Once everyone had set up camp, Argrave stole away from the encampment just before dusk and headed for the ring of verdancy beyond Vysenn. It was difficult for them to do so because their forces performed their duty of night watch seriously. Argrave took comfort in that fact, seeing it as a sign that these new spellcasters would be able to follow orders well.

It was extremely strange the way the temperature shifted hotter as they walked deeper. Distant plumes of gas rose up into the sky like smoke from chimneys that marked no homes. Argrave intended to keep one principle in mind—avoid low elevations, as it was there the heavier volcanic gases would pool. Some of the wildlife might prove troublesome, but Argrave was well prepared to home in on their objective—the salamanders needed for regeneration of body parts.

Argrave ran various strategies through his head, recalling details about the dozen or so tribal chieftains he might use to his advantage. This would be his first time navigating a situation with so many characters of varying interest with roughly equal factional strength. The tribes of the alabaster-skinned men in the hills were not especially small in number, yet the culture varied between each so much.

“The ground shakes,” commented Galamon as they neared.

Argrave paused, holding Anneliese to stop her as they tried the same thing. After a few seconds of nothing, he suggested tentatively, “…perhaps it just does that. As you recall, even if I’ve been here, I’ve never been here.”

Galamon walked ahead, saying nothing. “No,” he finally said. “This… comes rhythmically. Mining, or hammering.”

Argrave furrowed his brows. “I… let’s hurry,” he said, instinct flaring to tell him that this might be bad.

They proceeded further. As they did, Galamon’s account of what he felt solidified. It had a set rhythm—each shake that came did so synchronously, yet it wasn’t unified in origin. That cemented Argrave’s thoughts, and he hurried to take a high elevation to confirm them. When they did, Argrave spotted something visible even in the low light of dusk.

There was a cloud of what looked to be bugs. In actuality, it wasn’t—it was basalt, crushed into fine particles and writhing about around people who were barely visible behind the cover of the storm.

“Tephramancy,” Argrave said as he stared at the cloud. “Their shamans prepare for war. They’re gathering the loose basalt at the base of the cinder cone.” As his eyes danced across the scene, Argrave calculated things. “It looks like we’re just in time for a battle between tribes. And if they have an enemy, we might gain a friend.”

“Tephramancy?” Anneliese repeated.

Argrave knelt atop the hill, gaze wandering the base of the cinder cone in search of another similar storm of ash. “It’s a genetic magic, like a dragon’s breath, particular to bloodlines within the barbarian tribes—generally chieftains or their families. It uses fine particles spewed by a volcano and collects them in an intangible, manipulable latticework of magic. Given that this magic is limited to one region, I can’t say much more than that. I know the methods of attack or defense in tephramancy, but not details about how it works.”

Anneliese listened and watched in fascination as Galamon stared out across the landscape. “I see them. They’re… unusual in appearance. They distribute steel weapons and hearten their forces for the coming march.”

Argrave rubbed his knee as he knelt. “Alright. I think it’s reasonable to assume these people are the aggressors. We need to find the defenders and see if they’re a cause worth supporting. Some tribes will never tolerate an outsider, and I won’t endanger us with a lost cause. Anneliese, any thoughts?”

Anneliese stepped around the hill, then narrowed her eyes. “Steel weaponry, Galamon?”

Hearing her repeat that drew to attention the fact it was out of place. Not to mention the lack of development in these people, Argrave wasn’t sure they had ready access to steel. Argrave looked to Galamon, looking for his confirmation now just as much as Anneliese’s.

“It is,” Galamon nodded. “Unless… other metals exist.”

“Not here,” Argrave shook his head. “Deeper underground, yes, but not here. Even if it wasn’t steel, the point stands…”

“They should not have it,” Anneliese finished. “Not by your recollection.”

“No,” Argrave confirmed. “Anneliese, could you—”

“Already planned to,” she confirmed, her Starsparrow taking off faster than the eye could see the moment she cast the spell.

Argrave waited anxiously, trying to explain things in his head. Perhaps the barbarians had looted the battlefields—but then, Argrave heard the fighting in Atrus was not especially intensive, and Elenore had been occupied more with negotiations than combat. Other explanations came, but only one prevailed—they had been supplied these weapons by an outside force. And given that Elenore had not told Argrave of such an arrangement…

“Argrave,” Anneliese’s voice cut in as he came to a hypothesis. “I overheard something. They intend to march to an encamped army south.”

It would seem that rather than gaining a friend from an enemy… their only gain was a potent foe.

#####

“Commander Lottherf,” a young soldier stepped into the room, bowing before the man. “Lady Georgina is here to see you.”

