Of course, the threat to raze Everpeak to the ground was just an outburst of frustration. Historically, during the reign of Caledor II of the High Elves, the War of the Beard broke out. At that time, the High Elves' national power had already declined due to the Sundering, but they still possessed the world's strongest military and many military elites who had experienced multiple decisive battles against the Dark Elves.
As mentioned earlier, the High Elf army at that time was entirely composed of military nobles. These soldiers were almost all trained and raised as professional soldiers from a young age, completely unlike the semi-professional recruitment system and standing army of the later "Butcher King" Tethlis, or the conscription system of the "Foolhardy King" Morvael.
Even with such a formidable army, numerous dragon units, and a population more than ten times larger than today's, the High Elves suffered several major defeats when besieging Everpeak. Let alone now, when the High Elves are but a faint shadow of their former glorious era.
Teclis knew that if Prince Imrik of Caledor and his dragons were present, there might be a chance. But without dragons, it was unthinkable.
But this was Tyrion. This was the hero of the High Elves, the Everqueen's chosen champion, the Defender of Ulthuan, the Dragon of Chrace, the High Loremaster of Hoeth, and Teclis's elder brother.
Unlike Teclis, who was as cold as ice, Tyrion was like an unquenchable flame. His personality ensured that he would never, under any circumstances, admit that someone else was stronger or superior to him.
It was always Tyrion who gave others a way out, never the other way around.
Thus, even though Tyrion knew deep down that razing Everpeak was impossible, he still said it. He knew a hundred, so he would say a hundred, because a hundred was a hundred! No discounts.
This was Tyrion. His way was different from others'.
Various thoughts swirled in Teclis's mind, and the Supreme Archmage sighed inwardly.
I'm sorry, brother.
But Lileath told me that Malekith, the Witch King, is the one chosen by Asuryan.
He is the true Phoenix King!
Seeing his brother Teclis remain silent, Tyrion misunderstood. Though proud, Tyrion was not foolish. Seeing Teclis's silence, he suppressed the rising frustration in his heart and forced a smile. "Of course, brother, that's only if the Dwarfs don't cooperate. As long as they behave, we should give them a chance to redeem themselves."
"That's not what I'm worried about, brother," Teclis shook his head. "What I'm concerned about is that we all know where Nagashizzar is. Even if we rush to the Black Fire Pass and head south without stopping, it will take at least two months, and we won't arrive until next year. And even if we do, how much fighting strength will our army have left?"
"I understand that," Tyrion saw the issue clearly. As mentioned earlier, Tyrion was proud but not foolish. "Call everyone in for a meeting."
"Yes."
Twenty minutes later, a detailed map of the Old World was hung in the dragon ship's captain's cabin.
"The enemy is at Nagashizzar," Tyrion said simply. "This will be a very difficult rescue mission. According to intelligence, Nagashizzar is a heavily fortified undead fortress, likely filled with necromancers and armies."
"Can we get assistance from the Dwarfs?" Eltharion, as calm as ever, asked.
"High King Thorgrim might send troops, but we can never rely on the Dwarfs," Tyrion said indifferently. "In the end, we can only count on ourselves. Teclis, can you get that particularly capable monkey to bring his Old Guard and a few of those powerful Grail Knights to assist us? Price is negotiable."
"It's just money. Do the Asur lack such wealth?" Princess Alarielle of Tiranoc, still furious at the memory of being defeated one-on-one by Ryan in the inner city of Ulthuan and having the fan Tyrion gave her taken away, considered it a lifelong disgrace.
The Second Archmage Belannaer frowned but remained silent. Teclis, however, shook his head, pondering how to respond.
After a moment, Teclis said, "As you know, the Knight King and his army suffered significant losses during the Albion campaign. He himself was severely wounded by the Primordial Daemon Prince Be'lakor..."
"Then let the monkeys prepare supplies for us," Tyrion dismissed the concern. "Don't they have some 'Three Guards of the Badlands' established with the Dwarfs? Have them prepare the logistics and supplies. We'll take them when we arrive."
"Understood. I'll contact them," Teclis nodded.
"What about the Empire?" Tyrion continued.
"The Empire hasn't taken any concrete actions," his aide, Bellarion, reported.
"What is Thalmag doing?" Tyrion said with displeasure. "Doesn't he understand the importance of Alarielle? She is the future of the Asur! The heir to Ulthuan!!!"
"Ambassador Thalmag's message says... the Empire isn't sure what they can do," Teclis interjected, looking helplessly at Tyrion. "Brother, I know you're anxious, but you must calm down. This won't save Alarielle."
"I know, I know, I know, I know! I! KNOW!" Tyrion slammed the table and sighed. He knew he was anxious, but this was his daughter! The fruit of his love with the Everqueen, Alarielle!
"Damn it! Damn it! Allowing them to participate in the rescue of Alarielle is an honor bestowed by the Asur. Don't the monkeys understand that?!"
He was losing his composure.
What was worse, the Bloody-Handed God, Khaine, whispered incessantly in his ear.
Yes, yes, let the anger and instinct guide your blade.
Only rage can save your daughter. Only that sword...
Suddenly, Tyrion shuddered. A warm voice overpowered the angry one.
You must overcome it. You can overcome it, my champion. Even when I'm not by your side.
Tyrion calmed down. He quickly realized that losing his temper wouldn't solve the problem.
