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It was a massive, ancient crater. It had undoubtedly once been quite deep, but time had smoothed its edges, and filled it with compacted dust that gave it a flat, hardened reddish-gray bottom. A place of power, of world-changing events like this was perfectly suited to a final meeting between two armies. They all sensed it, and perhaps that was the true reason why they chose it.

The evening streamed by as the sun descended and the rare clouds began to glow with warm colors. The war camp of the Wulrician legions occupied a significantly greater part of their half of the crater than their all-but-conquered sun-worshipping enemies. In the center of it all, where the deadly clash of metals would end the independence of yet another unruly land, a pair of black-furred canines absorbed the atmosphere of the future battleground. The wolf stood taller; Darius's lupine blood ran pure in his veins, his great strength inherited from his otherwise useless, cowardly father, and his crown received directly from his uncle upon death. King Belfors had dedicated his life to extending the borders of Wulric, but even he could have never imagined how far his young successor would take his dream. They still called the wolf _Lord_Darius, but, in truth, he was an emperor, by then.

Darius turned west to stare toward the setting sun before it would disappear below the edge of the crater. His heavy bronze cuirass clinked dully against his shoulder pad, but he was used to its weight, and moved well with it. He wondered if this view would remind the Sunlanders of their inevitable downfall. They weren't as numerous, their training wasn't as thorough, and their equipment was inferior. Their frontline troops often fought completely unarmored behind their spears and shields, because their soldiers had to provide their own tools of battle, and good armor cost too much. They weren't well-organized either. They had no unity of cause to rally around. 'Sunlanders' was what the Wulricians called them; they didn't view themselves as a single nation. It was true, however, that their silly clans had more or less joined forces at the start of the war -- not that it had done them much good. Two thirds of the Sunlands were under Wulrician control, with most cities that had resisted sacked, and tens of thousands captured alive and enslaved. This was to be their last stand, but Darius doubted they would actually attack. Including the forces stealthily going around the crater to prevent any possibility of retreat or reinforcement, the Wulricians would fight three to one. It was more likely for the Sunlanders to surrender.

-- This is a mistake, stated General Nercur. They're right in front of us, and we have a massive advantage. We should attack right now and slaughter them all.

The jackal stood next to his lord and emperor. Cai was the name he had been born under, but Nercur was his true name, the name that he had earned, and that the world knew him by. 'The one from below'. The dragon people had named him death in their own language, before their civilization was extinguished, and their lands taken.

Darius faced his best general, stepping in close. The wolf lord's shadow engulfed the shorter canine, but Nercur wasn't intimidated. Darius smiled thinly. It was the one person in his court that didn't fear him, and if he was totally honest, Darius liked that about him. Nercur didn't seem to experience fear in the same way an ordinary mortal being should. On those occasions where the general had to enter the melee, he went in battle with twin axes of blackened iron. Shiny gilded bracers enclosed the shapely biceps of his naked arms, for he did not cover his chest in battle, boldly exposing his nearly flawless black coat to the ravages of war, as he charged wildly forward, but habitually escaped unscathed. In perfect contrast with the lethal frenzy that inspired him to cut and chop into his enemies like a merciless storm, Nercur showed containment in private. He was slick and composed.

The jackal general crossed his arms low, over his stomach, and patiently waited for the response.

-- They asked for time to consider my terms, Cai. They won't fight. They know they are conquered.

-- You're wrong.

Nercur pivoted toward the Sunlander camp. As a rare sign of his tension, his right hand rose and reached for his ear. He played with the three golden rings, there. He had them in both ears. He breathed and continued:

"They're deliberately wasting time. Something's up. I think they're expecting help. We should attack while we can't lose, and spare no one. They didn't come here in arms to surrender."

Darius chuckled neutrally, without any real amusement.

-- Don't you care that they are your people?

-- No. They're weak. But what we're doing here, playing their game, that's even weaker. You must crush them now.

-- We have already done that during this entire campaign. They will know their place. I sense their terror from here. I have explained the advantages of joining us. They will be doubly tempting, given the odds stacked against them.

Nercur grumbled.

-- We attacked them, killed them, humiliated them. They hated us even before that. You underestimate their anger. They probably don't care whether or not they actually stand a chance to win. What they want is to watch us bleed. They won't give up, no matter how reasonable it might be.

Darius sighed.

-- If they don't, then they will die, and their surviving warriors will be impaled throughout their cities as a warning.

-- You shouldn't rely on fear, or trust them to submit. Put them down and keep them there. Take away their ability to act.

Nercur took his emperor's hand. It was eerily gentle and demanding. Darius had never seen him so close to begging.

"Let's finish this right now, you and me. I will rouse the commanders immediately, we will exterminate these fools and I will invade their remaining cities. Another subjugated land will be added for the glory of the Wulric Empire. A new province to reinforce us!"

Lord Darius frowned subtly.

-- 'Us,' Cai?

Nercur grounded himself. His piercing bronze eyes challenged those of the wolf, as his ambition was laid bare.

-- I want the honor of governing it in your name, my lord. I want the Sunlands.

-- The spoils are mine to distribute between me and my troops. You will get no special share.

-- Sir!

-- No special share!

Darius had growled. The tips of his fangs bared, but he made no move toward the greatsword at his side. Not against his Cai. The general bowed his head, but made no effort to hide his deep frustration. Darius was the sole landlord of the entire Wulric Empire. He collected the rents and the taxes everywhere, managed all of the spoils of war directly, and rewarded his commanders and soldiers via their wages. The administration of this wealth was complex, and corruption had to be sadistically discouraged, but the empire was strong and united. Though the members of his court were paid enough to live quite opulent lifestyles, they depended on their lord, for they had no independent sources of income. This system had been understandably unpopular with the nobles, at first, but the rebellious ex-lords had been... tamed -- often by Nercur's own hand, ironically. It wasn't the first time Darius's second-in-command manifested his desire for sovereignty over a conquered province, but he'd been refused every time.

And so he would always be.

The warriors walked the battleground together silently. Fires were lit around the enemy camp. The Sunlander sentinels -- jackals, golden-furred wolves, and small felines -- watched them warily from afar, until the shadows were too thick to distinguish a pair of black canines.

-- Look at them. They are hostile, and in wait. They will fight, come the morning.

Nercur still sounded angry, but it didn't stop him from speaking his mind to his lord.

-- It would be suicide, retorted the wolf. They will choose submission over death, in the end, like the others.

When it got too dark for them to see anything useful, the pair turned toward their camp.

-- We should have attacked, simply concluded Nercur with a hint of gloom.

Later on, Darius crossed the camp by himself, dodging the identical military tents of the higher ranks of soldiers, and stepping around the groups of tightly huddled grunts, for the day had been humid, and the night promised to be relatively cold. Wulricians, in the time of King Belfors, had mostly been canines and ungulates, with wolves and sheep being the dominating populations, but the capture and annexation of new provinces had caused many different species to gradually join the legions, either willingly or by force. The warrior emperor saw pale, thin-skinned stallions, venal but strong wildebeest mercenaries, short aardwolves from the southwestern steppes, and many more. While soldiers from the old Kingdom of Wulric, born in its cool continental forests and plains, were quite adapted to the temperature, the ones from warmer climates shivered and rolled in their blankets already, dazed by the cold. Nights in the Sunlands could get chilly impressively fast. But Darius noticed something more. They appeared nervous. He himself had an ominous feeling in his bones that he couldn't completely hush. It was nonsense, however. They couldn't lose that battle. They'd fought Sunlanders many times before, even occasionally while outnumbered, and hadn't suffered a single defeat. The well-armored and trained Wulrician infantry had proven its superiority over the spear-and-shield militias time and time again. The anxiety that befell Darius was a simple result of knowing this was likely to be the final encounter of this campaign. Tension always increased with victory at hand, but he still expected the enemy to surrender. The ragtag cats and jackals had been there for two days, and still didn't dare launch their assault. The lord's ultimatum ended in the morning, so they would have to make up their minds. Between their prides and their lives, the wolf was certain they would make the wiser choice. They didn't even have battlemages.

Darius reached his large, ostentatious tent embroidered with electrum thread, and brutally stopped in his tracks. He'd heard a sudden and clear movement inside. The usually competent guards that he'd placed in front of the entrance saluted their emperor, but otherwise showed no reaction.

-- Lord Darius! they both exclaimed as they welcomed the wolf.

-- Who is in my tent?

The pinto horse with patches of brown and milk and the stout white ram with profoundly incurved horns glanced at each other in light concern.

-- No one, sir, said the ram.

-- No one, eh?

The wolf knew with absolute certainty that someone was in there. Annoyed, Darius pulled his greatsword and held it drawn to his side, point forward, and pushed under his tent, fully prepared to impale yet another assassin who arrogantly thought he could take down the Lord of Wulric.

"Then who is..."

Under his tent, there was his bed, his small table with his maps, and the large locked coffer with his gear. The end of his sentence came out less confidently.

"... this?"

There wasn't anyone other than him. Darius felt a tinge of embarrassment as the two guards also drew their weapons and entered after him. They judiciously waited without a comment. He looked like an insane person, but he was absolutely dead certain there'd been a distinct movement in that damn tent. Darius felt perfectly silly, but he padded forward and looked in the sole place where it was possible to hide: under his raised bed. Nothing. He got up and sniffed the air repeatedly, accumulating trace smells in his nose, but they were in the middle of a war camp. There were hundreds of soldiers close by, and even more of them further around. The scents moved with the wind, and he struggled to distinguish even the horse and ram that were right there with him from the multitude. They all could've been under his tent. Yet, there was something else. It was an odd earthy smell that truly did seem to emanate from nearby, though it was subtle. Of course, it wasn't unusual for a tent staked into hard dirt to smell of earth, but this one was different, perhaps.

In the end, Darius gave up, since most of his senses told him that there was no one there, and that he was looking increasingly crazy in front of his soldiers. He supposed it was possible his anxiety and fatigue were getting the better of him. Soon, he wasn't convinced he could discriminate the strange scent at all. He sent the guards out, and sat on his bed, beginning to undo his armor. It was best to get a few hours of rest. Neither army could exactly sneak attack the other in the middle of a crater with a large number of sentinels on both sides paying attention for any abnormal activity. After removing his shoulder guards and breastplate, he took off his shiny new iron greaves and his laced boots, eager to free his paws and sense the hard, but still welcome texture of the ground. Once he breathed like a free animal again, he also removed the overlapping bands of leather that hung from his belt as waist and thigh protection. Since he hadn't bothered with his helmet or enchanted bracers on this day where he hadn't expected any actual violence, Darius found himself wearing only his light padded body garment and trousers. He opted to keep them on, and lay down on his back, placing his greatsword by his side on the mattress.

The conquering lord was tired.

