to bring Xanthy back. She didn't even consult him. Instead, she went right ahead and declared that.

It's like she's not even thinking of him when she makes her choices. It made him...question everything they're been through. He knew full well that Ravalee didn't want to be controlled and that she wanted to be free to make her own decisions. But this...

It made Cyrdel feel like Ravalee wasn't considering his feelings about this particular matter. No matter how Ravalee tried to convince him the other day, he was adamant with his decision. If it comes to that, if they ended up needing the Virtakios to protect this capital, he's still not going to be fine with giving Ravalee up as an offering. Even if it screws the world around, he wouldn't let it happen.

She's the only family he had left. Could he bear the world without her? She didn't even see that. All she wanted was to do her duty.

Cyrdel had lost count of how many times he told her she had to think of herself as separate from the Virtakios. Still, deep down, he knew Ravalee saw herself as Xanthy's discarded half. She saw herself as someone disposable, as someone who's just there as a result of a magical procedure. She thought she didn't deserve a life because she's just...a spare.

That's wooller crap. Cyrdel didn't think of her that way nor would he start to. She was the one that found him during his lows. She was irreplaceable and the one who showed him that the world was not so cruel. To him, she deserved everything she has had because she's...his.

He wasn't going to let her go even if it doomed the world. If fighting in the war would prevent it, if doing his best to get the ice sprites to their side of the war, and if winning this war was all that it takes for his greatest fear to not happen, then he would gladly do it. He would gladly go to the ends of the world for that to never happen.

More arches shimmered and more figures stepped into the room. All wore the standard light armor over their ice blue robes. Cyrdel's companions arrived soon after. Airene looked like she hadn't slept at all while Ravalee looked as serene as ever. Then Reeca arrived, followed by someone Cyrdel knew to be her brother, Rhystavien. Nyxis and June followed soon after, both looking like they're containing storms of emotions inside their chests.

It seemed like they're all briefed on how to behave inside the room judging from the same flat expressions their faces carried. Was it the same ice sprite that fetched them? Well, no wonder June looked like he had just been beaten with a verbal stick with his pale face and the fingers tapping in a rhythmless jive against his thigh.

Silence reigned in the room with the only sounds coming from their collective breathing. The people seated on the chairs appeared to be the Generals. There were six of them including Geradine who gave Cyrdel a piercing glare when their gazes locked.

Factoring the number of the people standing beside him to the empty chairs, Cyrdel realized that there were only three people who still hadn't arrived. What a bunch of slowpokes. As if an answer to Cyrdel's thoughts, the arch directly ahead of him flashed blue and out stepped the Chief, Kennen, and a woman dressed in simple ice-blue robes without armor on. Cyrdel's eyes widened when the seated Generals shot to their feet to give the new arrivals a half-bow.

The Chief took a seat on one of the empty chairs and Kennen sat beside him. The woman was left standing and she turned to face Cyrdel and his companions. No way this woman was—

"Please, join us," the woman waved her hand over the empty seats around the table. Cyrdel's ears pricked with the sound of the first spoken words that happened in this room. So, the woman was...the one and only Grand Marshal.

She didn't look much, to be honest. Her dark hair was almost as slick as Kennen's and the Chief's. Were they related? Dark, droopy eyes stared across the room, accentuating the turned-down lips that constituted her whole expression. Her loose robes hung from her thin, wiry frame and her pale skin almost blended with the light.

Careful of letting that thought to reflect in his face, Cyrdel gave her a respectful bow and strode to take a seat. Just like he did with his father's council meetings, he took a deep breath and repeated a mantra over and over in his head. It's just talking. It's just talking. It's just talking.

He talked every day, right? That's all this was—a communication event. He only has to live through the rising bile to his throat and the apparent draining of his blood from his face. He thought that after years of doing this in his father's court, even leading some with his own accord, he would have been used to it.

That wasn't the case though. His palms sweat like crazy as soon as his rear settled on the chair carved from ice. He straightened his back even though each one of his bones and muscles wanted to pick him up and leave. He exhaled as silently as he could knowing that if the Generals ever saw him acting strange, they would lose all their respect for him.

That's the first lesson his father drilled into mind. First impressions matter especially in a Court that could decide one's fate. He wasn't making a good one now that he had wiped his palms against his loose, ice-blue trousers for the fifth time now.

