"We have a few viable plans, I assume." Willem nodded toward Ashkatar.

"Always. You don't live as long as I do and not come up with countermeasures for many scenarios." Ashkatar smirked. "The plans I have in mind all boil down to three basic ideas; Run, hide, or fight."

The rest of the council remained silent as Ashkatar spoke. Though some were unfamiliar with his identity, he stood beside Willem and that was enough for them to know his importance.

"The safest method is to remain here inside me and hide until you've made enough magical gear to fight evenly with stronger enemies." Ashkatar paced the floor back and forth. "Even if the Bastion of Hope falls, you can still take the resources from the surrounding areas."

"The Magical Beings may try to inhabit the Bastion of Hope, since they had previously occupied it before being forced out by humans." The Grand Elder spoke out.

"Good point; if we do fight, we have to make sure not to leave anyone alive. A rout could cause information to get back to the main army. At that point they would know the Stinging Blood Tortoise is harboring their enemy. Even if we are protected temporarily, they would eventually find a way to force us out. Perhaps by summoning the other Great Beasts." The Huntress rubbed her forehead as her brows furrowed.

"A double envelopment will allow us to ensure that no one survives the encounter. However that also means we have to fight in an open field, making it a disadvantageous area. If we fought in the forest, it would be alot harder for a pincer attack to work and to keep track of the enemy, but we could make use of dark elf training." The Knight Captain put forth his opinion on the matter. "As you are aware, Master Grandia, most of the armor that has been made is similar to chainmail or cuirasses that make excess movement difficult."

"True, most of our knights and apprentices have metal armor, while the hunters and assassins are using variations on boiled leather. How many soldiers are missing a full set of magical equipment?" Willem motioned for Sir Rowan to speak.

"According to our latest information, all knights and apprentices have at least three pieces of magical equipment. To fully equip them may take a couple months at the least, six months at most at our current pace." Sir Rowan unstuck the papers he had accidentally sweat on.

"How are the scroll and potion developments coming? I haven't seen any unique results or breakthroughs when last I checked." Willem nodded toward Sir Kris next.

"Besides your own breakthroughs, the aptitude for scrolls is low in the Mages that came over from the Bastion of Hope. To begin with, it is a vocation most likely to cause physical harm should something go wrong." Sir Kris kneaded his eyebrows as he earnestly told Willem the results.

"Bring all the documents and results to the dark elf representative, and have him give everyone a place to work in Paradiso Rosso. Anyone with inherent magical abilities in the dark elf population will work closely with the humans to see if they can make viable potions." Willem decreed.

A few of the advisers showed a sour face for a moment, as they had not fully accepted the dark elves in their hearts. However since the Grand Mage had already said so, they could not refute the announcement.

"By your will, it shall be done." The Knight Captain bowed his head and combined all the documents he had on hand.

"Sir Gehrig, you will work closely with Jura, an expert architect and the dark elves representative. Bring me good results." Willem pointed to Jura, whom had taken a seat near the back of the conference room.

"I look forward to working with you." Jura smiled but his heart could not stop beating quickly.

The possibility of not showing good enough results weighed heavily in the back of his mind. Considering everything he had gone through with the Grand Mage, one could not imagine a harsh sentence or demotion just because of failing to show results in something they are not an expert in. However things became different during war time, excuses became liabilities on the battlefield.

"Likewise." Sir Gehrig was considerably less worried, as he knew that if Willem said to work with Jura, there would be a good reason for it.

Either way, everything seemed to be as Willem predicted.

Even when it came to the plan against the Magical Beings, Willem showed nothing on his face. It was as if he had already considered every answer and the best possible outcome to the enveloping situation.

In fact, Willem was not omnipotent, and required the assistance of a war council in order to speak out and possibly provide him with something he may have overlooked or missed entirely. Though the conversation this time was close to what Willem had already considered, that wasn't to say future councils will be the same.

The naked truth was that right now, the Magical Beings were giving Willem and his army the best possible chance to make a risky plan with the highest chance of success. By splitting themselves into three groups to stop anyone from the Bastion of Hope from fleeing, they also are opening themselves up to an attack from behind with Willem's army. At the very least, if they could inflict large casualties on the enemy army, there would not be enough Magical Beings to defend from a forceful takeover of their territory.

As they slowly advance forward, they would gain considerable resources to put toward a successful war campaign. Each new territory gave them a distinct advantage over the Magical Beings, and it all hinged on the enemy army taking an otherwise unrecoverable hit.

"Until the assassins come back with more information, we will work under the assumption of launching an unexpected attack from the backs of the enemy. To that end, we require our front-line soldiers to have the most fortified equipment, while our back-line will be mainly Mages firing mass area spells. The dark elves will be hidden in the forest, and the Knights job will be to lure them in by sounding a fake retreat." Willem stroked his chin slowly. "I believe this to be the most suitable plan considering our individual strength, but if anyone has a better plan then please go ahead and write it down."