The High Elf expeditionary force was ill-prepared. They hadn't brought much in the way of supplies (though they did carry dozens of chests of treasures and various elven goods to barter in the Old World). The army was hastily assembled from the elite troops and standing armies of various kingdoms. They didn't even know where Alarielle had been taken when they set out, relying on recent divinations by the White Tower's archmages and Swordmasters, which had cost much effort and magic.
In truth, a more thorough plan and a larger force would have been the correct choice.
Now, still on the high seas, there wasn't much to discuss. Though anxious, Tyrion had one virtue: he never vented his emotions on his subordinates. Seeing no further discussion, Tyrion dismissed the meeting.
"Brother, stay for a moment," Teclis was asked to remain. "What is it, brother?"
Tyrion seemed hesitant. After much deliberation, he asked in a low voice, "Did the Mage Council's prophecy reveal anything else?"
"Anything else?" Teclis paused for a few seconds. "We only divined Alarielle's location."
"Nothing about whether we rescued her?" Tyrion pressed. "Or anything else? Anything at all."
"...No, brother. And divination isn't always accurate," Teclis shook his head. "Our opponent's strength isn't much weaker than mine."
"Thank you. I know long-distance divination consumes a lot of magic. Go rest, brother. I'll handle things here," Tyrion was disappointed. He also found it strange that Teclis was unusually quiet today, offering few words. Normally, he would provide key suggestions, but now he remained silent.
Perhaps he was too drained.
Leaving the captain's cabin, Teclis's expression remained troubled. He noticed that Princess Alarielle of Tiranoc had removed her armor and donned a high elf silk lace corset dress, adorned with a laurel wreath and paired with small brown boots and flesh-colored stockings. She looked both noble and lively. Seeing Teclis, she nodded and prepared to enter.
"Are you going in now?" Teclis suddenly asked.
"What is he doing?" Alarielle was puzzled. Teclis usually never interfered with Tyrion's affairs. "Is Istharna inside?"
"...No," Teclis shook his head. He knew that the Everqueen's chief handmaiden was also Tyrion's lover. With Tyrion's temper flaring, Alarielle and Istharna took turns accompanying him to ease his anger.
"Is he handling something important?" Alarielle was still confused.
"No," Teclis realized he had no reason to stop Alarielle. "Go in. Brother needs you."
"You're acting strange today, Supreme Archmage," Alarielle was even more baffled.
The Tiranoc princess entered, and soon sounds came from the captain's cabin. Teclis didn't linger and quickly walked away.
Brother is as impatient as ever.
Teclis thought back to when he was sixteen. Sickly and unattractive, he had traveled from Chrace to Lothern under the guidance of the White Lion Guard, Korhil, and his aunt, Morathi.
That journey had been a torment for the frail Teclis, who vomited the entire way.
And his brother?
Tyrion wasn't seasick at all. With his godlike beauty, cheerful personality, and slightly shy demeanor around girls, he had slept with nearly every female sailor on the passenger ship.
Then, upon arriving at their grandfather's in Lothern, Tyrion quickly seduced two elven handmaidens. When they went out to explore, Tyrion was likely the most popular prince on the streets of Lothern, with elven maidens flirting with him everywhere. Later, at a banquet, Tyrion slept with a few more handmaidens and even their cousin, Lisselle. Teclis remembered her name. Halfway through the banquet, the two sneaked off to a small room for some private time, which Teclis witnessed.
Tyrion left a trail of conquests wherever he went. Teclis could only watch, as he did now, as women entered his brother's room.
Of course, the most impactful was Aunt Morathi. Teclis recalled his buried past, his sixteenth birthday, when the aunt he secretly admired brought medicine to his room.
"Prince Teclis, it's time to take your medicine."
"No, I won't!"
"What are you afraid of? That I'll poison you?"
"Do I need to?"
"You're strange, Teclis. Do you have something to say to me?"
"Did you bring your soldiers and that muscle-bound lover of yours to my house for a reason?"
"Are you jealous, Prince Teclis?"
Like a dagger to the heart, his aunt's words wounded Teclis deeply.
She held no affection for him.
I will never have my brother's charm, strength, or beauty, Teclis sighed, but his heart was soon shrouded in deeper gloom.
Should we save Alarielle?
Teclis's heart wavered. From the perspective of the Asur, his brother, and his niece, of course, they should. Alarielle was the future of the Asur, the heir to Ulthuan, and the future ruler of Avelorn.
But Lileath had told him that to prepare for the End Times and the Great Vortex, the Eight Winds Incarnates must be created. And... Tyrion did not appear in Lileath's prophecies. Instead, Malekith, the Witch King, was the true Phoenix King. This was not only confirmed by Lileath but also by Teclis's own divinations.
But were prophecies always accurate? Teclis was troubled. Lileath's once-confident "New World" plan, prepared over millennia, had been abandoned so easily. If the Moon Goddess could abandon thousands of years of preparation, wasn't the so-called true Phoenix King just as fickle? What if Asuryan suddenly abandoned Malekith and chose Tyrion?
Teclis already had many doubts about Lileath's choice of Ryan, but given the goddess's firm stance, he hadn't voiced them. However, Ryan was too far away, making communication difficult. Moreover, compared to Ryan, who had his own interests and was of a different race and faction, Teclis naturally trusted his brother more.
Countless emotions intertwined, leaving the Supreme Archmage deeply troubled. He could only close his eyes and pray to the High Elf Moon Goddess, Lileath.
Lileath, please tell me what to do, okay?
The Moon Goddess's gentle voice whispered faintly in Teclis's ear.
"Continue... our... plan... dear... Teclis... this is the only... chance."
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