Near the end of the next day.

The Dragonewt headed for the armor polishing area, his large prehensile tail swinging left to right wildly.

"Boy!" Calim looked around until he locked eyes with the dark elf who was quietly polishing some patchwork leather armor.

"Forget about this nonsense, I talked with the boss and he said okee. You can come to the meetings, and you can do active drills with the other squires!" Despite his scaly visage, his eyes clearly gave away that he wanted to be praised for his efforts.

"Truly? You are not lying to me are you?" Jerbalt faked his excitement over the matter and stood up from his seat, dropping the sewing needle on the ground. "I will go get my stuff right now!"

"Hold on, hold on. We have to find a replacement for ya first. Is there anyone else ya bunk with that can patch up armor as well as ya can? Well, maybe not as good as, but decent?" Calim's tail swung back and forth against the cloth of the hut as he spoke.

Calim had a glint in his eye as he placed the armor he had been patching up on the table.

"I will go find someone right now, wait here I will be right back!" Jerbalt rushed out of the hut and scurried out of sight.

Calim nodded his head as he watched Jerbalt run away as fast as his legs could carry him. Considering how small Jerbalt's legs were compared to Calim, he was surprised at the speed with which Jerbalt ran.

Jerbalt sent word to another worker to take over his position as he hastily ran back to Calim. The situation had aligned itself perfectly for him to infiltrate and gain the most information possible for the Grand Mage to use against the Army. Considering he was in the middle of the enemy encampment where any number of things could go wrong, he was all smiles as he met back up with the Dragonewt.

"I found someone who was willing to take over once they found out I was becoming a squire." Jerbalt coughed like he was out of breath, while trying to explain to Calim.

"Good, good. Follow me ya? I will take you to the barracks made for the squire." Calim could not help the elation in his voice as he lifted his heavy body from the squatting position he had originally been in and stalked through the camp.

Calim's leather armor glistened with fresh blood against the glare of the sun as his three pronged feet stamped into the forest floor. Jerbalt followed noiselessly behind him and left barely an imprint of where he stepped.

Calim had taken Jerbalt so far away from the original encampment that for a brief moment, Jerbalt had considered it was a trap to lure him away from the others so they could kill him. The thought receded when he could finally make out a small set of barracks hidden among the dense trees and hills.

"This be it... This is where ya future begins." Calim clapped Jerbalt on the back with his massive hand and laughed.

"Once ya got some meat on ya bones, ya can come look for a fight with me, okee?" Calim laughed and stalked away, his tail kicking up dust as he headed toward the Dragoon mounts.

Jerbalt eyed the compound warily before entering inside, looking around for someone to guide him.

"Who are you?" A young clerical looking elf held a cutlass to the back of Jerbalt.

Ah- I... I am Jerbalt, a new squire." Jerbalt pretended to answer sheepishly, in order to elicit a feeling of sympathy from the elf.

"Where's your guide?" The elf glanced as a document but did not put the cutlass down.

"His name is Calim, he went toward the Dragoon Mounts." Jerbalt answered with a firm explanation, that implied there was no need for a discussion of authenticity.

The shock of switching from a pitiable to firm voice made the elf falter.

"Ah, ahem- I see now, please carry on." The elf meekly lowered her cutlass and sheathed it.

"No one told me the details, I just got dropped off here." Jerbalt scratched the back of his head as he turned toward the elf.

"Ah... Um, you are with... Company number four, which can be found here." The elf pointed at a detailed map of the compound.

"May I ask, what is it you do here?" Jerbalt lowered his hands to his waist.

"I organize the information we receive from the Capital." The elf now brimmed with confidence as she sat back at her desk.

"Then, I will not bother you any longer, please excuse me." Jerbalt dropped the sleeping salts under the desk where she did her work and left the room.

Twenty minutes later, the assassins had all grouped up and entered the room after confirming the elf had fallen asleep. They wrote down as much information as they could about whatever seemed important, made sure someone was available to cover their work so that the enemy would not be suspicious, and covered their tracks as they snuck out of the camp.

Now they were ready to return to the Stinging Blood Tortoise.

In a newly built house in Paradiso Rosso.

"Your movement has to be smoother when you pour in the crushed red salt." A Mage teacher watched over the new group of dark elves who were attempting to create potions and scrolls.

According to the will of the Grand Mage, three dozen dark elves with the ability to actively control their innate magical power were attempting to synthesize potions.

Sir Gehrig was looking on with a pleasant smile on his face, talking with anyone who requested his guidance.

Compared to the constant drills and headaches of the military ground, the calm atmosphere of the potion room was like a vacation.

Jura was comparatively less relaxed, as he had only come under the protection of the Grand Mage recently and wanted to show results befitting such a status.

Considering he was betraying the Magical Beings of which he was the same race, an imaginary knot in his stomach began to twist. The constant worry of making the wrong decision hung around his head like a noose.

