All of the high-ranking members of the Stonepetal Sentinels were arrayed before Argrave side-by-side. They had all heard the spellcasters in their number; the king was possessed of magic enough to easily have breached A-rank by now. The two men by his side were giants both, and the sentinels were experienced enough to recognize that they bore enchanted armor. Even the king himself was no slouch, physically—standing a little over seven feet tall, his movements had a strange red mysticism to them. Even as he sat in a chair, cross-legged, he seemed imposing. The white-haired elven woman by his side was little different.

All of this entirely discounted the army he brought to the Low Way. The tension was palpable.

“So… what do you think will make things right between us?” the king questioned, leaning forth and entwining his hands together.

“Your Majesty…” one of them began. “We would… do anything you asked of us.”

“Are you the new Grandmaster Sentinel?” Argrave asked. When the man shook his head, he clicked his tongue. “Still haven’t chosen a new one? Impressive.” He sighed, then scanned them. “I think you know what you need to do, all of you.”

They looked between each other, feeling panic rise as the king’s request went unanswered. They all looked to the seniormost sentinel among them, pleading for aid. The old man swallowed bitterly, then looked at Argrave as he glared coldly. And then…

He fell to his knees and bowed. Everyone was shocked for a minute, but the tent became a scramble to see who could get to their knees the fastest. They stayed there, staring at the floor… but as seconds passed with silence, the old man dared a look up. Argrave was frowning in displeasure.

The man was about to bury his face in the dirt when the king finally said, “Did you listen to what Ossian said? At all? I don’t even see him here.” The king scanned their ignorant faces with his cold gray eyes, and then he sighed. “Good lord… unbelievable. Just because the man’s a pariah, doesn’t mean… well, whatever.” He swept back his black hair, and then said, “Get the crew together. Your watch is over.”

The upper echelon of the Stonepetal Sentinels all looked up slowly, fixing Argrave with a confused eye.

“We’re going to do something that should have been done long ago. We’re going to wipe out all of the Guardians of the Low Way. We’re going to secure the entire city of Nodremaid,” the king said passionately, then pointed at them. “And then, all of you are going to join a crusade against an enemy far worse than the Guardians.”

“Your Majesty, the Order of the Rose--!”

“Are you worried about what I might do with the knowledge in Nodremaid?” Argrave interrupted. “Well, don’t. As you remember, when last I came here… the blood in water stopped flowing. Do you think that was happenstance? And do you think my father, Felipe III, power-obsessed conqueror, would have left Order of the Rose spells unclaimed?” He shook his head slowly. “Fact is, the royal family has always had Rose-era spells. But the Low Way was… not something they cared about. None of my ancestors cared to fix the problem here.”

The Stonepetal Sentinels felt a chill come through them.

“But despite all that’s happened… it’s pointless to fight without end. I will set aside all that happened, and right a wrong that needs righting. Simply that,” the king declared, leaning back. “And I know all of you are good, deep down. You’ve endured a lot, living like this. Your ancestors, their ancestors… and you, fighting the good fight. I want to end that. Now, and forevermore,” he finished, raising his fist up. “Will you come along?”

#####

Argrave left that tent feeling embarrassed beyond compare. First they’d bowed seeking mercy, and then they’d bowed offering praise. It killed any desire for any jokes he might’ve had. Regardless, after a grueling capstone to Castro’s meticulous training… the crusade for the Low Way began the next morning.

Grimalt, Bastel, and Rasten each commanded one portion of the army. He had allowed them to determine its structure, and didn’t see any reason to intervene in the army. Still, Galamon decided the strategy, being intimately familiar with both the layout of Nodremaid and Veidimen tactics. Anneliese took command, delivering orders as she had through her Starsparrow.

And Argrave, well… he stayed outside, doing nothing. It was much more difficult than it sounded. He was incredibly uncomfortable with inaction these days. Given the coming of the Ebon Cult, he thought it prudent to get used to it. Though he hated it, he actually did Castro’s exercises of his own free will to distract his mind, receiving reports by the hour.

