Grand Magister Tordal slammed his fist against the desk, demanding, “What?!”

His advisors – morons, every single one of them, as far as he was concerned – shuffled their feet nervously. Perhaps he should make an example of one of them. That would incentivize them to perform better. But then again, they were idiots, so maybe they’d already hit the limits of their capability. In that case, it might be time to prune their ranks and bring in some fresh blood.

“So? No response?” he growled. “No explanations? We’re losing a war to savages and monsters, and you have nothing?!”

As he screamed the last question, his mana flexed. One of the advisors – Tordal didn’t even remember the man’s name – crumpled to the tiled floor, where he lay twitching. The other three men swooned, but they at least maintained their feet, if unsteadily. Normally, the Grand Magister wouldn’t have let his aura leak – he had better control than that – but he was rarely so angry as he was in that moment. With his frustration and anger as context, a little slip was more than understandable.

“They didn’t give an explanation, your grace,” the longest-tenured advisor said. He was level sixty, at least, which meant that he’d spent a little time out in the field. By comparison, the others were useless dandies fresh from training. “The messenger they sent only said that they expect us to handle our own problems. If we can’t, then…”

He trailed off. Tordal demanded, “Then what?”

“Then we don’t deserve their alliance,” the advisor answered, his voice small and pitiful as his eyes found the floor.

With a growl of fury, Tordal swept his arm across his desk, scattering the map, paper weights, and writing utensils onto the floor. They hit with a clatter, and Tordal’s every muscle tightened. In addition, his aura slipped out of his control, and to disastrous effect. All but the level sixty advisor dropped to the ground, where they seized and frothed at the mouth like rabid animals.

It was disgusting.

It was weak.

Tordal wanted nothing more than to truly let loose and rid the world of the stain of those weaklings’ existence. Yet, he did not. The advisors were meant to be the best Adontis had to offer – at least in terms of their minds – and so, they represented his best chance of the kingdom’s redemption. So, he pulled back, forcing himself to some semblance of calm. When he had his aura controlled, the men on the floor – boys, really, especially compared to him – ceased their interminable twitching. Yet, they did not recover, and he knew they wouldn’t for some time. So, he signaled to a pair of guards – men with proper levels – who saluted, then started dragging those weaklings away.

That left only the senior advisor, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but directly in front of Tordal.

“So,” he said. “Our allies refuse to honor the alliance.”

“That…is…yes, your grace,” the man answered. “They did not say so outright, merely expressing that –”

“That we should handle our own problems,” Tordal said, gesturing for silence. “Yes. I understand that much, at least.”

It made no sense. What good was an alliance – especially one that was so blatantly in favor of the newly minted Imperium and the Radiant Host – if they wouldn’t respond when Adontis had been invaded by monsters? That was the whole point of an alliance, after all. Adontis allowed the Radiant Host access to their dungeon, as well as their most talented warriors, and the Imperium was meant to help them against outside threats.

Yet, he understood why they wouldn’t want to extend help. After all, if Adontis couldn’t defend against such a force, then they weren’t worthy of the alliance to begin with. On top of that, the Imperium likely had plans to swoop in once Adontis had fallen, deal with the invading beasts, and take the land – and the dungeon – for themselves.

That marked a change in policy for the Radiant Host. Before, they’d been mostly contained to their own lands. Certainly, they ventured out on various crusades, but those were meant to cleanse the world of one blightful presence or another. The goal was never expansion. However, that foreign policy had changed when Ignatius – the man who’d redubbed the land the Imperium – had come into power. Since then, he’d adopted a policy of aggressive expansion, even sending an army to fight the Norik Alliance.

And every indication suggested that he didn’t intend to stop there. Spora and Sythe would clearly be next, and there was even a chance that Ignatius’ goals extended all the way to Westport. To believe that Adontis would escape their fate was the height of naivete, yet any preparations or response Tordal might implement was hamstrung by the invading army of monsters.

He could do nothing until they were defeated.

