The world, as Sael now understood it, contained ten people who functioned less like individuals and more like natural disasters with opinions. They were scattered across the twelve continents, each one a dominating power in their own right; the kind of figure who could reshape borders, end wars with a gesture, or simply exist in a place and make that place untouchable by virtue of being there.

  Some called them the Ten Pillars, though Sael had found the name a bit grandiose. Then again, he'd not said anything about it since he himself was known as Sael the Great, an epithet that was all but humble. Still, they were just people. Extremely powerful people, certainly, but people nonetheless.

  The Jade Emperor ruled the eastern continent with what was reportedly an iron fist wrapped in silk diplomacy. The Witch-Queens—three sisters, if the stories were accurate—held dominion over the Southern Reach and were said to share power in a way that made their territory functionally unassailable. There was the Buried King, the Stormcaller, the Ashen Sultan, the Pale Matron...

  Sael tried to remember the rest. The Leviathan and the last one... he couldn't recall. Someone in the far south, perhaps? Or had they died already and no one had replaced them yet?

  According to Koleen, two of these ten had been killed recently.

  The headmaster had named them: the Ashen Sultan and the Buried King. Both devoured by a new emerging power who called himself the Orc Lord.

  He looked up at Koleen. "Is the whole army Corrupted?"

  The headmaster's expression didn't change, but something in the way he held himself suggested the answer wasn't simple.

  "Eye witnesses say the army's made up of normal orcs," he said. "Rank and file. Nothing unusual about them, aside from following orders that would get most orcs killed without a second thought." He paused. "The Orc Lord himself, though, and four of his generals... they're different. Purple energy, apparently and veins running under their skin in the same colors. They're stronger than any orc has ever been."

  Sael frowned. That sounded like Corruption, but if it was only five of them...

  "The Ashen Sultan went first," Koleen continued. "The Orc Lord walked into his capital alone. Challenged him in the streets outside the palace. Witnesses said the fight leveled a forest... just erased it, burned it down to ash and craters. Two mountains nearby don't exist anymore. One collapsed. The other one's just gone, like someone scooped it out of the earth."

  "The Sultan lost his head," Koleen continued. "Literally. The Orc Lord decapitated him, then sat down in front of the crowd that had gathered and ate him. Took his time with it, apparently."

  Sael stared at him.

  "The Buried King heard about it a few days later," Koleen went on. "Neighbor to the Sultan, so word traveled fast. He came to avenge an ally, or at least, that's the story. Brought his whole retinue. The Orc Lord and his four generals met him in the field." He shook his head slightly. "They tore him apart while he was still fighting back and ate him alive."

  There was no inflection in his voice.

  "After that, they chased out anyone who wasn't an orc. Pillaged the cities, burned the ones that resisted, and declared the territory theirs. The refugees started moving two weeks ago. I've never seen a migration like this in my life, and I've seen a lot of them. Whole populations just... picking up and leaving. Tens of thousands. Maybe more."

  Sael let the silence sit for a moment.

  "And no one's done anything about it?"

  Koleen's expression darkened. "What would you suggest? The remaining Pillars do not seem interested in throwing themselves at someone who just killed two of their peers. The Witch-Queens are fortifying their borders. The Stormcaller's supposedly 'gathering information,' which is another way of saying he's staying as far away as possible." He paused. "The Jade Emperor hasn't responded yet. That's unusual, normally he strikes first and speaks later. The fact that it's taken this long for him to do anything makes people nervous."

  He didn't elaborate on what that nervousness implied.

  Sael exhaled slowly. "So you're telling me there's a Corrupted warlord who's already taken out two of the ten most powerful people in the world, and everyone's just hoping he stops?"

  "That's about the shape of it, yes."

  "I see."

  Margaret sighed, her swing creaking slightly as she shifted her weight. "The king invoked a small council yesterday. Here in Orlys."

  Sael raised an eyebrow.

  "An extraordinary session," she continued. "The flux of refugees coming in is getting harder to control, apparently. The capital city's bursting at the seams, and the nobles are panicking about resource distribution, housing, disease..." She shook her head. "Poor Richter, he's been at it all night."

  Sael paused, something clicking into place. The messenger yesterday, the one who'd arrived on the pegasus with Richter's urgent summons to his council, that had been about this whole mess, hadn't it?