Darius felt so exhausted, he noted that he couldn't muster the strength to move under the covers, or to stand his weapon against the tent wall. He infinitely preferred to be immobile. But, as usual, he couldn't find rest easily, either. He remained in the dark, eyes wide open, listening to the wind as it whistled teasingly and played with his imposing shelter, and to the occasional coughing or lowly voiced complaint of the soldiers outside. Darius thought about his day, and he thought about what the next day would be like, peering into the inscrutable. After a long time, his eyes closed.

Chink.

Odd, delicate metal.

Click-click, chink.

It rasped and tinkled soothingly.

Chink.

Metal. Metal!?

Darius rose the hell up into his bed, and sensed the pommel of his long, heavy blade into his right hand before he was even conscious of having reached for it. The black wolf gasped in surprised anger, while the brown rat, kneeling over the opened chest of gear that he'd just picked open with a dagger, hiccupped in surprised terror. He had one of Darius' priceless anti-elemental bracers in hand, and almost comically stared at it, as if he only then realized that he was stealing it. The lord slid out of bed and lifted his weapon with his right hand alone in a showy feat of strength. In a flash, his left hand had joined the other, and the blade mercilessly descended upon the bold intruder to chop him into clean halves, but the thief wasn't there anymore. He'd rolled backward with impressive agility and total silence, and was turning around to bolt toward the entrance. Darius' precise leap was immediate. Vaulting over the bed, he seized and pulled the rat's thick, wriggly tail so hard that the slippery outlaw fell square onto his bum, ruining his escape. On this, the commotion had the guards bursting inside and blocking the way as they swiftly analyzed what was going on.

-- Oh no, squeaked the rodent.

Despite the defeated sound, as soon as Darius reached for his neck, the infuriating creature rolled to the side, briefly glancing at a specific wall of the tent. The wolf understood, and moved to intercept, but the slimy thing threw himself on all fours and slithered right between Darius' legs at incalculable speed, quickly curling his tail to the side to avoid it being gripped again. The wolf could scarcely believe it. The tent was big, but not _that_big. There wasn't a chance in the world he was about to let that dirty beast make a mockery of him!

Boiling with outrage, in less than a second, Darius spun and scrutinized the spot where the rat was headed. He found what he was looking for, and brutally threw his sword at the discreet tear in the fabric of the tent at ground level, exactly as the rat was about to dive into it. Astonishingly, the intruder skirted death once more, performing a harsh stop with a shocked gasp as the greatsword plunged into the dirt right where his neck would've been if he hadn't halted. The rat obviously prepared to slip through the crack anyway, now that the weapon had landed, but Darius had jumped forward with his throw. The wide lupine hand finally collared the infuriatingly agile scoundrel, and then, no amount of nimbleness could've gotten him out of it.

Darius lifted the thief off the ground. The latter squirmed and flailed for a second, but desisted when the wolf held him up, glaring and growling. The rat gave a wide, guilty smile, and soon offered the platinum bracer that he'd been attempting to steal. Darius took it, throwing it onto his bed.

The rat had covered himself in mud to mask his scent. Darius detailed his weathered, but still resilient gray-and-brown clothes. At first, the lord had expected a member from one of those shaky, hungry rodent so-called 'clans' that roamed the streets of some larger cities, but he rapidly corrected himself. Oddly, that rat wasn't gaunt in the least. His round ears weren't ripped, and the lengthy, conical face that he shared with his kind wasn't covered in scars. His teeth were clean and unbroken. In fact, underneath the layer of mud hid distinctly regular features. Rather than being haphazard and desperate, his expression was composed, and his black eyes focused on the wolf. This was no street thug.

"Sorry?" he tried rather boldly.

Darius threw the curiously elegant rodent to his guards, who caught him and forced him to his knees. The pinto horse drew a blade and placed it at the rat's throat. The caught rogue raised his hands in surrender.

-- Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here? asked the lord.

The rat appeared aware that he was in deep trouble, but he wasn't terrified yet. He bowed his head respectfully, and with way too much dignity for an ordinary criminal.

-- I'm but a humble thief, my lord. There's no point in denying the obvious. I admit my crime and throw myself at your mercy. Please. I'm merely trying to avoid starvation.

Darius scoffed heartily. That rat hadn't gone hungry for a single day in his life. He could read it in his face, in his entire figure. Besides, starved petty criminals stole bread and cheese in marketplaces; they didn't sneak in the middle of war camps to steal from emperors. That story didn't make a lick of sense. Darius looked to his guards.

-- Okay. Have him tortured until he speaks the truth, and then hang him.

The soldiers grabbed the rat by the underarms. Now, that did the trick. He suddenly seemed considerably more cooperative.

-- No no no no no no, wait wait wait! he blurted out. I'm a wuss! I can't stand pain! I'll talk right away, there's no call for that. I'll tell the truth, I swear!

Darius signaled for his men to put the captive down again. The wolf descended to one knee in front of him, and approached his lupine nose to the rat's. He slowly, threateningly stroked the thief's head, grinning nastily. The rat gulped. The texture of his rodent fur was harsh and brush-like, hardened by the drying mud, but he was warm under the lord's fingers. Very alive, and very anxious to remain so.

-- I ask again. Who are you? What are you doing here?

The captive's pride finally gave way. His shoulders lowered and he deflated into a defeated, relaxed state that Darius had often witnessed into conquered enemy leaders brought before him. Startlingly, when he resumed speaking, his voice had flawlessly acquired the accent of the West, this rich, oily but far from unpleasant way to twist and turn words into quasi songs, and roll every 'R' like a purring kitten.

-- Alright. Sir, I beg you to listen to me. I'll explain everything, but I just want to keep my life. Spare me, I beseech you under the Night Goddess-

-- I do not worship the Moon, curtly interrupted Darius.

The rat was obviously quite shaken by the news.

-- Oh. Apologies. I mistook you for a brother. I thought Wulricians followed the Teachings of the Night.

-- I don't.

-- I see. So you worship the Sun, then? You converted?

-- I worship nothing.

Darius was amused by the rat's efforts to contain his reaction to the emperor's unashamed heresy.

-- Well, regardless. I implore you to take pity. My name is Yuryam. As you clearly figured out, I'm not from a poor family that emigrated to Wulric nor to the Sunlands. I was born West, in the Kingdom of Melnia-

-- The province of Melnia, corrected the wolf.

-- Yes, yes. Sorry. I meant nothing by it. We are conquered, and all. I fully admit it. I'm part of the Guild of Long Shadows, you see. My expertise is in high-profile burglary jobs, but I wasn't supposed to ever leave Melnia! I promise, it wasn't by choice! My Guildmaster assigned me a job that sent me in Wulric, and I know, I know! I should've refused it, but then again I couldn't really, could I? I would've lost all of my standing!

The Guild of Long Shadows was an influential collective of thieves, assassins and rogues of all kinds that used to be arguably as politically significant in Melnia as the king and his court -- who heavily relied on them to remove dissenters and remain in power. When the Wulric Empire had annexed the kingdom, they'd inherited the problem. Darius was thoroughly surprised to hear that the Long Shadows might dare mark him as a target. Thus far they'd been anxious to improve their relationship with their new overlord. The wolf raised an eyebrow.

-- The Guild sent you to steal from me?

-- No, no. They sent me to steal from Nercur.

Darius barked at the rat, who withdrew as much as he could against the guards, but they held him firm.

-- Explain.

-- I'm trying to! It was supposed to be a signature job. I'd sneak undetected and take the general's axes back to the Guild. Then, they'd spread the rumor that they were responsible for the theft around Melnia. As people would see Nercur without his weapons, they'd get credit but there wouldn't be any proof.

That made some sense. Since the province of Melnia was annexed, the Guild of Long Shadows struggled to remain relevant, for the Wulrician conquerors didn't need them to stay in power like the deposed weak rodent monarchy. Much of that struggle depended on the perception of their strength as well as their popularity with the commoners, so that local governors would leave them alone despite occasionally being a pain in the ass for the upper class. Just like in most other provinces, Melnians hated Nercur with a passion, and humiliating him would make for a great show of force, and would boost the Guild's reputation in all the best of ways. It was smart, and the type of move that the Long Shadows loved. It made Darius smile. But it didn't explain why the thief had moved on to stealing from him.

-- Go on.

-- A few weeks ago, after many days of observation, I tried to finish the job. But I...

Ashamed and scared, the muddy rat looked around, ensuring that no one was coming in under the tent. His neck went limp and his elongated snout hung lowly as he spoke in a subdued voice.

"I got caught that time as well. I thought Nercur would throw me in jail, to force me to pay my own ransom, which I would've done! He's crazy, my lord! He said he'd have me put to death unless I did something for him. Please, I need your protection. If he learns that I ratted on him, he'll do terrible things. He knows who I am now, and he said he'd track me down if I ran! I don't know what to do! If you spare me, I swear to never again stand in your way. All I want is to return home and escape this nightmare. I have some money. I'll pay the fine."

Darius gestured to silence the captive.

-- Wait. Wait. You are telling me that General Nercur sent you after me?

The caught thief was silent for a second.

-- Yes, my lord. That's the truth. He wanted me to steal your bracers. He described them with great precision.

-- My bracers?

The wolf remained blank. He looked to his guards, and talked to the white ram.

"You, keep holding him down."

The lord turned to the pinto horse.

"You, fetch the general at once."

Yuryam panicked.

-- No! Come on, sir. Don't do this!

It was too late. The horse guard left while the thief shivered in fear. It took a few uncomfortable minutes, but Nercur eventually arrived and entered the tent at a brisk pace. The black jackal had obviously been asleep, and was perhaps a tad upset at being awakened. He didn't let it show too much, though he did yawn and rub his arms a bit. The night was getting quite cold indeed.

-- You wanted to see me, my lord?

The general immediately paused as he noticed the kneeling muddy rat; a strange sight under the emperor's tent. He raised an eyebrow with curiosity and disdain. The rat shook with undiluted terror as he stared back at the general.

"What's this?"

Darius stepped forward.

-- Don't you recognize him, Cai? It's the thief you sent to steal from me.

-- What!?

The sudden accusation startled the jackal, and caused him to waver. A trace of worry made it in his balanced tone when he looked to his lord.

"I didn't, I don't... I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know this rat."

-- No! exclaimed the thief with genuine desperation. Please, don't listen to him, he's lying! We've talked this very night, and he said I had to act now before the morning, I swear, you must believe me!

-- Yes, hammered the wolf lord. This dirty rogue told me everything. You are found out, Cai. After so many years of devotion to me, you finally gave way to your unmanageable greed and ordered this professional thief that you randomly stumbled upon to steal my easily recognizable and therefore unsellable enchanted platinum bracers, and you chose now of all times, the night before a major battle, while my army is all around us, to reveal your treachery. How smart. How logical.

