A round table, large enough for all leaders to attend. Servants ran to and fro, completing requests for food and drink or to procure materials for what would be an extended meeting. Some servants were Uxsons who were unable to fight, forced into the most pitiful of work so they could feed themselves. Others were slaves who had crawled up from the lowliest of jobs to become a servant at the direct beck and call of high-ranking Uxsons, a sign of pride and hard work rewarded. Though where the shackles had held them still showed clearly.

  Most of the other attendants had already arrived. His father strode in front, then rested himself in his throne of honor. Cadell bowed, then walked to seat himself in the section allotted to his family. Three brothers, two older and one younger, and one sister. All half-siblings, even among themselves. He took his position according to the year of his birth.

  No one said a word to him, though Ungren snickered at his joining them. He was the youngest and made his detest the most outspoken. Aeld’s eyes followed Cadell, but he said nothing. The regality was a front; he was hated by him more than anyone else. The seat marking him as the eldest would not assist his mood either, though none of that showed through the disguise.

  Cadell met Slag’s eyes. Hard as ever. He had three other sisters, though they were not warriors, and two had been shipped off for political marriages. All his siblings were completing their duties magnificently. All except for him.

  The other chairs were reserved for the best of their people. The Divine Hammers. All were already seated, though their features displayed varying levels of interest in the creation of their grand plan.

  Unlike the Royal Family, they did not sit in order of rank. It was a deeply contested topic with the generals, where duels and re-evaluations were constantly requested.

  Cadell could somewhat understand. The title of Divine Hammer was an ancient honor, one slowly slipping away as time progressed due to the nature of its conceit. As history told them, the Divine Hammers were created by the first Dark King, an elite unit of the strongest warriors ranked by their strength. There are various conflicting records on the starting number of soldiers. Two-hundred fifty? One-hundred? Five-hundred? In any case, their unit had a starting number far vaster than the current age.

  The Dark King had proclaimed a rule. If a Divine Hammer were to fall in combat to enemies, that would remove a possible seat from the unit. To the Drajin and other enemies, that may appear a thing of honor, but to the Uxsons it was nothing but disgrace. Death to any other reason did not remove a seat, meaning accidents, disease, old age, or even duels against fellow Divine Hammers would not remove the seat. Constant infighting for a better rank and the fear of falling into disgrace by perishing in battle spurred their strength to grow.

  But in any army, there will be casualties. As time progressed, only the best of the best would become and retain the title, until the point where there were too few to form a unit. And now there were only eight, but they were the pinnacle of strength in the world. Their importance was so key to their civilization that they outranked royals in most cases, and before the advent of a Dark King would support any Uxson warlord they so chose. Only one stood above them. When a ruler of Uxsons united its people.

  Frieda met his eyes and smiled. He nodded back in recognition.

  Rune’s attention was elsewhere, apparently satisfied at the completion of his strange rituals earlier.

  Vhorn was speaking loudly to Magna of some debauchery or another. The Seventh Divine Hammer had been in an excellent mood since he had returned, due to a run-in with some exceptional warriors. Magna’s laugh rocked the room, as inappropriate and rattling as the man himself.

  The other leaders and warriors who led soldiers filed in, taking seats at surrounding tables. Once everyone had settled, the discussion became furious, and the room was in chaos.

  Cadell’s father silenced that easily enough. The summoning of his deity quieted all discourse. Every Uxson waited for the words of their leader.

  “Our force will be ready to strike at the start of channao. With the rising of our God, our preferred battlefield will be open.” The Dark King proclaimed.

  “My Liege, what of their counteroffensive?” Frieda asked. “Do you not believe the Drajin will attempt to strike at us during the beginning of summer?”

  The ruler chuckled. “What can they do? Those fools have yet to unite.”

  It was Frieda’s turn to laugh lightly with a smirk. “The Promised One is doing quite a good job on that front.”

  The Dark King scowled. “The Promised One. That prophesied messiah, that the Drajin insist exists. Such foolishness.”

  “Oh, but they are convinced Artowen will complete their unification and defeat you, Sliva. In fact, all Kingdoms have signed onto the treaty currently.”

  “Even that fool Cwach?”

  She nodded. “I am convinced that the boy is coming for you, My Liege. Perhaps you will have to draw your axe and cut him down yourself. That is, unless their prophecy and God have more agency than ours.”

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  That stirred the room. Cries of her name resounded in the room, even some from Divine Hammers. Cadell’s brother Ungren was unseated in anger. But it did not matter. There was nothing they could do, even against such an insult. Nothing they could do against that woman.

  Cadell himself ate his laughter at the comment.

  Another pulse of the Dark King’s deity diverted the aggravation.

  “The Territories may try to take advantage as well,” Vhorn announced. “They’ve been trying to haggle with us, and I have some information. The Promised One is trying to pull the Eddgaarites into the alliance as well.”

  “That empire will not bend to a boy’s whims,” Silva said. “Still, if the Citizens are showing interest in our battle, it might do well to align ourselves with them, or deter a decision that slights us.”

  “Allow me, My Liege,” Vhorn continued, “I am stationed at the border often, and already have relations. I should be able to dissuade them.”

