Vener, Year of Severus, 15, I.R., the 45th day of Fall, Arenfall

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"Are the weapons almost ready?" Prince Arterius asked while writing on a parchment. The dwarf had been insistent not to be disturbed during his smithing, but the situation calls for it. As much as the prince respected his wishes, they need to touch base.

According to the plan, the expedition will be on 50th day of fall. Lord Prestonheim's knights seemed to be anxious but at the same time ready to clear the so-called hellhole and avenge their fallen brothers. However, the freed slaves need to have their weapons first. According to his godfather's account, no ordinary weapon could stand a chance against those dark monsters.

The Prince would have brushed his godfather's statement as nothing more than a bedtime tale but hearing the other accounts and seeing his godfather's sword shattered into two, just made him a believer.

"Two swords, are ready, M'Prince." The dwarf reported. "Rest'o 'em, Tis gonna take a couple 'a days tah cure." He added.

"A couple of days?!" Commander Crovar was critical with the dwarf's answer. "You are a dwarf! You can do better than that!" He spatted.

The dwarf glared at him, "Wid'al due respect, M'Lord," he said. "Yah, if we hasten up, tis gonna be bad for us. The blade will break."

"Nonesense!" The old Commander spat once more. "That's—"

"That's enough, Lord Commander." Prince Arterius interjected. "Ummm..Dwarf…So, two days is enough?"

The dwarf nodded, "Tis havin nay sleep tah get it finish." He bowed.

Prince Arterius slightly bowed his head and gestured the dwarf back to his task. On the corner of his eye, he could see Commander Crovar's face red and seething with anger. The Prince took a deep breath and wanted to remind the old knight that this dwarf wasn't the enemy this time. But even with that, he knew Commander Crovar wouldn't listen to him.

"Prince Arterius," Commander Crovar tried getting his attention. "You should've rushed that dwarf! I know how dwarves work. He's either incompetent or stalling his work!" He said to the prince.

"I think that wouldn't be wise." Arterius answered. "You can't speed up a process. The last thing we want is a failed weapon."

Arterius knew more than anyone else the importance of timing when it comes to building a weapon. It takes time for an artisan to create his masterpiece. A real weapon cannot be created by skill alone. You need to have patience in your craft in order to get the optimal temperature, right amount of force or even just the accurate striations to give the weapon its optimal condition.

"We shall wait another two days." He said adamantly. "That also would be the exact time for godfather's auxillarum representatives to arrive. Isn't that right, godfather?" He asked Lord Prestonheim who sat on his right-hand side.

The silver-haired Commander nodded, "They should be there at that time. Citadel Sentineum is located at the far southern side of this island and would take close to 4 days just to get here on horseback."

"How may did you say you commanded to join the expedition?" Commander Crovar asked.

"There are seven men coming here for the advance." Lord Prestonheim answered and looked at Commander Crovar before his friend could react. "Seven of the best."

Arterius felt the tension between the two old friends. He heard the stories about these two, some are good while others were mischievous, but one thing was for certain in all of those stories people always accounted them to be polar opposites…and it looked like it's showing up now.

"Seven?!" Commander Crovar slapped his hand on the table. "Are you underestimating this entire expedition? Based on that freed slave account and on yours as well, they killed an entire Xedecima! Thirty trained knights, August!" He looked at his friend with concern.

"I know it's a small number, but I cannot let the Sentineum go undermanned." The silver-haired Lord massaged the bridge of his nose. "There are other monsters from beyond that fortress that we are trying to keep away from this side as much as possible."

"I do not underestimate your capabilities, August. Believe me in that but seven?" Commander Crovar scoffed. "Four freed slaves, A handful of knights and seven auxillarum warriors?! Are you out of your mind? If it were me—"

Arterius wanted to butt-in and interrupt the Commanders in their debate, but the more he thought about it, the more he decided that he shouldn't. Firstly, he wanted to hear every men's logic behind such ridiculous strategy. As a prince of the kingdom, he must know every battle tactic and weigh on their pros and cons. Secondly, He wanted to see each of the Commander's loop holes in their strategy and find a way to compromise on both sides if needed. Lastly, hearing the old men banter like children was secretly entertaining for him, although, the Senate could definitely be the highest on the list.