As Darius spoke, his sarcastic tone became increasingly manifest. The dark wolf smirked by the end of his tirade, and Nercur chuckled at the nonsense of it all, as he understood that his lord didn't truly doubt him.

-- Damn. To think that I spent so long crafting that plan.

The canines laughed and so did the guards, but the Melnian rat remained utterly petrified under the ram's firm hands which pinned him by the shoulders.

-- But... But... It's the truth...

-- Of course, said the lord. There is no other explanation, is there? Let me see. You are from the Guild, that I believe from merely looking at your ridiculously shapely rodent snout.

The wolf poked his claw right between the thief's eyes, and traced it down to his black nose, dislodging bits of drying dirt to reveal more of Yuryam's regular features.

"If I turned on my best military commander, and caused massive infighting among my own ranks right before a major battle, that might be enough to grant the Sunlanders a decisive victory here. If I got killed, it would sow chaos among the empire, and create ample opportunity to restore Melnian independence. Would that not make the Long Shadows very relevant again, as any new Melnian ruler would require their support? Which theory do you think makes more sense? Nercur sending you to steal my bracers for reasons that I cannot even imagine, or the Guild sending you to help the Sunlanders?"

-- Y-you think I got caught on purpose to blame the general?

The emperor squinted ominously.

-- You sure seem to get caught a lot for a member of the Long Shadows.

The rat apparently didn't have anything else to respond. He looked down hopelessly to his knees. With the matter resolved, Darius walked back to his bed, and stood his greatsword against the tent wall. His weariness abruptly wrapped his body and mind, and he sighed loudly. His lupine ears went limp. He sat on the mattress. There wasn't any shortage of fools trying to remove him, to take away his birthright. Didn't they see that it was best to submit and receive his protection? Only he could truly handle power. He proved it every day as he conquered new lands, thereby demonstrating his superiority as a ruler. What good were kings who couldn't even defend themselves? No good at all. Why idiots contested his divine right to lead was beyond him.

"Take him away, and lock him up securely in the pen."

The rat was taken aback.

-- Really? Thank you, my lord!

Nercur patiently disapproved.

-- Won't you at least execute this common criminal who sought to make a fool out of you?

The lord reached for the priceless bracer on his bed, and mindlessly took it.

-- Not right away. I wish to interrogate him further. I will decide his punishment later.

-- Fine, fine, acknowledged the jackal with a yawn. Now, I'll return to bed if you don't mind.

Darius gestured his general's dismissal. Nercur left the tent along with the guards and the prisoner, and thus the emperor couldn't witness the final black look that he threw to the caught rat.

Alone in the quiet of the night, however, the wolf found himself fiddling with the enchanted item that had almost been stolen. Had that rat truly gotten caught on purpose? If so he was a superb and fearless actor. His story was so absurd, so outrageous, that it almost couldn't be a lie. Then again, how could Cai and this thief both be telling the truth? Was he actually entertaining the possibility that his closest friend had tried to steal from him? Why would he? Perhaps the foreboding sense of calamity that had lingered all day long was making the lord paranoid.

Darius brought the platinum piece of gear back to the chest. He sensed the potency of the enchantment as he held it. Of all the elements, fire and lightning were the most commonly used in battle, since they were exceptionally volatile. Magic protection could be as vital as armor, and these twin bracers served that purpose. The one he held helped neutralize lightning, and he placed it next to the other, which served to extinguish the destructive force of fire. Why might Nercur want them? He had his own sources of magic protection, not to mention the fact that he wouldn't have been able to wear them in plain sight of everyone. No. Yuryam's story -- if that was his real name -- made no sense.

The morning brought an unpleasant surprise. The early-day sun floated lazily above the horizon when Lord Darius emerged from his tent, fully geared for conflict. The wolf still sensed the usual campaign fatigue, but the few hours of sleep had done him some good. He moved straight through his still preparing troops, as they strapped their armors on and put away the remains of their light breakfasts of dry bread. The closer he got to the front of the camp, the more eerily silent and gloomy the atmosphere got. The men all looked away with the numb expressions of veteran soldiers, who always expect things to get worse, and almost seem to find a perverse satisfaction in being proven right. At last, Darius joined Nercur. The muscular jackal wore no body armor at all, unsurprisingly, but he carried his helmet under his arm, as did his lord. A heavy iron thing with a small slit for his eyes that espoused the full shape of his head and muzzle. He could barely speak in that thing, and so, as the general of this army, he wouldn't put it on unless he was forced into the fray. Nercur waited at the base of one of their hastily constructed watch towers, but there was little need to climb up in order to clearly see what was going on. The jackal needlessly pointed to the Sunlander camp, where a significant group of reinforcements were busy crossing the edge of the crater, and joining up in an orderly fashion with the main body of the enemy forces, where they were loudly and joyfully celebrated by the ragtag Sunlander troops, who seemed to view them as their salvation.

The arrivals were not as numerous as the Sunlanders, but they were much more of a problem for the emperor and his main military commander. They knew these warriors all too well.

When the dragon lands fell under Wulrician control, at the end of Darius and Nercur's first massive campaign, not all of the drakes were killed or subjugated. Part of their defeated armies fled and found refuge in other kingdoms. Embittered by their exile, they called themselves the Xurnon -- the 'homeless' -- and became renowned mercenaries. They worked against Wulrician interests abroad, and carried about them a holier-than-though attitude that Darius just couldn't stand. Apparently, they'd returned to be a pain in his glorious rump.

As opposed to the Sunlander troops, who were composed of diverse civilian militias with just about no arms training and experience, the Xurnon were professional, battle-hardened soldiers who wouldn't break formation, or give in to fear and allow themselves to be routed. Worse, having these robust troops to hold the center of the enemy line might very possibly provide the boost to morale that the Sunlanders needed to hold their own. These damned drakes in their shiny red lamellar armors could impact the balance of power by their mere presence. The fact that the drakes were there at all signified that the small force he'd ordered Nercur to send in order to surround their enemies had undoubtedly been obliterated. Now, the Wulrician legions barely had an advantage in numbers. On the other hand, Darius relished the opportunity to get rid of this elusive enemy once and for all. The stakes were much higher, but the battle was still winnable. He could kill two birds with one stone.

The Wulrician ranks were forming up around the emperor and his general, and the lord sensed a dash of pride. Theirs was a proficient army, with a clean military hierarchy and skilled commanders, directly under Nercur. They carried out the general's orders, but were also completely capable of acting independently during the melee, in case the chaos made army-wide communications impossible. Even the wildebeest mercenaries were more-or-less dependable in a pinch. Darius watched the rugged horned warriors pick up their targes and axes, and gather up around their leader. They moved up toward the front, and soon were in position to cover the left flank of the main infantry line. Darius glanced at his general.

-- I want the Ghosts in the center.

The grave jackal nodded in acknowledgment. Darius and his personal elite troops usually held the right flank in battles, for it was much safer than the center, but the wolf knew the drakes would be there, and he wished to fight the Xurnon himself. Technically, it was Nercur's call, since he lead the army. Naturally, the general would never refuse his lord's request to hold the center.

Thus, Nercur simply pivoted toward a group of Wulrician nobles, and called two of them by name. A fresh-faced whelp of a gray wolf, clad in shiny bronze, immediately responded, followed by an older ram, with dark-beige curly wool, who wore a breastplate that had seen many wars, and long since lost its luster. He ordered them both to hold the right flank, and put the youngster in charge, stressing that this was a crucial position, and that he should heed closely the advice of the more experienced commander. This would be his test, and if he succeeded, he would continue to get significant assignments in the future. The young wolf seemed surprised, but Nercur sounded confident in his decision, and he and the sheep bowed to it. As they departed with their soldiers to take position, all those that heard the exchange seemed fortified. If the general treated this battle as an opportunity to train some whelps just like any other, how bad could it be? The atmosphere changed appreciably as part of the angst that had burdened the soldiers dispersed. Darius watched in silence as his extremely competent right-hand once again proved his complete and utter ability to shape troop morale.

Nercur announced that the rest of the army would accompany him and their lord to reinforce the center line, while the mercenaries would hold the left flank as usual. The diverse groups finished forming up into thick lines of hardened warriors, two to three rows deep, and Darius walked a bit further away, meeting up with his personal troops: his trusted Ghosts.

Darius' uncle -- King Belfors -- had come up with the idea of turning enemy captives into elite shock troopers. The concept sounded ludicrous by all means, even dangerous, but the results had been difficult to argue with. As it turned out, when facing the prospect of life in ignominious slavery, many were prepared to take just about any alternative. Defeated warriors therefore unexpectedly returned to battle, hence the name. Recruiters were straightforward with prospective Ghost shock troopers: their training and discipline would be the harshest, their pay the lowest, their positions the most dangerous, but in exchange, as long as they obeyed their military orders during campaigns, they would remain 'free'. Perhaps more importantly, they would become part of a legendary group feared and respected the world over. Ghost trainers made sure to foster a sense of pride and strength within the units, and the sheer combat effectiveness of the very first fearless Ghost Company created for them a reputation that would forever make recruiting them much easier. Upon inheriting the throne of Wulric, Darius had quickly expanded the size of the Ghost units, while augmenting the quality of their living conditions to ensure their loyalty, and ensure their loyalty it had. He'd placed them under his direct orders, and they'd granted him many of his greatest victories. They'd also revealed Cai to him. The jackal had been a Ghost.

Mafida walked up to his lord when Darius approached. The long-furred, somber lynx with a dotted reddish coat had replaced Cai as lieutenant after the latter was promoted. He wore the bland but effective iron armor of the Ghosts, as well as their recognizable nasal helmets. They didn't look good individually, but together, due to their standardized equipment and flawless training, they had some kind of group charisma going on. One could almost fail to notice that they were even more heterogeneous as the rest of the multiracial Wulrician legions. There were Sunlanders, felines or jackals, like Cai; rats and ungulates from Melnia; some Wulricians, as a few criminal wolves and sheep chose to serve as Ghosts to escape less forgiving punishments; and even caught barbarians from Snowhowl in the North, like Mafida, who occasionally fled into Wulric to escape the worst winters, but seldom remained free for long. No drakes, of course. Those always proved too arrogant and rebellious to make useful soldiers. Only a drake could lead a drake army.

-- Orders, sir?

Darius responded nothing to the lynx, walking toward the ranks that mechanically opened up to allow him through, and closed tightly behind. The dark wolf strutted calmly before his men as Mafida followed. They watched the enemy line organize in front of them. Even from afar, it was clear that the Xurnon had taken over military command of the Sunlander militias, as a few red armors mixed in with the poorly equipped spearmen, and did their best to shape them up into coherent formations. The Sunlanders would protect the flanks, but it was painfully obvious that the thick of this battle would be fought against the Xurnon in the central line. If the drakes failed, the Sunlanders would be annihilated.

