The Capital was a broken shell of stone and steel, but it was impressive nevertheless. Even in this ruined, devastated state, the thick walls proved challenging to overcome. Demons were not apt at killing rock, nor were arrows or swords particularly well suited for the task. While Joy had bested the other armies on the field, the coward hiding in his den had no need to meet them in blood and battle; he needed only to hide ever longer in his walls. And, as Joy hissed frustratedly with realization, there was little that the demons or his army could do to force Lord Mace out of the Capital.

Yet he could not afford to starve out the Lord, not with the amount of food that Mors estimated they had. Skal’va and shadows would not wait as he amassed his forces, and he did not have time to spare with this impertinent fool. Kha had suggested that they storm the city, despite the losses that they might suffer. Joy did not know what traps lay behind those blasted gates, from the scalding oil that Mors had mentioned to the charcoal that he could smell on the wind, but he could not imagine that it would go smoothly for his men. He could not afford to lose them in large numbers; not before they had even bled and died for him against the skal’va. Yet the option to give the order to charge remained a tempting one, and with every day that passed while the demons grew more restless, he felt the urge to give the command growing as well.

It was, surprisingly, the old alpha in steel and leather that had advised him a different path. Mors had spoken about some grand machinations that the soldiers could construct and use, some powerful arm that could throw stone and fire ten times the length of an ordinary man. While Joy doubted the man’s confidence as an eager desire to save the lives of his fellow pack members, the notion was intriguing nevertheless. His curiosity was further piqued when the Third Sword promised that these things could be fashioned from only wood and rope, and impressive claim if true.

And so Joy had given the order to construct these things, which Mors asserted could be done in days and not weeks. The demon would hold him to that word; should the fool men take too long, they would find themselves being thrown at those walls in the place of mere stones. On these expansive grasslands outside the Capital, there would scarcely be many trees for the amount of timber that would be needed for this project of theirs. While rope was in steady supply, being rather useful for these weak, flimsy soldiers, they did not have wood on hand in the amount necessary. Instead, Mors had asked permission for the men to ride out and—as he had delicately put it, liberate—some of the lumber from the nearby villages that were scattered throughout the Heartlands. Certainly, it would mean less work for them in the way of felling trees, and sending the men away would likely help alleviate some of the irritation held amongst demon ranks. Joy, for his part, was glad to give his consent so long as the men organized themselves; he wanted no further hand in their bothersome affairs as was necessary.

Mors agreed then to take around five hundred men, broken up into several smaller groups that would each ride out to different villages in search of materials. With their metal fangs and scales, Joy doubted beyond incredible incompetence that they would fail to convince simple villagers, and so he paid no more heed to their affairs. His thoughts instead turned elsewhere in the camp, to the two channelers at his disposal that were the source of so much of his strength.

Magic was a curious thing, a pervasive energy closely intertwined with life and death. For most people, it was something unseen and unfelt, like sunlight to the blind. Yet there were some that were able to shape it and control it, marked at maturity by a series of black tattooes called Maes that were branded onto the face. Joy, Kha, Willem—they were all channelers, all able to draw upon the mahji in their bodies and around them. Joy himself was particularly powerful, connected at birth to the channeler Andahiel from ages past. The spirit of the Shai’mon had lent him wisdom and strength against the skal’ai and against Sin, even saving him from certain death. Its presence had also gifted him with an immense amount of mahji that well suited his blunt and aggressive personality, allowing him to power through massive spells through sheer quantity over precise control. Perhaps it was from this attitude that he found himself so well attuned with fire, with the rampant flame that throbbed with its own heartbeat and grew with its own hunger.

Yet compared to him, Kha was precisely the opposite. Joy could not quite remember when the lizard-like demon had first emerged amongst their ranks, although he had seemed to have also been there. With a mind of cunning and an eye for precision, he seemed to possess and peculiar preference for lightning, able to conjure stunning bolts of electric power that seared through the air in an instant. While not nearly as adept at fire for sweeping the earth flat with ash, it was unparalleled at scorching holes through stone and steel alike, burning charred wounds through men.