The Guardians of the Low Way were a plague that were difficult to remove. The only true fortune was that they tended to swarm… but swarming in large numbers meant they might cause casualties. That was an untenable outcome. As such, Galamon and Anneliese opted for a strategy involving coordinated herding toward chokepoints.

The Stonepetal Sentinels were well-versed in the behavior of the Guardians. Consequently, it was their responsibility to attract and manipulate the Guardians that they might land in unfavorable positions. Argrave assigned Melanie as their leader. Perhaps their inaction in electing a new leader had been a boon, as it allowed him to choose one for them. It was couched as temporary, but in time as they accepted her he’d make it permanent.

Melanie, with Anneliese’s guidance, used the Stonepetal Sentinels as ably as she could. She was practiced in escaping Guardians, and she had good soldiers to command. She did her job of getting the abominations to chokepoints well. There, the army assumed the burden of slaughter. Arrows, spears, swords—if the Guardians came through narrow entries, where their opportunity to attack from multiple angles was limited, then common soldiers were more than sufficient to put an end to them.

But then, Argrave’s army wasn’t normal, not entirely.

Even lacking the enchanted gear Argrave intended to secure for them, they were a disciplined force to be reckoned with. They were soldiers—professional soldiers, in a time where there were either highly-skilled knights or unskilled levies with little in between. By this time, they’d already grown used to the foul creatures by testing their blades on them in various strongholds along the way, and today they demonstrated the meaning of ‘professional.’

Reports were slow and scarce at first, mostly saying the same thing in different ways—inconclusive. Whole hours of uncertainty passed. Argrave wished for nothing more than to get his hands dirty and make a change in the battle, but all the counsel he received advised against that. Yet then… reports became faster, and the news was unilaterally good.

Activity ceased in this section of the city. A certain vital building was seized. Grimalt’s division handled no more approaching Guardians. Letter after letter became positive where they had been negligible, all of it reminded Argrave that this fight wasn’t his alone. And in time, the people sent below started returning, foremost among them Anneliese.

Argrave walked out to greet her, and she looked between Orion and him. He asked at once, “How is it? I mean, if you’re here…”

“Should be safe to enter,” Anneliese confirmed.

Argrave started beaming. “Well, that’s…” he chuckled quietly. “Good lord. How’d it go?”

“Quite well,” Anneliese nodded, pride showing through. “We did it clean. No brashness, no misbehaving… but perhaps you ought to see for yourself. I think you will be quite pleased.”

#####

Orion pushed open a great stone door, putting his all into moving it. It stood perhaps thirty feet tall, but he moved the giant slabs of stone all the same. Beyond, it revealed a great stone chamber.

“I’m telling you, this place would make a great Order branch,” Argrave said as he advanced, talking to Castro. “Forget the headquarters we just walked through—there’s this place. An underground training area. It’s every bit as advanced as the Tower of the Gray Owl. Might even be more advanced.”

Argrave, Castro, and Orion proceeded into the wide-open arena. On every corner, one could see enchantments that warded against all sorts of magical damage. They were as strong as the one that blocked them out of the library. S-rank spellcasters could fight here, surely. Enchantments kept it lit like a stadium, though some lights had faded giving it strange, twisted lighting.

“An Order branch? You just want free security for this place, I think,” Castro noted shrewdly. “And nothing would be better than moving some Magisters into Nodremaid.”

“Well…” Argrave put his hands on his hip, eyes moving about the place. “You’ve got me there. But am I wrong? Nodremaid, this place… we can revive it, without all the weird twisted undead. A city of both Vasquer and the Burnt Desert.”

As Anneliese described, their victory over the Guardians of the Low Way had been thorough and complete. It was a systematic elimination of the mindless fiends, and marked a stark victory. In another few days, they’d settle in, fortify this place, and then head beyond to seal the alliance between the Burnt Desert and Vasquer.

