First on the left.

The captain whispered, his voice hoarse and slightly muffled from behind the rangers mask. His eyes, one iris a soft hazel and the other an icy blue studied the distance carefully. He was in a company of seven, white-cloaked rangers each taking specific positions in the snowy thicket that flanked this lonely road. They had been tracking a smugglers caravan for the past two weeks, and after finally ascertaining it was the one they were looking for, he made the decision to hustle ahead and plan for an ambush. He gave a reassuring pat to the man beside him, who looked back and returned a nod. Gracefully moving through the brush, he stopped at his next man, whispering.

Second from the left.

The ranger nodded in acknowledgement, his hand toying with the bow in his grasp. The captain could tell he was nervous, this one was particularly young, maybe even the youngest under his command. Eighteen maybe? Two years before the standardized time for warrior placement. Though, he knew there was leeway with the system should a possible Imperial prospect show eagerness to throw his life before the altar of war. Though the boy could not see it, his officer gave a soft smile from underneath his mask, placing a comforting hand on his soldier's head before moving on.

Third from the left.
First on the right.
Second from the right.

Driver.

Captain Wintergate, or Lanik to his inner circle of friends and even to a few of his enlisted officers, much to the chagrin of those with more bearing than him. He was the middle child of the legendary Gregoir Wintergate, a burly man in himself who swung a mighty battle-ax in the name of the King. The surname Wintergate bore very reputable weight, for they were one of the first families (under the masterful eyes of Gregoir of course) to emblazon a path that allowed settlements to sprout along the outermost fringes of Northavens shadow. The mountains provided a natural barrier to any sort of threat the unknown North posed to the Empire, so House Wintergate lived in relative peace. Relative compared to the other families who immersed themselves in the faculties of war every chance they could get. That's not to say the Wintergate's do not put in their part to the militaristic endeavors of the Imperium -- far from it. They were a family bound on duty and loyalty. That credence was probably why the solitary family remained relevant for so long.

And of course to further complicate his position in the family was his late elder brother Marcus Wintergate, who took from their father Gregoir much like Lanik did. Thick tussles of brown hair and fair skin, relatively unblemished save for the occasional scar and cut. But there was something about Marcus that always differentiated him from the regular folk. It must have been the way the people looked at him, admired him. How they hung on every word he spoke as if his dashing smile cured some innate hopelessness the way a poem could strike the soul. In truth, Marcus was the Wintergate golden child. He was charismatic, charming and kind, but more importantly, a fierce competitor in the Imperium's fabled Arena. He was slated to be one of the Imperium's greatest champions, and he was for quite awhile. His renown had earned him the respect of one of the most prominent noble houses of the Coronal Islands, the Cheshires, which led to an arranged marriage between Marcus and an olive-skinned beauty of the isles. Were not Marcus struck down deep in the forests of Aetherion, Lanik was sure they would have made a happy couple. Unfortunately with Marcus' passing, the Cheshire woman's hand went to the next in line. Which was the Lanik child.

Life has a way of striking away at idealists, and a piece of Lanik's heart broke when he found out about his elder brothers passing. He received the news days after his last assessment in Midhavens Carpenters Guild. It had shattered his world, and it took Lanik quite awhile to heal from it. Marcus was really the only one who understood Lanik's tendency towards all things engineering as opposed to the Imperial obsession with bloodshed. The two would stay up to the latest hours of the night, and Marcus would listen quietly to Lanik's ramblings about new schematics for a monastery or how to improve on an out-dated design of the ballistae in the Imperium's arsenal. No, instead of Marcus Lanik was given his brother's fiance, though however beautiful, never sat well with the captain. He understood why such a move was made, to strengthen political and family ties between the two houses, but... why did it have to be him? Surely Darian, the youngest of the three could have taken up that mantle (and truth be told they probably are behind his back, judging by how often she frequents his little brothers estate near the Eastern front). Whatever there was to the matter, Lanik did not understand it. But, however disgruntled the captain was, the woman had begotten him a beautiful daughter.

Marië.

Lanik couldn't help but smile at the thought. His little mare's very name afforded him a semblance of happiness. She had become the star of his world, a bright eyed little girl with an even brighter curiosity. Why do birds sing when they fly? Do horses sleep standing up? Are there as many stars in the sky as there are people? Questions like these were all too common with Mari, and Lanik always did his best to answer them. It was because of Marië the captain opted to serve in Wintergate's Ranger Covenant, foregoing his little brothers path that carved its way to the Aetherion front, where true blood and glory lay. Lanik did not care for glory, nor blood. All he cared about was returning to Marië in one piece. Here brushing the outskirts of Northaven, Lanik's duties usually amounted to no more than routine patrols and the odd smugglers caravan trying to sneak its way past the border. And he was content with that.

It wasn't too long until the wheels of the rickety caravan could be heard trudging down the path. The men were attentive. The captain through hushed words spoke one last time to them before bounding off to a position overlooking the road, thick with bushes and trees.

Wait for my signal.

Positioning himself, the captain waited. While well-versed in open field combat, as most Imperial outfits prefer, Lanik Wintergate had unorthodox methods and as a whole frowned upon by many of the other Imperial officers. He sectioned off his cohorts into smaller groups, called strike teams, much like the outfit he was working with now, to promote mobility and self-sufficiency. And no man under his command specialized in a single thing. They were Jack's-of-all masters at none. His men would be the most versatile in the entire Imperium if he had his say.

Nocking an arrow, Lanik zeroed in on his target, the passenger. Although he didn't share a passion for war like his younger brother, that's not to say the captain was unskilled in the craft of killing. Every Imperial citizen was a ferocious warrior in their own right, forged from a young age to be fierce weapons sworn to the King. Lanik was no different, and while not the almighty prodigy during training as Marcus was, the captain held true to his own. It wasn't long until the caravan was settled in the kill-zone.

The arrow released, cutting through the cold mountain air with a sinister hiss. His aim true, the passenger not long after was clutching at his throat, streaks of blood squirting out in intervals here and there. Seconds after six more arrows found their targets, and within seconds six more bodies were lying in the snow. The wagon came to a halt, and for a second there the forest fell deadly silent, almost peaceful, a strange dichotomy with the dead men that lay before them, slowly spilling themselves out into the whiteness of the snow. Lanik waited, quietly observant of the scene before him. Then there was a loud cry, and a small figure took off running full sprint from behind the wagon. Not even thinking Lanik notched another arrow, tracing the figures path before firing. His target dropped, and not long after another figure came sprinting from behind the wagon, kneeling before the captain’s kill and holding the body close. Pausing for a moment, Lanik looked back to where his men were hiding, signalling them towards the set before them. Leading the way, the hunter approached his kill, cautiously, curious as to who this man was.

“My sweet boy.. . speak to me,” the old father pleaded, his animal fur clothes ragged and unkempt, much like the body he hold onto so dearly, “Don't leave me please... we were going to make it,”

The body could not have been no more than ten... eleven maybe? Lanik could feel a lump in his throat, and a twist in his stomach. The father paid no attention to the captain, completely encapsulated by the loss of his son. A light snowfall had begun, and whether or not it was the cutting mountain air that chilled his soul or the scene before him Lanik could not decide.

"Captain Wintergate," a voice said behind him with approaching footsteps, "They were smuggling Sol-crystals, two crates full. I'm sure the mages at Northaven will enjoy.. ." the voice trailed off, interrupted by quiet sobs, and the shattering of hearts.

It seemed that Sol-crystals were a popular item as of late. A rare magical ingredient mined deep in the mountains of the North. Lanik looked back.

"Rally the men lieutenant, and prepare the crates to move," he ordered, "We leave at once,"

"And them sir?"

Leave them be.

✱ ✲ ✳ ✴ ✵

The trek back to camp had been a quiet one, the captain in an empty trance the entire way. The Imperium thrived off war, and it wasn't like this was the first man he had killed. Boys at a young age were indoctrinated to revel in the fight, success determined by the death of the enemy combatant. But why did it affect him so deeply? He gathered himself, sighting smoke from camp bonfires floating up ahead in the distance. Lanik couldn't define what he was feeling... maybe guilt? Sorrow? Weary? His gut twisted at the thought of being placed in the fathers position. To hold Marië in her dying breaths, pleading to whatever powers be to save his child. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind before they drew close.

"So captain, tell me," his lieutenant spoke up from the middle of the group, "Lord Wintergate has all of his capable field men-at-arms fighting on the Aetherion front, yes? Well as I recall we were supposed to decimate those elves long ago. It's been six months since I've last heard that -- and I know, I know," he spit, "Campaigns rarely ever match the timeline expected of them. But if it's taking so long why not send some of us? I'm itching for some real combat, not these sorry smugglers we spend days tracking into the middle of nowhere,"

Lanik forced an ominous grin, "If you'd really wanted that lieutenant you’d have enlisted with the field-regiments, but you're here, scrounging the winter tundra in a white cloak. Don't tell me you’re regretting it already?"

"Far from it sir," his lieutenant laughed, "I love what I do, don't get me wrong, but I hear about all these fantastical battles in those forests and a part of me wishes I could be there. Cast my name into legend like your brother Marcus and fight the good fight, for the King. Do you not wish that of yourself as well?"