  "Had a council with his own people first," Margaret continued, "trying to get ahead of the chaos, and now he has to put up with Cedric's tantrums on top of it."

  "Tantrums?" Sael asked.

  Koleen's expression darkened immediately. "That brat."

  Sael glanced at him.

  The headmaster's jaw tightened, and for a moment he looked like he might say something truly venomous. Instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose and reined himself in. "Cedric's been... vocal. About how the crown should respond to the Orc Lord."

  "Vocal," Margaret repeated dryly. "That's generous."

  Koleen ignored her. "He's been suggesting we send you to handle it. In the name of the crown, of course. A royal decree, signed and sealed, ordering Sael the Great to march east and deal with the problem." His tone made it clear what he thought of that idea. "They're preparing an army to deliver it. An entire army, just to hand you a piece of paper and tell you what to do."

  Sael chuckled at that. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but the way Koleen said it so explicitly made it humorous. Perhaps that was one of the secrets to a good joke? This needed further analysis.

  "He wants to assert authority," Koleen continued, his voice clipped. "And make it clear that you serve the throne. That you answer to him." He paused. "He's terrified of you, so naturally, his solution is to try and leash you."

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  Margaret snorted. "The boy's nineteen and has the political instincts of a rabid squirrel."

  "He doesn't listen to his advisors," Koleen said. "Not when they tell him things he doesn't want to hear. Richter's tried. So has Lord Marlen. Even his mother attempted to talk sense into him, and he waved her off." He shook his head. "He was my apprentice, as you know. Just before his father died and duty called. I taught him the basics of magic and tried to teach him patience, discipline, how to think before acting." His mouth twisted. "Clearly, I failed."

  Sael said nothing. Not because he agreed with Koleen's assessment, but because speaking now felt like it would derail the conversation entirely, and this wasn't the time for it. He glanced at Margaret. She remained quiet, and she was better at navigating these situations than he was. So he kept his mouth shut.

  "He's making enemies he doesn't understand," Koleen continued. "Antagonizing people who could crush him without thinking twice. And he does it because he's scared, and he mistakes fear for weakness, so he lashes out to prove he's strong."

  Margaret's swing creaked as she shifted. "The boy's running out of goodwill faster than he realizes."

  Sael sat with that for a moment, considering the situation.

  Koleen cleared his throat. "I should mention—I came here ahead of them." He paused. "The army, I mean. They're being mobilized now and should arrive within the hour with the decree." His expression turned apologetic. "I... I wanted you to hear it from me first. To understand the situation before they showed up at your door with... demands."

  The unspoken plea was clear enough. Please don't take offense. Please don't do something we'll all regret.

  Sael nodded once. "I understand."

  The tension in Koleen's posture eased visibly.

  Sael stood, rolling his eyes slightly. The king's problem would need to be addressed eventually. A nation couldn't be led by someone so clearly unfit for it. But that was a concern for another day.

  "I'll go," he said.

  Koleen looked at him. "To the Orc Lord?"

  "Yes. If the rumors about Corruption are true, someone needs to see what's actually happening there."

  Margaret looked at him, her expression unreadable.

  Koleen studied him for a moment as well. "What do you need to know?"

  "Which kingdom is he in?"

  "Valtor. Last reports had him in the eastern territories, near the Blackstone Range." Koleen's expression was grim. "Though by now he could be anywhere."

  Sael nodded. That was enough to start with, and an army of orcs wasn't exactly hard to find for anyone looking for them.

  His gaze drifted down the hill to where Ilsa and Orion had finished with the deer leg. They were cleaning their hands in a basin of water Ilsa, talking quietly to each other. Orion was gesturing animatedly about something, and Ilsa laughed at whatever he'd said.

  Should he take them with him? The thought formed before he could stop it. Orion was still untrained—sixteen laps and vomiting didn't exactly inspire confidence in his stamina—and Ilsa, while capable, was young. Taking them into a war zone where a Corrupted warlord had just eaten two of the most powerful people in the world seemed... unwise. Reckless, even.

  "Take them with you," Margaret said.

  Sael turned to look at her, a small smile forming. "Do you read minds now, little Margaret?"

  Margaret laughed and shook her head. "I've known you my whole life, Grandpa. Some things don't require mind reading."

