A knock on the door stopped Tristan's pen. His paperwork piled up, but he needed some distraction anyway.

  "Come in."

  In walked one of his servants, with legs shaking, afraid of delivering bad news. In his hand he gripped tightly a sealed vellum with a knight order's seal. Tristan's eyes quickly found the mark of the red wax; his lips bent into a thin line. I wonder... why would they contact me right now? After last year's fiasco no less. Surely they sent an apology. His face betrayed no emotion.

  "My liege, a messenger just came bearing news. It's the Order of the Serpent. F-from what I understood, they are requesting aid on the south-western bord..."

  The servant squealed in terror when he felt his lord's Authority explode like a bomb. It pressured him, causing him to fall down on his face. The room vibrated in barely constrained anger. Like moments before an earthquake, his anger caused reality to tremble.

  "The AUDACITY they have to ask for my aid! After they left my troops for dead! MINE!" The wooden doors exploded into splinters. Tristan of clan Ironhand shuddered and wrenched his poorly veiled fury back.

  He rubbed his tired eyes. "I'm sorry for my outburst, it's unbecoming of a nobleman. You’re not responsible for their incompetence." The last word was hissed with such contempt that the sturdy alchemically treated desk vibrated dangerously.

  The trembling servant stood up from the floor. Eventually he found his courage; he swallowed and continued.

  "The order is saying that they need aid. Apparently the Odigo tribes aren't letting up. They raided a few small coastal villages and captured them as slaves. The kobolds are petitioning for a task force to be made to repel the savages. The sergeant of the order who wrote the rapport also said that they don't have enough men. They need to patrol the coast constantly, and with the recent incursions from the Lost grounds, they're afraid we could lose the entire seaside. From his recountings, the Brood nestled in the submerged caves."

  "That is indeed troublesome, you've done well informing me about this... Turns out the green bastards had good reason to contact me." Stroking his chin, Tristan pondered the rapidly evolving situation.

  "Losing access to the coast would be bad. We need the resources from the fishermen there. Not even counting the kobolds. The reparations they would demand- I'd rather not think about it."

  After a moment, regaining a bit of courage, the messenger added quietly. "If- If I could my liege, I think it could be necessary to send in tier three reinforcements. We could get grants from the king for protecting the Empire"

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  Wincing as if he had said something terrible he added quickly. "Of course it's just my humble opinion, I'm sure whatever the lord declares will be the best."

  Thinking through the proposition, Tristan denied it with a wave of his hand.

  "No, we can't send tier threes there. Even with the grants from King Amadeus, it wouldn't be worth it. The beast tide will be soon upon us and from what the Magistrum and Adventurer's guild gathered, it'll be especially devastating this year. We need our elite troops close to our lands to protect them. But we also need to send some forces to the coast..."

  Realizing something, he exclaimed. "Found it, we'll send in a squad of our tier two "Fixers" along with willing volunteers from the Magistrum. Also, put up a bounty in the Guilds; a glimmer for every insect slain. This should get the Kobolds off my back and ensure most of the coast will be in our hands. Inform the barracks and the Magistrum." Lord Tristan, the head of the Ironhand house declared.

  After the servant left, he looked at the map hung on his wall. It was full of red dots, with strings depicting the shuffling of entire armies. It seems the political games will begin now.

  "Squire, report!" A fair-faced stoic Revari commanded. The scales of his green armor reflected the dim light of Celarity.

  "Sergeant! The peace envoys returned in bags. We should retreat and regroup." The pale-faced knight-in-training shouted. Blood and mud streamed down his exhausted face. Despite that, the troop had respect for rank ingrained into his bones. His back was straight and unbending while his tone was cordial.

  The sergeant cursed and bent down onto the makeshift map. He already executed the idiot dumb enough to send negotiating forces. There was only the road of violence for these monsters. Unfortunately, he had been too slow to stop the envoys- Those lives were on his hands. Already, there was too much blood on them. The sergeant's form slumped as he remembered the faces of the fallen soldiers- His soldiers.

  Your skill(Tactical Delegation) has reached level 115-120

  The skill-born ability saved him from despair. It delegated it into the future, where he wouldn't crumble the remaining morale of his squad.

  In the tactical frame of mind, only one logical solution remained.

  The hulking Revari barked orders. "We stay. Evacuate civilians. Dig trenches. Ward the shit out of the entire coast! If those bastards want to come, we'll give them a warm welcome! Deploy scouts and look for the Brood, reinforcements are coming!" His voice carried to the whole camp. The soaked knights cheered. The sergeant's heart warmed from the gesture.

  Those were his men and if they were to go, they would do it side by side. The coming weeks would taste them greatly. Either they would rise to the challenge, or they would break.

  The camp looked more like a beehive with all the knights rushing out of it. Vanguards escorted crafters to set snares, dig trenches, and build fortifications. Scouts run into the unknown under the cover of mages. The Magistrum's agents were everywhere- And thank the Serpent for it. They joined the mission after the order's benefactor offered some of the treasure from his vault. Without him, they would have to make do without healing and stealth magic. The sergeant shuddered but quickly overcame the emotion. He had men to lead and people to save.

  They would not falter. Not on his watch. The Brood wouldn't stop them. The Odigo wouldn't either.

  Yellow, predatory eyes scanned the misty horizon. The Revari sharpened his claws in anticipation of the coming bloodshed.