The Grand Marshal gave no one a curt nod after everyone was seated around the table. Cyrdel glanced at Ravalee at his left and at Airese at his right. This should be okay. Then he made the mistake of looking at someone who's directly opposite him on the table. It was the Chief. Oh, gods. He's going to lose it. He's—

Someone squeezed his sweaty palms and he traced it up to Ravalee's face who smiled at him even though it's against the rules to have any facial expressions that would suggest to the Grand Marshal anything. Cyrdel bit his lip and made sure his brows weren't meeting. He shouldn't let distress appear at his countenance. He shouldn't let this get to his composure. It's just talking. It's just talking. It's just talking.

"Now, we address the security issue that presented itself worthy of our attention," the Grand Marshal's modulated and formal voice rang clear in the air. "Husband?"

Husband? That means...?

The Chief turned to the Generals. "We have confirmed that there will be an attack in the Capital," his tone suggested that he had already sworn to kill off those who dared attack this place.

The Generals bristled as one except Geradine. The Grand Marshal gestured to her to pick up the report. Geradine sat straight and cleared her throat. "When our guests arrived, I checked the vicinity around the place of their entry and came across a conversation deep in the woods," silence filled the room once more as Geradine paused to take a breath. "It was three women talking about attacking the Capital because we are apparently housing something they want. What are we to do with this, Grand Marshal?

The Grand Marshal's face was inscrutable as she regarded each one of the Generals. Then she turned to Cyrdel's side of the table and his heart almost stopped. Wow, those were some of the darkest eyes he'd seen. "Is it true that you have brought us danger?" the Grand Marshal asked, her voice kind yet somehow implying peril if he developed the courage to start lying.

It took everything in Cyrdel to raise his head to meet the Grand Marshal's gaze. "Yes. We are aware that we have brought the war on you. It's because we are asking for your help."

"May I speak, Grand Marshal?" Rhys raised a finger in the air like he's reciting in a tutoring lesson. Oh, gods. No. Cyrdel flashed a warning look at Rhys but the varichria didn't appear to see. In fact, he didn't appear to have noticed the deadly glares thrown his way by the Generals. Cyrdel watched with horror as Rhys locked eyes with the Grand Marshal. Cyrdel waited for the varichria's head to fly off his neck for violating a rule.

The Grand Marshal's eyes flashed but she jerked her chin at him to continue. Cyrdel had to breathe out a sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to see carnage so early in the day.

Rhys held the Grand Marshal's stare as he straightened in his seat. "In regards to the siege, my party and I were in no way included in it," he glanced at Airese and Eldan. "But according to my proposal, we should help each other in this coming war. I think this is the first step in doing so. I believe we're all committed to helping you drive away this enemy."

"With regards to your proposal," the Chief folded his hands together. "I'm afraid that we have to accept it. The battle on this sanctuary appears to be inevitable."

"That doesn't mean that we should be running head-first into trouble, husband," the Grand Marshal gave the Chief a side-eye. She's annoyed. "We might as well make peace with our enemies and offer up what they claim we have been harboring. We are not responsible for guests."

The Grand Marshall spat the last word with enough acid to melt through a thick wall of ice. Hold up. Were they serious when they claimed they were considering making ties with Cardovia and Synketros? This was more disastrous than what Cyrdel imagined. He glanced at his companions and noted that Nyxis paled more than ever. He must have known something that's eerily related to this.

"May I speak once again, Grand Marshal?" Rhys cut in, his unregulated voice bouncing off the ice walls in loud waves. Cyrdel grimaced. Wasn't this man an heir? Why was he acting so...barbaric?

The Grand Marshal's eyes narrowed further, her pale skin slowly turning pink. She was pissed. Oh no. They're so doomed. Rhys, shut up!

Rhys didn't shut up. Instead, he smiled at the Generals like he knew a secret none of them did. "You don't know what awaits you if you ever chose to go that path," he said.

"Are you threatening us, varichria?" the Grand Marshal growled.

Rhys shook his head. "Not quite, Grand Marshal," he wagged a finger in one of the most rude gestures Cyrdel had ever seen gestured elsewhere. "Think of it as a warning and advice from someone who has seen what it's like out there."

The Generals shifted in their seats, glancing at each other at the apparent brazenness of Rhys. Even Cyrdel was impressed at how the varichria managed to live even though he blatantly disobeyed the rules. What a life he must have led.

"Well, do give us that much-needed advice," the Grand Marshal said in a tone that was almost hissing.

Rhys didn't appear to be bothered by it. He kept his eyes straight at the Generals as he began. "You will be fighting against the Synketros and Cardovia," he said. "In case you don't know who they are, they are extreme baddies who took over the island when the High Queen died."

