The shaped stone walls of the fortress were already going up around the Rift, bursting forth from the surrounding soil like teeth emerging from the gumline. Each section was joined seamlessly to the next to form an utterly smooth surface. General Oscyll Leander stood watching over the work, his posture utterly straight and his hand clasped behind his back. His dull grey eyes watched the magi exhaust themselves, rest, and begin again. It was a nearly endless cycle that had been going on for the better part of the day.Silvery gray hair, caught back in an elaborate braid, trailed down his back. Every single strand of his hair was perfectly in place, his mithril armor was perfectly polished and the curved sword at his hip had an edge that was legend among the troops.

Oscyll’s expression was unreadable as he watched the spellweavers work. A runner, a young elf, not quite old enough to join the army itself, trotted up to general and lifted his hand to his heart in a salute. Only the general’s eyes moved, glancing at the young elf. The runner bowed, almost fully at the waist. “Your Grace.” The young elf, his braids fraying slightly from his quick run. His voice was uncertain and he glanced nervously at the general as he waited for a response.

“Are you seeking me in relation to my ties to the nobility then, young runner?” The voice was light and emotionless and the tall man still hadn’t more than glanced down at the young one.

“N-no, General Leander, sir.”

At last, the flat grey eyes turned away from the spellweavers and toward the runner. “Then I suggest you cease your bowing and scraping.” He saluted the runner sharply.

The runner stood straight, ceasing his salute once it had been returned. “General, sir. The Chancellor has requested your presence at a war council.”

“Carry on then, boy. I shall attend.” The General turned on his heels, hands still clasped behind his back, and walked calmly toward the command tent. He neither hurried nor dawdled, moving along at a sharp clip that seemed completely effortless.

The command tent wasn’t far distant and the guard that surrounded it quickly gestured the general in. The inside of the tent had changed much over the past few days. Instead of being mostly empty, a number of chairs surrounded the map table which now bore a larger, and more detailed, image of the area. Seated around the table were both the other generals as well as several of the noble dukes and the Archmagus. More importantly, the throne at the head of the table was occupied by the Emperor himself and the Chancellor stood at his shoulder.

General Leander gave the emperor a sharp and perfectly correct bow.

“Ahh, Our General has arrived.” The Emperor said as he waved off Leander’s bow. “Sit, sit. We have much to discuss.”

Once everyone, save the Chancellor, was seated, the emperor leaned back in his chair and looked down his nose at the war council before him. “Tell us the status of our Divine Empire?”

One of the nobles, a lesser lord of some sort, rose proudly to his feet. His brown hair was caught back in the intricate braids that most male elves habitually wore. “Your Excellence, by your leave.” The Emperor waved a lazy, bejeweled hand and the lord bowed quickly, bobbing up like a spring loaded toy. General Leander’s gray eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“Your Excellence, we have dispatched scouts twenty miles in every direction and what you see before you is a scaled replica of the surroundings. As you can see, the humans have several settlements in the area. None of their settlements are defended in any way. It should be a small matter to take them as our own.”

The Emperor nodded and the young lord sat down. Another young lord eagerly rose to take his place. “Judging by what we have seen of this world, we have arrived in the center of what is likely a large stagnant kingdom. Other than the first resistance we saw, we have seen no signs of resistance. In this settlement to the northeast, there was a rebellion. Against what, we are unsure, but there was fighting in the streets and several buildings were heavily damaged.” He indicated the location on the table and glanced toward the impassive face of the emperor. For a long moment, no one spoke and the awkward silence stretched out. The young lord dropped back into his seat.

Another ambitious young lord stood. “The lands surrounding Pharendria are exceptionally fertile and we have tasked some of the half breeds to clearing and planting. We will require more workers to provide enough food from the fields to feed our population. The Greenweavers recommend at least two thousand more workers.”

The final of the young lords stood. “Our scouts have been able to get a good idea of the lay of the land around here, but we require direct information from the local population in order to guide our hunters and gatherers.”

The Chancellor gestured the last young lord to be seated and then almost as one the Chancellor and the Emperor turned their faces toward the other side of the table. There sat the generals, highly decorated warriors who had led the war for decades. The first to speak was General Halson, short and somewhat on the stocky side for an elf he wielded a warhammer and as the leader of the infantry. “Given the intelligence the scouts have gathered, it is my recommendation that we strike first at the small settlement to the south. We capture as many of the unblooded as we can. This will give us individuals to question as well as provide an influx of workers for our Greenweavers and craftspeople. There is much to be done to fortify our current position before I would recommend we set out against the other, larger, settlements.”

Next was General Indalis. Indalis was tall and broad shouldered. Unlike most of the others, he seemed to be unarmed, as leader of the mounted divisions he usually used a large spear and an unsheathed weapon wasn’t something you brought into a meeting with the emperor. “Given the reports, I too suggest solidifying our hold and building up our fortress before we begin purification.”

At once, Oscyll rose to his feet, “By your leave, your Excellence.” He bowed with stiff formality to the emperor and waited for the man to wave a languid hand before he continued. “While I believe my compatriots are justified in their wish to allow our power to grow before we make this world feel it, I must wonder when cowardice became a lauded trait.”

The room had been silent while each member present had spoken, but now the silence was complete. No one dared to breathe as the General’s words sank in. One of the Emperor’s blonde eyebrows flicked up slightly as he regarded Oscyll. “We are intrigued. Continue.” The Emperor’s voice was soft, but even the General could feel the danger within.

The General’s mouth twitched at one corner as he nodded his head toward the emperor in acknowledgement. “We have fled the Ograkillian contamination. The Divine has blessed our Empire with freedom from that plague and many others. Here, this world, is ripe for the taking. I do not disagree that a strong foundation is important for an Empire, but is this truly the place you want to build your foundation? There is no water here, no soul to the land. We should send scouts further, seeking a place to form the heart of our Empire and we should take it. For what do the unblooded have that we cannot take from them?”

He looked around the room, reading the expressions of the men that surrounded him. The other generals seemed wary, but he could see the eager light in the eyes of the young lords. “Weave a fortress fit to defend the Rift, but save the glory of our Imperial Palace until we find a suitable location. This is not our home, this is only a crossroads in our path.”

He sat back down, his eyes flicking toward those of the Chancellor and reading the approval there. It was the Emperor who spoke. “Build a fortress here, keep the contamination from spreading to this world. Send our scouts, find the heart of our Divine Empire. Azmael will never fall. Here, we will make it soar.”