It was the tail-end of the evening, brilliant red streaks eviscerating the mountain sky in a colorful show of power. It truly was a beautiful sight, a sight that Lanik never got used to. He enjoyed the mountains, the solidarity and calm they provided in a world always on the warpath. He was not an idealist, in fact, he was fairly pragmatic with his approach to duty and subservience to the King, as was his father. Little Darian was really the only one in the family who dreamed of renown and celebrity substance. Marcus and Lanik were always level-headed, though Marcus always knew how to handle his popularity. The captain was the polar opposite, retreating from recognition when placed on the pedestal.

"I wish..." he smirked, “I owned a lovely farm in the West. Where I could raise horses and cattle. A good plot of land so I could build myself a nice barn with a steep roof all out of the most exotic woods. With a creek not far away, so I could fish from the moment I awoke to the moment my casting arm was too sore to move,”

There were chuckles amongst the group.

“You sound like a simple man, captain,” the lieutenant said, laughing.

He really was. Live simply, love simply. Being a Wintergate Ranger was simple. He did not want to complicate life with politics or any other static. Let his father and little brother deal with the gravity of death, he had seen enough of his share. The warlike ideology of the Imperium had always seemed strange to him. And while he understood the importance of duty to your country, at what point does duty subjugate the tens of thousands of people cast into the fires of battle every day. At what point does the Imperium stop expanding? Not that his ideas took on any weight whatsoever, those decisions were made by greater authorities nestled in Midhaven. His daze broke at the sound of hoofs beating towards them.

“Captain Wintergate!” the emissary called out, stopping a distance away and holding out a letter with his father’s seal, “An urgent message from the capital,”

Lanik eyed the man closely before receiving the letter. The group had stopped in their tracks, curious as to what was going on. Opening the letter and breaking the seal, Lanik read carefully the words penned.

Wintergate had a fairly simple military structure. There were two branches: the Fighter’s Covenant and the Ranger’s Covenant. The Fighter’s covenant amassed the bulk of Wintergate’s soldiers and slaves, outfitted for regimental battles and general military excursions where volleys of armed men were seen fit to accomplish a task at hand. Marcus oversaw this Covenant prior to his death, and he was well loved by the men, respected and trusted by even the most acrimonious of Imperial officers. After his passing Lanik’s little brother Darian was placed in control, and while not amounting to the greatness that preceded, Darian was a fine leader as well albeit a tad on the reckless side.

Then there was the Ranger Covenant, smaller in size and unique in that slaves were not permitted to join its ranks. Lord Wintergate created this Covenant after realizing the sprawling stretch of mountains his estates lay in the shadow of, and deemed it necessary to create a group of skilled survivalists ready to patrol and keep a steady eye. They were not elite, far from it, but they were a group of men adaptable to any situation and resourceful to the fullest. Very seldom did the two Covenants fight alongside each other, the last time being during a battle in the Southern most parts of the Imperium. The Rangers were tasked to tunnel deep underground systems throughout enemy lines, wreaking havoc as the Fighter’s advanced slowly ahead. Lanik had led his Rangers during that battle, and refused any sort of accolades afterwards. He had always been afraid of the limelight. But nevertheless it was a rare occurrence for both of Wintergate’s Covenants to be drawn upon. But…

Lanik Wintergate folded the letter and slipped it into his cloak.

“It seems you’ll be getting your wish, lieutenant,” the men looked at one another uneasily.

“Send out the birds, every able-bodied ranger is to report for Imperial duty. We march East,”

Lanik could feel a lump in his throat, and a twist in his stomach.

It was like going to heaven on foot.

The messenger stood before the pearly gates, awaiting a response from the gatemaster to enter into paradise. When the gates opened, he stepped into a glade unlike any other in the world. The trees sighed in the early morning breeze, and a soft golden light poured in from the east. At the center of the glade stood a ring of marble pillars around a table, the place where the High Elf Council met. Two of them were already present; Sadron Aphaderuiondur and Arandur Nostarion, living legends and almost worshipped by mortals, sat in two of the three thrones. "Welcome, Henry Craddish," Sadron said, arms outstretched. "Rest here, and be at peace."

Henry sighed with disgust. "Crud. That means she's in there."
Sadron dropped his arms and shrugged. "Be careful."

Henry raised both eyebrows and turned down the dirt path. A log house stood at the end of it, quaint and unassuming as always. But Henry knew better. He'd carefully marked the locations of all the landmines with pebbles and began to pick his way across the field. He tested the earth with his toes, then gently, ever so gently, placed his foot down. No explosion. This looks promising. He brought in his other foot and glanced about. There was the next marked safe spot! Just like the last time, he stretched out his foot to test the earth. Nothing! He wiped his forehead and brought in his other foot.

*click*

He froze. Surely she hadn't figured out that he knew...but of course she did. That accursed elf would be the death of him. Welp, there's nothing for it. He drew in his breath and stepped off. With a pop and a flash of light, he once again found himself covered from head to toe in glitter. Shoot.

"I hate you," he spat.

The elf peeked outside the cabin door. She had no right, no right to fire those sparkly eyes at him! No sir, he was not falling for that. She had to pay for what she'd done.

"You hate me?" she squeaked.

Darn you. "Well...no. I mean YES! Why do you keep doing this to me?"
"What do you mean by 'keep doing this'? The last time was years ago."
"I'm still picking glitter out of my ears since the last time."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Come on in and I'll get you cleaned up."

He deliberately triggered all the remaining mines on his way in just to spite her. "Don't you ever sometimes step on your own landmines, Eru?" he asked as he stepped through the door and glanced around the room. Contraptions of all sorts piled along the walls. There was a "bi-cycle," "combustion engine," "boom stick," a pile of magic rings, a Cutie-Piezer! staff, and an animatronic sculpture of Arandur, to name a few.

Erudessa Durvain flipped her silver hair and lifted her chin. "Maybe. I certainly wouldn't tell you." A teasing grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. She snapped her fingers, and a healing spell washed over him to remove the glitter.

Henry fished the message out of his bag and handed it to her. "I almost forgot. I have a message for you from the front lines."
Erudessa's playful expression vanished. She plucked the letter from his hands, sawed open the envelope, and flipped open the message. "2 legions at border xing. Snowmen."
"What does that mean?" Henry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Erudessa's eyes narrowed. "It means I have to check the ballista turrets again. Want to come with me?"
"Oh Hell-"
The elf's expression darkened.
"-heck no. I'm still paying off my student loans. I don't have time to fight a bunch of murderous, bloodthirsty barbarians."
"Oh. Want a quick coin then?"
"Just my wages, thanks."

Erudessa flipped a coin in the air. Henry caught it. He almost didn't see her slip another one in his pocket as she brushed past him. "Hey!" he protested.
"It's coming out of your tax money anyway," she muttered back as she threw on her gray cloak & hood.

Henry stepped out to watch her skip easily across the minefield.

"I still hate you," he whispered with a smile.
__________

The Wardens stood to attention and saluted as the High Elf entered the sanctuary. Erudessa stood before the lanky commander and folded her arms. "Commander."
"Your Ladyship."
Erudessa strode over to a wall and leaned on it. "Good to see you in one piece. What happened this time?"
The commander planted his hands on the map table and exhaled. "The Imperium's ranger division happened, Wintergates, if our intel is accurate."
Wintergates, the 'snowmen' in question. They'll be tough. I need to be here for this. "How did you find out about this?" she asked.
"It was a stroke of pure luck. One of our agents was smuggling sol crystals into Northaven when the rangers attacked and killed everyone in the caravan except him. He trailed them and overheard them mention that they were to report for reassignment to the eastern front."

Wait just a minute. Imperials spared someone? And they let him walk away? Something is fishy here. Erudessa forced herself to remain calm as she considered the possibilities. I never figured them for the spying types, but there's no way an Imperial soldier would spare someone out of the goodness of his heart. It must be a trick. Perhaps they're feeding us false intel. If so, that calls everything into question...

"Your Ladyship?" the commander reminded.

"Oh! Yes. I will join you. Point me to your chief engineer; I'd like to speak with him about fortifying this place."

Darian Wintergate stood at the balcony of his estate, unclothed, breathing in the cool air of the Eastern forests. Night had fallen, and a million stars twinkled overhead. Darian was a very attractive man; sharp features and golden hair just like his mother. Smiling, he heard laughter, grunts and curses litter the area below, where his most senior soldiers had set up garrison. In the distance flickered lights and somber smoke, several camps established by his men in preparation for the great push into the heart of Aetherion. He had waited a long time for this moment, for his chance to place Wintergate on the pedestal and bring grandeur back to a surname that’s otherwise remained stagnant with the death of his eldest brother. And while many other families and estates had forces stationed all along the frontline, Darian knew that it was the name Wintergate that the elves would soon fear.

If only Lanik had shared the same ignited passion. No, his ranger brother was perfectly content with his indolent profession of babysitting the quiet mountains. The Ranger Covenant was becoming obsolete, and why his father had created the order in the first place was unbeknownst to him. Wintergate needed to propagate it’s standing amongst the Imperial forces. To do that required a vested mission to bolster the ranks of the Fighter’s Covenant. No longer were the winter family to be seen as an idle vigour nesting in the bosom of the mountains. No, Darian had fantastical plans to make his family the King’s favoured.

“Still day-dreaming, my love?” Darian caught a sultry voice from beside him. Serani Cheshire, an olive skinned idol with piercing emerald green eyes rested her head on his shoulder, tracing her hand along the crease of his back.

