A battalion of knights were lining up in strict formation just outside the city walls of Ingenwell. Dawn had barely broke, so most of the knights were still in the process of waking up from their morning drowsiness. However, their professionalism kept them from showing their drowsiness in front of Admiral Aldinar Faewynn, who was not known for being lenient in terms of punishment. As the knights were coming together, Aldinar looked at each and every one of them with a discerning and critical gaze. Only hours ago, the admiral had received intel from his trackers stating that they have lost the trail of the Crimson Flame escapees just a couple hundred kilometers outside the city. Dingo Hwyte and his team must have used dampeners, a common precaution that someone of his caliber would do.

Judging from the direction they've headed, it seemed that they were heading south, towards the Rinsa Sea where port cities like Prisatta resided. Those areas were teeming with seafaring traders and pirates alike, a perfect hideout for criminals like him. However, that could very well be a misdirection. The outlaw furrofaun may have intentionally led them down a fake trail to follow by heading to a random direction, dampening their mana, and then heading off to a completely different direction. Given that it's the conniving Howling Wind he was dealing with, it wouldn't surprise him one bit if that were the case, which left them back at square one.

However, while Aldinar might not have any definitive clues as to where Dingo Hwyte and his gang were headed exactly, he did have a few suspicions---the most likely of which being Dorencor. During these past couple of decades, there'd been a lot of bad blood between Elrinthia and Dorencor. After many years of fighting, the two countries have finally reached an armistice agreement fourteen years ago, agreeing to temporarily halt their own fighting in order to divert their attention and resources towards combating the Demon Army instead. However, an armistice was far different from a peace treaty, which Dorencor refused to sign even till this day. Because of this, Dorencor was not able to be controlled or manipulated by Elrinthia like Halandril had, making it a very contentious and unpredictable factor as far as politics were concerned. Therefore, if an anti-magic prohibition resistance group such as the Crimson Flame were to set up a base where they'd be close enough to have influence over Halandril while still be able to escape detection, Aldinar could think of no better location than the land of the dwarves.

So far, it was only pure speculation; speculation that none of his superiors were convinced of. And even if they were, sending an army to attack Dorencor would stir up such an unimaginable amount of political outrage that it'd most likely reignite the war between Elrinthia and Dorencor, which neither side would want. However, as more and more Crimson Flame activity were happening and were shown to be slightly more concentrated on the eastern side of Halandril---the side closer to Dorencor---Aldinar gradually found his speculation more and more plausible. At this point, he was almost certain of it. How else would it explain the boldness of Dingo Hwyte tricking an Elrinthian admiral right under his nose? He knew he could easily escape to the safety of Dorencor, where a barrier of politics could shield them from harm or capture. It was the perfect hiding spot; there's no doubt about it.

Aldinar was not going to let this stand. That previous escape attempt was the last straw. Dingo Hwyte and the Crimson Flame were practically taunting him at this point, daring him to make a move. They think of him as a fool who was not meant to be taken seriously. Well, the admiral is going to prove just how wrong they are of underestimating him. Once his army have been fully mobilized, he is going to storm across the border and search through Dorencor in its entirety---every city, town, and village; every house and shed; every pebble of rock; every grain of sand---until he finds the Crimson Flame and exterminate them. No matter what it takes, he will find them eventually. He has to. His honor and pride of being a Paladin of the Sepstellan Order depended on it.

"Admiral Aldinar Faewynn, what is the meaning of this?!" a voice cried out. Aldinar turned to see that it was Brigadier Quilmor Mulidan, strutting towards him.

Brigadier Quilmor was a fine example that not even the best of elven heredity traits could save them from poor eating habits. He had a stout build with a grotesque double-chin and a protruding beer belly, a complete contrast of the tall lean profiles of typical healthy elves. His Elrinthian military uniform of golden-yellow and divinium-teal could barely hold his bulging physique, which Aldinar suspected was increasing in size every year.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leading an army to cross Dorencor's border," Aldinar replied matter-of-factly, side-eyeing him with barely withheld annoyance. "It's for an important mission."