"Something feels strange, here, sir."

Darius agreed fully with Mafida. Obviously, the arrival of the enemy reinforcements contributed to the sullen mood, but that wasn't all of it. He'd been having gloomy thoughts since their arrival in this crater. Nercur and the commanders appeared to feel it as well. Their behaviors were just a bit off. Perhaps that was what truly disturbed the lord. Not to mention this business with the thief... Well, no matter. This lingering feeling would go away once the Sunlanders and their Xurnon drake allies would be broken once and for all. Darius truly did have much faith in the skills of his soldiers, and cold hard reality had time and time again shown that this faith wasn't misplaced.

-- Get this over with, simply whispered the emperor.

Mafida understood and turned to his brethren.

-- Ghosts! Pace forward!

The lengthy first row began to advance in a symphony of iron. The second row soon imitated them. It wasn't long before Nercur's booming bark resounded as well. Since his emperor initiated the advance, he didn't have much of a choice but to go along with it.

-- Central line, forward!

The orders were repeated everywhere, but the voices were buried by the sounds of the marching army. Darius gazed to his left, and saw the bulky block of his wildebeest mercenaries, energetically catching up. He gazed to his right, and witnessed the disciplined ranks of Wulricians moving along with their youthful lupine commander, closely accompanied by the veteran ram counseling him. As for the rest of their nobles, they'd caught up to their lord and his Ghosts, by then, forming a single front. The legions made for an impressive display of force, and Darius was satisfied to feel the terrifying power of the mighty army of Wulric right behind him as he headed for the middle of the crater.

Strident voices emanated from the enemy side as well. They responded in kind to the Wulrician advance, indeed prepared to fight. Nercur had been correct in his assessment. They should've attacked the night before. It'd been a mistake, but not a critical one. Darius might not be quite as great a tactician as Nercur, but he'd personally led his fair share of battles, and he could see that this would be a victory. Even if their central line couldn't crush the drakes, the enemy flanks were weak, and would crumble quickly.

When only a hundred meters separated the rivaling armies, both stopped. Darius used that opportunity to offer a few words to his soldiers to bolster their courage. He didn't doubt them, but morale was a weapon. He understood this, and allowed a vicious wolfish grin to grow.

-- The Sunlanders are challenging us, he said to his Ghosts. They believe their Xurnon pets will save them. But we fought drakes before. We fought Sunlanders before. We triumphed then, and so will we on this day.

Darius spun theatrically, and waved his arm toward the enemies massed before them.

"Look at them. Those flanks aren't threatening. Many of them have never even held a weapon before. The one and only way we could lose this battle is if the Xurnon defeat you. You! The best of the best. The elite of the invincible legions of Wulric."

Mafida chuckled. Darius paced up and down. He adopted a mocking tone.

"So what do you think, Ghosts? Are you going to turn tail and run screaming before a few drakes in silly red armors? Will you break formation and throw down your weapons? Maybe we should give up."

They were amused. There were a few smiles as the iron-clad warriors glanced at their neighbors. The Ghosts never broke formation without orders. The Ghosts never ran. And, more importantly, the Ghosts never surrendered.

"I thought so. The heart of this battle will be here, with you. Let us teach those self-important Xurnon a final lesson about warfare. Draw!"

Blades flashed in the sun as the Ghosts drew their heavy axes and longswords. Darius turned his back on them, and faced the enemy once more. After a delay, The Xurnon unsheathed their weapons as well, and put on their shields. Tension augmented as the clash appeared imminent. Suddenly, a green drake with slightly more ostentatious gear separated from his kin. His armor had more red-painted lamellae and fewer areas with simple padding, even around the arms and legs, and a crest of white plumes surmounted his helmet, spreading outward like a peacock's tail. A Sunlander feline clad in quality bronze but wearing no helmet joined him. They took a few steps in front of their army, and waited for the reaction of the Wulricians. Nercur hurried from the back line and jogged to his emperor from the small hill he'd picked to direct the army. Mafida warmly greeted his predecessor when he arrived, bowing humbly.

-- General.

But Nercur ignored him and immediately addressed his lord. Darius was surprised by the rudeness, as Mafida and Nercur had always behaved like good friends. The lynx didn't seem offended, though. It was true they had more important things to deal with. Still, it was more of that odd behavior.

-- It looks like they want to talk, said Nercur.

-- Yes, nodded the wolf. Shall we go?

-- I have nothing to say to them.

-- Me neither. At this point, it is clear they won't surrender. But I am curious.

-- Your call.

Darius finally put on his helmet that he'd been carrying under his arm. Though it had been molded to fit his head perfectly, it annoyed him, for it covered his ears, drastically reducing one of his most critical senses, but the ears of a canine were very vulnerable during combat. Darius didn't expect his enemies to try anything during talks, but he preferred not to risk it. To no one's astonishment, Nercur didn't bother with his own iron helm. Then again, Nercur never seemed to get seriously wounded, despite fighting bare-chested. Though Darius had no time to waste worshipping neither the sun nor the moon gods, he had to recognize that some divinity was on the dark jackal's side. There couldn't be another explanation.

The pair of canines began to walk alone to the middle of the battlefield. When they saw that their offer of talks were accepted, the Xurnon and the Sunlander leaders resumed their march as well. The four soon met under the grave gazes of both armies. A fresh gust of morning wind enveloped them all as they stopped. Perfect weather for a decisive battle.

That was it. They were together. They could speak. From up close, Darius noticed that Irzon hadn't changed much. The leader of the Xurnon still held his head up high, still stared right into the wolf emperor's eyes as if they were equals. Arrogant green-scaled bastard. It infuriated the wolf to no end that this refugee scum was viewed as a great champion in half the world, including some Wulrician provinces.

In a grudging show of respect, the drake removed his helmet, staring at his enemies one after the other.

-- Lord Darius. General Nercur.

Since the drake had done it, Darius removed his helm as well. The drake continued with the introductions.

"I'm Irzon, Dal of the Xurnon, as I'm sure you both remember. This is General Ptarmep, elected by the clans to lead their army."

Darius couldn't repress a disdainful smirk. They took themselves quite seriously for a defeated soldier turned mercenary, and the improvised leader of a bunch of hastily militarized peasants. The Wulrician emperor detailed the rather short feline. Ptarmep had golden fur and shiny golden irises, heavily accentuated by dramatic black lines painted around his eyes. The Sunlander general fell way short of being intimidating, with his diminutive shape and delicate looks, but he did give off the impression of a hearty spirit. Perhaps he would be a worthy enough opponent. Probably not.

-- Dal Irzon, began the wolf, I must admit that I didn't expect to see you stand in my way again. You should have remained hidden in your hole. Did the shame of your failure finally get to you? Are you here to join in the fate of your kin? I imagine the sadness of being the last memory of your people drove you to me, seeking your own end.

The Dal's eyes widened with utter shock. The drake lost all countenance.

-- You soulless evil husk! he roared. Know that we came here to defend the inhabitants of this free land against your corruption, so that they may avoid being added to the unending list of your victims, you sick bloodthirsty animal!

-- Ha! mocked Darius. This is redemption, then. You fled while the country you swore to defend burned, and so here you are, trying to alleviate your guilt by helping this lot resist the inevitable. Why don't you run away, like before? It won't make any difference, and at least you are good at that. The Sunlanders are weak and divided, and the fate of the weak is to be consumed by the strong. This land is mine because I have the will to rule it. It belongs to me. It always has. What will happen here today will only prove it.

Irzon fumed, and was about to respond, but Ptarmep peacefully placed his hand on the red shoulder guard.

-- This isn't what we came for. Ignore the provocations, my friend.

The drake calmed down, while the golden cat stepped before Darius and Nercur. He barely made it to the general's chin, and not even to the lord's chest, but even dominated as he was by the canines, he spoke with commendable candor.

"Emperor, we came here to bring an end to your reign. We demand that you withdraw from our lands, and free all unlawfully annexed provinces. If you refuse our demands, know that we are prepared to fight you to the death, using any and all means to destroy you, no matter how costly. You may not believe this, but you will be undone, here, today. Honor demands that we offer you one last chance to return to Wulric, and renounce your ambitious claims. Though your crimes are vast, for the sake of peace, we won't pursue vengeance if you leave. What say you?"

Darius made sure to enunciate clearly.

-- No.

Ptarmep slowly nodded, stepped back, and left. Dal Irzon breathed deep, and placed his war helmet on his head, giving one last look to his enemies.

-- I knew this would be your answer, said the drake, but you cannot imagine how glad I am to hear it. Soon, when despair fills you and you realize that you're standing at oblivion's door, think of me, and how soothing your destruction will be. I would've hated to see you go unpunished.

Irzon spat and turned his back on the Wulricians, swiftly joining the Sunlander. The canines made their way back to their side as well, the conflict now unavoidable.

-- They are incredibly confident, commented the wolf.

-- They shouldn't be, responded Nercur. The odds are still strongly against them.

-- I expect them to pull some kind of trick.

The jackal split from his lord, to regain the small rocky hill in the rear that offered him a good view of the field. He walked away slowly, his back turned.

-- Yes, he concluded. They will.

Darius reunited with the Ghosts. They fidgeted, anxious to demonstrate their worth against a glorious opponent such as the Xurnon. Mafida looked to his emperor eagerly.

-- My lord?

Darius confirmed.

-- We fight.

Then he spoke louder for the rest of his men.

"This battle will be remembered, so I want you all to survive, understand? How will you enjoy the fame and wealth that will come after, otherwise? Don't get lost in the rush of battle. Stay aware and fight smartly. Cover the brothers at your side and don't take needless risks against the Xurnon. Hold the line, and cycle with the back line as you tire. Don't overdo it. Every moment that passes will see their flanks collapse further until they are surrounded. Until then, keep them in check. There is no way we can lose this."

Then they heard it. Nercur's voice roared the order, and it was echoed by the 'flag officers' whose jobs were to communicate the general's orders. They hung in the back, and didn't fight at all, but they played a crucial role in keeping the legions into an organized, lethal force. Once the army would be too far from Nercur's overseeing position for voice to be reliable, they would watch for flag signals, giving Nercur decent control of the entire army even from a great distance. Darius' flag officer, who stood directly behind him, repeated what they'd all heard anyway.

-- The general orders the central line to move forward.

-- You heard him, said Darius. Ghosts, forward!

And thus, the central line began to march in cadence; multiple groups lead by multiple nobles moved as a single indomitable front, with the emperor's Ghosts in the middle of it all. Their heavy steps shook the hard soil with clangs of metal. Soon after, Nercur called for the flanks to step up as well, and the entire Wulrician force advanced. Darius could feel the orderliness. He loved the sensation of having his highly-trained and well-equipped soldiers around him, of hearing the low and yet thunderous rumble of the massive hosts covering him and his troops to the left and to the right. He knew exactly what an impressive display that made, and he laughed when the Sunlanders and the Xurnon seemed to hesitate. They should've been walking forward as well, but they took a little while to muster the will to oppose that kind of military power.