“Yes,” Darian said, eyes still scanning the distant lights, “I’ve received word that brother Lanik is marching our way, bringing his entire covenant as ‘father’ requested,”

Darian couldn’t help but grin. Forging the letter was easy enough, he had many contacts in the capital city. If Marcus had the golden blade and Lanik the veiled cloak, well then… Darian must have had the silver tongue. Politicians and those of high council loved the company of the youngest Wintergate boy, and because of that coming across father’s seal was terribly easy.

Father.

Lord Wintergate’s health was declining of late, and at present, it was to the point where he could barely remember his name. It would soon be time for a new heir, one truly worthy of the regard to be bestowed on the successor. And who would it be? Marcus had passed, dying gloriously in the field of battle. Lanik? No. He was too weak, too unassuming. Wintergate needed somebody who wanted the position, who embraced it wholly and fully the weight of the family. Darian kissed the top of Serani’s head, running his fingers through her silky hair.

“Then everything goes according to plan,” she looked into the distance, just as he did, “You will be successor soon enough, worry not sweet Darian,”

The plan was an amalgamation of delicate foresight between Darian and the Cheshire family, created after the death of his great brother Marcus. Darian had thought he would forever live in the shadow of his fabled brother, but with his death opened doors. But then there was Lanik…

The Cheshires traced a remarkable history back to their fore-fathers, who were a clandestine society of assassins before Coronal’s seize into the Empire. Darian had seen these assassins himself, and they were quite the specimen. Six foot men with empty eyes and a thirst for blood, soldiers that Wintergate could use more of. Soldiers that not even his brother, as skilled as he was could best. The Solverrein Groves would be Lanik’s tomb, the same place where Marcus was struck down by those elves. Darian couldn’t help smile at the poetry.

And it wasn’t as if Darian had been wholly unaffected with the death of Marcus, he had grieved in his own way. He grieved for months -- disbelief turning into depression, then sadness, then anger. But Darian used that to create the building blocks that made him who he was today. Marcus was the brother Darian should have only had. Lanik though, Lanik withdrew into himself as he always did. Locked away in the Wintergate Estate, fearful of the world. Darian knew that if he fed some story about Marcus possibly being alive, the middle brother would move heaven and earth to find out the truth. Darian’s story would put Lanik towards Solverrein, where the Cheshire assassins garbed in elven armor would await.

Then there was the second phase, ridding Serani of that wretched child she had begotten with her ‘husband’. Secretly Darian had been stockpiling and stowing away arms and armor belonging to the elves he had slaughtered thus far. It would come in one stroke, a caravan headed for Midhaven being raided by Cheshire men in enemy uniform, and a dead child that only complicated his succession to power and the succession of his future children. Even Serani herself had given blessing to this part of the plan, perhaps she knew just as much as he did how hopeless it was to be cuffed to his brother.

Wintergate would have another martyr to fight for, and the Imperium would surely see an attack against a civilian caravan means to mobilize a full-scale onslaught against the elves. Maybe even the King himself would lead the charge with the Wintergate youngest at his side? Darian allowed himself the thought.

“And when do you suspect your brother will arrive, my Lord?” Serani fluttered her eyes.

“Tomorrow, mid-day,” he replied, taking in another deep breath of forest air.

“Then come back to bed with me,” the olive-skinned lynx grabbed his hand and led him onward.

“Let the troubles of tomorrow wait,”

General Cassius Cornell stepped out of the tent and stretched. The cool morning air and calm blue sky refreshex his soul, almost as much as his night of pleasure with the slave girl sleeping in his bed. He strapped on his gear and marched to greet the captains. "Hail, brothers, and a fine morning to you!" he bellowed. The captains stood to attention and beat their chests with a resounding "hoo rah."

Captain Magdalee, a tough brunette from the south, rolled out a battle map on the grass. "You're just in time, Commander. We were debating how to cross the mointains without getting slaughtered by the ballista turrets. They collapsed our tunnels, shot down our catapulted missiles in mid-air, and destroyed our siege engines. We just can't seem to get a clear shot at them."

Cassius folded his arms and studied the map. At this rate, infiltration seemed to be their best shot. Unfortunately, they hadn't stored any elf armor and could not effectively disguise themselves. What other options did they have?

"General," called Captain Promagnus.
"Yes?"
"I think we've been overlooking our lucky break."
Intrigued, Cassius gave the captain his full attention. "Do tell."

"Well, our scouts came back with the usual enemy strength reports, and I noticed that the number of troops on one of the inner forts had doubled. The other scouts reported increased patrol activity. If the elves are anything like us, doubling security is a giveaway for the presence of a high-ranking official."

General Cassius laughed. "That makes this an excellent opportunity then, despite the potential costs. We still have no clear idea how their leadership is structured, since no one has ever been inside Aetherion, and we can't pass up this opportunity to capture one of them. We must prepare a sacrifice and pray to the gods for aid. Do we have any suitable offerings?"

The leaders picked through the slave lists in their minds. Then Magdalee spoke up. "What about the slave in your tent?"
Cassius snapped his fingers. "Yes! I like your thinking. She'll make an excellent sacrifice. Guards, prepare the offering."

Soldiers cut down trees and built a wooden altar while the guards dragged the young slave girl bound and gagged out of the tent. They strapped her to the altar, and the priest brandished a knife.

"Isn't this exciting?" Cassius crooned as the priest flayed the girl alive. Magdalee nodded, a broad grin on her face. "It's very satisfying. Can't wait to taste her young blood. Wasn't she from the former Dragon Kingdom? I hear their blood is sweet."
"It is. It has this unique flavor resembling elvish blood, highly saccharine, but not overly so. We'll be able to taste the difference later today, eh?"
The two fist-bumped as the priest lit the fire under the altar.

"General! A dispatch!"

A messenger ran up to Cassius and handed him the note.
Lanik Wintergate was assigned to your legion, General Cornwall. Be ready to attack the elves after he arrives.
"Yes! The gods have accepted my sacrifice! Oh, this will be a glorious day. Make ready the troops!"

The Wintergate rangers arrived to the Aetherion front mid-day mounted on powerful chocolate burnished steeds, an odd sight amongst the men who had been there long before them. They were hooded men with silverite plate armor and flowing elegant blue cloaks that fell long over their mounts backside, a stark contrast against the typical outfitted soldier. Lanik led from the front of the two columns, all neatly squared in, moving slowly through the garrisons that flanked the road on each side. The younger rangers Lanik could tell were horrified by the barbarism around them, Lanik could only hope they wouldn't make their surprise too obvious. Men from all sorts of Imperial families were having their way at their spoils. Drinking, cursing and laughing all at the expense of their dirtied slaves with lifeless eyes and lesser hope. Even Lanik himself cringed, seeing a particular slave being beat by a warrior clad in red with a whip while the men around him chanted on. It had been awhile since he fought alongside the field regiments.

It had even been longer since the last time Lanik had donned his plate armor, and even now he could feel it chafing against some of his joints. From the middle of the column rose high the banner of the Ranger Covenant, its sigil, a blind-folded blue fox with barred teeth emblazoning the centerfold. He turned to his lieutenant, wide-eyed and at an obvious discomfort to such a foreign setting.

"Rayne, have the men assemble their encampment..." he frowned, seeing a young slave woman being dragged into a tent by three grisly men, "Away from here, I saw a plot by the river we had passed,"

There was a moment of silence, then the lieutenant, caught up in the cries of the woman from within the tent snapped back to his captains attention.

"Uh... yes sir, sorry, sir, I.. uhh," he stumbled on his words, then was suddenly cut off by a horrifying shriek... and then silence.

"Do you understand my orders, lieutenant?" Captain Wintergate said, more stern this time around.

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yes sir! Column, form up on me!"

The column diverted right with utmost precision, a single being made up of men on horses. With that, Lanik broke off and continued onward. He could feel eyes on him, the deathly glares of savage men who had committed atrocities he'd rather not think of. But he was used to it, already experiencing such judgment in the Imperium Southern campaigns. His Covenant was rarely deployed, and if it was things were either going extremely wrong or extremely well. If foes of this ilk had bested a prodigy swordsman like Marcus, Lanik could only hope it was the latter.

Soon enough he had arrived at the command tent. He dismounted, tying off his horse to a nearby post. The stench of smoke and blood filled his senses, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before moving on.

"General," Lanik spoke, stopping a distance away from the man and giving a sharp salute, "Captain Wintergate reporting as requested,"

"General! Captain Wintergate reporting as requested."

General Cassius Cornell turned around to see Lanik giving him a salute. He spread his arms and bellowed, "Lanik, my boy!" He took the man in a too-tight hug, squeezing him until it hurt. "You, old friend, were sorely missed. Come! We have strategies to discuss and elves to kill. Our lovely Magdalee..." He gestured to Captain Magdalee, who pushed out her hip and offered Lanik a sultry wink. "...and General Promagnus..." Captain Promagnus folded his arms and grinned at Lanik. "...were just telling me of an excellent opportunity."

He pointed to a circled point on the map. "The elves have doubled their security at this sub-fortress. We're certain that means a high-ranking official is there. Since we have practically no intel on how Aetheri government works, this could be a boon for us. If we can capture their leader, we could learn how they operate and deal a blow to their morale in the process. Here's the thing, though: we're strapped for ideas on how to capitalize on this. We tried catapult artillery, but their archers and damnable bomb arrows shoot our shots out of the sky as fast as we hurl them. We tried tunneling through the mountains, but they always seem to find them and block them off with these weird unmanned weapons. Siege engines are out of the question, and starving them out is proving ineffective. We need your brilliance, Lanik."