As for Willem, the demon was still more of a pup in terms of his strength. He had first came to Joy as a human, as a cripple with broken legs and a wounded heart. Joy had given him a new body, one that was stronger, sturdier, fashioned from the rock and earth beneath the ground. Yet while Willem found running and jumping to be far easier in this new vessel of his, magic continued to prove to be a challenge. The pup swore that he had cast magic before, that he had channeled mahji into fire at the Gates to burn away the shadows that had hidden in the brick. Yet beyond threat of death, he still could not channel freely, of his own volition. Regular practice seemed only to further dishearten him, with every following failure an apparent confirmation in his eyes of his own futility. Yet Joy had patience still with the pup; there would be time enough for practice as they readied themselves for war. Even if, in the end, he was unable to properly control his mahji, there would be enough threat of death on the field of battle to encourage his spells.

Apart from them, Joy had nearly a hundred demons under his command. They were a myriad of bestial creatures, all fiercely loyal to their alpha. Runeclaws and runescales sat in their flesh, pieces of magic forged from steel that could conjure forth flame from stored mahji. The demons were quick to learn to use them, and they were so bruised and battered from frequent fighting that they seemed to have grown into the flesh. Black lips of calloused flesh swelled up around the edges of the metal, which sat on thick hide with bulging veins. Yet where the demons were skilled with their tools to conjure fire, their pups were even better.

Born some months ago from eggs, the pups looked for all purposes as smaller likenesses of their parents. Yet there was one crucial difference—the magic in their parents’ runes seemed to have seeped into their flesh, covering it with strange tattoos not unlike the Maes of channelers. These black, inky patterns glowed when the demons were agitated, heating until they finally expelled a scorching flame from mouth and limb. It had been a cruel surprise at first, many an adult finding their claws and tongues charred from eager flames. The pups were still learning to control their grotesque power, and the occasional gout of fire could still be seen as they tussled with one another in mock play in the grass.

Yet the greatest worry to Joy was not his channelers nor his demons; rather, it was the thousand humans that waited under his command. Even now, they spilled out over the landscape like a flood of ants that surrounded the Capital. With the city bordered by cliffs and empty plains to the south and east, his forces occupied the Kingsroad to the west and north. Not only did it cut off trade, but the expansive bluffs and vegetation gave them some measure of comfort from the sun and wind. However, such a large amount of men would only prove to be harder to handle as it grew, and Joy knew that his own strength would not be enough to lead a pack of this size. There was no doubt resentment from his method of...procurement, and he did not doubt that they would surely flee in battle rather than die for him. With their only use in battle being their sheer numbers, he needed them to fight to the death and hold the line—both of which would only come, he knew, with loyalty. He had no quick way of winning over their hearts, however, and he had no confidence that words would do any good coming from a demon in any case.

The problem had not been a new one; he had first considered it as he was capturing the men of House Tyne. The soldiers would nod their heads and listen to orders so long as their alpha agreed, but in the true heat of battle, when blood fell like rain and heads rolled like hail, they would break faster than a wooden wall before a conflagration. The fear that they felt towards the demons would only further make them more likely to flee, and the problem present no easy way of being resolved.

It was Kha that had suggested mahji as a solution, albeit a gentler one compared to what Joy had been considered. He had imagined threat of fire as a form on convincing the legions’ obedience, promising deserters a slow, excruciating death as flames crackled over blackening skin. Kha, however, offered his skills as Oa’kul, as a channeler able to influence the mind. He had suggested shackling the wills of the alphas in the pack, bending them to obey Joy. With their leaders obedient, any thoughts of resistance would be met with firm opposition from members of their own kind. The only flaw to this notion was the cost of mahji that Kha would need; shackling minds, even for those as weak-willed as humans, was still nevertheless an expensive endeavor. In addition, it would prove cumbersome to walk amongst their ranks one by one, seeking to speak with a leader.

Joy mused to himself softly with a slight smile. Perhaps it would be time to call them all together; there were things they needed to discuss.