Night had settled over Loten by the time they arrived, and Ordephus looked to a scout who approached him. He raised his hand, signaling Hoffspin to pause their conversation, and beckoned the scout forward.

"Are they still there?" Are we too late? Relief washed over him when the scout nodded a confirmation.

"They seem to be operating as usual. If anything were to happen, there are two scouts still remaining, and one has successfully infiltrated the camp."

Ordephus grimaced at that. It was his own idea for someone to observe Iforia from the inside, and he was fully prepared to do it himself. His selected team, however, spoke against it and insisted he stayed on the outside. The scout was equipped with a mana flare and a teleportation bead, but they all knew the danger of it. If the scout were caught, it was guaranteed to be a swift or torturous end.

"Good. Thank you for the report." Ordephus gave the scout a tired smile before motioning to the campsite behind him. "You're free to do as you wish tonight, but I recommend fitting sleep in there somewhere. No night watch tonight."

The scout saluted before adding a small bow in gratitude. "Thank you, sir." With that, the scout walked further into the camp.

"Now that the sitting duck has been set, you should rest, too, sir," Hoffspin drawled at Ordephus' side, and Ordephus gave him a sidelong glance. That was his childhood friend he was calling a sitting duck, but Hoffspin only shrugged. "He knew what he was getting into, and after years of being the reigning champion of hide-and-seek, I doubt he'll be caught so easily."

Ordephus snorted. "Is he really that good?"

"It once took a week for us to find him, and we wouldn't have found him if he didn't come out of hiding only to declare he was bored of surviving off of berries and small game he managed to cook without us ever seeing a fire."

It was moments like these when Ordephus remembered just how good of survivalists the elves were, especially if they were raised in a woodland tribe. Not all high elves came from high society, and Hoffspin, in all his crudeness, was living proof of that.

"But I wasn't joking when I said you should rest," Hoffspin continued, nudging his shoulder against Ordephus'. "Even though it's your own fault for pushing us to keep moving for nearly a day and a night to get here, you still need to be at least semi-functional by sunrise."

Ordephus didn't even want to imagine how dark the bags under his eyes were. "Sure. Just wake me up for my shift."

Hoffspin made a noncommittal sound. "No, I'm good."

"Hoffspin—"

Ordephus would've sputtered in indignation if he didn't know Hoffspin as the elf clamped his hands over his ears—an action both knew was utterly pointless—and simply walked away, blissfully ignoring him. Perhaps he shouldn't have let it go that easily with such a blatant show of disrespect, but he couldn't find himself to care much, only rolling his eyes behind the elf's back.

He stood there for a few seconds more, however, simply surveying the group before him. There weren't more than a couple dozen, not including the scouts that frequently came and went, but all had been carefully selected by him by experience or skill sets. A great majority were elves and even dragonkind, but all were proficient in magic. This was Loten, after all, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the guards at Iforia were wizards as well with some hailing from the Order themselves.

There was a small ache in his chest, however, as there was a lack of two familiar presences in the area. Ever since Moric had told him of Iforia's future termination, Iver had been subtly avoiding him. Not subtle enough for him to not notice it at all, but he only realized something was amiss when Iver declined to join him to Iforia. Noctifer seemed to know what was bothering Iver as well, as he, too, opted to stay behind. Neither of their behaviors was abnormal, per se, but it was how things were left that bothered him. He knew it had something to do with him.

But he would confront it later. After the dragonkind imprisoned in Iforia were safe and they had control over Langerich. For now, he pushed those thoughts aside and finally headed back to his tent.

Argent was already asleep by the time he arrived, and it didn't take long for sleep to overtake him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Ordephus heard it before they arrived. Purposeful, rapid footfalls headed directly towards his tent. Perhaps it was instincts or the fact that they were hours before a raid, but he had his sword drawn and pointed towards the intruder by the time the flap was flung aside.

Hoffspin remained unphased at the sword hovering inches before his neck. "We need to move now."

It took Ordephus a few seconds to process his words, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he lowered his blade. "What happened?"

"One of the scouts left at Iforia came back a few minutes ago. They're rounding up the dragonkind as we speak."

Ordephus already began strapping his armor before Hoffspin had even finished, and he didn't object as Argent—who was awoken by the commotion—began doing the same. This was an attack on the boy's people, so who was he to stop him?