The region in question was the southern border of Aetherion. Being higher up north than most of the continent, it was bitterly cold for most of the year, rainy for half of it, and delightful for only a few months. A mountain range formed a natural wall between the two countries (the same range that made the border to Northaven, incidentally). The elves had foreseen the reign of the Imperium and contructed a formidable wall around their entire country well in advance, and the Imperium now faced the daunting task of scaling this wall built on top of the mountains.

"Well, just go around to a non-mountainous side of the wall!" one might argue. There's just one problem with that: the rest is ocean. And not just any ocean - it was icy, monster-infested ocean, and the elven wall extended a ways out to sea, so no ground action was possible, eliminating the Imperium's main strength. And that didn't even account for the Aetheri navy and coastal fortresses. That was a whole other arena that Imperial military planners couldn't deal with.

With the whole nation practically a living fortress, this heavily fortified region was actually the weakest point that the Imperium believed it could take. If they charged at it headlong, they could probably destroy it, but with unacceptable casualties. General Cassius, whatever faults he had, was not brash, and would not waste his soldiers' lives like that.

Damnit. he thought to himself. He wasn't sure why, but Lanik had thought the extent of his duty in Aetherion would be limited to simple reconnaissance or other support duties. Capturing an elven commander? That wasn't a task to be taken lightly. He had heard about their ingenuity, it gave them the edge over the Imperial soldiers which had more or less remained stagnant with regards to military technology.

But Lanik a good leader and an even finer tactician. This task was right up his alley. His only regret was how close to danger it put him at, how close it brought him to leaving a daughter fatherless. He caught himself, snapping back to the task at hand and studying the map laid out before.

His eyes followed the mountain range. He knew the mountains well having roamed about them for the better part of his military career. Perhaps he could act as pathfinder? No matter how well constructed a fortification is there are parts of the terrain where a section of wall would be impossible to build, especially in the midst of something as enigmatic as the mountains. Rocky cliffs, steep inclines, areas packed so thick with snow the foundations would simply crumble from instability. And why would a wall need to be built in such areas? It's not like an army would be able to traverse such terrain with ease.

Not an army, no, but maybe...

His mind was racing at a thousand paces a second. He couldn't bring all of the Rangers, that would be too obvious. And the elves aren't stupid, they would have some sort of watch posted to exploitable areas. His plan was slowly formulating in his mind, assessing every possible outcome, opportunity... risk.

"General," Lanik finally spoke up after nearly ten minutes of quiet, "I know the mountains well. I'll take a small contingent of men through here," he pointed to a spot on the map, "And we'll find you an exploit, but," his finger ran to the spot on the map where the bulk of Imperium forces were located, "I suggest to relocate the advance farther away, draw their forces away from the front. One less soldier posted is one less obstacle I need to deal with. As soon as I find a possible entry point I'll relay the information to you,"

He looked up to Captain Magdalee who was staring at him quite intently. Her gaze made him uncomfortable.

"Captain, what am I to expect from the elvish forces? Have you encountered any of their cold-weather attachments?"

He's talking to me! He's actually talking to me! For purely business reasons, of course. Magdalee shot him the widest grin before beginning her tactical analysis. "Yeah, their coldies tend to be hotties, and not in a good way. Out here, there's lots of earth-benders and lightning-callers, but out there, they put some fire-breathers and ice cream shooters into the mix. They really did a number on us last time we were up north. Hate those lanky bastards."

Captain Promagnus nodded solemnly. "Aye, they're a handful. What's really hurting us, though, are those dam impromptu war machines they keep building. Every so often, this one engineer comes down and builds a weapon, trap, or fortification that wrecks havoc on our strategy. We're fairly certain it's the same individual because we've consistently heard them call her "Arwen Durvain," and I think "Durvain" is a proper name, because "Arwen" is a title given to female squad leaders and...sorry, I'll stop rambling. Point is, it's the same person, and she's a royal thorn in our sides. I wouldn't be surprised if she 'just happens' to show up at the place you're infiltrating. If she does, please take her down for us."

Lanik had eyes still on the map as the two officers relayed their respective intel. So many obstacles.. . variables. The weather, enemy soldiers, supplies, mission pacing, and the terrain. It would be dangerous, no question about it. But there was something in Lanik that thrived for this type of analytical problem-solving. Even from a young boy he would always be solving little puzzles and equations he could scrounge up from father's old text books. Variables like that were no different than what he was doing now. There was a problem and the next step was to decide exactly what was the best way to approach it. And he had already decided. The mission was thus as broken down in his mind:

- infiltrate the elvish mountain garrison and relay strategic information to Imperium commanding officers.
- if possible capture elven authority as suggested by the spike in forces in that particular area.
- come back to Marië alive.

He was already prioritizing this as a reconnaissance mission. If Lanik could get a good idea of an entry point and its surrounding area then Imperial forces would be able to do the brunt of the work assaulting the walls. Though, it he would have to insert through the wall from a purely terrain exploit and see how it could be altered so ground forces could make a push through. He smiled to himself. He had to admit, it had been awhile since he'd been able to do anything exciting. He would be the eyes of the greatest combat campaign the Imperium had ever embarked on. The pressure was there, but Lanik had enough confidence in his abilities to see it complete.

Durvain.

The captain made a mental note. Odd, he had never heard of Imperial forces encountering an enemy that employed the use of technical weapons in the field. He had learned about such uses during his education at the Carpenter's Guild, but such ideas were usually left only to schematics and drawings and never got to see tangible result. He'll have to be wary. Captain Wintergate straightened, looking too all the officers before departing.

"I have all the information I need," he bowed his head slightly, "Excuse my dismissal, but there's preparation to be done. Lieutenant Rayne will be in command of the Covenant during my absence. Refer to him for field requests,"

And with a sharp salute Lanik moved on.

He left the three with a feeling of unease. They were all officers sure... but Lanik couldn't help but feel a certain disconnect between their command character and his own. He could sense their patriotism, an unwavering dedication to draw blood for their country and country-men. Sure, Lanik would lay his life on the line for any of his Wintergate brethren, but for just any Imperial citizen? That was a stretch even just to think about. He did not see the pride in the arbitrary slaughter of entire nations for sake of patriotism. So why was he still here? Wintergate had always served the King honorably. Maybe that's why he stayed. The King gave Lanik problems to solve, and in turn Lanik would solve them. That fact, coupled with the tradition and relationship Lord Wintergate had nurtured between himself and the King must be the reason. Maybe that was oversimplifying things, but Lanik had always been a simple man.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Captain Wintergate back to form from the cold, Northern mountains?" Lanik strolling through the camp heard a voice beside him. He looked over.

"Darian?" Lanik grinned, "You're not so little anymore,"

His blonde brother was leaning up against one of the buildings, shirtless, with a chalice in one hand a sword in the other and lips stained with blood. His brother was beaming as he approached, arms open, embracing Lanik with a hug and kissing him promptly on one cheek. It had been six months since Lanik had last saw Darian... or even communicated with him at all, strangely enough.

"No ser, the battlefield changes a man, as you've told me before," he took a swig from the chalice, a thin trail of red seeping from the corner of his mouth and down his defined chin, "But, the Imperium facing its greatest foe yet is day by day taking ground. And I, yours truly," he gave an exaggerated bow, "Have been carving Wintergate into the edifice of legend. You're welcome by the way," he laughed and placed an arm around Lanik, the two making their way through the camp.

Lanik couldn't help but smile as well. Though the two were not nearly as close as Marcus and himself, there was something about Darian that put men at ease. He had a very unique charm, and one that evidently could work on men as closed as Lanik was. The two walked on for quite a ways, catching up, mostly Darian boasting about great battles he had partaken in and the beautiful elven slaves Lanik would have to try. Captain Wintergate frowned at that, but carried on listening. He had even mentioned Serani, Lanik's wife, who as usual was doing okay. Not that he cared. Marië was still at a children's art academy too close to comfort to the Aetherion border, but Darian had assured him that there was nothing to be worried about. In fact, in due time the academy was to be relocated to Midhaven via a network of caravans, but that was still yet a ways away.

"And father?" Lanik asked, the tone of the conversation taking a sudden turn.

They were now in one of the great Imperial mess halls, where drunken legionnaires were stumbling about spouting and spitting at whatever they pleased. Tired torchlamps illuminated the mess from between every great pillar and corner making for a strangely ambient environment despite all the ruckus around them.

Darian poured a cup and slid it towards Lanik. He turned, filling up his own whilst giving a solemn nod, "His health declines brother. The apothecaries give him but a month to live," sighing, Darian made his way to a spot across from the Wintergate Ranger, "Sad but... father has been this way for quite some time, we knew it was coming,"

There was a sad silence between the two of them for a moment. Lanik was still processing the information. It wasn't news, and Lanik had in fact saw it coming for awhile. There was just apart of him that believed things would mysteriously turn out okay. He didn't want to lose any more family. Not if he could help it. But to save father, that would be to fight against the very fabric that tied the universe together. Gregoir Wintergate had simply lived his years, and his time had come.

Darian, obviously noting Lanik's change in disposition gave his older brother a soft smile, placing his hand on one of his shoulders. He lifted his cup.

"Drink, for father, and you my brother, the heir to the great Wintergate legacy," something in Darian's sincerity spoke to something deep within Lanik, but he couldn't place exactly what.