And Argrave would meet the Alchemist once more.

“How concerning is the Ebon Cult?” Castro asked suddenly.

Argrave looked at him. He debated what to exclude or include, but after a silent hesitance decided to be honest. “At present… they’re more advanced than us. They have salvaged dwarven weaponry. It’s not as potent as freshly-forged stuff, but it can cleave through steel when given average strength. And with Mozzahr’s Emptiness enhancing them?” Argrave shook his head. “The dwarves are magicless. Dwarven metal resists magic to a large degree.

“And beyond that, they’ve got plenty of spellcasters,” Argrave continued as he paced around. “They’ve been using leftover dwarven contraptions to collect spirits. Meaning, they already have shamanic magic.” Argrave sighed. “It’s bleak. It’s very bleak. I won’t begin this fight in earnest without shrinking that gap.”

Castro listened silently, and when Argrave finished gave once last look to the arena. Then, he focused on Argrave.

Castro began, “This is a good arena. So, I think it’s time I learn how you fight.”

Argrave looked at him, brows furrowed. He chuckled, asking, “What?”

“Fight me like you wish to kill me,” Castro said calmly. “Right here, right now.”

Argrave stared at Castro for a few seconds in silence, then looked at Orion. As he gave the man the nod to give them space, his Brumesingers scampered out of his coat, landing on the ground gracefully. They sat around his feet, peering at Castro with their golden eyes.

“You’re sure about this?” Argrave asked one last time.

“I need to learn how to instruct you,” Castro said. “I’ll hit back, don’t worry. It’ll all be illusory spells of pain like you’re used to.”

“But, uhh… I don’t know any spells like that,” Argrave pointed at him. “And you…”

“I don’t think I need worry.”

When Castro said that, Argrave allowed himself to be convinced. Truth be told, he felt a competitiveness as strong as his nervousness. At once, Argrave held up his left hand, allowing [Electric Eels] to come forth freely. The right hand called upon a tried tactic—his [Nine-Tailed Bloodbriars]. It drained from his silver bracer, and then the spell spanned the distance between them quickly. This attack could easily tear through any meager defense, as he’d demonstrated in the Bloodwoods.

Argrave expected an S-rank ward to block these spells—it was the only thing that might—but no. Castro sent forth a spell of wind with his near-instantaneous casting speed, and a humble ball of writhing wind bounced forth. When the first tail of the whip struck, the ball exploded in a powerful burst. Castro jumped back, casting another spell that wrapped his body with wind… and away he went, flying far out of reach as he drifted daintily down.

Argrave, diligently creating [Electric Eels] all the while, called upon an A-rank spell he’d learned, hoping to catch Castro on the backstep. A ball of lightning burst from his right hand. This spell, [Blindstrike], consisted of two attacks—the ball of lightning and the follow-up, fittingly attacking opposite where the ball struck with a bolt of lightning faster than sight.

The ball was incredibly fast—far faster than the eels—and Argrave hoped only to force Castro to guard with a ward. The man instead merely sent out a wave of water, and the ball struck it solidly. A great crack echoed through the air as its follow-up attack occurred, and Argrave hoped the bolt might still hit… but instead, Argrave felt pain fill his head, and he clutched his forehead as he kneeled. The illusion quickly faded.

When he looked up, Castro stood far away, unharmed. Even during all of that mayhem, the tower master had managed to get a hit in with his illusion magic. Argrave straightened, his stubbornness flaring.

“I like your lack of hesitation. You react quickly. You’ve clearly been in battles of life or death, but those spells of mine were all C-rank,” Castro gestured toward Argrave. “I’ll save more for later. Use your A-rank ascension. I need to judge it, too.”

“Was just about to,” Argrave called back. Previously he’d refrained to conserve resources… but these thoughts were to the wind, now, as he prepared [Bloodfeud Bow], sparking eels circling about him. He no longer worried about hurting the old man.