Silver sat at the end of the VIP table. It was on a platform raised from the ground, and pressed against one of the walls that marked the edge of Clan Below territory. Formerly it was the border of clan Tiny Fingers.

Almost all of the Kobolds of their clan, including the former Tinyfingers, sat near them, a gathering beyond what Silver had ever imagined. Silver tapped his fingers on the table nervously. It was a strange nervousness— it didn’t sprout from fear of an unknown force, or a predator or monster hunting him. It was a fear of the hundred or more eyes that fell upon him now, looking hungrily towards his every move.

Around the table sat the leaders of the Clan Below, almost all in full battle dress. Axel sat beside him, in sleek, matte black armor. He eyed the crowd with mixed interest, his chin tilted up to look down on them.

Slowly, the thump thump, thump, thump thump, thump, of Mark’s “drums” came to life, filling the chamber. It was slow at first, Kobolds pounding on leather pulled taut across fungiwood barrels, but soon came to find a tempo as bowls were passed throughout the crowd. Not everyone had tables, most Kobolds huddling in small groups down below instead. These Kobolds staffed the Kitchen and farm, lead by Mala, who was the only one missing from the table.

While the Kobolds on the ground didn’t have tables, they were all clothed. What they had now they would’ve considered treasure-like finery only weeks ago.

Farther down Silver’s own table sat Valleria and Con, now sharing her bright red coloration after being changed. Zeek was nearly glowing gold, Simon beside him. His eyes caught strangely in the light of the gigantic mushrooms at the sides of the gathering. A select few others sat at the table, including the leader of the group of Wartskin refugees who had approached the castle, and Splotch, whose eyes searched the crowd.

Mala finally approached the table, setting himself down to Silver’s right. He looked ragged. Dozens of Kobolds began passing out food, pouring soup into bowls. At the VIP table, cooked bat meat was served on plates, alongside roasted segments of the centipedes they had ranched. Silver looked uneasily at the piece set before him, casting his gaze to the wall that marked the opposite end of his territory. A dozen fully grown centipedes waited there for the conclusion of this feast.

“Silence.” Alverost spoke, his voice bringing the clouds chattering murmur to a hush all at once, even as the sound of clattering dishes and bowls continued as food was passed out. “Today is the day we march on clan Wartskin. Their overlords have grown cruel and callous with their dungeons change. Today we liberate them.

“Remember the life you had before serving us. Even now, hundreds of Wartskin Kobolds suffer silent indignities, unable to eat or be clothed. They dig through the muck to build their homes.” The distant city lit up in the Kobolds vision at this, Alverost indicating it to highlight the difference between their old lives and their new ones. Twisting towers of white and green fungiwood were shaped into houses around them. Glowing mushroom lights lined the streets, and no one had gone hungry enough to attempt cannibalism in almost three days. Inside, beds of cloth supported every Kobold, no longer sleeping in the cold muck of the earth.

“This is the life we have the option to give. Eat well, and wish your loved ones luck, for some may die in the fight to come. But more still will be saved.” Alverost finished, and the hush still remained over the crowd. Kobolds weren’t ones for sentimentality.

Alverost peeled his presence back to just the VIP table.

Zeek looked up with a sharp gaze, piercing the air. “Whats the plan?”

“We’re going to attempt to do a full extermination of the Changed Kobolds inside.” Mark replied. “The dungeons ability to manipulate terrain and see whats inside of it makes entering the area extremely dangerous. The last thing we want is another ambush. So to that end—”

“We’re going to take down its domain from the outside in.” Alverost finished. “Our dungeon controls more mana and territory than any other. Coupled with my control of magic, I should be able to push down its domain with ease.”

“If thats the case… why haven’t you done it already?” Valleria asked, joining the conversation.

“When we pushed the clan Bighorn territory back, it instantly instigated a counter attack from them. Not only that, but we discovered after that dungeon creatures seem to reinforce a dungeons domain. Since that day, clan Bighorn has maintained Kobolds at its border, and subsequent attempts to force through it rebounded.” Mark replied.

“Vin vother Vords… vou ‘ave oo kill every Kobol’ in va way.” Valleria spoke with a mouth full of food, scarfing down cooked mushroom and bat meat alike.

“Indeed. Its likely that our first push will be met without resistance, but that the enemy will immediately launch a counter attack. So that said, our plan is to use the fortifications we’ve built as a staging point for the push. We will use our bows to whittle down the enemy and our spear formation will advance when they’re weak.” Alverost replied next.

Axel only nodded. In the crowd, armored Kobolds who had finished eating, those who had been trained over the last several days to few weeks, headed to the wall. They clustered together in small groups, teams designed to fight. It was almost an hour when the proceedings were completely done, and the VIP table began to stand up and head to the south wall.

The air was somber. The wall was solid except for where it opened into fortresses, the ground sloping up to them. Silver stepped towards one, the Kobolds he had trained with following him. Five archers and ten spear men occupied each one. There were no ramps down, instead each a sheer face of stone and brick.

“Everyone get ready.” Mark spoke. Outside, with impeccable timing, Mornlight came, the veins in the ceiling flickering with whatever ancient magic provided light before beginning to shine. Silver stared out as the light above touched down to the cramped space of the Hallow, squinting towards the distant territory.

The air seemed to coil, so thick with pressure and silent energy that it could be cut. It wound like a spring. And then it uncoiled, the air shifting ever so slightly as Mark and Alverost tore into the Wartskin domain.