Then, something unexpected occurred.

A single Sunlander slipped through the ranks of his drake allies, and ran forward at a brisk pace. It was so astonishing that Nercur brought the army to a full stop. The Wulrician soldiers witnessed as the mad coarse-furred jackal charged alone. He looked nothing like Nercur, though they were of the same species. Instead of a jet-black fur, his was a much more common mottle of grey and light-brown, with some hints of gold, as was also very frequent among Sunlanders. Where Nercur was tall and muscular, he was short and lightweight. He wore no armor or shirt, held no shield and no weapon, apart from a tiny knife that couldn't possibly qualify as a weapon. A large black symbol was painted on his chest: two circles, one smaller than the other, with the smaller one centered on the upper-right quadrant of the perimeter of the bigger one. As he got closer, Darius realized he held an egg in his other hand. Mafida gasped at the lord's side, as he undoubtedly noticed the same thing.

-- I thought Sunlanders didn't use magic, whispered the lynx.

-- They don't. They think it corrupts the soul.

And yet, the enemy soldier abruptly halted, crushed the egg, cut into his palm, and yelled:

-- Tow khol thamap!

Darius causally translated in his mind: "Be freely invited."

The gelatinous mixture of blood and egg oozed from the extended hand, as the small pathetic puddle of yolk and white was traversed by thin red branching streaks, like the complex root system of some unholy tree. Soon, the blood formed clouds and diffused completely. The puddle blackened and spread under the jackal's paws, who was quite obviously startled by the speed at which the threatening goo spread and bubbled. The afraid Sunlander nearly seemed to regret what he'd done, and took many steps back when a bigger black mass began to grow from the middle of what was now a small pond. The outgrowth kept inflating, faster and faster, and lost its round shape to become a perverted embryo of something that cynically parodied a living creature. The shape kept growing until it was colossal, and reabsorbed the filthy slime from which it had emerged, becoming more defined and solidifying with every passing second. The otherworldly beast had three muscular legs underneath a thick abdomen from which quickly stretched two pairs of sharp pincers. The thing had no head, but a hateful semblance of a face with slim, empty eyes and a toothed hole for a mouth emerged from the top of its body -- what one could arguably describe as its 'chest'. Multiple heavy tentacles composed of articulated sections brutally burst from the monster's back, as cringey sounds of cracking chitin and flesh sickened the witnesses, and the demon's flesh finished hardening into an outward shell that slowly turned to a crimson tint, as if it suddenly remembered of what it'd been born.

The summoner watched blankly as his horrific guest turned to him, screeched with an unbearable combination of rancor and sadistic glee, and dismissively crushed him into very dead paste with a single strike of one of its massive armored tentacles. The aberration agilely rotated on its three legs, and instantly started on an unnatural sprint toward the next closest living beings: the Wulrician army.

-- Well, flatly commented Mafida, you won't be seeing me eating any crab for a while.

Darius wasn't amused. Were the Sunlanders desperate enough to resort to such extreme measures as unleashing demons on the world? Demons couldn't be controlled, and devoured endlessly. The laws of all civilized realms condemned summoning, regarding it as an unforgivable sin regardless of religion. Darius could barely believe that the Sunlanders -- of all peoples perhaps the most devout to the sun god -- would stoop so low, and betray their own faith, just to defy him. Did they fear his power that much? Was that what Ptarmep meant when he announced they would use any means to defeat him?

Regardless, something had to be done. The creature was huge, and couldn't be allowed to reach the densely packed ranks of his army, where it would cause tremendous destruction. The demon had to be slain immediately, and fought in the open field, where there would be enough room for soldiers to move and avoid its attacks. Otherwise, the losses would be catastrophic. With Nercur far away in the back, only one other warrior possessed the might to deal with this threat. There truly was only one course of action, short of retreat. The wolf emperor drew the greatsword at his side, and held it straight before his muzzle. He wondered if that was it. If he was about to meet his end in this bleak crater, but found that he didn't really believe it.

-- Ghosts! With me! Break formation and spread out! We kill that thing.

Darius charged, and the Ghosts obeyed without hesitation, following him as he plunged straight toward the seemingly unstoppable enemy. Soon, the lord was informed that Nercur understood was he was doing, when the flag officer keeping up behind him relayed the general's latest command.

-- The central line is being ordered not to assist us.

As he neared the nightmarish seafood buffet on legs, the wolf intuited that he simply couldn't just approach this deadly thing from the front without being squashed, or torn, or otherwise undone.

-- Cover me, keep it busy!

Darius turned sideways as Mafida ran by him with a few others, shouting for the elite troops to surround their target. Instantly, his fears were confirmed as the soldier right next to the lynx was stomped and impaled right through his armor by one of the sharp legs, and the crab-thing was already turning around to slash at another unlucky soldier with its pincers. They wouldn't make it this way, so Darius stopped and focused. In his thoughts, he wasn't on the field anymore. His trained mind ignored everything else, and called upon a familiar sensation. It consumed and spread, bright, wild and pure. He envisioned its shapeless form, its warm benevolence as well as its callous indifference toward what served as its fuel. As he encapsulated his mental grasp of fire, he honed and directed his focus with specific motions, opening his hands and breathing deep. He extended his right arm to aim at the demon's face, and suddenly allowed a decisive outburst of passionate anger to unfurl against this demon, this ugly, evil, twisted being that personally defied him, that sought to end him, even. Him!

Suddenly, Darius pushed with his left hand until it joined the other. Wrathful waves upon waves of flames poured out of his hands and completely enveloped the top half of the demonic being. It wailed at the hot glow licking and clinging at its shell, burning and blinding. The monster interrupted its attacks and shook, almost losing balance when it began to strike its own body with claws and tentacles alike to put out the engulfing firestorm. The Ghosts didn't lose a moment, and those closest to the demon began to hack at the terrifying legs, heavy axes and swords digging deeper in the shell with every strike. Darius resumed circling, but the demon wasn't pleased by the Ghost's efforts, and started stomping its three legs in place. It ignored the fire in order to strike at random around itself, slamming and swiping with pincers and tentacles. The Ghosts dodged and approached prudently, but they couldn't avoid every chaotic attack from the multiple limbs. Whenever a Ghost was taken down, however, another moved in closer to replace him, granting the beast no mercy.

Darius was nearly behind the demon when a graying equine pierced through the shell, and one of the legs failed as foul transparent liquid sloshed out of the wound. At that moment, the fire spell ended, and the creature, which was no longer blinded, responded with a viciously precise slam of the nearest tentacle. The donkey saw the attack coming and jumped to the side, but couldn't avoid having his legs caught under the deadly strike. The ground shook and the poor Ghost brayed harshly, his lower limbs irrevocably shattered. The heavy organic club released the trapped legs, rising in order to crash down once more. The soldier that had heroically immobilized the beast desperately grasped at the dirt, trying to crawl away and escape the finishing blow. Darius hated seeing his loyal Ghosts suffering losses but, at last, he found himself in position.

"I have it, now! Move away, all of you!"

Most of the Ghosts obeyed and ducked from the fight, but Mafida ran in, trying to pull the wounded equine away even as the chitinous tentacle aimed to fall upon them both. A cold shiver ran up the wolf's spine as he took three running steps and hurriedly leapt high on the demon's lower back. The crimson shell's slick texture offered very little footing, and despite having one of its legs incapacitated, the crab thing still swayed about violently. The lord grabbed hold of one of the massive armored limbs with his left arm, and swung his greatsword as hard as he could at the other tentacle that was primed to squash his men. The effort hurt his right arm, as his colossal blade wasn't meant to be used in a single hand, but still, he felt the sharp force as the blow connected and the sword dug in halfway through the menacing organ. More of the thick transparent liquid exploded from the cut, but it was a bit too late. The tentacle shivered and descended more chaotically, but still managed to hit the lynx square in the chest. Darius was overcome with boiling anger as he saw Mafida being blown clear and land several meters further like a doll.

The demon reacted to Darius' presence as well, as the pincers frantically tried to reach him, snapping with enough power to chop him in two. It also attempted to shake the intruder off, but the wolf hung on, pushing himself left and right to avoid the continuous onslaught. At least, the tentacles weren't supple enough to strike at their own base, so Darius slipped through the small forest of wiggling articulated trees, clinging to one trunk, and then the next, gradually moving up toward the top of the demon as it kept throwing itself from one side to the next, and trying to sever one of the wolf's arms, or his head, with its pincer-like claws. Finally, he clung to the rounded top of the creature and pulled himself up into a straddle. There, he tried to focus once more.

The lord's plan had been to burn the hardened shell at the summit of the creature, right above its face, to soften it and plunge his weapon into what he assumed would be its brains. Darius realized the flaw in this plan when his attempt to concentrate and bring out the magical flame was utterly ruined as one of the demon's claws caught him by the abdomen. Abandoning the spell, he tried to grab on to the slick carapace without any success, and was torn away and held in midair. Of course, he'd been way too exposed, sitting on top of the demonic shape, but he'd hoped to have enough time to slay it before it realized that he'd left its back. The monster simply turned out to have a sensitive shell, and Darius hadn't expected that.

"Agh!"

Darius sensed the pressure against his stomach. The massive claw was trying to crush him! He knew his bronze cuirass wouldn't last long, and the wolf was now seriously pissed off. He knew there was no time for a complex spell, and this sort of situation was the exact reason why he'd had his sword lined with platinum, as the noble metal held enchantments particularly well.

With a renewed growl of lethal purpose, Darius' hand hovered over his blade, and the greatsword suddenly was wrapped in long, white flames that lovingly caressed its edges. Pushing warlike shouts of hatred at the unclean being, the wolf struck the articulated claw of the pincer. He struck again and again with both hands, using his flaming greatsword as little more than a hammer. The demon refused to let go, obstinately and violently shaking its prey, but every hit provoked pained unearthly screeches, as the increasingly wounded claw struggled to augment the pressure. The shell cracked after another particularly vicious blow, and the pincer opened. Darius barely managed to hold on with one hand, surprised when he was suddenly released. The evil crab would have none of that, however, and decisively brought its pincer up and down in order to bring the assaulting wolf down to the ground and crush him there like a bug. Darius used his legs and hugged the rounded claw as hard as he possibly could, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold, especially when more disgusting slippery liquid oozed from the broken carapace and covered everything including the wolf. The lord lost his grip. Just as he was about to fall, he timed himself and released his hold as the claw abruptly waved upward, launching him higher in the air.