At least he and the bulk of his army were safe behind the Barrier. Without it, he might have feared Adontis’ fall. But with that – not to mention Lord Adontis himself – the kingdom’s survival seemed assured. The only questions were how much population would be left after the monsters completed their rampage and how long it would take to retake their lands.

But if they did, there was a chance that Tordal could turn the situation to Adontis’ advantage. After all, when Ignatius had taken control of the Radiant Host and established the Imperium, he’d signaled to the rest of the Eternal Realm that the Arch Magi Erdokan, who’d once stood at the head of the Radiant host, was no longer in the picture. Perhaps he’d been killed – unlikely – or maybe he’d ascended. Either way, the notoriously proud Erdokan would never have tolerated someone like Ignatius taking over.

That meant that, for the first time in recent memory, the Radiant Host was vulnerable. And if Tordal could defeat the horde of monsters at his proverbial gate, he and the other survivors could easily turn their attention to other lands. If the Imperium was hellbent on expansion, then so too could Adontis be.

After all, conflict brought progression, and the survivors of the war would doubtless be much stronger by the time they overcame the obstacles in their way. So, it only stood to reason that they would then turn that newfound strength to the so-called allies who had refused to come to their aid.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The mere thought was enough to assuage his anger and bring a slight smile to his face. “What of Karik? Is he truly dead?” he asked.

“He has succumbed, your grace,” the aide stated. “The captains of the airships that conveyed them across the labyrinth narrowly escaped before being overrun, but they saw the lord’s fall. He is gone.”

That was even better. Karik had never truly sought advancement. He was obsessed with increasing his personal power, but he’d never dabbled in politics. Still, the reality of his presence – and his questionable loyalty – were enough to dissuade Tordal from making any major moves. Now that he was gone, it was just another complication gone. Certainly, the loss was a major blow to the military might of Adontis. That was unquestioned. Yet, they had other powerful Knights to take his place.

“What do you wish us to do, your grace?” asked the aide. “What orders should I convey?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“We are already ensconced behind the Barrier, where we are well-equipped for a siege,” Tordal stated. “Let the monsters come. They will crash against the Barrier like every other foe who has challenged it. When they are rebuffed, they will wander off, just like every other monster horde that has ever existed. We needn’t do anything. They will fail because of their natures.”

“But your grace –”

Tordal cut his eyes at the aide, letting loose the tiniest surge of his aura. The young man paled as the Grand Magister said, “You would do well not to question me, child. Do you understand?”

The aide paled, but he managed to nod before saying, “Yes, your grace. I apologize for my impertinence.”

Tordal waved his hand, shooing the aide away as he said, “You are dismissed. Do not disappoint me.”

The young man bowed, then backed out of Tordal’s office. After the door shut behind the aide, Tordal pushed away from the desk before turning to face the window. Outside, the city of Ivern spread gloriously across the land. Silvery marble shone in the moonlight, soothing Tordal’s agitation. It had taken years to quarry the special stone, but it had been well worth it. It was a fitting way to show the majesty of Adontis.

Yet, of late, Tordal had begun to doubt the kingdom’s path. Originally, the kingdom had been founded by a rogue member of the Radiant Host, but over time, they had nurtured a profitable relationship with the much larger force. As such, the collective path of the Knights of Adontis had shifted from a theme based on the sun to one of reflected light. In short, they’d developed skills based on the moon.

And it had so far been enough.

However, he couldn’t help but wonder if the monsters at their gate would have been quite so bold if they’d had to deal with the radiance of the sun rather than a mere reflection of its powerful light.

Perhaps.

But he thought not. As strong as the Knights of Adontis were, their path was clearly inferior to that of radiance. In any case, it wasn’t as if they could simply change their path overnight. At present, they were stuck, but he hoped that they would soon change course. Otherwise, they would never outshine the Imperium.

For a while, Tordal simply observed the city until there was a knock on the door. He said, “Come.”

“Your grace?” came the gruff voice of one of his guards. Tordal turned, gesturing for the man to continue, “Lord Adontis has emerged from meditation, and he wishes to see you.”

