“Lysias, what news do you have for me? I have not heard any updates from you since the messenger had arrived a week ago… Have you sent any riders to ascertain their whereabouts?” Sweat poured down the sides of Lysias’s face, Xeander leaned forward upon his desk, the wood creaking under the enormous pressure. The raven-haired man kept his face low to the ground, his knees and forehead brushing the marble floor.

Three days prior Lysias had received word as to the fate of the pursuit force, complete and utter annihilation. Supplies, horses, weapons, nothing was left behind. It took a day for the scouts sent to discover and unearth the burn pits, what was left their soldiers was a carbonized pit. The scouts had even spoken of the Kallithene Hills running red with blood, roaming packs of wolves and other beasts had resulted in casualties as well. At this point Lysias understood that their targets had slipped away, that there was no way they would catch up, and that he had no cards left to play.

Yet the worst part was not Xeander himself and his suspicions, it was the cloaked feminine figure standing to his rear. Dressed in long flowing robes of deep darkness, the clear feminine curves were the only hint as to the identity of the wearer. This was supposedly “Orchid” the agent sent directly by the assassination order of the Almerian cult, the Order of the Wodh, known to those in the opposing branches as the Sordes, the filthy ones.

Representing the roots of Almeria, they accept death and all things associated with it, excelling in the use of poisons and illusions. Unlike the Order of Chalybs which is the public face of the cult, the Wodh do not dress in shining armor, or inspire awe within the citizenry. The Wodh stick to the shadows, manipulate others, and kill without question, often softening up targets for the knights of Chalybs to sweep up. However, the two orders never saw eye to eye, it was the priest class, the magarch’s who kept the two in line, disseminating the revelations of the third eye, the divine oracle of Almeira itself.

Yet the magarch’s were often stretched thin, busy within their own research and not always able to observe and control those beneath their supervision. Today, was such a day, an agent of the Chalybs, as lowly as he might have been, was now at the mercy of another. Not once had Lysias contemplated failure, he had deployed more than enough power to force a victory, or so he had believed.

“Oh, little boy, I believe the lord was speaking to you. Do you not intend to answer his question…? What have you to hide?” Lysias glared at the veiled creature, his attention shifting from it to the others in the room. Not a single individual, Xeander included appeared to take notice or were bothered by Orchid speaking out of turn. Instead, they seemed to have given reverence to it.

Lysias was a wreck, his hair was disheveled, his fingernails chewed down to the nub, dark bags could be noticed beneath his eyes, all signs of distress and nervousness. Already he was trembling, he had focused his anger towards the interloper, the one who sought to usurp his domain, his kingdom. “Perhaps the information you possess is one that I would not enjoy hearing? Perhaps you thought by buying time and hiding information that you would be able to fix your mistake? No Lysias, you cannot fix this mistake.” Xeander was unusually somber, controlling tone. He did not blast out in a fit of anger, did not fling his wine cup across the room. No, he was scarily calm, his eyes focused, showing not a hint of feeling.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE DEMONIC B-” A pair of spears came down cutting off Lysias’s tirade and pressing him into the ground, the metal of the cutting edge resting along either side of his neck, drawing blood. Lysias understood his position, as he was not yet a member of the Chalybs he possessed no power himself. It was his manipulation and control over both Xeander and Menos that provided the foundations of his strength, both of which were now gone.

“Well, Lysias why don’t you wait there just like that… I sent a team of my own you see, and they should be arriving very soon. Seeing as you have yet to receive any information regarding MY ARMY… I will graciously allow you to listen… Is that not generous of me?” With his head pressed to the floor Lysias was unable to witness the expression upon Xeander’s face. Just by the tone of the man’s voice he could discern all that was needed, knew that there was no way to talk his way out this time.

“Master is magnanimous… to grant this worm such a gracious honor.” Lysias reply was barely discernible, a soft, strained whisper. Yet could parse together the words in the deathly silent chamber, for one veiled figure it was more than fun, it was dominance, control. Even obscured from sight, the smile could be felt, no longer would there be another to challenge their orders.

Within moments the chamber doors were pushed wide open and in walked a young man dressed in the armor of the first army. The man got down on one knee, bowed his forward, his focus on the ground below him, never once staring directly at the lord. “My Lord, I have returned from the Kallithene Hills, at the mouth of the Naulos pass we discovered the signs of battle. All signs point to a complete and utter military defeat, the bodies have been burnt beyond recognition and the tracks of the convoy are almost five days old. I presume that the enemy has or will soon reach the Capital, it will be impossible to make another attempt upon them.”

Xeander slowly raised his head, sunken eyes focusing on the sigil of House Batrakhos. A coiled golden serpent, an image of which was set firmly within the mosaic at the center of the ceiling. “Were you able to confirm that they were our men? Could it be that our soldiers ran off with the plundered convoy?”

“No, my Lord. We can presume that the entirety of our force was destroyed. Most tracks have already been covered, whether that was intentional or accidental, the forest beasts made it much harder to track any further. After losing two men to the wolves, we chose to suspend the search, but we can say with certainty that the convoy departed in an organized manner.” Releasing the breath, he had been holding in. Xeander simply rested his elbows upon the desk, holding his head in his hands.

“Understood… You may go now. Do not inform anyone of what we have discussed. Ensure that your men do the same.” The man kept his lips pursed, nodding his head in response, and ensuring that Xeander could trust that his lips would remain sealed. He quickly departed the room, the thumping of his boots dissipating in the distance.

“It would appear that you have failed me Lysias… Then as steward of this house you chose to keep this fact hidden from me, to attempt to fool me. I would have your head, but I have neither the time nor patience to deal with you. My new steward will deal with you, as I must now go and try to salvage what little is possible from this shipwreck of a situation… Get him out of my sight!” Lysias hung limply as the guards dragged him by his hands. He was no soldier, and he had bullied the guards often, killing some of them upon a whim. Now he would be the one at their mercy, yet there was still one more nail to be placed upon this coffin.

“Don’t worry Lysias, I won’t kill you, and I won’t let them kill you either.” The veiled figure and the cause for his downfall stood before the beaten and whipped dog, even his strength to throw insults was gone. The soft, androgynous voice from beneath the black veil hinted at youth, but the figure depicted a ripe young woman, none of which could be confirmed. However, the vicious plans Orchid whispered into his ear was exactly what one would expect of the Wodh.

“You will be my toy; we will see if your body can hold up as well as your experiments did. How do you think it will feel when I cut you with your own tools? Will it feel different?” With a childish little laugh Orchid departed, allowing the former steward to be dragged helplessly away toward his former stronghold of Black Rock.