In truth, Darius disposed of little time to plan as he flew toward the top of the demon. He simply hoped that his momentum and weight would be enough, grabbed his weapon with both hands, and adopted a full-bodied stabbing motion as he descended. He failed to land paws first on the chitinous form, but he struck true. The steel sword, by then highly heated with magical fire, pierced the top of the shell like a warm knife through butter and plunged down with the full force of Darius' combined weight and speed. With much smoke and a high-pitched sound of vaporized liquid, the weapon slid to its hilt into the demonic juicy flesh, deep behind the creature's face, and Darius hung from there for a while. The monster didn't scream, for once, and neither did it react a lot. The flailing limbs brutally appeared to be lulled. The towering thing wavered once, and collapsed heavily over its broken leg.

Panting, sticky and bruised, the warrior emperor extracted his extinguished blade from the giant corpse. He stood in front of it, slightly dazed. He realized that he'd lost his helmet during the fight when he saw it lying further in the dirt, and put it back on. The sudden quiet on the field felt strange. The demon was destroyed. Darius heard a few soft steps approaching him from the side, and was delighted to see Mafida -- still alive -- walking up to him with a slight limp. The Ghosts slowly regrouped around their leaders. The lynx blankly stared at the lord, and then at the warped dead form.

-- Wow.

There wasn't much else to say. A threat of this size should've easily caused hundreds upon hundreds of casualties in a tight frontline, and yet Darius counted only five dead, and one severely wounded Ghost, who wouldn't walk again but might survive. The Sunlanders had undoubtedly hoped their summoned demon would wreak much more havoc through the Wulrician troops. Their little trick had failed miserably. In fact, the enemy army watched in muted shock. That had accomplished nothing.

To their credit, the Xurnon quickly overcame their torpor, and got their allied forces to advance before the soldiers had too much time to reflect on what they'd just seen. It was smart, because such a triumphant display of martial prowess could've been enough to intimidate the Sunlanders into a full retreat. It was best for them not to dwell upon it for too long.

Thus, the enemy marched forth, and fast. Darius ordered the Ghosts to form up, and glanced at the flag officer behind him, who was busy reading the signals being sent by General Nercur. At last, the flag officer spoke:

-- We're ordered to stand ground.

The wolf nodded. He thought he understood the tactic. The Xurnon heavy infantry were the only real threat in the enemy force, so Nercur would bait them into trying to envelop the Ghosts. As soon as they would do so, he would order the Ghosts into a controlled retreat while reinforcing them with the central line, and he would attack with the flanks, wasting the Xurnon's time while their Sunlander allies would be crushed by the superior Wulrician troops and their mercenaries. At this point, the Xurnon would be surrounded, and therefore would be unable to fight efficiently. In other words, it was a classic pincer maneuver with some high value bait in the middle. Darius grinned. He was the bait, of course. Dal Irzon would never be able to resist that.

Still, even knowing the tactics, Darius found it profoundly nerve-racking to stand still as an unending line of what he estimated to be about five thousand enemy soldiers marched on him and his mere two hundred Ghosts.

-- We hold! Darius shouted.

In truth, the wolf said this as much to bolster his own courage as that of his troops. Behind them, the rest of the Wulrician army wasn't moving yet, so Nercur probably preferred to wait until actual contact before he'd have the Ghosts back off. The maneuver might be too obvious otherwise to an experienced leader like Irzon. Mafida steeled himself next to his lord, shaking his head and shoulders and adopting a battle stance. They all breathed heavily at the alarming sight.

The enemy front kept advancing, and was now close enough for Darius to look the soldiers facing them in the eyes. The drakes were grave, but not somber. He scrutinized their reptilian faces, and spotted no weakness, no fear or indecision. If he was completely honest with himself, he thought that they exuded confidence. The Xurnon wanted this battle, they were _sure_about this battle, and the black wolf didn't like it.

A volley of arrows fired from behind the orderly first row of red-armored, glaive-and-shield wielding dragons rained violently on the heavily armored Ghosts to little effect. There were one or two contained screams, as a handful of unlucky men were shot in the arms, or legs, or in other less protected areas, but by and large, the plain iron breastplates and helmets offered high protection against projectiles. Most Ghosts didn't even use shields, preferring weapons with reach and force, like their emperor.

And suddenly, there was contact. The drakes released war cries, stepped aggressively and struck; some with their glaives, most with their shields. Metal met metal, and the final battle for the Sunlands began. Contained chaos immediately erupted. The wolf liked it, and forgot to worry, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of struggle. Instead, as battle lines began to wiggle and meld, he focused on the pale-scaled drake in front of him that rushed forward while swiftly attempting to stab the lord from behind his shield. Darius pushed back with the flat of his sword, and allowed the glaive to slide onto his cuirass as it missed all vulnerable spots. Mafida saw the attack and swung his battleaxe over the shield, forcing the drake to block and back off into his line, where the two other drakes to his left and right covered him, and threatened to switch focus to the lynx. Sensing the attention he'd garnered, Mafida held back as well, and gave a prudent shove to the first drake's shield with the tip of his axe to test him. The two others soon couldn't afford to ignore their previous targets, and returned to them.

Darius searched for threats and opportunities, but found only the former. He used his sharp greatsword to keep the Xurnon at bay, and cover Mafida, who stood to his right, as well as the trooper to his left. Obviously, the Ghosts were on the defensive, and Darius seized the first occasion he could get to step back and look around. Every once in a while, a lucky hit landed on one side or the other, and a Ghost or a drake fell, and got dragged to relative safety behind their line. Overall, in the middle, Darius' soldiers held. When he craned his neck to look at the edges, however, he saw his elite troops being overwhelmed and slaughtered shockingly fast. Yet, he heard nothing from the flag officer. No order to retreat or give ground in any way. And the rest of the legions still weren't moving either! Darius darkened, but there had to be a reason for it. Nercur was a flawless tactician, and he had a much better view of the battlefield than Darius did, from his faraway hill. If he needed the Ghosts to stay where they were, then the lord trusted that it was a part of his plan.

So Darius did what he could. He turned to the soldiers waiting behind him in the second row, meant to replace those that fell or needed to be cycled away from the battle, and sent them to reinforce the edges, so they wouldn't be submerged quite so fast. It would significantly weaken his center, but the center wasn't the problem in this moment. Additionally, Darius stepped out of the line completely, and stood quietly behind Mafida for a few seconds. The lord knew the Xurnon, and just like most professional soldiers with standardized equipment, they disposed of decent magic protection, so there wasn't much of a point in blasting them with fire or lightning. However...

Darius let his thoughts flow by themselves, gently guiding them with mental pictures. As with the evocation of fire, what he sought was more of a state than knowledge per se. A refreshing caress. A sense of permanent change. A soft power that brushed the barley and whistled in the trees, but also rose into violently destructive swirling patterns. He breathed loudly. It was difficult. Darius wasn't nearly as skilled at shaping wind as he was at unleashing deadly flames, but he got the job done. He shoved his blade into the dirt, and then opened his arms wide and flourished them, harvesting the untamed element as best he could, and upsetting it. A small windstorm kicked up in the middle of the crater, lifting the old red dust and hindering the vision of soldiers on both sides. The wolf squinted to protect his eyes, and joined the frontline once more. Mafida moved to make him some room. The measures Darius had taken were meant to slow down the enemy offensive, but they wouldn't accomplish much more than buy them a little time. The Ghosts were still under tremendous pressure and taking terrible losses. What the hell was Nercur waiting for? The lord looked behind for his flag officer, and brutally realized that he was nowhere to be found. He couldn't find his body either.

The slash of a sharp Xurnon shortsword grazed the side of the emperor's helmet and stopped on his shoulder, right on the weak spot at the base of his neck. It didn't cut all the way through the reinforced padding, but the blow hurt and recalled Darius' attention to the fight. Right in front of him, out of nowhere, Dal Irzon glared with the resurrected rage of his dead civilization.

-- There you are! I've waited a long fucking time for this!

The seething drake warrior pulled his blade back with a heavy slicing motion that finished cutting through the wolf's shoulder padding, and got a pained grunt out of him. Mafida moved to defend his lord, but Darius was faster. He aggressively jumped out of the safety of his own ranks and landed a massive kick in the middle of Irzon's shield that tumbled the green-scaled drake a few paces backward into his men, creating enough space for the berserk Darius to swing his greatsword in a complete arc. Irzon ducked away from the attack, but one of his brethren took it to the neck and fell down with a gurgle of blood. Irzon seemed too incensed to even notice, and got his shield up once more as he leapt for the warrior emperor. Both armies shied away from intervening at this point. Perhaps it was because it seemed dishonorable to mess with this fateful duel, or perhaps they simply preferred to avoid being cut down by a strike of one of these expert warriors, when that strike wasn't even meant for them. Regardless, the Ghosts and the drakes withdrew a bit as the Emperor of Wulric and the Dal of the Xurnon prepared to settle their longstanding conflict permanently.

-- This is your lucky day, lizard.

Darius strengthened his grip on his weapon, and struck, feinting high and suddenly swerving low under the raised shield.

"I finally grant your death wish!"

Irzon evaded backward without delay, but the power and speed of the giant wolf couldn't be beaten. The tip of the greatsword cut through his scales and grazed his thigh. Darius boldly followed up with a wild reverse swing, putting his considerable weight behind it. It would've been easy to avoid, but Irzon walked right into it with his shield, taking the deafening blow. The impact shook both fighters to their core, but Irzon displayed not the slightest hint of having lost balance. The solidly braced drake stabbed violently with his sharp, stout blade into the lord's side, right under his cuirass. Profound pain filled Darius as the metal nicked his ribs, but fortunately didn't slip through. Astounded, Darius rushed to get the drake away, and since he had no time to position for another strike, he brutally shoved into Irzon's shield with his shoulder, putting some space between them. In a split second, both warriors were back in their combat stances. Irzon crouched behind his shield, with his shortsword barely protruding from the side, quick to stab, while Darius held his weapon in front of him, ready to slash or lunge.

Around them, the battle continued to descend into total chaos. The increasingly thinned out and surrounded Ghosts grew more desperate and aggressive, breaking ranks and committing to devastating but suicidal attacks when they simply couldn't hold the line any longer, attempting to take some of their enemies with them as they were systematically massacred by the professionally vengeful Xurnon. The drakes took heavy losses as well, though nothing comparable to the Ghosts being obliterated. Darius suddenly became aware of Mafida screaming orders right next to him, even as the lynx fought two enemies at once.

-- Hold position! Reform around us! Hold!

The words were repeated again and again, endlessly. If Mafida was ordering the troops to collapse around them, then it was truly too late to attempt a controlled retreat. They'd have to run like hell if they were to save even a handful of soldiers. For perhaps the first time, Darius was petrified, less because of the very real danger he found himself in, and more because he genuinely didn't know what to do. Should he order a messy retreat? What in the fucking world was Nercur doing? What could he be so busy with? And why had his flag officer disappeared?

