When Kelvin heard the name Mugai Ran, the Purple Mage, the shadows in the room seemed to deepen.
"My Lord," Kelvin said, his voice thick with reverence. "I know of him. He is one of the oldest mages to walk this earth, born long before the border lines were drawn to divide our kingdoms. During the end of the First Age, he fought to break the Orcs and the Black Dragon. But the man is a wandering ghost. No one knows where he resides."
"Any leads?" Kent asked, leaning forward at the head of the oak table.
"The last time I saw him was near the Tower of Books, a couple of decades ago," Kelvin mused, stroking his beard. "We might find clues there. It is said he receives flawless visions of the future. His predictions never fail."
To Kent's right, Maltida crossed her arms, the gold trim of her crimson dress catching the flickering candlelight. "He sounds impressive, I suppose. But I have never heard a single mention of him in the Phoenix Knight Order's archives."
"I've only heard tavern rumors," Ulric Stone chimed in from beside her, his dark eyes unreadable. "Tales that he saved a river village from a catastrophic flood using a single, massive spell."
"I haven't heard much about him either," Lord Kent stated. "But if the High Mage says it, it must be true. Kelvin's knowledge is the sharpest weapon we have."
Both Maltida and Ulric nodded in quiet agreement.
"Vice Commander," Kent shifted his gaze down the table. "Show them what else you found."
Elara stood, dropping a heavy, charred ledger onto the wood. "When we were sweeping the village, I caught the elder trying to burn these. He lunged at me with a knife when I reached for them. I disarmed him and flared my mana, pulling the air from the room just long enough to choke the fire."
Maltida pulled the ledger closer, scanning the surviving pages. "Sixty crates of salted meat. Tons of uncut black iron... The villagers weren't being raided. They were supplying the Greenskins." She looked up, her mind already connecting the dots. "This is far too much stock for a farming village. And look at these columns—gold was being funneled directly to the elder. They were being bankrolled by someone incredibly wealthy."
"Someone who wanted Percival Kent dead," Ulric deduced, a cold clarity settling over his scarred face. "He knew taking down this castle was impossible, so he paid the horde to ambush you on the bridge. And considering the timing, that same traitor likely fed intelligence to the Elves to trigger their invasion in the south. He wanted us separated and crushed."
Kent let out a dark, booming laugh. "I get it now! Someone really wants my head on a pike. Hah!" He stood up, slamming his hands flat against the table. "Orders! Kelvin, Elara. Take ten thousand infantry. Ambush the Dwarves in the snow pass and execute the raid with zero errors."
Kent turned to his right hand. "Ulric. Take five thousand cavalry and five thousand crossbowmen. Head for the Iron Horn and prep for a siege. When Elara steals their powder, the Dwarves will only have two options: retreat or fight."
"Knowing the Dwarves," Ulric said flatly, "they will fight. They have severe anger issues."
"And finally," Kent looked at the Paladin in the crimson dress. "Maltida. If you're free, you can accompany me to the Tower of Books to hunt down this Purple Mage."
"I'm afraid I cannot accompany you, Kent," Maltida replied coolly, tilting her chin up. "I have my own Order to manage."
Kent contorted his features into a ridiculously exaggerated pout. "Figures. Just proves I was right not to ask you in the first place. Always busy-busy."
That struck a nerve. Maltida's face flushed. Despite her elegant dress, a terrifying aura of golden Paladin mana flared to life around her.
She lunged upward to punch Kent right in his smug face—but Ulric was faster. Without blinking, the General flicked his wrist. A mana-coated pocket knife materialized and slammed into the table, burying itself in the wood right between Maltida's fist and Kent's nose.
Kent casually coated his hand in white mana to grab the vibrating blade, but Maltida was a genius. Anticipating Ulric's interference, she had already channeled her magic under the table. Her aura took the form of two glowing golden fists, launching upward at Kent's chest blind spot. He didn't even have time to flinch.
CRACK!
The mana-fists shattered on impact. Kent sat completely unharmed. Across the table, High Mage Kelvin hadn't moved an inch, but a pristine, invisible shield of white magic was already wrapped entirely around the Lord. Kelvin had sensed Maltida's mana shifting and blocked the strike instantly from across the room.
Maltida stood up straight, smoothing out her crimson skirt as her golden aura faded. "Impressive," she smirked, looking from the High Mage to the General. "You've got great soldiers, Kent."
With a dignified scoff, she turned on her heel and swept out of the war room, her navy cape billowing behind her.
"Thanks a bunch, Kelvin," Kent sighed, rubbing his chest where the shield had taken the kinetic shock. "Otherwise, I would have been in a lot of pain."
For young Elara, the entire exchange had happened too fast to process. One second they were talking, the next the room was flashing with blinding gold and white light, a knife was buried in the table, and Maltida was leaving.
"What... what just happened?!" Elara stammered, head spinning as he looked between the three veterans.
General Ulric Stone slowly turned his head to look at the bewildered Vice Commander. A terrifying, wide smile stretched across Ulric's scarred face.
"Looks like you need more training, boy," Ulric purred dangerously. "You need to level up. You can do that by fighting real battles, or by bleeding in the training yard. If you want to train... I'm always up for it."
Elara swallowed hard, suddenly looking very much like a cornered stray.