Thunderous roars snapped Riley out of his sleep. He bolted to the entrance to the tent only to be met with cannons firing against the fortress's walls. Archers had unleashed a maelstrom of arrows.
"What the hell is happening Sir Baltamor??"
Riley pulled the venerable knight to the side in a frenzied daze.
"W-What do you mean my lord? This was your command."
He looked subdued like a puppy. But he only spoke the truth.
"What do you mean by that? I just woke up."
"So you did not send Lydia in your stead?"
All colour drained from Riley's face. He dashed to the tent, but it was empty. No matter how hard he wracked his brain, he wasn't sure she was even beside him when he woke up.
Riley cursed under his breath, slapping himself for allowing this to happen. He knew he had grown too lax in her presence, but to think she would do something like this. Unforgivable.
Lucy sprinted up the hill where Riley was, matching his confused look.
"This wasn't the plan!"
"We've been had."
Lucy bit back her annoyance and summoned her spear.
"Well? Let's go. Our battlefield is within the walls."
Riley sighed and massaged his temples before summoning Yara. Her face now bore a permanent pale ghostly look, and even her eyes were distant. Gone was the happy-go-lucky party member he had grown fond of.
But wars are not won with memories.
He veiled them and they entered the fortress walls. Despite the cannons firing every minute, the peasants didn't seem alarmed. As if they knew the walls would stand.
Instead, the guards were rushing around, and even a new individual he had not met before appeared. A sorcerer.
But they had no time to spare. They ran through the impossibly long corridors, before reaching the war strategy room from before. This time though, it wasn't as empty as he hoped.
Seven figures sat around the table with a myriad of expressions.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO WAIT?!"
A burly old man piped up slamming his hands against the desk.
"You think a counter attack while they still are in full force is a good idea? Go first, set an example. Kufufufu~"
The giggle of a darker skinned woman worked to drown out the old man's fit of rage. She was beautiful, but could not rival Lydia.
One more man stood up, one that had been staring into emptiness seconds prior.
"The plan doesn't change. I expected something like this anyway."
He was confident, and to even call him a man was a stretch. Every feature was androgenous, and his beauty was far more than what a human could aspire to achieve in three lifetimes. And worst of all, Riley could feel his Will.
====
After close to an hour of delegating, five of the war council members departed leaving only the previous woman and the burly man.
His arms banged against the obsidian table. Unfinished drinks spilled on the glassy surface.
"Calm yourself Heimdal. Haste makes waste."
The woman paced around the space with an amused smile on her face. To Riley, she appeared to have a greater understanding of the current situation than her counterpart. But even then, she was not all knowing.
"How can you be so lax, Calary?"
"Tsk Tsk. Every event has something to be gained."
He huffed out and sat back in his chair.
"Being blindsided has no benefits. We must strike back."
Calary pointed at the portrait of Riley.
"They function as a coherent group right now, unlike before. But that all happened after we've observed a change in their leader's behaviour."
A kunai twirled around her finger, flying and piercing the fabric at the centre of his head. The material lit on fire and crumbled into ashes at her feet.
"We kill him. And we win."
She flashed a creepy smile and departed from the room leaving behind Heimdal alone.
From his pocket a small cigar emerged and puffed out a cloud of smoke while the burly man sipped on a glass of whiskey. A few of his shirt buttons blew open and his hairy chest was on full display. Heimdal leaned back and stared at the remaining portraits and smiled.
"Puny children of war. Asking for trouble in my mountains."
Heimdal had been the ruler of the fortress tucked away in the mountains. There were many mines nestled in the higher peaks for rare minerals which belonged to Shadow God's domain. And his duty was to harvest them in the name of their empire.
"Who are you to call me puny?"
Before the burly man could react, a blade had already materialised around his throat. Despite his dire situation, Heimdal didn't feel fear. Instead he smiled and puffed his cigar once more.
"I am Heimdal, ruler of the Shadow Mines. That is who calls you weaklings puny."
Riley couldn't help but smile, taking a seat across from the man. He himself poured a drink from the ornate bottle and sipped. Two leaders of opposing parties shared a drink while Lucy and Yara remained their veiled selves nearby.
"So, the venerable leader has shown himself? In the heart of enemy territory no less."
He slapped the table in amusement, the liquor splashing from his hand with every mighty blow. Heimdal realised his situation was dire yet made no move to call for backup.
'How curious.'
Riley pondered what could be going through the old man's head, but it would be useless for a child to discern the actions of a tactician. Instead, he maintained his friendly outward appearance.
"Aren't you sick and tired of being pushed around by others in your own territory?"
Heimdal took a second to think about his question.
"So what? Are you trying to taint the mind of this elder and get him to stray from Shadow God's domain?"
Riley shrugged.
"Not really. I was just curious. There is little for me to gain from taking in a stray."
"Ho? You see me as no more than a dog on the verge of being put out by its master?"
Riley chuckled.
"Would I be wrong?"
Heimdal leapt to his feet, but his head fell to the ground. Blood dripped from the golden tip of the spear and Lucy appeared within sight. A look of utter disdain coloured her face through the shadows that painted the room.
"Nothing more than a rabid hound."
Riley waved at her.
"No need to insult him more. Let's focus our attention at the next six."