"A mission?! On Dorencor's soil?! Are you out of your mind, Admiral?!" Quilmor's face was so red with rage that he might be close to bursting a blood vessel. "Do you have any idea what sort of political ramifications this will cause?! Not only that, you are stealing some of my troops to do it!"

"Technically, I'm borrowing them." And he would have gotten away with it without him knowing had he deployed quickly enough. In cases like this, it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Unfortunately for him, however, gathering an army of a significant size requires a great deal of time and words travel fast within the Elrinthian military. "We're both under the same banner of a united Elrinthia, aren't we? Is there really any difference between your troops and mine?"

"Admiral-" Quilmor said with a warning tone.

"I am only stating facts here, Brigadier. No need to be so worked up about it. Calm yourself or you might have a heart attack." If you hadn't had one already with your pig-like diet, Aldinar wanted to add.

"Admiral Aldinar Faewynn! In my office this instant!"

"But, Brigadier-"

"I said now!"

The two are now in Quilmor's office. It was a lavishly decorated room filled with expensive petalwood furniture and striped porcelain vases---an indication of someone having way too much money to spend. On one side of the wall, there was a cabinet filled with various medals for excellence in military service, though Aldinar highly doubt that Quilmor had actually earned any of them. More likely, these were given to him as a courtesy through familial connections among the nobility rather than any actual military merit. That was typical of a northwesterner like Quilmor who, unlike a southeasterner like Aldinar, didn't know the first thing about hard work.

"Aldinar Faewynn, explain yourself!" Quilmor demanded angrily, slamming his fist onto the table. "Why in Ysna's name are you sending an army to Dorencor of all places?!"

"I thought I made it very clear, Brigadier," Aldinar replied sternly. "In fact, I have been making it clear for these past few months now, haven't I? About my theories pertaining to the true location of the Crimson Flame's base of operations. You just haven't been listening." Not with all the fat that is probably clogging your ears, you old fool, he wanted to add.

"Oh, I've been listening, alright. I'm well aware of your theories. I just don't believe them. And even if I do, by the Goddess, do you really need an army that large? All for a measly resistance group? This is simply overkill!"

"They are not just a measly resistance group. They are the Crimson Flame and they are as big of a threat to Elrinthia as they come. So far, they have been making a staggering amount of progress undermining our forces and causing civil unrest in Halandril. You have seen the reports on the increase of incidents relating to non-elven magic usage around here, haven't you? It is madness, I tell you! There is no doubt in my mind that the Crimson Flame is directly responsible for this. Each and every day that goes by, this rebellion is growing stronger. How much longer will it be before they rise up to destabilize our grip on Halandril? It will be chaos! We'll lose our political leverage over this kingdom. More importantly, we'll lose a huge portion of our divinium supply. Therefore, it is imperative that we make the first move to take them down first. Finish them before they have a chance to strike!"

The fat elf fiddled with his thumbs as if considering the admiral's words. "I see where you're coming from, Admiral, but...to send an army to attack Dorencor outright? Surely, those dwarves would not take kindly to it. This could start a war!"

Aldinar leered into Quilmor's eyes. "You make the assumption that we couldn't win this war if it were to ever start?"

"You think we haven't tried?! Heck, the last Divinium War already proves it! Those dwarves are damn near indestructible!"

"That was then, and this is now. Considering the state of both nations as it currently stands, I am confident that if a war were to happen, Elrinthia will surely prevail." Aldinar wasn't completely unreasonable in assuming this. Over these past fourteen years since the armistice, Dorencor's military had become considerably weaker compared to that of Elrinthia. This was largely in part due to Elrinthia's attempts of blockading Dorencor from trade over the years, which gradually eroded Dorencor's economy. Just because the armistice had prevented both parties from direct conflict, it doesn't mean that Elrithina didn't have other ways of indirectly undermining their enemy.

"Yes, I'm well aware of the blockades and the decrepit state of Dorencor's economy. Even so, Dorencor is far from being a nation that you can just overpower with ease. We might win this war, but not without diverting a significant amount of resources from our other conflicts. We are already stretched thin as it is in fighting both the demons and the orcs. We cannot afford fighting in another front, especially not with such a flimsy justification. It is simply not worth the risk!"

"And I believe it is!"