"But they haven't formed overnight," Rhys continued. Cyrdel imagined the varichria as one of his tutors pacing the hall while delivering a history lesson. It wasn't a far off image. "They have been under the island's forces for the last four hundred years or so. They have been secretly planting their roots on our soil, inching to get control slowly, but surely."

"According to my friend, Airese here," Rhys gestured at the brownie who whipped in panic as if she had just been caught redhanded. Cyrdel could guess why. She's a brownie, go figure. Rhys gave Airese a sideways glance. "The Synketros have established themselves on this island as the main source of smuggled items in the black market. It's where they got their funds for at least a hundred years. Cardovia, meanwhile, has been siphoning Desara's resources. That's why the water sprite territory was impoverished and can't seem to pick itself up even though its economic activity is fine."

The Generals' frowns were a collective trait now. None of them looked like they were agreeing with anything Rhys was saying. The varichria continued despite those. "Nyxis, here, had just been to Dwanzeig, a territory that once forged an alliance with Cardovia in hopes of preserving the precious forests," he said. "Nyxis, care to tell us what you have seen?"

The human looked confused for a second before his face cleared up. Oh, it must be Airese at work again. It couldn't be Ravalee since she didn't have as much control over her synnavaim. Airese, however, had been doing it for years now.

Nyxis cleared his throat, looking left and right as if he's afraid that there would be a spear flying for his head anytime soon. Well, for the record, Cyrdel has been anxious all this time too. "I was able to witness how Dwanzeig forged this alliance with Cardovia and the latter clearly promised that they would stay clear of the forest if the Grand Monarchs would pledge their resources to Cardovia," he said. "When I got there, after just two months of the alliance, the forest was reduced to mere patches. Most of the land was converted to training fields, others for some sort of mining grounds. There were also parts that were used for housing."

Cyrdel's stomach twisted with the story. Rhys was nodding. "And Cyrdel, the very heir of the Alkaran Throne, had some stories of how the Synketros took over their territory," he said.

Cyrdel did his very best to look like he hadn't just been surprised that he was being forced to talk about a traumatic experience in his life or that he was being requested to talk at all. Ravalee squeezed his hand from under the table once more. He swallowed against his drying throat. "M-my father has been avoiding telling me about this particular incident," Cyrdel started. "I think weeks before the attack, Synketros has been trying to get the brownies to their side. Knowing my father, he probably hadn't wanted to head off to battle. He hadn't wanted to ally the brownies to the Synketros either. He probably thought that he could just sit this war through just like before."

The memory flashed in painful flares in Cyrdel's mind. "Then, Synketros descended on us two months ago and ravaged our land. They left nothing standing. They killed tons of my people. They seized the Palace and—"

The memory of seeing his father's blood on his hands resurfaced. He had to blink fast to drive the tears away. No, he wouldn't cry. He promised himself he wouldn't cry any more than he did back at the Palace. "They killed the Monarchs," Cyrdel managed to spit out. "They showed no mercy when they took over Toreza. I know because Airene had to smuggle us on a cart just so we could escape to Rabante. Soldiers fitted with armor swept across the holy city, struck down Dina's statue, and declared ownership over the Temple."

Cyrdel didn't like how badly he wanted to keep talking about what happened. Was that because he felt that the Alkaran seige didn't get the attention it deserved? "The people who had no direct involvement and were just at the wrong place at the wrong time were all speared through like...like meat," disgust marred not just his tone but his gut as well. "Depandes was the only city that survived with minimal damages because the Sovereign wanted to use it as a place to mass-produce her weaponry. She used the brownies as her labor force, making the weapons that would one day destroy this island and even destroy their home," Cyrdel bared his teeth. "It's horrible."

"There's your proof," Rhys cleared his throat even before Cyrdel could say more. Good. Cyrdel might start bawling if he continued. The ice sprites had also gone paler. "Synketros and Cardovia will have no regard to your authority, your people, and even your lives. If you will not oppose them, you might as well sign your death deal right here."

The Grand Marshal wasn't speaking nor did she appear to have any inclination to. Rhys clenched his jaw. "The only choice now is to fight," he pressed. "That way you can guarantee at least some of us could make it through."

Rhys leaned back into his chair. "Besides, the thing they were seeking, the thing that they're claiming we have? It's no other than the Virtakios."

The Generals collectively knitted their eyebrows. Did they need to do everything simultaneously or even react the same way?