And then Dal Irzon got into his damn face again. He grinned with hateful glee.

-- Do you feel it, tyrant? Your judgment awaits.

The dragon's smugness infuriated the emperor.

-- Shut your mouth, you scaly worm! Look around you. We are far from defeated. My legions will crush you! General Nercur will be here any second now, but you won't be alive to witness it!

Out of pure anger, Darius slashed at Irzon's head. This time, he noticed the slowed response and the subtle grimace when the drake elevated his shield to block yet another heavy strike. Of course. Darius realized what the cost had been for Irzon to take the full force of his attacks. His arm was broken. Frenzied by his discovery, Darius forgot everything else and unleashed a merciless flurry of blows, using the flat of his blade to pummel the shield, creating a violent sounding drumbeat of metal against metal. The stout drake endured the assault until his arm failed completely, and fell limp to his side. He stepped out of range, briefly, but seemed decided not to retreat from this fight. He detached his shield and it simply dropped to the ground. Irzon laughed through his teeth.

-- Nercur? Hahaha! Haven't you figured it out yet? Your precious general is on our side. We struck a deal with him weeks ago! To think I've blamed him alone for the slaughter of my people! How could I fail to see it for so long? That jackal has no will of his own. He's an insane hound out for blood. You held his leash, so you're to blame. It's all on you!

Darius frowned.

-- Ridiculous.

But the Dal wasn't a being made of flesh and weaknesses anymore. He lunged forward with immortal fury and stabbed under Darius' shoulder pad with his valid arm before the wolf could even try to evade. The latter howled and staggered back toward what was left of his line, bleeding profusely, but Darius would be damned before he fled from Irzon. He had to admit, though. The drake was tougher than he'd expected. Even fully enraged, his attacks were fortified by the experience and skill acquired by his years of leading the Xurnon and surviving in often hostile lands.

-- He was easy to convince, too, continued the drake. It seems that even your own closest friends secretly hate your guts! Today, your dreams of conquest turn to smoldering ashes!

Cai? Disloyal? Darius grinned.

-- We will see about that.

The wolf rushed forward, swinging his greatsword up for a devastating overhead attack, ignoring the crippling pain into his shoulder. Irzon remained perfectly still for a half-second. Then his maw opened, displaying his sharp dragon fangs. His green wings deployed wide and high behind him, catching into the dusty wind.

-- Zar!

'Zar' meant flame. The yell suddenly turned into the potent roar of a torrent of fire that singed the lupine fur, but Darius didn't slow down. He ran through the deluge of burning brightness, sensing the unbearably painful heat, but the platinum bracer on his left arm glowed white with power, dissipating most of the magical heat. Many drakes were natural masters of elemental fire magic, born with a deep understanding of it, as it almost ran in their blood. Yet, instead of burning to a crisp under the powerful spell, Darius' strong magic protection allowed him to power against the flaming current, and to bring his blade down upon the source. He hit nothing but air, however, as Irzon had rolled to the side at the last moment, and sprung up on Darius with a mighty slash that missed any of his armor's chinks, and simply slid on his cuirass when the wolf reflexively hopped backward.

The two stared at each other, wounded, exhausted. Wolf blood ran down the slightly blackened bronze breastplate, while Irzon grabbed his idle arm, and seemed to try to shake it into waking up, panting. The firm knowledge that he wouldn't beat Irzon in this context washed up in Darius, and pulled him out of his battle-blindness like a cold bath. One last time, he looked around himself.

Only a handful of Ghosts remained; forty of them, maybe, organized by Mafida into a protecting circle around their emperor. They were all wounded and exhausted. They all fought overwhelming odds. It was over. The Dal spoke almost softly. He threw his dirtied, damaged decorative helmet to the ground.

"Now, you die alone, monster."

As the dragon champion announced this, the dusty storm calmed down and the boisterous voice of the wind was replaced by the dull but heavy rumble of boots hammering the earth. An army in full march, very close. Behind the wall of suspended dust, the Wulrician legions were revealed, flawlessly positioned to envelop the battlefield. At the front, Cai led the advance in person. The glorious sight filled the emperor's heart. It had taken much more time than the wolf had expected, but the enemies were fully surrounded in a maneuver that would allow no escape for even a single one of them. The wolf gloated as he locked with the fatigued, sleepless green eyes of the green-scaled drake.

-- How about that for a betrayal, lizard? The story of the last free drakes ends here! Nercur has arrived. You are surrounded!

The Dal appeared startled. Then a cruel, ironic smile crept up in his face.

-- Yes. He's here. I expected him much sooner.

Only then did it occur to Darius that the enveloping Wulrician force also enveloped him. The wolf pivoted, slowly, to see what his troops were doing. He watched Cai point directly to him. He heard the order.

-- Destroy the Ghosts!

The nobles repeated it to their soldiers, one after the other. The troops were obviously shaken, but they ultimately obeyed their direct superiors, when it became clear that all the commanders stood together with Nercur on this. Darius couldn't believe this. Then the oddity of everyone's behaviors came back to him. Their discomfort. The commanders all knew.

This treachery had been planned for a while.

The deadly Wulrician infantry charged forth into the backs of the busy Ghosts, and slew them as they screamed but didn't resist. Nercur went along, and slipped through, quickly reaching the Dal and the emperor. Darius stood still during this time, blank, empty.

-- Cai?

The jet-black canine stepped up to his lord without hesitation.

-- Don't 'Cai' me. I told you that you were weak. Maybe you always were, but I just took some time to notice. You should've never trusted me. This was unavoidable.

Ghosts died around them. Violently. Miserably. Mafida shouted panicked orders and lead a small group of five to turn around and hopelessly defend against the backstabbing army. Darius boiled with fury, but there was something else; some deep suffering he'd never really experienced before that almost made him want to just give up and let it end.

-- So it was all true, then? What the rat said, this Yuryam. You hired him? Why even bother to steal if you were planning to kill me anyway?

Nercur's hand rose, and fiddled with the golden rings in his ear.

-- My lord, we've known each other for a long time, haven't we? This is harder for me than I'd care to admit. I was hoping to do it the easy way... Oh, well.

Nercur's other hand reached to his belt, where a pouch hung. The jackal broke the string and opened it. He held up the massive purplish jewel inside. A charged amethyst, pure-looking, larger than any other that Darius had ever seen in his life! Just looking at it made Darius' fur stand on end. He sensed its power from where he stood.

And then Nercur released it all on the emperor.

Lightning arced and forked from the stone with a thunderous explosive flash that sent Darius and everyone nearby, friend or foe, flat in the dust. The world disappeared, replaced by the deafening, gruesome shock. The wolf tried to scream, but nothing came out as his body burned from the inside out, his every muscle rigid, his mind voided. He semi-consciously struggled on the ground, discovering what death felt like, struck by the single most potent lightning bolt ever thrown in the history of magic. His entire body smoked, though Darius wasn't aware of it, for he wasn't aware of anything anymore, except for the unimaginable and growing pain in his chest. His blood had stopped circulating, and he squirmed and squirmed, meekly, like a fish on a sandy beach. He ceased moving after a second or two.

And then, after it was finished, for reasons mysterious and undoubtedly arbitrary, just as it usually goes, his heart obstinately resumed beating, and he gasped loudly, and wailed. The bracer around his right hand had completely shattered, overpowered. Without it, he'd be a smoldering pile of bones.

Those involved in the scene laboriously got up, stunned and shaken, save for Nercur, who simply, silently rose to his paws -- for he too had been blown clear by his own spell -- and dropped the emptied, worthless giant white quartz that he now held in his hand. Irzon examined the body of the Wulrician lord from afar, expressionless, while Mafida, who'd witnessed the entire scene from behind, abandoned the still raging absurd battle against two armies and ran to his emperor. The red dust around the body had been charred.

-- My lord!

Darius opened his eyes when he sensed that his shoulders had been picked up by the lynx. It seemed somewhat surprising to him that he was still alive. Everything hurt. His chest, his limbs, his head especially. And he was still losing blood. He could barely move. The flesh under his fur cracked with every movement, burned by the current. He fought to even keep breathing.

"You're betrayed, sir. You have to escape, right now."

Nercur scoffed.

-- Don't be stupid, Mafida. There is no escape for him.

Mafida ignored the general completely.

-- You have to get up. Get up. Now!

Mafida pulled on his shoulders, and somehow, Darius managed to stand, though it was torturous. The Ghost lieutenant pointed a finger to the horizon above the crater, toward a nearby conquered town called Kalteh.

"Go! Run! There is no other choice. The Ghosts will cover you. Don't stop!"

For some silly reason, Mafida's voice convinced Darius to try. He knew it wouldn't work, but why not pretend, after all? Why not pretend like there was still hope? So Darius begun moving. He was slow, and it was horribly taxing, but he got into a frail jog.

-- Look at him, said Nercur, he's already dead. He can't stand, much less run, and you're completely surrounded. You can't save him, Mafida.

The lynx flashed his sharp battleaxe as he rooted himself behind Darius, blocking Nercur's and Irzon's paths. He scowled at the general.

-- And who's going to stop me?

Darius was running, and so he didn't see as Nercur smirked darkly and drew the twin axes at his sides. He did hear Mafida's shout, however.

"Ghosts! Show your honor one last time! Protect your emperor's retreat!"

Darius wanted to laugh because it was almost funny. He spread blood around as he ran, already exhausted by his wounds, and right in front of him stood a wall of veteran Wulrician legionaries. And yet he ran blindly into them, unarmed. It was pointless. But just as he was about to reach them, a handful of iron armors charged past him, and literally pierced through the thick enemy line in arrowhead formation, like insane animals. It was the first time that the Wulrician heavy infantries got to taste the crazed fervor of the Ghosts, their own elite troops, and the shock was total. Both rows of soldiers opened up briefly for Darius, and the lord simply ran through unopposed. He heard the battle behind him, and the initial surprised yelps of the regular infantry before they recovered from the brutality of the assault, and fought the Ghosts.

As for Darius, he kept moving. He breathed hard, and started throwing aside what he could, too tired to carry his gear. His helmet went first, and then he started to work on undoing his breastplate as he ran. He struggled because his fingers felt numb, and cold. In fact, he was freezing even though it was a hot day. He gasped and panted, foaming uncontrollably as he pushed his body. Every step, the wolf expected to fall dead. Every step was a miracle of lupine resilience. His wounds opened even wider under pressure as he forced himself to keep running. He knew damn well that Cai... Nercur would send men after him to finish him off, and he simply couldn't bring himself to give up after what Mafida and the Ghosts had done for him. It'd be like wasting them. Then again, the hurt was so bad that he knew he'd lose consciousness soon.

