Shabar watched as the wall of orcs slowly grew larger in the distance. He and the others had prepared for as long as they could possibly without the orcs learning about a single thing. Any scouting party was quickly found then eliminated without hesitation.

When they sent a vanguard, Fefar and his crews would harry them constantly, making it impossible to get even a wink of sleep, much less any form of rest. Even going as far as to blow onto horns in the dead of night to keep the orcs in a constant state of full on awareness.

He himself had not participated in any of the raids and strikes against the enemy. His group of massive shield bearers were simply to slow for this type of task. Their calling was the grueling and gruesome slogs of battle in shield walls and, more hopefully, this down and dirty trench tactic.

Leave them to clear out the center of any enemy at any cost possible.

At the moment, each one of his men lay in long lines facing the enemy. They hid down in the trenches or hiding behind the mounds of dirt raised as cover. Unlike usual, each one of them had a crossbow in hand rather than their more familiar slab of metal. Even so, the crossbows they carried were quite large and made it impossible to wield another weapon at the same time.

So their spears were waiting next to them on the hard packed ground.

All around them were also hundreds of villagers waiting with arrows and bows. They had glimmering eyes Shabar had seen only once in his life. It was frightening at that point in time and even now. Then it was deep in the mountains of SeaGorge. His army of five hundred men had been assigned as a vanguard force to find and keep the enemy in place for the rest of the army to reach them.

What they had seen the past was what seemed to be nothing but normal villagers just like the people around him now. But, instead of the rags common to the empire, SeaGorge and the surrounding city-states had a culture around robes and long flowing clothes.

They had not known, but they were Fanatics. They threw themselves at the wall of shield and swords with glee and masochistic ecstasy. All for the demented demons they worshiped.

Out of the twenty thousand men that entered that battle, only three thousand made it out alive. Only he and seven of his men had survived that ordeal.

Shabar visibly shivered as he looked away.

Cujoy laughed from behind him. “Them fanatics. The lot stand with us this time, don they boss?”

“Yea. They do Cujoy. Now shut your trap. We got a battle to fight,” Shabar grunted.

That didn’t stop Cujoy.

Shabar grunted as he turned around to watch the enemy not even pause. They were getting close to firing range. “Happy go lucky bastard,” he cursed under his voice.

“Ready!” General Gregor roared.

Shabar waited for the train of lieutenants closest to the general to reverberate the call, yet nothing happened. He began cursing again under his voice. Getting up, he had to take the lead or not one of them would be ready in time wasting an entire volley.

“Load your bows you motherless sea sluggers! Ready your bows!” Shabar called.

Soon a few other lieutenants copied suit. It was almost like they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. Idiots like them weren’t meant to be in battle. If it hadn’t been for the lord's daring plan, he and his men would have run for it oath be damned.

“They look quite mighty,” Cujoy whispered to him as he loaded the crossbow he held.

If any other man had said the same words to him at that moment, he would have cut him down. But, he knew his second in command had copper balls for brains. He wouldn’t run even if he could.

“They even larger than the rumors be sayin,” he whispered back.

“Aim!” Gregor raised his hand.

From the distance he could see the other generals do the same action, though he couldn't hear them with all the lieutenants reverberating the call.

Shabar took his aim. He looked down the ingenious sight on the heavy crossbow marked for a two hundred yards out. He could see the green skins of the orcs even from where he stood. They rushed like mad bulls at their defense thinking they could simply run through what seemed like wire on solid ground.

They were going to have a massive wake up call. He had every-

Wait. Why are their numbers still cresting the horizon?

“Fire!” Gregor swung his arm.

With it came the twang of thousands of arrows at once including him. It was habit he had built up since childhood. He simply reacted to the key trigger words the general had said.

“Ready!” The general was not giving them even a moment to breathe and watch their arrows land.

It would be a moral boost to see their arrows hit flesh and metal, but he didn’t have a say in the planning. All he could do was load the crossbow again as fast as possible and make sure his men were prepared too. Then again, his band of men were a well oil machine so he had little to worry about unlike the villagers around them.

Cujoy grunted as he finally got the bolt on the tight cord. “That can’t be only seventy thousand men, boss. Been over a hundred fifty already.”

“Aim”

Shabar ignored his talkative second in command and looked down the sight again. Still, he fully trusted Cujoy’s abilities. If the man said it crested the magical number of a hundred and fifty thousand men, then it must be true.

He only wished he knew what had happened.

How was it possible for all they’ve done in this new tactic to go to waste like this? Or was it all a lie.