The family heads and their advisers began discussing quietly what the best course of action would be. The Grand Elder joined his daughter and spoke softly about the other things typically discussed on a war council, like war rations and military installations. He surmised that if his daughter provided this information to Willem it would win some affection. She took the advice gratefully, albeit with a blushing face.

After fifteen minutes, everyone seemed to be done deliberating and folded the papers that held their written answers. The answers were placed in a small magical box with a slit in the top that had been created by Willem's own magical power. After shaking the box, Willem produced the answers one by one, placing them on a table in front of him.

"Nine votes for hiding up to six months until all armaments have been made, or some variation of that. Six votes to take all resources and run, presumably further west into the Romungan Desert. Lastly, eighteen votes to fight, with most being similar to my plan. Since the majority wins, we shall begin to implement this attack plan as soon as we leave. We will reconvene when we get more information from the assassins. Everyone, give it your all." Willem allowed everyone to confirm the results of the papers and then burned them when they were done.

If he had so chosen, he could easily have used mind magic to convince everyone to fight, but that would be a shallow idea since he was not altering memories or personality directly.

Willem stood from his seat, bowed slightly, and walked out the door with a powerful gaze of determination. The other council members stayed behind and talked further, some admiring the beauty of Paradiso Rosso, while others made introductions. Jura and the huntress were among the busiest in the room, having to introduce themselves to all the family leaders.

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In the Magical Being's camp, the assassins had successfully infiltrated the army and were beginning their information extraction. Some of the assassins pretended to be cooks, while others just mended clothes or gathered firewood.

One of the assassins, named Jerbalt, was the leader of the assassin infiltration team.

"Thank you, Sir!" Jerbalt was pretending to be a simple armor polisher, which gave him access to the armory.

Many of the Magical Beings like beastmen, elves, lizardfolk and orcs made up the core of the Dragoons. The less tame goblins and fairies who could not control their impulses were nowhere to be seen.

"Got another one for you." An orc soldier threw his blood-stained leather armor at Jerbalt, hitting him in the back with force. "Gahaha- Pay attention!"

Jerbalt had already gotten used to the abuse, as it was all part of the assignment. In order to get access to the armory, he had to pretend to be servile and weak.

"Sorry, Sir!" Jerbalt nodded his head excessively as an apology.

"Tch, if there is even a scratch on that armor, it'll be ten lashes at daybreak." The hefty orc waddled out of the armory.

Thank you, Sir!" Jerbalt got back to work and kept his head down.

The more servile he appeared, the less he would be expected as a spy. Unfortunately for the person who had originally had the position of armor polisher, he had slept in late for his duties thanks to a certain sleeping drug concocted by Willem.

It was only his second day on duty, and he had already gotten a small amount of information worth reporting. The only problem was that even at night, the army camp area was well lit and well guarded. This made slipping out to deliver information near impossible.

The only thing Jerbalt could do was bide his time and wait for a chance to appear with which to get out quickly and quietly.

At night, Jerbalt would memorize the movements and timing of the guards in order to get a feel for their weaknesses. Their formation was not perfect, but Jerbalt had a feeling that the openings he saw were bait for deserters.

One day, two days, three days. By the last day of the first week, he had already made friends with some of the soldiers in the army.

Considering themselves friends, they talked openly in front of Jerbalt while he polished their armor.

"How'd you get so damn good at fixing armor, boy?" A friendly dragonewt patted Jerbalt on the back while watching his hands deftly sew a leather patch onto split armor.

"Lots of practice, Calim. If you could avoid beast claws, I wouldn't have so much to work on." Jerbalt gave a small toothy grin to the dragonewt.

"Hahaha. Soon enough even you can become a dragoon squire, an exalted position compared to the other jobs in this shit place." Calim said while smiling back.

"Afraid not, buddy. I'm a mutt, they don't take my kind." Jerbalt looked at the ground while his hands continued to move.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't realize, but now that I look at ya, you have a different look don't ya. What are ya mixed with?" Calim took a closer look at Jerbalt.

"Half dark elf, half dryad is what my mom told me. Said she barely escaped with her life when she was seduced by him, apparently they suck the life out of you. Mom gave birth to me, but she was sick for a long time. When she left, I joined up." Jerbalt pretended to wipe a tear away from his cheek as he stopped talking.

"Jesus, ya got a hell of a tale boy. So you joined up to do some good for Magical Beings, ah?" Calim rustled Jerbalt's hair a bit.

"I wanted to get stronger, to kill my Father." Jerbalt had a look of burning hatred in his eyes.

"Hmmm... Lemme talk to the boss, see if I can get you in as a squire, that way you can see what it's like on the inside. You can't see our strategy or nothin', but you can train with other squires and listen to Gabin's general meeting." Calim walked out of the armory with his chest puffed out.

"I'll leave it to you then. Thanks Calim. You're a good friend." Jerbalt smiled once more.

"See, a smile suits you more than anything." Calim walked away.