"Grand Marshal, may I speak?" Geradine raised her hand. The Grand Marshal just waved her hand like she couldn't wait for this meeting to be over. Geradine turned to Rhys. "Do you have any proof?"

Rhys shook his head. "I am not allowed to disclose her location according to her wishes," he said. "But rest assured that she is here. If we ever need her back, we know of a way to do it."

Cyrdel whirled to Rhys, not caring if it painted a bad picture of him in front of the Generals. He didn't have the right to declare that. Who even—

He turned to Ravalee beside him to find her smiling with enough sadness to color her cheeks pale. No. He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't...

"But that would be in the worst-case scenario," Rhys said quickly with a shrug after reading enough from the tension between Cyrdel and Ravalee from across the table. "All I'm saying is that should we decide to fight, we aren't that hopeless in repelling them. That is all I have to say, Grand Marshal. Thank you."

The Grand Marshal gritted her teeth. In a matter of minutes, thin strands of her dark hair had escaped from their strict low ponytail. She had her hands clasped together on the table but when Cyrdel stared closely at them, he saw that they were shaking. The Chief and Kennen remained silent beside her but Cyrdel could tell that they too were pretty shaken up by the scale of things. Kennen stopped smiling, for Nira's sake.

This wasn't just a battle to protect something. This was a battle to save themselves. If they wouldn't fight, they would end up as slaves or, worse, new souls in the Land of Wonders.

"Generals, your thoughts?" the Grand Marshal said. She sounded tired. Already?

One of the two female Generals Cyrdel didn't know the name of cleared her throat. Her gold hoop earrings glinted against the light as she bobbed her head. "I have no inclination to lose things we fought so hard to keep. I say we go to war."

The second female General nodded. "I don't want to be caught off-guard when the enemies arrive," she said. "Should the Grand Marshal deem it not worth it to march into battle, it is my wish that we should still prepare."

"I agree with that sentiment," the male General who arrived early brushed a hand down his thinning hair. "We should prepare at the least since we are in a chaotic time as of the moment."

The second male General crossed his arms. "I refuse to acknowledge that these people are going to be lying about the attack. Geradine confirmed it as well. I say we go to war."

"I have the same sentiment, Grand Marshal," the third male General raised a hand in a courteous gesture. "I'm afraid that we're nowhere near ready for a full onslaught, though."

"We'll worry about that later," the fourth male General glanced at his comrade. "Right now, we need to have an agreement on whether we go to war, we prepare, or we make friends with the enemy. I say that we prepare and see things as they arrive. Should the siege happen, then at least we are ready."

"And you?" the Chief's eyes bore straight through Cyrdel's entire being. "Do you promise to fight by our side?"

Cyrdel ground his teeth. "If it means giving Synketros a piece of my mind for destroying my home and all that is dear to me, then yes, I will."

"I can also help with planning if you don't mind me speaking, Grand Marshal," Eldan interjected. "I am a known intelligence officer in the Dwanzeig Court and I have my fair share of dealings with them. I can guide you as to what preparations are to be made."

"And we are able fighters," Rhys added. "We have two fine magic-wielders with us. There's no way that we will be disadvantaged."

The Grand Marshal closed her eyes, possibly to think or to shut off the world while she did so. After a while, she opened her eyes. "My final decision," she said in a tone that carried authority and finality. "Is that we are going to prepare to go to war. If the enemy finds us here, we will crush them."

Cyrdel could have sworn he blew a breath of relief.

"Geradine," the Grand Marshal called.

"Yes, Grand Marshal?" answered the General.

"Ready your troops. Secure the upper levels first."

"Absolutely, Grand Marshal."

"As for you," the Grand Marshal turned to Cyrdel and his companions. "Do your best to help. We need it."

Cyrdel nodded as the rest of them joined him.

"We won't disappoint you, Grand Marshal," Rhys tapped his chest as a gesture of promise. That's probably the most respectful gesture the varichria could master but whatever.

"Meeting adjourned," the Grand Marshal pushed her chair back and stood up. "Generals, we will talk more after this. The rest of you may go."

Cyrdel edged off his seat and gave a deep bow to the Grand Marshal. "Thank you."

"Thank me when you've made it out alive, boy," the Grand Marshal said before turning away to walk into one of the arches. The arch flashed blue and in a flash, the Grand Marshal was gone. The Generals followed soon after until there was no one left but the fairies clad in beige.

Rhys whistled. "Well, that went well."

Let Cyrdel hope that it was indeed the case.