"What else did he say?" Ordephus was too focused on the situation to notice the various looks thrown his way as Argent trailed behind him, hastily adjusting his sword. Hoffspin led them towards a rapidly growing group at the edge of the camp. "Did he manage to catch any information on what we're against?"

"He did, but there wasn't enough time to do a full evaluation." He paused to grab a halberd. "At this point, it's a coin toss. There are wizards and Order members, but the latter are few and we don't know how skilled the rest of them are besides barriers and general expulsion spells."

"So we could assume they are more competent in combat or be caught off guard," Ordephus commented bitterly.

"Precisely, so let's not underestimate them."

It was a blur from that moment on for Ordephus. A swift invasion, successfully catching Iforia off guard, and there was soon the recognizable scent of iron in the air. Cries rang out around him. Many fell before him. None could escape. He was still a far cry of the warrior he once was, but it didn't matter to the slain in the end.

For years he had been peaceful, a contradicting mixture of content and contempt as he watched the world move around him. He knew there was nothing he could do to mend what he had broken a millennium before, but something in him snapped as he gazed into the terrified faces of the dragonkind; of his own kin.

War was familiar to him, and Queen Ventura raised him well amongst it.

He had long become numb to the bloodshed. He knew that many of those he fought were innocents, only following the orders of those above them. But they were the same who swore an oath. Any who raised their sword against another knew, in a war, there was never a right. There was only a victor. Ordephus only held regret for one thing during these times: There was no true way to be victorious over an immortal.

The raiding party soon flocked the center, and Ordephus paid little attention to those assigned to bring the branded dragonkind to safety. He trusted his men enough to complete such a complicated task, choosing those with defensive capabilities while the rest of them held Iforia at bay.

It was nearing the end of the battle as the sun began peeking over the horizon. There were still those who fought while others fled, and only a few branded dragonkind had yet to be transported to Langerich—

"Wait!"

Ordephus suddenly jerked to the side as his sword arm was grabbed, stopping in mid-swing. He blinked, his gaze fully focusing on the soldier in front of him.

Her sword had been flung aside, and her helmet laid a few feet away. Orange hair stuck to her forehead as blood oozed lazily from a shallow cut. The Alliance's emblem glinted proudly on her chest plate. Piercing blue eyes stared back in shock, but her focus was not on him. She stared directly at the boy who clung onto his arm.

He shifted his eyes to the side, setting an unreadable expression on Argent.

"Not—" Argent gulped, forcing himself to face his red-eyed guardian. His eyes were wide with panic, and there was blood smudged on his cheek where his face had rubbed on Ordephus' arm. "Not her. She was the nicest. She has a baby, and she—please, just not her."

Silence hung in the air despite the sounds of a battle drawing to a close. None of them dared to move for a long moment.

A sigh left Ordephus' lips, and he could feel Argent's lingering trembles as he gently pulled his arm free. Argent obediently stepped back but kept a silent plea in his expression, begging Ordephus to spare the soldier.

"Is she the only one?" he asked, leaving the rest unspoken.

"I think it's too late to save the others." Argent's voice was barely above a whisper, and Ordephus gave a slow nod before turning back to the soldier.

"The boy has spared you," But I have not, "and you can either pick up your sword or leave. I don't think I need to state the consequences of either option."

The soldier stumbled to her feet, keeping a wary eye on the dull, used sword in the red-eyed legend's hand. She didn't dare take a step in her sword's direction and quickly retreated. Those who saw the interaction respected Ordephus' verdict and didn't attempt to go after her.

Argent merely watched, unable to do anything, until Ordephus rounded on him, grabbing his hand before he could fully react to the action. His guardian still kept an unreadable expression, and Argent didn't know how to interpret it. Something was shoved into his hand—a transportation bead, he realized too late—before the larger hand grasping his forced him to crush the bead in his palm.

Realizing what was happening, Argent lunged forward, attempting to reach for his guardian, but his vision was soon filled with a blinding white. Ordephus had murmured something to him, but Argent was whisked away before he could decipher it.

When Argent's vision cleared, he stood in the center of the Langerich transportation gate. His guardian was nowhere in sight, leaving a horrible, sinking feeling in his gut.

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