"Enough!" Quilmor roared, slamming his meaty fist on the table again as if wanting to exert his authority through it. "It doesn't matter what you believe! All it matters is that you'll obey the chain of command! Under the United Elrinthia Accords, I outrank you! Therefore, you have to listen to whatever I say, whether you like it or not! Admiral Aldinar Faewynn, as your superior officer, I forbid you from marching an army to assault Dorencor! You are not to send even one single soldier across that border, you understand?! If you dare step even a little out of line, I'll have you suspended, demoted, or even discharged! Do I make myself clear?!"

Aldinar bit his lip in bitter resentment. He had always hated the United Elrinthia Accords. After years of fighting each other in a bloody civil war, the two Elrinthias have finally come to a truce and decided to work together in order to better focus their efforts into fighting other external threats. It was not a true act of unity, however. The two Elrinthias were only united in name but, in practice, they were still two separate sovereigns who still bore deep-seated hatred towards each other. All this talk of a "united Elrinthia" was simply a façade, one that gave the illusion of cooperation as a way to reassure Elrintiha's allies and intimidate Elrinthia's enemies. There will always be a irreparable rift between the two halfs of Elrinthia, one that could only be amended by having one half dominate the other completely. There will come a time for the two to settle this matter once and for all. Until then, they'll just have to pretend to get along, at least for now.

In an effort to getting along, the United Elrintiha Accords was one of the compromises that both sovereigns have agreed to make. It streamlined the chain of command of both Elrinthian militaries by combining them into one so that there would be no confusion as to who outrank who. One of the flaws of this system, however, was that it allowed incompetent officers from one part of Elrinthia---people like Quilmor---to boss around competent officers from another part of Elrinthia---people like Aldinar---all on the simple notion that they outrank them. It was an imperfect system that could easily be exploited and now Aldinar was on the receiving end of it.

Quilmor saw Aldinar's stiff posture and lack of speech as an indication of his compliance. "I take it that we have an understanding? Good. Your plan is far too rash anyway. Too unrefined for the traditional Elrinthian stratagem. Let me teach you something about military philosophy, young one. You have to look at the big picture. Don't burn down a forest to save a tree. You may be an admiral but you are still far too young and inexperienced."

Aldinar scoffed, dripping with the venom of bitter hatred. "Inexperienced? Not when compared to you."

"Excuse me?" Quilmor responded.

"You heard me. You are a northwesterner. A privileged nobleman born with a silver spoon in his mouth. You do not know the first thing about experience in war, about earning something with your own effort. You've bought your military position with your family's money while I have to fight for mine. I may be of a lower rank but I'm ten times the soldier you are, Quilmor Mulidan."

"Oh, so we're just going to casually toss around accusations of nepotism, are we? Remind me who your grandmother is, Faewynn."

"How dare you even insinuate that I get favors of any kind! Queen Valhilda Faewynn's impartialness is unquestionable! Her judgement is the fairest in all of Southeastern Elrinthia! I may be her grandson, but I most certainly do not get any special treatment because of it! If I had, you don't think I would have gotten a higher military rank?! You think I have to put up with your ineptitude?!" In fact, the opposite was true. It was because of the fear of the suspicion of favoritism that Queen Valhilda had put all her enlisted family members through more rigorous training and enforced them with much stricter standards than normal.

Quilmor snorted in mocking disbelief. "Seems to me that you don't even deserve the rank you're given right now if you were to talk back to me like that. This kind of insubordination would not be tolerated under the Northwestern Elrinthian military. Honestly, based on your behavior as of late, I'm starting to question Queen Valhilda's judgement."

That was the last straw. Aldinar's rage was at the boiling point. With a flick of his wrist, he activated a glyph in his hand and launched a salvo of large icicles towards Quilmor. They barely missed him---only grazing his skin as they flew past him and lodged themselves into the wall behind him---but only because those were intended to be warning shots. Very aggressive warning shots. "You may insult me but don't you dare insult Queen Valhilda!"

The icicle attack happened so quickly and abruptly that it took a long second for Quilmor to register it. By the time he did, his reaction was to shriek pathetically before clumsily stumbling backwards and collapsing onto the floor. "H-h-how dare y-y-you?" he stammered. "You just attacked a s-s-superior officer! I'll have you d-d-discharged, I tell you! Discharged!"