“Send,” the man said with a wave of his hand. He was a tall, middle-aged man who, though formidable in stature, had a rich and full face that did not seem to have suffered much hardship. He sat at a table beside the balcony—another meal was already prepared, complete with candles with blue flames that contrasted starkly with the dusk outside.

Georgina entered shortly after, stepping to Lottherf who sat beside the balcony. He didn’t touch his food, only stared at the woman ahead.

“You need to prepare to sally,” Georgina said at once.

“What?” Lottherf furrowed his brows. “Have a seat, eat. Explain.”

Georgina looked at the table and the candles, and her brown eyes hardened further yet. “No. I have things to prepare of my own, and you need to be prepared to sally from Castle Cookpot when the time comes. Soon enough, a storm of ash will poke over the hills, heading for the army encamped on behalf of the claimant, Argrave. The force wreathed in ash is formidable alone, but with the Unhanded Coalition and all the men at your disposal… we can wipe out their army in one fell swoop.”

Lottherf touched the collar of his shirt, some frustration on his face. Then, his nose wrinkled. “You smell of sulfur. Then, these barbarians… they’re finally coming?” He rose to his feet. “I thought His Majesty needed something else from them beyond mere bodies in war.”

“No longer,” Georgina shook her head. “I retrieved what I need to heal His Majesty, so they’re no longer of any use. I intend to deliver the cure to him personally once the war is finished. And if you wish to remain in his good graces, I suggest you prepare,” she emphasized.

“You’ll heal him? Then I suppose you will be the Unhanded Coalition no longer.” the commander laughed, but when Georgina did not join him he trailed off awkwardly.

“A battle comes.” Her eyes scanned him. “I expect you to wear steel instead of satin. If you want to impress me, you might lead the charge.”

With that, Georgina turned and walked away. Lottherf watched her walk away with a clenched jaw. Once she shut the door behind her, he backhanded the candles away, cursing under his breath, “…stuck up, pretentious…”

With one arm on the table, the commander stewed in silence for a few moments. With a decisive slam on the table, he rose, retrieving his belt with his sword attached. He strung it over his shoulder as he walked towards the door with heavy steps.

#####

“So, Elenore knows what’s coming. And Vasilisa received the message?” Argrave asked Anneliese, who nodded, Starsparrow atop her finger. “And she responded in the affirmative?”

“She cursed at you a lot, but by the time I left she was getting everyone together for the march.” Anneliese crossed her arms and looked to the tephra storm, which by now was almost entirely shrouded by the transition from dusk to night. “Vera… elected not to come. She said that her spell of transportation was too costly to provide real help in the fight after, and I can say she was not lying. She will arrive with the others.”

“And what of bringing other people?” Argrave held his hands out. “Hegazar, Vasilisa, the other A-rank mages?!”

“…if you intend to respond…” Anneliese began. “I can send the message. Personally, I do not think she will bend on this. Her personal safety is paramount to her. She will not head to an armed conflict with poor reserves of magic.”

Instead of growing angry, Argrave closed his eyes and focused on more important matters. After a few moments, he opened them. “If Vasilisa is moving… we should go, get ahead of the barbarian’s march. If their warriors are within the storm, my lightning will be useless—it’ll dissipate on the tephra long before it makes contact with anyone. With only Elenore’s forces as support, the best we can manage is holding out. Even with B-rank spells at our disposal, tephramancy can’t be underestimated. Until the spellcasters arrive, we’ll be at a massive disadvantage.”

Anneliese kept her gaze focused ahead and declared, “I believe they move, now.”

“They do,” Galamon confirmed.

“Good lord…” Argrave stepped down the hill slightly. “The only benefit we have is our small number—we can move quicker than they can. So, let’s go.”

“Hold,” Anneliese grabbed Argrave’s arm. “I am certain Elenore will be expecting this, too, but… what if the force that supplied these barbarians attacks at the same time?”

“I don’t think we have another choice, here. The barbarians, especially when they have weapons on hand, will cut through our army like volcanic rock through butter. And losing limbs is hardly a deterrent to these freaks,” Argrave said, freeing his arm gently. “Whatever comes… all we can do is deal with it. We’re the closest.”

Anneliese took a deep breath. “Alright. Then let us hasten.”

“Right,” Argrave said, then set off down the hill.

Anneliese stood still for a few moments, then looked at her hand. She moved her fingers gingerly, then looked to the cloud of black debris shrouding the warriors as they marched away. With a determined nod, she followed after. Unlike Argrave, she seemed confident in what was to come, as though there was some secret she bore.