It had been weeks since the snow monster incident at the academy.
Zaliyah had retreated into a fortress within a fortress. He had spent the last seven days practicing a level of silence that was more deafening than any shout, he was ignoring Xulthas whole existence.
The Commander, for his part, seemed to have finally learned the value of distance. Respecting the icy boundary Zaliyah had drawn, Xulthas stayed out of sight, haunting the training grounds or the strategy rooms.
But even though his presence was gone, his wealth certainly was not. Since the day of the storm, Xulthas had been sending a relentless parade of peace offerings. Every morning, silver trays arrived at Zaliyah's door, carried by trembling servants. They bore unimaginable gifts, rare elfen grimoires that could not be easily found in the demon realm, jewelry carved from Onyx-bone, ornaments that glistened in the dark and ancient scrolls that cost more than some small baronies.