"I have chosen those four freed ones, because they knew the mines and had fought the monsters along side with me." Lord Prestonheim interrupted his fuming friend. "The faerfolk had high-level magic enough to scorch those Dhampiirs into ashes. The Ardent, had slain most of the monsters and even managed to survive inside the hole so we need him as a guide and protector inside that vile underground maze." The Commander boasted.

"And what about the beastman, August?!" Commander Crovar pushed a little further.

Commander Crovar truly knew how to hit his godfather's nerves. Arterius could feel a certain level of annoyance from his calm and collected godfather.

"He is strong and sturdy, Syleon. HARD to kill." His godfather answered with an emphasis on the word hard.

"Hard to kill, huh?" The Naval Commander sneered. "But still, killable! I have a dozen men that could perform more effective than they do!" He bragged.

"You are missing the point, Syleon!" Lord Prestonheim exclaimed. "The reason why I chose the people that are going to the expedition is because of their skills and magic capabilities!"

"Magical…capabilities?" Commander Crovar raised his eyebrow. "If it is about magic…you know my men can—"

"Can any of your men use Light-based magic?!" The silver-haired commander looked at his friend straight in the eyes. "There's only one in your bloodline who was crazy enough to learn it and he's fighting in the western continent."

Arterius was relieved that the old friends finally quieted down, but the tension was still palpable—too palpable in fact, that the table started to shake from the pressure."

"Enough, my dear Commanders!" Arterius smashed the tables as hard as he could, and he stood up from his seat. "Commander Crovar, I understand your concern and I know how much you like to get your men along with yourself on this mission. But I have to think about it—really hard." He paused as the pain crept in.

The prince felt the throbbing pain from his hands. It was the wrong idea smashing the table with his dainty hands. He should've known better, and maybe opted shouting instead of it. But what was done was done, the good thing was both men got his attention, or it would've been in vain.

"Give me a day to finalize this." He sighed trying to mask the pain. "Godfather, as much as I trust your decision on the matter, I want Commander Crovar's men to be there as well. But we need to come up with a good plan to utilize his men well without jeopardizing everyone's safety." He added.

Both the Commanders still had a lot of things to say but for some reason, they held their tongue and bowed to him.

"I shall need my privacy, Commander Crovar, Godfather, you may take your leave for the meantime." He made a crooked smile.

Both men bowed once more and exited the tent silently. His hands were killing him. It took him another moment to let out a muffled shout.

"Sstoo…lasss!" He called out his ward.

"Arterius," He immediately answered while bringing a big bowl full of magically summoned ice. "When I heard that loud bang on the table, I knew you were going to need this." He placed the bowl on the table.

Arterius slowly dipped his hands into the bowl of ice, soothing down his warm throbbing hands. The tension he saw between two commanders was a first for Arterius. He never had a proper training on situations like those unlike his brother, but he was still proud of himself for mitigating it as best as he could.

After soothing his painful hands, Arterius went back to his thoughts and reviewed both of the Commanders' points.  On one hand, his godfather indeed had a point with bringing only a few knights from the Principalian force.

The fewer knights, the fewer complaints he would get coming form the Senate if the mission turned out victorious. It was also wise for his godfather to choose the right magic attributes for this particular expedition. There was also an ancient language that his godfather said that only the elf could interpret.

On the other hand, Commander Crovar also made a good argument about pushing his men through. For most of the Arterian Empire's rein, the Naval fleet was always their pride. It was rumored that the Crovars had a secret training regimen for their men that involved their family specialty magic, Healing.

Putting healing units on this expedition could also prove crucial for their people's survival. With the Crovar's men on the expedition they can definitely heal up wounded ones more efficiently and effectively in a timelier manner. They won't need potions as much which was part of the bulk concern of the expedition.

Arterius' head began to throb just by thinking about what strategy must he do to get this all in place. Since, his godfather discouraged Commander Crovar from getting his men involved. It was obvious that the solution was for both parties to compromise, but it might take more than convincing to get the plan rolling.

"Stolas!" He called for his ward once more. "Could you pass me my medicine, please." Pointing at the bottle of pain-numbing elixir on the other side of the tent.

"I need to sleep this out first." He said as he massaged the temples of his head.