At last, the breast and back plates came off and Darius was much lighter. He soon managed to strip his shoulder pads as well. He wished he could take off his greaves, but he couldn't do that without stopping, so he didn't. Darius ran out of the crater, and it took everything he had to climb the gentle hill at the edge. When he got over it, he stumbled and fell. He was dying. He knew it. Once more, he considered the option of letting go and staying there on the soil, but he didn't. He mechanically resumed his escape, even if he genuinely ignored why. It was over, he realized. He'd lost his crown. He'd lost his army. He'd lost everything. There was something oddly relaxing about hitting rock-bottom. Or maybe it was the blood loss making his head light. Soon, Darius couldn't keep a coherent train of thought at all. He simply felt jumbles of emotions, and was assaulted by strange memories that he forgot instantly, as he moved through some cultivated fields, and even some well-maintained cobblestone roads. He didn't really notice the increasing numbers of anxious villagers who watched his ruined body stagger by, almost by itself. In the end, at last, he collapsed for good.

He'd reached the outskirts of Kalteh. Through the rising mists of unconsciousness, he became vaguely aware of voices and presences above him as he lay on the fresh stones, but not for long.

Mafida had been dealt with appropriately, and the Ghosts were defeated. Nercur wiped the edges of his dreaded axes against his own calves, uncovered by his short gray trousers, and examined Irzon. The drake was clearly wounded from his duel against Darius, nursing a broken left arm, but he still held his sword strong. The black jackal didn't very much worry about the wolf lord's escape. His wounds were too severe for him to go very far, and the new supreme leader of the Wulrician legions had other matters to attend that simply couldn't wait.

-- Just so we're clear, said Dal Irzon, you're a despicable creature. You did a good thing today, but that doesn't erase the horrors that you caused. We won't ever forget your role in the slaughter of our kind. No deed can ever make up for this, Nercur. Even if you were obeying orders.

Nercur approached the dragon.

-- I don't ask forgiveness.

The reluctant allies locked stares for a while. Neither seemed willing to sheath their weapons. Irzon frowned.

-- You arrived later than expected. You were supposed to strike as soon as the Ghosts were isolated, to surround them.

The Dal became increasingly tense. Nercur watched his expression sour up as he observed the field, and took notice of the positioning of Nercur's troops. His suspicions grew fast.

"Why didn't you attack sooner?"

Nercur was quite pleased to confirm the drake's doubts.

-- Because the Ghosts were doing a fine job of weakening you. I didn't feel like cutting it short.

It would be a stretch to say that Irzon seemed surprised, but he did sigh.

-- I hoped it wasn't the case, but... that was always your plan, wasn't it? Use us to take over the Wulric Empire, and then get rid of us. Everything we talked about: your remorse, your desire to free the realm from the constant wars... They were lies, yes?

-- Yes.

-- I see. Certainly, it was naïve of me to believe in the possibility that you might be anything other than what your actions showed you to be. People don't change, do they?

The jackal exhibited his fangs.

-- Not when they're winning.

The betrayed drake blew from his nostrils. He nearly seemed to smoke, but rage didn't distract him. He extended his good arm and pointed his blade to the smaller jackal.

-- Don't celebrate your victory just yet!

-- That's the spirit, hero. Don't let me break you too quickly, you hear?

On this, Irzon roared, and as he struck forth, the war resumed. Soldiers charged each other all around them. The drake swung precisely, but his sword merely grazed Nercur's fur. The canine moved swiftly and ever forward, incapable of taking any action that didn't drive him closer to his target or wasn't also an attack. Before Irzon could even react, an axe slid sideways onto his armor and cut into his flank when Nercur whirled away into his blind side. Irzon pivoted with a quick stab to punish the reckless advance, but, by then, the jackal has spun again and delivered a heavier strike into his upper back. He watched the drake scream in pain and curve forward briefly, swiping at the scaly legs without a moment of mercy, cutting deep into his flesh. Blood was spilled and Irzon fell, too severely crippled to remain a threat. When he desperately tried to flip onto his back to defend himself, a violent strike sent his sword flying, and a heavy kick to his head put him down.

Nercur stared with a hint of disappointment. Was that it? Was that all the glorious leader of the Xurnon could muster? Once again, the jackal had expected too much from his opponents. He dove into the fray, hacking down his enemies to satiate his hunger for a real fight, twisting and curving out of harm's way, chopping limbs, and moving on to the next drake or Sunlander without any interruption into the flow of deaths. Truly, this was Nercur's element.

Now, where could this Ptarmep be?

Yuryam knelt in the dirt. He was bound to a post in a fenced off area of the Wulrician war camp for detaining hostages and other captives, or so it looked. He was completely alone in it, and he waited. Yuryam was a patient rat. He perfectly understood the value of waiting for an opportunity, rather than acting rashly. He'd been thoroughly searched and mostly stripped, and so the guards had found his secret lockpicks hidden in his boot and under his belt. Satisfied with their find, the guards had left him bound in iron shackles, and had gone, convinced the prisoner was rendered fully helpless. Sadly for them, they critically underestimated the training and preparedness of Long Shadows. Every day of every week, Yuryam applied a significant amount of long-lasting oil to the fur around his wrists and onto the back of his hands, making it slick and slippery. It'd taken him all of ten seconds after he was left alone to turn and twirl his arms free of the shackles. It barely even hurt. That didn't mean he could just go. He was, after all, stuck in a prisoner pen with guards roaming around, so he'd remained in place, holding the shackles behind his back, pretending to still be bound for an entire night and morning, waiting for something to happen.

Yuryam heard a lot of noises coming from the war camp, and from that he assumed the battle was over. He hoped that perhaps the Wulricians had lost, but it didn't seem likely. In fact, his fears were confirmed when he heard someone coming. Nercur unlocked the door to the spiked wooden fence, and walked in. The professional thief held back a startled squeak. The jackal was drenched in thick blood, to the point where he genuinely seemed more red than black, but he didn't appear overly bothered by it. He casually crouched in front of the rat, dripping into the earth.

-- I'm disappointed in you, thief. Because of you, Lord Darius has vanished. If you'd done your job, and taken those bracers from him, he'd be a pile of ash. I honestly suspect he crawled into a corner to die, but still, we have to look for him. Everybody gets what they deserve, today. It's your turn.

Yuryam gulped and whispered.

-- So, uh, what are you going to do with me?

Nercur drew one of his axes, and patted the soft round ears with the flat.

-- If it was only a matter of your failure, I'd be inclined to let you off easily and kill you. But I'm afraid your attempt to denounce me has made this a more personal situation. I distinctly remember telling you not to do that. Admittedly, I didn't have that much faith in you in the first place. Nevertheless, betrayal is betrayal. There are rules.

The jackal caressed the captive's neck with his sharp weapon. Yuryam made sure to avoid any sudden movements.

-- Okay, yeah, I get it. Think about it, though. As I understand, you've pretty much won, right? So there's nothing to gain from torturing me to death. If you agree to spare me, on the other hand, I'll make it worth your while.

Nercur scoffed at the nearly naked captive.

-- How, exactly?

-- I'll tell you a secret about my dagger. The one you guys took from me, you must still have it somewhere, yeah?

Nercur squinted, but he did seem slightly intrigued.

-- What about it?

-- It's enchanted. Very special. Very unique. My guildmaster gave it to me. It's my most valuable possession by far. It's saved me from terrible trouble countless times!

-- And what does it do?

-- It makes you disappear! Poof! Totally invisible! Useful, right? It works for five seconds, and only once per day, though, so that the enchantment gets to recharge. I'll tell you how it works. All I ask is that you swear to let me live.

Nercur looked amused. Yuryam was aware that Nercur's track record concerning loyalty wasn't so great. He obviously had no intention of letting Yuryam get away with anything, but he said the words.

-- Fine. I'll spare you. Tell me.

-- Okay! Thank you, sir! First, you hold it in your hand, blade up.

Nercur stood, stepped away and out of the fenced area, and then called one of the patrolling soldiers. He ordered the sheep to open a locked coffer, waiting outside the pen, and made him take the dagger out. Yuryam watched calmly as he brought the guard with him inside the fence.

-- Go ahead. Explain it to him.

Yuryam blinked once, and smiled.

-- Not the most trusting fellow, are you?

Nercur remained unfazed.

"It doesn't matter," said Yuryam. "It's perfectly safe to use."

The rat gave the slightly confused guard a warm, friendly look.

"You're holding an invisibility dagger. I'll teach you how to use it, so hear me closely."

The soldier did appear more at ease. He leaned forward with a step to listen.

"First, you hold it up in your hand."

The sheep held the object up. With unseen reflexes, Yuryam sprang up and swiped the blade using a disarming technique that consisted in a quick, hard strike under the hilt of a weapon to make it slip out of a grip, followed by immediately catching it with the other hand. As soon as his fingers closed on his dagger, the rat thought the associated words, and disappeared. He bolted between the dumbstruck sheep and jackal, sprinting at amazing speed and in utter silence. In a single second, he was out of the pen and several meters further into the war camp. At the end of second number two, he was too far to catch up to, considering that Nercur couldn't possibly know what direction he'd headed off into. All he heard was a sudden and creepily boisterous laugh coming from the pen.

He hadn't a moment to lose, but Yuryam still managed to take in most of his surroundings as he traversed the paths between the tents. At first, he dodged only some wounded or tired soldiers, as they rested, ate, or looked at the things they'd scavenged from their dead enemies or friends on the battlefield. In other words, things the rodent expected to see as he darted through the camp of a victorious army. But then he skirted around what had been the emperor's tent. Behind it, he witnessed something so horrible that he'd never forget it.

Some troopers were digging together, widening a deep hole. Next to this future mass grave lay several unusual bodies. They were piled up in a disturbingly neat fashion, like stacked logs, and most had died from the same kind of plainly visible axe wounds to the necks and throats. It was all too clean, too efficient. It didn't look like those soldiers had died in combat. They wore final expressions of blank surprise and terror. Perhaps strangest of all were their rich clothes, their kempt furs and healthy figures. Many were wolves and rams. It struck Yuryam that he was running past the murdered noble commanders of the Wulrician legions. All of them. Nercur had slaughtered all of them. Why? The rat couldn't even imagine, but the general had just made himself the sole military leader of this entire army. The thief heard the insane laughter as the deathlike jackal shouted from afar.

-- Hah! Well played, Yuryam! Don't let me catch you, now! Hahahaha!

Escaping the haunting stacks of corpses, the rat dashed even faster. When he finally reappeared, none of the nearby soldiers recognized him as one of their prisoners, or were yet aware that an escape was happening. Most didn't even notice him. He could've been any shirtless and dirty Melnian soldier. He left the war camp, got out of the crater, and made sure to evaporate into the nearest town: a place called Kalteh. If he never saw a single Wulrician ever again, it'd be too soon!