Most of the dark elves had the same feelings of guilt, but for most it was a simple matter of survival. If they had not aligned themselves with the Grand Mage, the Human Army would see no reason to keep them alive.

Bearing that in mind, the conditions that the losers of the battle had to go through this time was nothing compared to what their predecessors had suffered from.

Most history books taught to young dark elf children depicted the dark elf race as strong warriors who wielded the nature of the world to their advantage, trading malicious words against them for blood and racism for seclusion.

The past cannot be altered, but it can be learned from. When the dark elves had been suppressed and enslaved before, they kept their sanity by writing the conditions of their enslavement for future generations to learn from. Under the presence of the Moon Goddess, the downtrodden and broken would find solace in the afterglow of the moon piercing the ground through foliage.

Some wrote in pigment, clay, and others in their own blood. Despite being worn down day after day, they still did not lose hope that one day they would be freed. The perseverance of the dark elves became their defining trait throughout the generations to come.

The dark elf nobles that had once dictated their way of life were now gone, and now all dark elves were free to choose their professions and they no longer had to beg for food just to get by. If this was really enslavement, they wouldn't mind being slaves under the Grand Mage.

The human and dark elf children happily sang and skipped down the streets of the Stinging Blood Tortoise. The houses where they laid their heads were beautifully crafted and there was no requirement to pay a certain fee to keep their homes.

All in all, coming under the wing of the Grand Mage had been a great boon to the dark elves.

The protection of the Grand Mage did come at a small cost, but it was strictly volunteer and no one was forced to do work. The dark elves were eager to show the Grand Mage results, and the potion creation was just the beginning.

The assassins were sent to gather intelligence from the camp of the Magical Beings, and a week had passed since they had been sent away.

No information had gotten back to the Stinging Blood Tortoise in that time, and Willem was about to issue a command to send a new party of assassins out, but he was stopped by the leader of the hunters.

"Trust them." Was all she said on the matter.

Willem decided that he would accept her counsel on the matter, and he would wait a few more days to hear back. Sure enough, after another day had passed, the assassins had all returned with all the information they had gathered over the week.

"Have the huntress and Sir Gehrig look over the reports, tell them it is the highest priority. I must make a short trip." Willem gave his orders to Garcif, the Grand Mage's personal assistant.

Garcif nodded and ran out the door, shutting it behind himself. Before Willem could leave, he was interrupted by a mental link created by Ashkatar.

"Ashkatar, I have not seen you since the meeting." Willem was the first to speak.

"I have been quite busy surveying the magical ley lines beneath the earth. I felt something was off when we first heard about the enemy Army and I was right." Ashkatar responded politely.

"What do you mean? Something is off about their movement? And what are these ley lines?" Willem was filled with more questions than before.

"Yes, the ley lines in the earth carry magical power all around the world, and it is the physical body of Jörmungandr. Jörmungandr was cursed by a God to never leave this world, and his power was stripped away as penance... Did he not tell you?" Ashkatar spoke like he was reading a children's story.

"What does the enemy movement have to do with this?" Willem hesitated about answering the other question, and instead inquired about the enemy.

"We thought they were splitting up to go east and west in order to ensure no humans escape, but that is not the case. If they were to somehow divert the magical energy from the ley lines in those mountains toward the Bastion of Hope, the entire area would be swallowed up and converted to pure magical energy." Ashkatar did not need to breath, so he continued talking until he was finished explaining what he thought was going on. "They are the perfect enemy for the Magical Beings to experiment on."

"If the Bastion of Hope gets converted to pure magical energy, what does that mean for us?" Willem was now a bit fearful of the situation.

"It means whoever is closest to the pure energy could potentially absorb it and ascend to Godhood without needing to do the ritual, if it does not kill them first." Ashkatar made a noise like his frustration had reached it's peak.

"What race has the ability to divert ley lines like that?" Willem was now fully focused on getting as much information as he could.

"The Dragons and the Fey, as well as the four divine beasts have the ability to manipulate it to a certain degree." Ashkatar responded. "Though the Dragons should know better, considering one of their own has ascended before through the ritual. Only the Fey would be foolish enough to tempt fate by using the ley lines."

"This is not the first time I have seen the Fey, I had a dream... Mayhaps a vision of the Fey leader, who wore tribal clothing and had vibrant wings of pink and purple. He struck his hand through the heart of the 'King of Demons' to obtain a red orb." Willem was reminded of a dream he had a while ago, so vivid and colorful. "I watched it all happen, and I saw the end of the Bastion of Hope, it's false King dead from exhaustion of magical energy."

"Did you see an explosion? It would have covered your vision if you had seen such a thing." Ashkatar was now the one asking questions.

"No, that was where my dream ended, with the Fey leader pocketing a red orb and walking away from the dying 'King of Demons'." Willem breathed out deeply as he recounted what he could remember.

"This, combined with what I felt from the ley lines, there should be no mistake. It appears as though the Fey Leader intends to become a God." Ashkatar irately spoke.