CHAPTER 66

  THE DIVERSION

  Arguments and suggestions flew left and right, and the War meeting consumed the entire morning before coming to an end. It was taxing for Hans to sit in the same spot for so long. He wanted to move, jump right into some thrill, but he knew there were many eyes watching him. So, he just held it in.

  A few hours later, tightening their armours and rechecking their supplies, the Golden Griffins were ready for their reconnaissance. They stood in formation before Hans, with the rest of the army watching.

  “You should say something,” Rudolf urged him.

  Hans felt familiar with the situation and words automatically came from his inner self. He addressed them proudly, “Don’t be heroes; heroes die early. I’ve given you the right to refuse. If anything seems shady, bail out. Understood?”

  “Yes, Prince Hans,” the knights responded in unison. Homar stepped forward and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t die on me—”

  “You too, Commander. Let’s see each other in a week,” Hans nodded, affirming their resolve.

  Then, the scene Hans had always wanted to witness unfolded. Hundreds of feathers rained from the sky, and in an instant, the knights ascended atop their griffins. The might and majesty of these Parvian creatures sent a wave of awe through the onlookers, and Hans wasn’t an exception.

  “Damn! This is so cool,” he muttered as the Order disappeared into the horizon.

  “Hey, buddy! Let’s go too.” Chris interrupted his excited thoughts, “There are several settlements we need to liberate and move those people inside the walls.”

  Hans followed him. They had a week to prepare for the siege from the Thalorians. To prevent citizens from becoming collateral damage in the attack, some temporary squads were born. He and his friends were part of one. They were ordered to move the people around Galenahall inside the fort walls.

  The war provided various opportunities, one of which was to confront the local thugs who had occupied the villages under the guise of protection.

  Hans was ready to join in, but suddenly, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder. “You are not going anywhere, child.” He turned to see Sierra.

  “Come on, Grandma. I’m included with them.” He reasoned, “It’s not like I’m going to be on the vanguard—”

  “No. One thing will lead to another, and you’ll find yourself in some situation. I need my concentration here. So don’t be a variable,” Sierra insisted.

  "So what am I supposed to do for a week?” he grumbled “Chris and Deli get all the fun—I mean, saving people,"

  “Hey!” Delimira interjected, sneaking into the conversation. “Only Chris has that much love for elves. I'm not going either.” She declared, her words turning Hans to her.

  “So, what are we supposed to do here, play house?” he asked or more so demanded the answer.

  “I'm not into that kind of thing,” she chuckled as she answered, giving a frown to Hans.

  "Winters—"

  “Oh, leave it, Hans. We'll find something to do. Don't you need to get acquainted with the support unit? Let's go there,” she said, dragging him along behind Sierra.

  Hans resisted, but it was futile. It didn’t take long for him to get bored. Chris had gone to the nearest settlement, while he was stuck with his usual holiday companions. "Grandpa, that's not right... why are you here anyway?” He complained as Rudolf made a mess of the medical supplies. He asked grabbing the vials from him. “Shouldn't you be doing something Warlord-like? Leave the logistics—"

  “Hey, I want to spend some quality time with my grandson. Or is that not allowed with the Prince of Parv?" Rudolf sulked.

  “You're starting it again. I'm telling you, don't increase my workload,” Hans bickered with Rudolf, who kept messing up his tasks in the name of help.

  The support unit had three main responsibilities: managing war supplies, including potions, food, and injured soldiers; ensuring the safe transport of these resources; and aiding in their healing and recovery.

  Hans excelled in all these areas. Sierra had once predicted he’d make an excellent support mage, and now he was proving her right. His efficiency and the versatility of his VeganBind spells allowed him to handle these tasks which would typically have required multiple mages.

  However, excelling didn’t mean he enjoyed it. In just one day, he grew to despise these chores. His vines were perfect for transporting the injured to Galenhall, and his mana recovery fruits sped up the mana regeneration in soldiers, mages, and knights alike. He hadn’t even needed to reveal his ability to mass heal with his paradise garden spell, yet he was already doing better than others.

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  “Why’d I sign up for this? It's so unrewarding,” he grumbled, eating dinner in the camp. He was still stationed where Parvian knights had been.

  “You're used to getting praised or seeing people in shock and awe. That doesn't happen in the rear. People here have too much on their plates to notice others. As I’ve said to you before, Hans, you're an attention wh—”

  “I dare you to finish that, Deli,” Hans interrupted, “I’m really itching for something.” His eyes narrowed that he wouldn’t mind sparring.

  “Attention seeker—seeker. What did you think I was going to say?” She played innocent.

  “Just what is taking these Thalorians so long? Can’t they show up already?” Hans complained.

  “Hold your tongue,” Sierra shushed him as she warned, “Don’t know sometimes wishes turn true if you are that earnest.”

  WESTERN CLANDOR, ELVEN COUNCIL

  “So, where are the Thalorians?” demanded Dandor Celebryn, the tactician and bearded Council member, fiddling with his beard again.