Lanik let the metallic tasting crimson envelop his senses. He cringed, feeling its thickness slide through his buds. As a younger soldier, the captain had frequently partaken in such rituals, but having been out of the loop for so long, he cringed at the taste.

Darian laughed, "Brother! Have your buds gone soft?". Lanik sighed, hoping his aversion wasn't so obvious.

"It's been awhile, Darian," Lanik chuckled before drinking the rest of his cup.

The two brothers spent another two hours talking before Lanik assembled a group of six veteran rangers, and started the long trek through the mountains.

Light peeked in through the forest canopy as the Imperial platoon marched. Captain Marcus Fastidius kept his eyes on the path in case there was another decayed hunting trap. It didn't help him much, because his foot found another elf-made pothole and tripped him over. "Bunch of cowardly, spineless, mutton-headed, lily-livered..." he cursed. The soldiers were in as much of a joyless mood as their Captain, mainly because sourness was contagious, but also because they would all go toppling like dominoes if they failed to avoid those the Captain discovered.

Marcus stopped short at a log in the path. He threw up his arms and kicked it. "Great, just great! Just what I needed for this god-cursed day! Men, move this overgrown stick and-" His instructions were interrupted by a rumbling sound. Suddenly, logs rolled down the slopes on either side of the path. They slammed into hapless soldiers and crushed them or knocked them out. One of the logs dissolved into sawdust, getting in their eyes and every oriface. "It's a trap! Retr- cough -retreat! It's a trap!"

The soldiers crawled out of the kill zone as best they could. With broken limbs and shattered morale, they could not move quickly enough to escape the finale. First they smelled smoke. Then all the atmospheric sawdust combusted. Soldiers screamed in agony as their eyes, mouths, ears, and throats tore apart in the resulting flames.

Only one soldier made it through unscathed. He scrambled out from the kill zone and ran headlong into a towering figure. The man looked up to find himself staring into a squad of five elves, face to face with a strange silver-haired elf woman. He started to back away, but the elf girl reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Remember."

That was all she said before she let him run back down the road.

The seven rangers were scrounging the outback for nearly three days, taking routes off the beaten path and being sure to stay hidden amongst the mobs of foliage. There was a distinct difference between the mountains he tread now and those back in the frosty tip of Northaven, and as one might have guessed it was such: snow. No longer was Lanik garbed in his winter gear, shedding the winter layers for a more sleeker, more form fitting outfit consisting of deer leathers and a dark green cloak. His sword, a masterful piece of craftsmanship held tight against his back, crossing one way while a loaded quiver crossed the other. He moved swiftly through the forest as if he had lived in the Aetherion mountains his entire life. If there was one thing Lanik was skilled at it was keeping direction. He was never lost.

The forest groaned as Lanik and his second moved onward. Captain Wintergate ordered them all to split up into groups consisting of two pairs and one trio. He drew up specific travel notations for each group, and while no group would ever be too far away from the other, they maintained enough spacing so that should one group be compromised, the others would be safe. General Cornell had assigned him a priority mission and failure was simply not an option. In this way even if Lanik himself was to be caught the others would be in well enough position to relay critical information back the the Imperial camp. Not that the Wintergate father would ever be so careless as to throw his life away for any petty thing, but at his core he would always be an Imperial citizen. And such was a sovereignty that would forever be dangerous, no matter who bear the title.

Lanik could sense an invigoration overwhelm his senses as he passed through the forest. The quiet ranger. Tracker. Pathfinder. It had been too long since he had the chance to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. Listening to the birds coercing overhead, Lanik couldn't help but feel conflicted with himself: whether he loved the fight or loved the idea of giving his efforts to a cause greater than he could imagine. Truth be told, he loved his country, but his more liberal leaning mindset numbed his tongue when it came to vocalizing it.

"Lanik, motion up ahead," Finnigan, his pairing, a womanizer who Lanik had known when his career was ripe spoke softly, his voice blending with whispers of the trees.

Lanik signaled him to stop and proceeded to take point. He squinted at a figure in the distance, stumbling around, limping, holding one arm and cursing and yelling something he couldn't quite make out... wait...

"Help me, somebody, help me!"

"Captain, he's a Legionnaire, look at his armor,"

Captain Wintergate nodded. A trap? No... he looks hurt. It couldn't be, could the elves be that cunning? The man suddenly collapsed to the forest floor, and after a brief look at each other the two rangers bounded out of the cover of the forest towards him. Finnigan kept careful watch of their surroundings while Lanik knelt.

"Are.. . are you Imperial? Are you with us?" the mans life was nearly spent, Lanik could see blood pooling at his hip.

Lanik nodded, "Imperial Captain, tell me, what happened to you?"

The man grimaced, forcing his voice, "They got us. They got us good. Our Captain got us lost in these forests, and the elves, they ambushed us. There was fire, and smoke," he coughed out blood, "One of them, their leader... she let me go, I don't know why,"

Lanik grabbed his hand as the man grimaced in pain, "She let you go? Like this?"

"No," the man chuckled, "Be careful near the cliffs here. Soft outcrop broke from underneath me and well," he forced a painful smile, "I took a little tumble,"

"Where?"

The legionnaire raised a limp hand and pointed into the distance, "That way, you can't miss it," his eyes were getting dreary, his breathing slowing.

"I can't fight no more, Captain, I would but I can't," the legionnaires eyes were now skyward as if seeing something Lanik couldn't.

"Rest easy, legionnaire," Lanik crossed the mans arms across his chest, "There will be blood,"

There will be blood.

As the common saying went among Imperial soldiers. Blood was such an integral part of Imperial fighting, it was no wonder it would be used in the vernacular. And while Lanik limited himself to only its drink, some men took it to a whole new ritualistic point -- bathing in it, reminding themselves that glory in combat was the only way to cleanse ones soul. Even Lanik had partaken in the tradition to a lesser point, a Wintergates take on it where a hunter would find a kill and use its blood to mark three scratches across his face. Lanik and Finnigan both had faces marred with the red ink before their excursion. Taking a moment to pay his respects, Lanik looked to Finnigan, who's hood was down and was mumbling a prayer for the body.

"We need to investigate, stay close to me, and stay quiet,"

Immediately the two of them took off. It wasn't long until they reached the carnage, or better still the aftermath. Bodies were strewn across the road. Charred wounds marked the flanking trees and an overturned wagon rose from the center. Who could have done this? It looked like a whole company was decimated here. The two rangers stood perched on an outcrop of rock that overlooked the kill-zone.

"Alright Fin, let's mo--,"

There was sharp cracking sound and then suddenly the cliff gave way. Lanik saw Finnigan's eyes light up in terror as the ground collapsed from underneath him. There was a loud crashing noise, surely enough to alarm anyone in the vicinity. A second later, Lanik was watching his man fall nearly twenty feet, crashing against straggly rocks and landing limp at the bottom, skirting the killzone.

"Finnigan!"

Lanik jumped into action immediately. These were critical seconds he needed to use to get his ranger back into the safety of the forest, where they surely stood a better chance of hiding than out here against these cold rock formations.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Lanik gracefully scaled the rock face, jumping to and fro as necessary to most quickly get to his man. His eyes widened in horror as he reached him, a close up view of his mangled legs, blood dripping from his nose. Finnigan was out cold. Lanik, kneeling at Finnigan's side looked around, sighting his surroundings. They were in the worst possible position, and they had made enough noise. Judging by Finnigan's condition there was no way he would be able to continue on.

"Son of a bitch," Lanik cursed to himself, quickly pushing away the rubble and lifting Finnigan up over his shoulders. He had to move quickly.

Erudessa leaped up a tree trunk to an outcropping branch to get a better view. The rough bark nipped at her palms on the way up, but she ignored it until she was safely perched. A few scratches marred her hands, nothing serious. She brushed away a few leaves scraping at her hood and watched her plan unfold.

Yanduin and Bethdul followed the Rangers from tree to tree. So far so good. The Rangers seemed to be headed for the wall at first blush, but their direction was a bit skewed. If they followed the known path in this region, it would take them within shouting distance of the wall before turning away, followed by a sharp reversal toward the Gap.

The Gap! If they knew where they were going, I'd say they were headed for the one place our wall couldn't connect. But there's no way they know about that...is there? She dropped to the earth and trailed them, darting from cover to cover in silence. The further they went, the less doubt she had in her mind of their destination.

Erudessa motioned for Frandur and Henindal to approach her. They scrambled over and nodded. "Yes milady?" Frandur whispered.
"They're headed for the Gap. Frandur, teleport over, warn the company there, and start gathering scrap metal and wood. Take Henindal with you."
"Yes milady," they replied, then promptly vanished. Erudessa raised her arm to her lips and whispered into the bracelet, "Yanduin, Bethdul, engage."

On command, the two elves leaped to the earth and unleashed a barrage of crossbow fire at the Rangers. As soon as everyone was appropriately distracted, Erudessa bolted for the most concealed path she could find toward the Gap. She skidded to a halt, however, when a horrifying thought crossed her mind.

I lost one.

She counted the enemy Rangers present. One, two, three, four, five...I'm missing not one, but two! If she couldn't track down the two missing Rangers, only heaven could know whether an ambush was in order. She almost called off the attack when she recalled seeing one of the Rangers drop off a cliff. Had one gone back to help the other? Panicking, Erudessa turned and raced back to the cliff where she last saw them. Sure enough, scratching noises reached her ears as she drew closer to the cliffside.