  “You have my blessing, Vhorn. However, do not create an enemy ready to throw everything at us. The Territories will be destroyed in time, but we must first focus on the Drajin Kingdoms.”

  “Yes, My Liege.”

  “Also, take my useless son Cadell and his unit. You may be able to put them to some use.”

  Vhorn was a terrible person, but a competent general. There were far worse choices to be put under. His father might think he was punishing him by sending him on a diplomatic mission to the Territory, but he couldn’t have been more incorrect. Cadell hid his smile. To witness another culture, and not do battle. Those were things he could only be happy about, even if the distance to travel was far.

  “As for this so-called Promised One, I expect you to end him on sight.” The Dark King declared. “I do not care what that witch Idwyn has to say; push past her. The possibility of Drajin unification may be distant, but it is not impossible. I will not entertain the idea of that future. With him gone, it is certain that a Drajin counteroffensive will not begin before we are ready to strike.”

  Rune leaned forward. “As for Lenda and Zernau, My Liege, please leave them to me. I am more skilled in manipulation than the fool Frieda.”

  She laughed heartily. “I would love to see you speak with your face in the dirt, Rune. Must I remind you where you stand? Besides, Cwach will not bend to the Promised One easily. He will fall in line with us soon enough.”

  A priest entered the war council. Robed in purple to match their idol, they said, “My Liege, allow me to bless this council before it continues further.”

  With a sigh, the Dark King said, “Commence. Remind all here of our future glory, and what this meeting truly means.”

  The priest began to hum, then his voice rose into a crescendo. “When the Lord of the Isle, the Dark King, arises, everything will change. When Muraaul awakens, our God shall bless our Messiah. We pray for safe arrival, as our God and their instrument carve us a new home. As prophesied, there will no longer be Drajin or Citizens. Only Uxsons. Amen.”

  Cadell walked the hallways. Despite it being far into the night, the Keep was still bustling with life. That was how it always was, though, time seeming to have no effect on the energy of the fortress’s residents.

  The war council had gone long. Various schemes and confrontations had occurred, but luckily, he had not been the focus. Perhaps the insult that his father had levied against him had turned into a blessing, as his orders had been issued at the beginning of the meeting.

  This would not be the last one, however. This was just the beginning of their planning for their grand war coming in channao. Their King would be busy with all of it, the constant flux of their military strategy.

  For now, Cadell had escaped from the hole that eviscerated time. Eventually, he wished to be in a position that dealt with such things, but for now, he only had his status as Prince that he could barely cling to.

  There was only one man whom he truly trusted in Black Perch Keep. An old fool who always had to be dragged from his favorite place if any work was to be done.

  Through a tall set of doors, he entered the room. Barred to most Uxsons and the rest having little interest, was the record hall. Books and scrolls lined the shelves that reached to the roof. The annals of history stretched back further than his eyes could see, as far back as their history.

  As expected, the area was deserted. Generally, only those with a specific mission would visit. Most traffic would come from people with a new piece to inter, whether it be a new written record of a battle or event, or some piece of plundered history from some unfortunate soul.

  However, it was a guarantee that the man he was searching for was here. Most of the time, the old fool would sleep here as well. Cadell walked, avoiding clutter with every step. Books worn by time passed him by. Scrolls that had survived countless fires waited to be read. A leather-bound tome sat stained in the blood of the previous owner.

  The history of not only his people, but of the world.

  Cadell came to a pile of books that was suspiciously human-shaped. With a sigh, he put his hand into the pile up to his shoulder. Wiggling his arm around, he finally felt the distinct feel of cloth. Firmly latching onto it, he dragged his arm from the pile, pulling the bundle of cloth with it.

  Arm finally wretched free; it was not a bundle of cloth, but in fact an old, shriveled man. He clung to a book, reading it intently as he hung midair.

  “Gammand, it can’t be healthy to be scrunched up reading like that,” Cadell admonished. He still held the man.

  “Oh, if it isn’t Young Cadell,” He responded without looking away. “It doesn’t matter, my boy. I’m liable to drop dead at any moment. Enough of that, this is an intriguing record of an unnamed battle on the northern hills six hundred years ago. The Drajin general of the time was quite unorthodox in the deployment of his troops.”

  Cadell finally dropped the old man, but he continued to have his face pressed into the pages. “I have orders.”

  “So you wish for my assistance? Is it something interesting?”

  “Would it matter? You’re coming with me either way.”

  “True, no manner of technique I deploy will deter you. But it would be better for it to be something fun, would you not agree?”

  Cadell laughed. “You always find a way to brighten my spirit.”

  “I am glad to be of use in at least one way.”

  “Oh, please, you’re a hidden talent.”

  “If not for your favor, Young Cadell, I would not exist as I am now.”

  “I only wish that I had been born sooner so you could have led the life you deserved.”

  The old man squinted, his bad eyesight on full display. “They got to you again, did they not? We’ll have to see an apothecary for some remedies when we make it to Gryfinfel.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with these minor injuries. We have more pressing matters.”

  Gammand laughed heartily. “You are right, but I will not have you catching sick. Those fools don’t know your worth. We all believe in you, Cadell.”