Aldinar had had enough of this. He shot another blast of ice towards the cabinet of medals, shattering it into splinters, before storming out the office. As he walked away, he could hear Quilmor's cowardly cry fading into the distance.

Aldinar retreated to his own office with a bottle of wine, attempting to drown his frustration with it. It was not just any wine either but the finest artisan wine money can buy, straight from Valinquen. It's better than any human brandy or dwarven ale. It's even better than, dare he say, any mycoflor sake. However, no amount of fine wine could quell the anger within him. He practically had the Crimson Flame right in his sights and yet he was impeded by unproductive idiotic red tape.

As of now, he'd been stationed in a relatively unimportant position, administrating Halandril while the others were accomplishing more glorious feats like fighting the Demon Army or the Orc Horde. His talent was being wasted in this wretched nation. If he was to rise up the ranks and be assigned with more prestigious positions, he must make a name for himself by accomplishing great feats of glory that contribute to Elrinthia's power. But how in Ysna's name is he going to do that if he was constantly being held back by bureaucratic bullshit?!

As he sipped wine from his goblet, he began to calm himself, enough to contemplate deeply and formulate an alternative strategy. Surely, a direct assault with an army across Dorencor's borders was no longer possible, but what if he send a lone assassin instead? An off-the-books clandestine operation involving one of his agents from his personal secret network of spies. He could still accomplish what he had sought to do, just as long as he made sure that none of his superiors knew about it. It could very well be the perfect plan.

The sun had long set when Aldinar called for one of his spies, leaving nothing but a pitch-dark night sky illuminated only by the light of the crescent moon. A figure emerged from the shadows like a ghost, its presence so hidden that even Aldinar had trouble detecting its faint aura with his mana sense. It's all for the better, however; he wouldn't have anyone under his command who wasn't at least equal to his level of skill.

"Took you long enough, Kizana," Aldinar remarked.

"I apologize, Lord Aldinar," the figure spoke with a soft feminine voice as she stepped into the light with a courteous bow, moving with the finesse of a cat. The figure was revealed to be an elf. However, unlike Aldinar with his yellow eyes, white skin, and silver hair, this elf possessed red eyes, gray skin, and dark-violet hair. She had a slender but sturdy build and wore a dark-colored garb with pieces of light armor protecting her chest and limbs, an optimal attire for an agile and stealthy assassin.

Over the years, Aldinar had used his personal network of spies to accomplish tasks that were simply too inconvenient for his main army to deal with. These tasks range from intel gathering to sabotage to stealthy assassinations, things that bypass any political restrictions so long as they remain hidden enough for him to claim plausible deniability. In the current situation he's in, in which his army was being unjustly grounded, there was perhaps no better time to utilize this trump card of his.

"I presume you got my message?" Aldinar asked, not bothering to look at his subordinate directly.

"Yes, my lord," Kizana replied, her tone soft but firm.

"Then you know what you must do."

"Yes, my lord. I must locate the Crimson Flame's base of operations and assassinate Dingo Hwyte."

"That's right. That filthy furrofaun miscreant has disrespected me for the last time. I want him to pay for his transgression. With that said, I want it done as quietly as possible. Make sure that nothing pertaining to this mission were to be traced back to me. I don't want to get hounded by Quilmor or any of my other superiors for ordering a hit behind their backs. Think you're up to the task?"

Kizana paused for a while, as if in deep thought. "Dingo Hwyte is a mage of reputable skill. Taking him down will not be easy."

"So you're not up for the challenge, then?"

Kizana knelt to the ground and saluted with a fist to her chest, demonstrating her utmost respect to the admiral. "Consider it done, my lord. I shall accomplish this mission to the best of my ability."

"Very good. You are dismissed."

"Yes, my lord." With that, Kizana vanished back into the shadows, as quietly as she entered.

Aldinar's heart was now filled with anticipation. Finally, he has a chance to strike back at the Crimson Flame for what they've done. He would not allow himself to be humiliated again. This time, they will pay dearly, one way or another.