Eru swallowed hard, paused to regain her breath, and peered over the edge.

One of the soldiers was gravely wounded.
The other soldier carried him.

She drew back and laid against a rock, gripping her chest to calm her emotions. It wasn't just relief washing over her, but pity too. Ignore this feeling, girl. You can't go helping the enemy. And you don't have time! Every second you dawdle risks Yanduin's and Bethdul's lives! Yet, those old healer instincts kept tugging at her. Dead people she could deal with, and living people she could handle, but the wounded...they tugged at her heartstrings.

Remember your training. Let them go.

Beads of sweat dripped relentlessly down Lanik's face, his breathing hoarse and strenuous, every limb succumbing to a numb ache at every movement up the cliff. If the situation were favorable Lanik would have constructed some sort of contraption to bare the load of Finnigan's dead weight more efficiently, but time and resources were all but limited. It took the best of him to scale to the top, and when he finally reached, he collapsed, suffocating in his fatigue. Finnigan, still unconscious lay limp on the rocky surface. Lanik could feel exhaustion overtaking him, but he had to keep moving, at least to an area that afforded more shelter. Catching his breath, the Captain grabbed Finnigan from under his shoulders, pulling him slowly into the safety of the brush.

He kept his pace for an hour before finding a clear space in a grove that offered some semblance of concealment. When Lanik finally arrived, he was spent. Resting Finnigan against a tree, Lanik turned over, puking, straining his stomach from such physical intensity not long before. The Ranger had scaled a twenty foot cliff and tread through the forest for an hour -- all the while carrying the dead weight of a fully grown man. How he'd lasted so long was beyond him, but the thought must have came upon too quickly for not long after his vision was starting to blur.

Night was slowly rolling over the sentinel mountains, beckoning the shadowy wildlife and critters to cry their telling voices. As the sun set and the stars winked vixen promises at the earth, Lanik could feel the temperature quickly dropping. He toyed with the idea of a fire but that would be wickedly obvious and easily alert any discerning tracker for miles around. What else could he do? As he questioned this he heard a shuffling sound beside him, Finnigan was coming back. Lanik watched him awake all in one swoop, Finnigan's eyes flashed wide open, pain overwhelming his senses, he wailed into the dark night.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Lanik hissed, jumping to his side and covering the injured's mouth.

Finnigan whimpered but could fully understand the intent behind his officers command. The two men eyed each other closely, and after a moment Lanik released his death grip over Finnigan's mouth.

"My legs, my fucking legs," Finnigan gasped in horror, looking down at the mangled mess that was his lower limbs. He winced in pain, grunting, and craning his neck back, anything to offset that pain that jolted through his body.

"God damnit," Lanik looked back into the darkness of the forest, then to his man that lay before him.

He needed help. And he needed it soon.

They're only humans. They live for a few decades, rape, murder, and pillage everything in sight, then die. They breed like rabbits; kill one, and ten more spring up. What's one human for the life of an elf? Their lives are meaningless. Besides, if you help them, they'll just turn around and bite you like the snakes they are.

Let them go.

And let them go she did. Erudessa raced for the Gap and didn't look back. Somehow, the woods seemed darker than they used to. Dead leaves shattered underfoot, and their decomposing smell rose to assault her nostrils. Half-eaten bugs, fly-infested corpses, and trees beset by termites filled her vision. Cries rang out from all corners of the forest, the sounds of lives suddenly and horribly extinguished. Rotted roots sprang up to bury her, and branches reached out like skeletal hands to slap her in the face. Erudessa plodded on, wiping moisture from her eyes and then clawing at them when the dirt invariably corrupted them.

Let them go. Those words seemed like curse to her now. Whenever she uttered those words, whether in her mind or aloud, she always turned into a sobbing mess afterward. Even now, when so many lives depended on her, she could not regain sufficient composure to hear the Imperial army approaching until it was almost on top of her. It was only their war cries that awakened her senses. Realizing she'd lost precious time, she gathered her strength and raced harder for the Gap. Her squad wouldn't last long without her telekinetic magic and potent traps to back them up. "Yanduin, Bethdul, retreat!" Erudessa commanded into the bracelet. No response. She tried again. "Yanduin, Bethdul, acknowledge!" No response. They're dead, and it's all my fault, she thought to herself.

The gray mountains of the Gap sprang into view. Erudessa charged into the clearing and cupped her hands to her mouth. "The enemy is upon us! The enemy is upon us!" she wailed. Frandur, who'd been standing watch with the requested pile of scraps, turned and blew his horn. Erudessa stopped at the scrap pile, stretched out her hands at her sides, and raised them. The scraps floated in mid-air. Time to put my practice to work. She crossed her arms, and the scraps swirled together into an assortment of explosive mines, which she maneuvered underground. Then, she excavated a trench and loaded it with razor-sharp spears before covering it up again. That should hold them. Suddenly, a barrage of arrows shot out of the forest. Erudessa raised her arm. All arrows that flew at her stopped inches from her body. "Henindal!" she called out, adrenaline beginning to replace her grief. The elf stood on the edge of the wall, his palms planted together.

"Make it rain!"

As the Imperial soldiers charged out of the forest, thousands of ice shards rained down on them. Many perished before they had the sense to raise their shields. With their bodies now exposed, Erudessa lifted her hand and summoned the wind. She flipped her palm, and all the soldiers in the front rows lost their shields to the powerful updraft. Seeing this new enemy for the first time, the soldiers leveled their weapons at her and charged. The earth exploded in showers of dirt and dead bodies as they stumbled headlong into her minefield, and those who survived dropped dead into the concealed trench ahead. Undeterred, those behind them used their fallen brethren as bridges to cross over.

Erudessa clicked her tongue. "Mongrels." She snapped her fingers, and great pillars of earth sprang up from the ground to punch the approaching soldiers. Henindal shot off fireballs into the enemy ranks, which Erudessa augmented with sawdust and metal into raging meteors. Hundreds of hapless men died on the spot in the first few minutes of battle.

Commander Cassius Cornell stood back, watching the battle unfold through his spyglass. "Well I'll be dammed..." he murmured to himself as he watched the silver-haired elf decimate his army. He turned to a tall hooded hunter standing behind him. "Watch her. If you get an opportunity, subdue her and bring her to me. I want her alive."

Meanwhile, Frandur raced to her side to bat away a few arrows she'd missed. "Milady! We'll be overwhelmed in a few minutes. We have to leave."
Erudessa glanced around the battlefield. Indeed, more and more Imperial soldiers appeared around the edges of the clearing, and some were already trickling through the Gap into the waiting Aetheri army. "Yes," she concluded at last. "I think the army can handle things here. Where are Yanduin and Bethdul? Any sign of them?"
Frandur's expression darkened. "They were captured, milady."
Her heart stopped cold. "They...what?"
"I'm not sure what happened exactly, but they conveyed to me that they'd been subdued before I lost contact with them."

Erudessa lifted her gaze to the sky. "I'm going after them. Stay here with Henindal and manage our defenses."
"But...milady, I can't let you go alone!" Frandur objected.
She reached out and touched his cheek. The elf closed his eyes.

When he opened them, she was gone.
__________

She ran back into the forest, its uncomfortable stench returning to her. The working theory was that the Wintergate Rangers defeated her boys and captured them. Even the best trackers needed to follow known paths through a forest like this one, so these Rangers would most likely retrace their steps with the captives in tow. Based on this working assumption, Erudessa found the path to the Gap and followed it backwards. She didn't get far before she heard a despairing wail pierce the silence. Could it be them? Erudessa moved in the direction it came from. It sounded a little like Yanduin. "Yanduin? Is that you?" she called out.

It was not. Two humans appeared before her, one slumped against a tree, the other watching over him. It took her a moment to realize that these were the same two humans she'd seen earlier below the cliff side. Both were Wintergate Rangers. She pulled one foot back and assumed a battle stance. Wait, they're in no shape to fight. The one slumped against the tree was wounded in both legs and writhing in agony. The one watching over him looked utterly spent. Once again, her heart melted at the sight of a human in pain. This time, she could not bring herself to run away. The guilt would destroy her. She dropped her stance and made to approach them, hands outstretched in a gesture of peace.

"May I help?" she pleaded in the Common language.

Erudessa could hear more Imperial soldiers moving through the forest. If she was to help the injured human, she would have to be quick about it.

The march had been glorious, ten thousand men trudging through the thicket of the beastly Aetherion forest. A conglomeration of Imperial families all moving onward with the same, vicious intent. It was here that the Imperium would cast the decisive blow against the elves and establish a foothold to drive further into the heart of their country. Darian could not be more pleased. He rode near the middle of the great column, the Wintergate Fighters holding true to their sigil akin to that of the Rangers, except instead of the cunning of a fox twas the ferocious image of a bear. The Rangers rode in the back of the column, typical for those winter vagabonds. Not that he cared, more glory for his cup.

That's when Darian heard the battle trumpets and saw the first line form up along the edge of the forest. Darian could see the exploit in the distance, a section of wall not completely cordoned off, a section his dear brother had located. He had not heard any word from Lanik since his departure. Perhaps the elves had eliminated him already. That would make things easier. A volley of arrows released from the Imperial side of the forest only to be stopped mid-air. Darian widened his eyes, witchcraft surely. These elves were talented no doubt, but they bore no match for the might of Imperial steel.

