Less than a week had passed since the last elven empire had ripped a hole in the fabric of reality to escape. Ulresh stood at the window of the command building and looked out over the fortress the spellweavers had built since their arrival two days ago. The tall grasses of the Farthess Reach had been cleared in a large swath as the magi worked their wonders, drawing stone from deep in the earth to build the fortifications that would guard the Rift and all of Charan, keeping it safe from whatever was on the other side.

A dome, shaped in flawless granite, had risen over the Rift itself. The last blast that had expanded out from it seemed to have stabilized the Wild Weaves enough to normalize spellweaving in the area. The intricate weaves that protected the dome glittered in the morning light, giving off a prismatic array of colors as the sun struck them.

Ulresh lifted his stamina potion to his lips, wincing at the bitter taste as he drained the last of it. Once everything had settled, he was sure he would get more than a couple of hours of sleep here and there. His red-brown eyes scanned the rest of the fortifications, the large square fort rising high above the dome that it encircled. Troops patrolled the walls, looking both outward toward the plains and inward toward the Rift. The entire thing was sturdy, but simple, perfect for a military encampment.

“High Commander?” A voice from the hall outside his chambers called out to him.

“What is it, Orin?” Ulresh’s voice was a deep rumble, still rough from sleep as he turned toward the door.

“High Commander Pierce has requested your presence for the formal transfer of command.”

“Already?” Ulresh grumbled as he set the mug aside. “It’s barely morning.”

“Yes, commander.”

Blackfist scratched at his grey beard and stretched his shoulders, “Let’s get it over with then. Have the scouts pinpointed the Farspeakers yet? We need to reach at least one of their tribes.”

The two men left the high commander’s quarters and walked down toward one of the courtyards of the fortress. Around the central yard, where the Rift and its dome resided, large courtyards and training grounds had been walled around. One in each of the cardinal directions. Orin led them toward the northern courtyard.

“Then once we have transferred the command. I will take a small patrol out to meet with them.”

“Excellent plan, commander.” Orin’s thick tusks hid a smirk, but Ulresh could hear it in the man’s voice.

“I’m not going out to pasture just yet.” Ulresh’s tone was a bit defensive.

“Of course not.” The smirk in Orin’s voice grew more pronounced.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the courtyard, as large as the fortress was, it was easily traversed from one end to the other, if you knew the right corridors. Many of the commanders of both armies were already in the courtyard, milling about, prepared for the ceremony. “Ah, here he is!” Came a call from the front of the yard.

Ulresh made his way to the front without responding, shaking hands as he passed officers and reaching the other High Commander quite quickly. High Commander Caitlyn Pierce was tall, almost as tall as Ulresh himself, with deeply tanned skin and broad shoulders. Her eyes were a deeper brown than his own, but still carried a hint of red. Long brown hair was tightly braided and kept away from her sharp featured face. When she smiled, she revealed a small pair of tusks, kept entirely within the confines of her mouth. She shook his hand vigorously, “It’s great to see you again, commander.”

The elder commander bowed his head in greeting, taking a couple of moments to free his hand from her grip. “You as well. Truthfully, I’m glad Riftwatch will be under your command, it needs a solid leader.”

“Aye, it does. I don’t envy you meeting with the Farspeakers and then going back to the capital to meet with the councilors.”

“I wouldn’t envy me either, bureaucracy and diplomacy have never been my strong suits.”

Caitlyn belted out a booming laugh, clapping Ulresh on the shoulder as she turned toward the gathered soldiers. “Let’s get this over with so we can get you on your way before the sun’s much higher. Harvest my ass.”

The temperatures had been much higher than typical for this season in the southern reaches of Charan. Ulresh had barely noticed as he pursued the imperial troops, but now that he was stationary, it was much more apparent.

“We’re already halfway to Fallow.”

“It’s either going to be the mildest Fallow on record, or we’re in for a hell of a season.”

“I’m guessing it’s going to be a strong season. The Weaves have seen too much upheaval.”

She nodded in agreement before whistling for the attention of the masses.The actual ceremony was quick and before he knew it he was back in the saddle, leaving Riftwatch behind and following a scout toward the distant Farspeaker camp.