Tordal swallowed at the notion of seeing his uncle. He didn’t have as much to fear of the powerful man as most – after all, the chances that Lord Adontis would kill his own blood were slim – yet Tordal knew that he wasn’t immune to reprimand. And from vast experience throughout his long life, he knew that Lord Adontis’ attention was rarely pleasant.

Still, he couldn’t avoid a direct summons, so he simply nodded to the guard and stepped away from the window. After gathering his cape and affixing it to his shoulders, he checked himself in the mirror he’d had installed. His reflection pleased him, and rightly so. He was the perfect picture of a commanding Knight, with broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and a slim waist. His blonde hair had only a hint of gray, and his beard had been perfectly shaped. The same was true of his face, which had been adjusted by the very best {Flesh Shapers} available.

But even then, he feared that his uncle would find some fault. He always did.

So, Tordal spent a few extra minutes inspecting his pristine armor for smudges or scratches, and only when he’d found none did he take a deep breath, then leave his office behind. Over the next few minutes, he made his way through the keep, barely seeing the rich décor or acknowledging the attentive Knights standing guard. They would have been impressive, had he not been subjected to their presence throughout his long life. Yet he’d grown so used to them that he hardly even noticed treasures that would have beggared lesser nations.

Eventually, he found his way to his destination, passing through the massive blood oak doors – an affectation meant to show that his uncle didn’t fear the undead lands of El’kireth – and progressed down the hall. After a few twists and turns, he reached a massive chamber, in the center of which was Lord Adontis himself.

And even Tordal, who’d grown up in the man’s shadow, was awed by his domineering presence.

Lord Hector Adontis was, in a word, perfect. Appearing to be a man in his late twenties, he was even more broad-shouldered than Tordal, with rippling muscles that made him look like the god he’d come so close to becoming. In addition, his golden locks hung to his shoulders, and his beardless face sported a square jaw and high cheekbones. He looked like a character ripped out of a storybook, and Tordal could admit – at least in his own mind – to a healthy degree of jealousy.

As he approached, Hector remained kneeling in the center of the massive chamber. Momentous flows of mana swirled all around the most powerful man Tordal had ever seen in person, and in that moment, he couldn’t imagine that anyone could stand up to such an august figure.

Yet, Lord Adontis was only level eighty-three.

What would it feel like to be in the presence of someone who’d reached into the nineties? Or worse, if they had reached the peak, as was the rumor with the Arch Magi Erdikan. That degree of power was hard to contemplate.

Hector flicked his eyes open, took one look at Tordal, and sighed. “As disappointing as always,” he said. “I hoped you would have gained at least one level by now. Obviously, I was expecting too much from someone of your meager talent.”

Tordal tightened his fist, but he didn’t speak.

Hector noticed, though, letting out a slight chuckle. “A little fire in you. Perhaps if you directed that at your own progression, you would be higher than level seventy-six.”

Forcing his mind to placidity, Tordal said, “You summoned me, Lord Adontis, and I have arrived.”

“So formal,” Hector said. “We are family. You needn’t stand on ceremony.”

“Very well…uncle,” Tordal said. “May I ask why you summoned me? I was under the impression that you would be in seclusion for some time yet.”

“I expected to be,” Hector stated, finally rising. “But when I felt the Barrier engage, I decided to investigate. To my eternal disappointment, I have found that you have allowed half the kingdom to fall under the sway of monsters. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Tordal started to speak, but before he could get more than the first word out, Hector’s aura flared, enveloping him. He fell to his knees, struggling to breathe. His muscles locked up, and his heart threatened to give out.

“I…I didn’t –”

“Enough!” Hector thundered, clearly having no intention of listening to his nephew’s explanation. “I need none of your excuses!”

He stepped forward, then put his hand on Tordal’s head. “You are a disgrace to your level and kingdom,” he said sadly. “If your mother could see you now, she would fall on her own sword in shame. You will fix this. You will defeat the monsters rampaging through our kingdom and bring our slaves and peasants back under our banner. Do you understand?”

“I…d-do…”

Hector’s aura faded, and Tordal gasped for breath. “Good,” the leader of Adontis said. “Very good. Now, tell me how you intend to accomplish what is required of you.”