There was a brief, almost peaceful silence before the first line officer gave way into the field. Darian grinned, watching the wall of men sprint towards death. They made good pace, screaming, cursing and laughing all the way until they reached three quarters of the way in. They were greeted by the ground exploding beneath them, tossing legionnaires up into the sky like rag dolls while crashing back into the earth with sickening crunches and wails. Elemental forces of every kind barraged the helpless men from all sides. Ice froze even the most steadfast of warriors, fire charred the flesh and gusts of wind sent men tumbling this way and that. It was a massacre, and Darian reveled in it.

That's why the pawns always go first he thought to himself.

"Watch her. If you get an opportunity, subdue her and bring her to me. I want her alive," Darian heard the General say.

Darian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He reached for his own scope and peered through sighting a silver-haired elven beauty in the distance. The composer in this symphony of destruction.

Pretty elf, he licked his lips, I'll have my way with you after the General.

Then there was the second battle horn. His men were up.

The Wintergate Fighter's lined up along the clearing of the forest. They beat their shields, growling, anticipating the fight ahead. The Rangers on the other hand took the flanks, hooded and enigmatic, equipped to move quickly. Darian paced back and forth on his steed, staring deep into the eyes of his men, unsheathing his sword.

"Let's show these imps the taste of Wintergate steel!" he screamed, the men immediately reciprocated.

"For Marcus! For the King! For the Imperium!" he pointed into the distance, "THERE WILL BE BLOOD!"

THERE WILL BE BLOOD!

The men of Wintergate charged forward with hearts of steel and intentions as vicious as cold-blooded bandits.



There is a certain kind of helplessness a man can only feel when thrust into the real of the present. Lanik was feeling all these things at once, and more. Had his rangers completed their mission? Or were they captured? Finnigan, is he going to make it? Lanik was not a healer by any means. He had constructed a splint and tied it against Finnigan's legs, but other than that, he wasn't sure what else he could do. Night had fallen heavily upon the forest and the two weary souls, and the temperature had dropped far enough for their breaths to leave whispers of air with every exhalation. They would either die from hypothermia or from these elves. Lanik could feel a hopelessness growing in the pit of his stomach, a strange sensation he hadn't felt since --

Elvish dialect broke the silent night, but Lanik could make out a name.. . Yanduin.

Lanik instinctively drew an arrow and raised his bow, weapon aimed towards the sound. From the depths of the forest emerged a slender figure, an elf. He was just about to release his charge when he noticed her expression soften, as if in pity. He eyed her carefully. He had never seen an elf before, not in person at least. Darian had described them as vicious, blood-thirsty murderers.. . and that may have been true but their physical elegance sure contradicted such ideas. Lanik and Finnigan were dirtied and sweat ridden, the three crimson blood imprints over their faces smudged from heavy exertion and exhaustion alike. And then she spoke.

"May I help?"

Captain Wintergate was taken aback. He lowered his bow, and slowed his breathing. He was prepared for a fight, but... had she just offered to help him? He frowned.

"Who are you?"

Finnigan grunted in pain once more, writhing against the thick trunk of the tree.

Lanik cut his question off, and slid the cloak he had laid over Finnigan to maintain some warmth off his lower limbs. Lanik's splints were in place, but it still was a mangled mess.

"I've done what I can.. . but I'm no healer. Will he be able to walk again?" Lanik cupped Finnigan's cheek, whose face was overwhelmed with pain, "Easy brother, there's someone here to help you,"

The human surprisingly agreed, and lowered his bow. "Who are you?" he asked, still suspicious, as he should be. Just then, his companion grunted and writhed. The man immediately turned to examine his wounded friend and slid a cloak over his legs.

"I am...Erudessa," the elf replied, watching them. She craned her neck to get a glimpse of the wounded soldier's legs before the cloak covered them. "His injury looks bad."
"I've done what I can, but I'm no healer," came the reply. "Will he be able to walk again?"

Erudessa could hear the desperation in his words. Humans didn't heal as rapidly or completely as elves did, so getting injured was a bigger deal for them than it was for elves. Still, she found herself a little surprised that this man would care so much. The humans of the Imperium were reputed to be ruthless and uncaring of other lives, a reputation reinforced by inside reports of genocide and wanton bloodshed. Or, perhaps the reputation was well-founded and she just stumbled on the exception. Maybe this human was a bit like her - a trained killer, but sensitive to the suffering of others.

And the wounded soldier was suffering. The way his breath hitched, fists clenched, and teeth gritted spoke of profound misery, the kind even elves would kill themselves over. She imagined herself in his place, her legs broken as his were. Living with that for a thousand years would be hell, and though human lives were considerably shorter, the thought of living one's entire life thus maimed was unbearable. The pain would be deeper than any salve could alleviate, being born from the deepest core of one's being. But perhaps there was hope for him; if the fractures were simple enough, oral pain relievers and some time would be all he needed to recover.

Unable to hold back any longer, Erudessa flew to the man's side. She removed the blanket, then carefully cut the pants away so she could get a clear view of the legs. Gingerly, she felt up his legs to assess the extent of his injuries. The feet and lower legs were fine. The upper legs were broken in several places, and the kneecaps were shattered. Bone fractures took a long time to heal, even with magic, so she would have to prioritize her time. She managed to find all the pieces of his kneecap, and with a little delicate telekinesis, stuck them together. The upper legs were easier to put together. The main problem would be keeping everything intact afterwards.

What he needed was to avoid moving them or putting any weight on them while maintaining high mobility. Crutches were usually the go-to solution, but those tended to tie up one's arms. Human lives were already difficult even with arms, and his friends would sooner kill the soldier than support him for several years while he healed. What he needed was a way to move without using his legs or tying up his arms. A wheelchair might do it, one in which all the weight was on his hindquarters and which moved by shifting his weight. The latter would require a bit of magic. With the plans already drawn up in her mind, she telekinetically tore apart a nearby tree and fashioned from it two wheels, a seat with leg supports underneath (instead of out in front like a regular wheelchair), and frames to lift the seat high enough for the wheels. A wooden bar would keep him in the seat while moving forward. Once everything was attached, she put her hands together and closed her eyes.

"By the light of my soul
I hereby command thee
To bear up thy ward
Thy conditions are thusly:
Hold him upright
When the ward sits but still.
To change thy direction,
Roll, tilt without spill.
Maintain with adjustments
Soft, gradually.
Cast now this spell,
All finished completely."

With that, the wheelchair turned upright and stayed that way. Erudessa attached splints to Finnigan's legs and moved to put him in the seat. Her trained ears picked up the sounds of Imperial soldiers drawing closer, so she would need to move quickly. "Can you help me move him?" she asked Lanik.

Lanik watched Erudessa closely as she approached to examine the wounded Finnigan more closely. Her gaze was intense, analytical almost, something the ranger himself could relate to. Waving her hand over Finnigan's lower limbs, Lanik assumed she was addressing the breakage. Instantaneously Finnigan flashed his eyes, then squeezing them, screaming in horrific pain as Erudessa moved the pieces of broken bone into their respective places. Captain Wintergate moved quickly, once again covering his mouth as he cried out. He caught Finnigan's gaze, just nodding slowly, as if to say I know it hurts, but it has to be done. She spoke naught until a few minutes later, Lanik in awe widened his eyes at the sight about to set before him.

By the light of my soul
I hereby command thee
To bear up thy ward
Thy conditions are thusly:
Hold him upright
When the ward sits but still.
To change thy direction,
Roll, tilt without spill.
Maintain with adjustments
Soft, gradually.
Cast now this spell,
All finished completely.

And with that before the three of them stood an apparatus the likes Lanik had never seen before. It was a chair with wheels, finely crafted with the usage of what Lanik assumed was ancient elvish magic. He had never seen such a sight before, and it truly amazed him. Imperial magical spectacles were reserved for great shows of destruction and chaos. This was the first time he had soon magic used in a way to create something. Already questions were stirring in his mind, but they were cut off by her voice.

"Can you help me move him?"

Lanik met her gaze and nodded. Very carefully Lanik took one side of Finnigan's weight, hoisting him up and plopping him gently onto the contraption the elf had just made. Very quickly he brushed over the arm rests, eyeing the build closely, a part of him from when he was a child reached out and reignited the curiosity he once had to imagine things on paper and bring it to reality. After his moment, he looked at Fin, who was getting comfortable (as comfortable as he could get at least) in his position. Already Lanik could tell the change in position and whatever healing magic Erudessa had cast was providing some relief. He turned his attention to the elf.

"Thank you,"

"Thank you," the man had said.

Erudessa blinked. Thankyou? I don't know that word. Or is it two, as in 'thank you?' I think my language instructor mentioned it in passing, but I don't recall her emphasizing it. The men of the Imperium must not use it often. Was it...was it an expression of gratitude? Yes, I think that's what it is. What's the appropriate response to that? In Elvish, one uses the same word for 'thanks' that is used for the acknowledgement of thanks, but Common may be different. Some small expression of humility should work. After a brief moment of consideration, she bowed her head.

I'm still missing something. She looked at Finnigan, at the chair, and at his splints. The healing spell. I've forgotten the healing spell! Erudessa motioned for Lanik to 'wait a moment' and knelt to put her hands on the wooden splints. A lingering spell is needed here. Assuming the average regeneration rate, three days worth of mana should more than cover everything. She poured her magic into the wood and chanted a few words. With the operation completed, she stood up and brushed off her cloak.

