Grey and Reynolds were summoned only about an hour later. Whatever Sir Astarot had said to the Thunderbird leaders, it had worked. They agreed without further argument.
When Grey stepped back into the large orange-leafed tree, the atmosphere had changed. Five additional Thunderbirds and two Dragons now stood inside, all of them Peak Sovereigns. Their auras pressed quietly against the space, steady and battle-hardened.
The blue Thunderbird did not waste time on greetings.
"Tell him what he wants to know."
A pure black Thunderbird with cold, sharp eyes stepped forward. "There are thirty-three Peak Sovereign Gnomes and fifteen Peak Sovereign Necromancers."
Grey's expression remained calm. "And our side?"
"Thirty," the black Thunderbird answered. After a short pause it added, voice laced with contempt, "But without their puppets, most of them are trash."