As he watched the enemy charge through the sight, he watched as the first volley finally fell. Like a wave the almost the entire first two rows were decimated leaving Shabar in awe. Where were the mana barriers? He was expecting to have to break through at least two before they finally hit the first lines.

Yet, it seemed like there were no mages at all.

An army that large would not walk out their cities without a minimum of three hundred mages with loads of mana stones the size of carriages to fuel their battle magic. It made no sense at all to leave your men sitting ducks to any form of magic the enemy could send.

Just as he said that, an explosion of earth speared towards the charging horde. Looking up in awe he watched as hundreds of men died in a single wave. Shabar turned his head right and left trying to find the mage corp who did that, yet could not see any obvious areas they could be. The mages had to be in clear view of their targets to blast them, so there wasn’t many places for them to be.

“Fire!”

Shabar jumped in his spot releasing his arrow in the process. It veered off to the side thunking into one of the wooden walls they placed around them. His face began to burn as his men began laughing at his expense.

“What are ya laughing at?!” He shouted, trying to ignore his burning ears and the utter embarrassment he felt now.

He could only curse under his breath as his bolt would probably be the only one to hit the wrong side of the walls during the entire battle. He could only hope some bumbling orc would break it off before their lord ever got a whiff of this blunder.

——

Ash leaned out of the window. She let the winds whip her hair around as she stared at the continuous tide of Orcs that almost did not come to stop. If they had not taken out at the very least seventy thousand soldiers before hand, their hopes to survive would have been absolutely nothing.

Now at least, it was marginally better considering.

“Where did they come from?” Jonas asked. Moments ago, she had the audacity to attempt comforting him, but now she couldn’t hold her own anxiousness and emotions.

All they had prepared for seemed like they were nothing. The days of sleepless nights as she looked over report after report might have been a waste. She tried to account for every situation and all possible mistakes that could possibly happen. But never did she assume another army had gathered far to the north of them. That was towards the sea, not the orcish lands.

What an army that large was doing even beyond this tiny village, Ash could not think of.

It just so happened for it to occur when they attacked her master. Her liege. The single man she would die for.

Many a days she would imagine what lengths she would go through to protect this young man, even coming to a resounding belief she would sacrifice herself for him if necessary. Yet, this was too soon. He hadn't had a chance yet to fulfil his promises.

He swore he would help her raise the common people. He swore to give her the resources she needed to raise an army never witnessed before. He swore he would be there for them all!

The room’s massive door creaked open on its old hinges.

Ash looked back as Frezar walked in with a hunched back. His eyes seemed clouded and face contemplative. He did not carry his common smile or fatherly look today.

“Three…” Frezar took a deep breath. “Three hundred and twelve thousand Orcish soldiers. That was the final count. Medulis had already taken out the mages the instance we learned of the second army, but by then it was too late to change the vast disadvantage in numbers.”

Hearing this, Jonas grit his teeth audibly.

Ash couldn’t blame him, to be betrayed by a few lone nobles was one thing. But for the orcish army to be so well prepared and had enough time not to only get a single by two armies of this size so deep into human lands, well it meant the entire noble cast had conspired against him.

“Thariul,” Jonas whispered, his eyes widening in realization. “It makes sense. It all makes sense now.” He laughed out loud as he fell to his cushioned seat. “They played me like a fiddle from day one. All the acting, the bootlicking. Distracting me with the two parties in PennyHarbor. Then they moved me into a perfect position and I just went along with it. Checkmate.”

“M-master?” Ash asked concerned. She heard the twangs of the thousands of bows every few seconds, the screams of anguish and roars of battle. But, she couldn’t care less. Never before had she seen Joans look so defeated.

“I should have noticed it sooner, especially when Tedder had mentioned Thariul in such high praise. If he was such a brilliant genius, then how could he simply hole up in the city of Petrous like a two-bit common playing at being a noble. He negotiated a half dead dragon heart for a third of an entire kingdom! It’s just one thing I don’t understand, what did they plan to do with Clay? How were they meant to convince him to stand still?”

Frezar cleared his throat. “Master. I have secrets, ones in which I would sacrifice myself in essence for your survival-”

“No.” Jonas began to laugh like a madman. The flames on his began to turn into a sinister smile. From it puslated a malisma that had Ash gasping for breath and Frezar to look on with recognition. “They only needed to distract him long enough. Frezar, is it possible to contact Clay, regardless of the price.”

“No,” he whispered. His old frail body shook, whether it was from weakness or strength Ash did not know, but she guessed the latter. “I’ve tried multiple times, yet not once did he respond.”