  “He’s taking his time, as planned,” Lady Penning chuckled. “It’s a diversion, after all. We need the royals to stay on their toes in the centre.”

  “What about the intel? Are the Parvians really probing the Thalorian stronghold?” Celebryn continued, pressing for reports from his peers, the seven other council members.

  “Yes,” responded a man shrouded under a long hood, his voice calm.

  “I guess they’ll soon find themselves in an empty city…wait! the city still has some surprises too.—

  “But before they could realise the truth, we’ll have these royals by their necks. Thalorian must redeem himself in this siege battle. If he survives and succeeds in reacquiring Galenhall, he’ll regain his place as a council member.” The hooded elf completed Dandor’s words.

  “I thought you’d given up on him, Lord Celebryn,” Lady Penning said, puzzled.

  “This is not a monarchy but an oligarchy, meaning we are all equals, Lady Penning. We voted to remove him, but that doesn’t mean we should discard our peers cruelly. However, we must offer them a chance to redeem themselves.”

  “You’re a hypocrite, Dandor,” a young man in his early thirties interrupted, showing no respect. “Sending the Thalorians into a do-or-die situation and calling it redemption?”

  “Lord Aerandir, that’s rich coming from an assassin family like yours,” Dandor retorted, continuing, “Our target is the south, and we’re going all in. We need to pincer the center. If the Thalorians can’t handle it, they’ll be the stepping stone in our plan. By the end of the week, I need results, preferably a report on how our council army crushed both the south and the north alike.”

  The young assassin lord of the Aerandir house sighed. “So, I’m taking that ghost with our two new friends to the south. What about the north? The Highborns aren’t easy to take down—”

  “Since I’m the tactician for our dreamland, I do have a plan for that, young Aerandir. House Lorienneth, Ithildor, and Maethoriel will attack the north with full force. We aren’t holding back. They’ll be summoning the Four Magic Towers right in front of the Highborn army—”

  “Once summoned, you can’t change the location of a magic tower for years, Celebryn. Is that all right?” Aerandir questioned.

  “To counter us, they’ll need to summon their towers too. But they won’t be summoning the same numbers as us. These bastards rely on foreign powers rather than themselves. ‘Fuck our traditions,’ that’s their motto after all—”

  “Lord Dandor, I also want to criticise the royals, but I need to hear your plans, please,” Aerandir interrupted Dandor’s rant, causing him to halt.

  “My apologies. Just knowing these foreigners are breathing in our god-lands is infuriating,” Dandor regretted before continuing. “So, when the north suffers heavy damage, that will be the cue for you, Aerandir. Don’t kill many, but leave them barely alive. Since they don’t have the Healing Tower of Amarathiel like us, they’ll be forced to send the divine wench there. That will give us an opening to launch a full-scale attack in the center. Thalorian’s success or failure never really mattered.”

  “So, the south is the actual bait. What you really want is the north and the center, right?” Aerandir asked, but Dandor neither confirmed nor denied.

  However, they had forgotten one simple thing: being born superior in everything, intellect and arrogance alike, high elves did not like following orders. Thalorian was also of their kind.

  GALENHALL, TWO DAYS LATER

  The situation turned critical in an instant when the lord of Thalorian suddenly appeared just a few kilometres away from Galenhall. He had summoned his massive magic tower right within the range.

  “Since they want me to fail that badly, I'll show them how suicidal I can get. No one shall have my tower,” he declared his voice amplified. It even reached Hans who was in the great halls of Galenhall which was in the middle of the fort.

  “I thought your queen had put a ban on transfer spells. What is that humongous thing, sprouting from the ground?” Hans asked to just-returned Chris in bewilderment, as his eyes peeked through the protruding tower through windows.

  “Hey, she’s not my queen, and that is the Thalorian tower,”

  “Gee! What is it, my birthday? Elves are really hospitable creatures. They just fulfilled my silent wish,” Hans taunted, having lamented that he wouldn't get to fight a tower—yet here it was, right at their doorstep.

  “The tower has the capacity for forty thousand. Strengthen the doors, ready the walls, artillery aim at the tower—it’s in range!” Reina’s voice echoed as she also amplified the sound. She fired off orders one after another in the great hall of Galenhall. The army moved like a well-oiled machine, soldiers fitting into their roles seamlessly.

  She was sure that moving the tower, which reduced its defences to none, would be a move that either side would only take in real desperation, and this wasn’t the time for it, but Council exceeded her expectations. “Prepare for a full-scale siege!” Reina took the command.

  With the beating of war drums, the Thalorian forces exited, all 20,000, launched their attack on Galenhall, but Reina had already prepared. “This is idiocy,” she muttered to herself. “If he had summoned the tower a bit farther away, he could’ve forced us to summon ours. He’ll never get to use those wide-area dark spells for destruction.”

  But she was wrong. The Thalorian lord didn’t come here to win; he came here to feed his arrogance, and his own army was nothing but food for his pride.