The other soldier still looked weary, like he needed her healing magic too. What ailed him, though, didn't need magic to cure. A smile heals more than a tear, she'd always tell her acolytes. But this was a human. Humans were brutal. Humans would eat you alive. There was never a reason to smile at a human. Nonetheless, he needed healing, and bearing a bright attitude came part and parcel with the healer's work.

So Erudessa smiled.

"Fear not, he will be able to walk again. Just give him a few days, and he will be up and running with the rest of you. Speaking of running, your friends should be here any minute now, so...what I mean to say is..." She wrung her hands as she searched for the right words. "...I have to run."

"Run where, elf?" said a voice behind her. Erudessa spun around to find hundreds of Imperial soldiers staring back at her. I've been made. She pointed in the direction of the Gap and replied, "Um, that way?" The soldiers laughed and charged at her. She turned to run, but several soldiers came up behind her and grabbed her by the arms. "N-No!" she cried as she kicked and pulled against them. They wrestled her to the ground and pinned her arms behind her. Then, an unusually large, burly soldier pushed his way through the company and slowly clapped his hands. His name was Gurgle Moor, captain of several hundred Imperial soldiers and owner of the largest slave trading organization in the world. "Congratulations, Sir Lanik Wintergate! I must thank you for catching the Engineer for us. That was a pretty clever ploy you made there, luring it out to heal your friend. I would never have thought of that myself."

It was a trap? Erudessa shot an accusing glare at Lanik. You set me up, you little rat! Her look didn't escape the big soldier, and just for cruelty's sake, he decided to play it up. He patted Lanik on the shoulder and lazily waved for his men to take Erudessa away. As they hauled her away to the wagon cage, Gurgle crowed, "The battle's over, son. An elvish turncoat broke open the wall and let us in, so we got us a goldmine of slaves to bring home. We couldn't have done it without you keeping their Engineer away. Hit me up if you want a discount on any of my merchandise."

He turned to Finnigan and pointed at him. "Hey, look at that! You guys even got the elf to work for you! Genius, man, genius. I could use fellas like you in my company."

"N-no!" Lanik watched her being pulled down by the surrounding legionnaires. He could have spoke out, protested, but.. . there were too many eyes. It would seem so out of place, an Imperial Captain standing up for an enemy who's been a festering thorn on the Empire's side for the longest time. What could he do then? He watched. The silent bystander to a figure who had just saved his mans life. He could feel the guilt inside trip over tenfold when she shot him a condemning gaze, only made worse when Captain Moor twisted at the proverbial knife.

"Congratulations, Sir Lanik Wintergate! I must thank you for catching the Engineer for us. That was a pretty clever ploy you made there, luring it to heal your friend. I would never have thought of that myself."

Lanik didn't respond. He watched the Imperial company rally up the remaining slaves and convoy them back through the forest. In only a few minutes Lanik and Finnigan were left to their own devices.

Finnigan's spirit had improved substantially, up until the moment the elf was carted away at least. He'd been leaning forward, then back, learning the mechanics of the wheelchair that adjusted to his shift of weight perfectly. It would of course take some getting used to, but at least he could remain mobile. Finnigan broke the silence, frowning, furrowing his brow.

"We're not just going to let them take her, are we Captain?"

"No Fin, I won't," he grabbed his bow and threw on his cloak, "We need to get moving back to camp, will you be okay?"



Darian reared his horse then raced to the middle of the column. The Imperial's, having established a spearhead were now constructing supply lines between the main camp and the now forward post. The battle had gone better than expected, though truth be told he had yet to actually fight an elf one on one. He did however arrive soon enough to watch his soldiers and slaves pick away at them. They were stout fighters but Darian could only assume the sheer number Imperial troops had overwhelmed their fortifications. Check off another win for his Wintergate Covenant.

Though, it wasn't soon after the fight it was reported to him his brother Lanik had survived. Damnit, stay the plan I suppose. The Covenant Rangers had rallied under Lanik as soon as he reappeared and once again were marching near the back. They were an enigmatic bunch, Darian understood, but there was something to be said about the way his men trusted his ranger brother's word over all else. An unwavering loyalty despite all the other Imperial companies talking secretly about the odd hooded soldiers that marched under the guise of a blind fox.

It was then Darian rode upon a slave wagon and sighted a silver-haired elf. He raised an eyebrow, instantly recognizing the peculiar elf. This was the one the General had eyes on. He grinned, riding up beside her, unsheathing his sword and smacking the bars with a metal clacking to get her attention.

"You look sad, elf," he removed his helm, shaking his blond locks and meeting her gaze with icy sapphires, "You really shouldn't be. The General treats his slaves oh so nicely, especially the pretty ones. You're quite talented too. I watched you wreak havoc on our front-line slaves," he leaned in closer, "I'm sure your blood tastes as sweet as your face," he laughed mockingly, smacking against the bars once more for effect.

Erudessa started at the sound of metal clanging against metal.
"You look sad, elf," said the offending human. He removed his helmet, revealing a beautiful man crowned with golden hair whose cruel face mocked her with every angle of his sharp features. "You really shouldn't be. The General treats his slaves oh-so-nicely, especially the pretty ones."
By "nicely" I hope he doesn't mean anything perverted. She shrank back in the cell and eyed the sword in his hand.
"You're quite talented, too. I watched you wreak havoc on our front-line slaves," he remarked.
They were slaves? Her stomach churned at the thought. Thankfully, the man didn't give her time to dwell on it, for he leaned closer and added, "I'm sure your blood tastes as sweet as your face." He laughed and smacked the bars again. Erudessa gave him the stink eye. What a disgusting creature. I can't believe I'm about to be a slave to one of them. The wagon started to move, jolting her on the hard steel. She gripped the bars and watched the man fade into the crowd, holding back the curses on her tongue until the wagon passed well away out of his earshot.

The wagon stopped for soldiers to shove in four more slaves. It took her a moment to recognize their faces. "Frandur, Henindal, Yanduin, Bethdul! You're all alive! Praise be to God, you're still alive!" She pulled all their heads together in a big group hug. After a moment, Frandur pulled away to look at her. "Why is milady brought so low? How did you come to be here?" he demanded, tears welling up in his eyes.
She lowered her gaze. "I came to the aid of a wounded human and fell into a trap. It was foolish of me, and I should have known better than to-"
Frandur put a finger to her lips. "Don't. I've lived enough years to know that fate hangs on but a thread. What you did, you were always meant to do. It is neither appropriate nor wise for me to judge your actions, but I have to believe there is a higher purpose in it. Be strong, and if you live long enough, learn from your choice."
Erudessa nodded. "If I live long enough," she murmured.
Henindal broke his usual silence. "You will."
She didn't have the heart to contradict him.

The wagon stopped again to receive another batch of elf slaves. They openly wept at the sight of their leader imprisoned with them, and it took all her strength to stifle the sob that grew in her throat. Like Frandur said, I have to be strong. Everyone looks up to me for guidance, so I can't afford to wallow in despair. Get up, Eru. Say something to them. After the wagon resumed moving, Erudessa got to her feet and opened her mouth to speak. The words died on her lips, and the lump in her throat didn't help. What could she say? Everything will be fine? She couldn't guarantee that. I will save you? What a presumptuous, conceited thing to claim. They needed hope, a reason within themselves to hold their heads high and wait for a better future.

Specifically, they needed a distraction.

She glanced at Frandur. "Tell me," she said, pausing to steady her voice, "what do we possess that humans do not?"
Frandur studied her a moment before answering. "Time."
Erudessa looked back at the elves before her. "Use it. Study them. Learn their language, their culture, their habits, their haunts, their movements. We will outlive them, and when we do, we will show them who truly belongs behind these bars."
There were some murmurs of approval. "What if they kill us before then?" one elf replied.
She lifted her chin and forced an almost-imperceptible smirk to her lips. "Kill them back."
The grim humor lightened the mood enough to dry their eyes. Erudessa glanced at Frandur, who nodded his approval. The elves shuffled into their respective clusters and did as instructed, watching the passing humans through veils of hair and masked emotions. Erudessa slumped to the floor and leaned her head on the bars. If we can make the humans believe that killing elves will curse them, we could ensure our own survival long enough to retaliate. But it all comes back to living long enough for the belief to spread. We have to make it through the first few years. We must. Frandur squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

They all spent the next few days in silent observation. Several escape plans sprouted and died in their minds. Magic was the first option they tried, which failed because their captors had the forethought to poison them before caging them. They considered escaping while the wagon doors opened for more slaves, but the wagon never stopped for more. Some toyed with breaking body parts to persuade their captors to open the doors and remove them, but watching them slaughter human slaves behind bars put that idea to rest. As they drew nearer to Midhaven, Erudessa realized that escaping would be impossible. When the wagon finally stopped at the back of the auction house, she took a moment to reassure them.

"Hold yourselves together. We must not betray any weakness for them to exploit, and please, behave yourselves. Don't give these monsters any more reasons to kill us. When we each meet our new masters, those of us who remain must remember where everyone else went so we can come for you when we are free." She espied several guards approaching the wagon from the corner of her eye. Calm down. Deep breaths. "Most importantly, keep your heads high. You are not defeated until you admit it."

Erudessa pushed her way through the group to ensure she would be taken first when the guards arrived to open the doors. She lifted her chin as the guards shackled and dragged her away.

Her tears evaporated before they ever left her cheeks.