“Does anyone know of Grega’s appearance? I mean the nobles from PennyHarbor?”

Ash’s eye’s widened. “She disappeared with Clay from the beginning.”

Jonas crossed his fingers and held them before his face. His elbows rested on the chair. Ash could only see his burning golden eyes and the frightening smirk on his face.

“This would have been perfect. The greatest ploy I could have read in a fantasy book, but no, its truth. And more importantly they forgot about two Orcs willing to stand by my side. Raneria and the Old hag-”

“Who are you calling an old hag, DragonSpawn.” From the shadows, the ball of wrinkles and robes walked out like she was taking a casual stroll. “If the SleepingDragon didn’t sing your praises so much, I would have beaten you to a pulp.”

Hanging onto her with one arm over her shoulder and the other carrying three eggs as large as a basketball was Clay. He came in with a predator smile clearly having heard what Jonas had just said.

“You’ve been beat up quite badly, haven’t you Clay?” Jonas teased.

Ash couldn’t believe her eyes, Magus Clay had large lacerations across his chest, arms, and back. They had only been covered by wrappings and bandages, still bleeding a bit.

“They sent someone strong enough to kill me. A Grandmaster Assassin from the House of Hashin. Grega waited for the perfect time to take him out, without her I would be dead.” Clay coughed blood into a fist.

Ash gulped loud enough for everyone to hear. “Y-you were almost killed?”

Frezar sighed. “The damn Hashins. I should have taken them out ages ago, now it's too late-” While he thought no one heard him, Ash’s hyperactive senses caught the beginning of it. More and more she saw how powerful those around her were, yet she couldn’t stand shoulder to shoulder with them. Would the Young Master dispose of her if she didn’t get suddenly better?

“Yes, those bastards from Hashin are the worst. Not only are they considered the greatest dagger wielders known, even better than the dark elves of the far far north, they are born with a special ability called nullification. No Mana works around them. Not even the greatest spells could harm them, simply fizzling out around them. Since mine contain a bit of divine law, I was able to weaken him enough for Instructor Grega to land a final blow from the shadows-”

“Clay.” Jonas tried to interrupt.

“-like a Panther. Honestly, it was quite the battle, I wasn't sure what they were doing until the young master just connected a few dots I had missed. Who would have thought that snake would be some random noble in the colony lands? I could have sworn he would be a prodigy from the Royal bloodline-”

“Clay!” Jonas yelled. The mage could go on forever. “I am glad you’ve returned. You were sorely missed.”

Ash watched as the infamous mage looked down with a slightly embarrassed smile. He seemed relieved but also surprised at how much Jonas had grown.

“It’s good to be back.” Clay finally said. He limped towards the window where the battle was still raging on without pause at their sudden reunion. “They really didn’t pull back any punches.” His eyes reflected the sunset as he watched Jonas’s army constantly release volley after volley on the struggling armies before them.

“We killed seventy-seven thousand of them. And yet, they still had enough to take us out without your sudden appearance. The Council members of this colony are geniuses. Each and everyone of to have survived the machinations of Thariul and his party. We were almost completely destroyed if not for a lucky happenstance.” Joans said. He nodded towards Grega in thanks for her help.

In response she just looked away. Something made her despise seeing him or the remnants of his power. That is until she finally laid her eyes on Frezar for the first time since she first joined them.

“Wait.” She squinted her eyes at Jonas’s butler. “It can’t be. You look just like him.”

Frezar started to become flustered. “W-what could you possibly mean? Just a butler of my Lord, nothing more I assure you.”

Ash scoffed. Even she could see Frezar try to hide something. But, she left the two of them to their weird antics. It was more important to solve the issue at hand. The army of Orcs had already made it past the first layer of trenches, though it cost them a bloody bill. In the forefront of their offense was the Great Fist Yurgel.

She turned back to the concentrating Magus next to her. “Magus Clay. Will you lend us your aid? The armies below are to great in number and skill for us to eliminate without your support.” She lowered her head in deference. It was best not to insult a monster of Clay’s caliber.

Just the fact he survived a Hashin assassin was enough to elevate him into unbelievable heights.

“I will do it, but, Grega,” Clay turned to stare at the bag of wrinkles checking Frezar like a hawk. “Grega, would you do me a favor?”

“A favor? How large and more importantly, what am I going to get in return?” She said without once looking away from Frezar. The man looked quite uncomfortable, which only made Ash chuckle, even in this uncertain time.

“Quite small, even if the Master thinks it large-”

Jonas seemed to have caught on even before herself. Another moment where her abilities came up short. “You are going to literally have me bathe in my blood”

Ah! The Drake were meant to be bound to the Young Master, just like the Megladons and the sleeping dogs still hovering beside him.

Grega turned back with an incredulous look. “You want me to babysit him? I have more important things to do-”

“No you don’t” Clay interrupted. “You're probably planning to go hibernate. Help him out and you get a small favor.”

Grega flinched, Ash noticed. It seems Clay hit it right on the nose.

“Alright! Alright! I’ll do it!” She began to stalk towards Jonas. Only to grab him by the hem of his long shirt then dragged him behind her. With another wave of her hand, a massive tub appeared from nowhere and the drake eggs began to float behind her.

Ash looked towards CLay to see if he was going to do something, but he only smiled mysteriously. She raised her eyebrow at him in question.

He laughed. “She’s starting to like him. Not only has his potential skyrocketed with his current Path, I think I could convince her to be his dedicated instructor. She has done quite the job on the talentless orc princess, I can only imagine what she would accomplish with our Young Master. A man with two of the strongest Human bloodlines.”

“Is she that good?”

This time, Frezar answered. “Yes, one of the three greatest that we know of.”

“Sir Frezar.” Clay said, his voice a bit somber. “I know you are from a time even before mine, but it's never occurred to me to ask…”

Ash also wanted to know who this butler was. His past was a mystery she could never solve, no matter how hard she tried or how much she begged the duke to tell her. And Grega’s interest in him only made her more excited to find out if possible.

Frezar narrowed his eyes. “It’s best to let resting monsters stay at rest, Magus.” His warning was clear, even to Ash. She took a step back making space for the two, she knew she was outclassed. If she attempted to intervene, the only thing that would happen would be her death as collateral damage.

“Tell me two thing and I will not bring this up again.” Clay straightened himself, letting a bit of his power to leak. “How tightly woven is your bond to the Young Master?”

Frezar didn’t even take a moment to respond. “It is a noose, with my toes barely supporting my weight.”

“Then tell me this...The Hashin, would he have survived against you at full power?”

Ash looked towards Frezar with wide eyes. Her gulp felt like a bomb in the sudden tension, then again, she was having a hard time breathing from Clay’s aura.

Yet, Frezar looked nonchalant even though he was receiving the brunt of it.

Frezar smiled at Clay, then turned around and began walking briskly towards the doors of the room. His pace was slow and methodolic. Though he stopped just as his hand touched the door knob.

“He would not have stood a chance.”

With that he swung the creaking doors and exited without waiting for their response.

Ash stared at the slightly ajar gate. She couldn’t help but audibly snap her hanging jaw. Clay had barely survived the grandmaster assassin, and yet, here was Frezar treating the incident as child's play. She turned around to the magus only to find him with a deep frown.

He turned locking eyes with her. “Lets go and end this farce before more men from the Young Master’s army are killed. We will need every single one of them if we plan to succeed.”

With that he walked towards the window and jumped down. Only to float in mid air then rocket towards the battle field.

Did he expect her to suddenly fly as well? How was she supposed to do that?

Instead, she ran out of the room at full speed. Take turn after turn, it took her a few minutes just to get out of the castle and a few more to get onto the top of the walls of the village, where she planned to jump down from instead of having the villagers open the gate.

But, instead she froze as she saw Clay float farther out above the actual battlefield. She could barely see him from here with her hypersensitive senses, then again, his voice reverberated in the ears of every single person. Regardless if they had an ounce of a Path in the blood.

“Your execution has been guaranteed the day you began to scheme and plot against my Master!” He began as he stared down at the slowing mass of orcs. They came at a pause just as they were cresting the second trench. “Now, you’ve come with necks washed and glossened for his unrelenting axe to fall! Kneel, mongrels!”

With a wave of dark purple energy, every single person, whether it was an ally or foe, fell to a single knee at the power of his aura. A few fought to get up including Yurgal, Gregor, and Medulis, but they failed in the end.

“Kneel before the Master’s messenger of death and withering. For I, The Sleeping Dragon have come!”

Ash watched in horror as the orcs began screaming in absolute terror. That power of withering Clay had displayed during Petrous was being used to its fullest effect.

He made every Orc watch as their body turned to ash before their very eyes. It began from the tips of their hands then ran up slowly, in excruciating pain, to the rest of their bodies. They struggled to run and hide, but no matter what they did, each one of them could not escape this fate.

They turned to dust, forgotten. Like they were merely illusions and had not existed at all.

Just as Clay had said.

They came with washed and glossened necks to the executioner block. How could they expect not to meet his axe?