  She was still on the swing, but she'd stopped moving, her hands gripping the ropes as she met his gaze. "When I was a child," she said quietly, "and well into my adulthood, I wanted nothing more than to go on adventures with you. To see the world the way you saw it, to learn what you knew." She paused, her expression distant for a moment. "We never did that. You were always busy, or I was too young, or the timing wasn't right. And I understand why. I do. But..." She looked down at her hands. "I think if I'd been with you, I wouldn't have been lost in the Fey realm for as long as I was."

  Sael opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn't know what to say to that.

  "There's no place safer than by your side," Margaret continued, looking back up at him. "You know that. I know that. Everyone who knows you knows that." She smiled faintly. "And besides, Ilsa has no intention of letting you go without her. I can tell just by looking at her. And I doubt Orion would either, if you gave him the choice."

  Sael considered that, turning the thought over in his mind. "We'll see about that," he said finally. "I'm not dragging children into a battlefield just because they want to come."

  Margaret's smile widened slightly. "You'll ask them, though."

  "I'll ask them."

  A faint vibration ran through the ground beneath his feet. Subtle at first, barely noticeable, but growing steadily stronger. Sael tilted his head, focusing on it. The rhythm was regular, repetitive. Hooves. Many of them, moving in formation.

  He looked toward the horizon, in the direction of the road that led to his cottage.

  The army was coming.

  Sael sighed quietly, the sound carrying just enough weight to make Koleen's expression turn apologetic again.

  The headmaster shifted his weight, clearly feeling the tremors as well, and his embarrassment was visible in the way his jaw tightened. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say that wasn't about the approaching army. "T-the ambient mana here is quite rich, Archmage," he said, a bit too quickly. "Did you do something with it?"

  Sael glanced back at him. "Yes. I wanted something a little familiar with Hel's mana pressure, though not so much as to change the environment too rapidly. A gradual enrichment seemed prudent." He paused. "I adjusted the local ambient mana around the property. It should stabilize over the next few months."

  Koleen nodded, latching onto the topic with visible relief. "That would explain why the plants seem more vibrant than usual. I noticed it on the walk up."

  "They've responded well," Sael agreed.

  The ground trembled again, more pronounced this time. Koleen's expression tightened, but he said nothing.

  Sael turned toward the cottage. "I should go gather a few things for the journey."

  "Can I come too?"

  Sael stopped mid-step and glanced back. Robin was standing near the swing, his tail swishing in that particular way it did when he was trying to look casual about something that clearly wasn't casual at all.

  "Hmm?"

  Robin's ears flicked. "Well, my sister's still at the college, and I'm rather alone at home. Depressed, honestly. I miss my adventuring days." He tried for a smile that didn't quite land. "Thought maybe I could tag along? If you'd have me of course. Our trip to Ashams was pretty exciting, to be honest. Closest thrill I felt since my adventuring days."

  Sael studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I see." He paused, considering how to phrase the next question. "This question comes quite late, Robin, but what injury did you receive that put you into retirement?"

  Robin blinked at the shift in conversation, then seemed to deflate slightly. He reached down and lifted the leg of his trousers, exposing the thick leather brace strapped around his thigh and the jagged scar that ran beneath it. The scar didn't stop at his thigh, either; it traced upward, disappearing beneath his clothing in a way that suggested it continued all the way to his lower back.

  "A major nerve was damaged in my thigh," Robin said quietly, his voice losing some of its earlier energy. "And the bone in my lower back—the one that allows for bipedal locomotion—was fractured badly. Took a lot of my savings to get a healer skilled enough to make me functional again, but as an adventurer, this would be..."

  "Would you allow me to heal you?"

  Robin's mouth hung open for a moment, his words catching somewhere between his throat and his tongue. "I... yes?" He seemed confused, then... " I mean yes, sir! Please do!"

  Sael stepped forward, crouched slightly, and placed a single finger against Robin's furred thigh, just above the brace.

  "[Heal]."

  Golden and green light erupted from the point of contact, threading through with veins of vibrant green that pulsed like living roots spreading through soil. The glow traveled along the scar, tracing its path up toward Robin's back, and for a moment the air around them seemed to hum.

  Robin gasped audibly, his whole body going rigid before the tension bled out of him all at once. His legs wobbled, and he grabbed the swing's post to steady himself as the light faded.

  He stared down at his leg, then fumbled with the brace's straps, yanking them loose with shaking hands. The leather fell away, and he stood there for a long moment, just breathing. Then he took a step. Then another. His tail swished faster, his ears perked up fully, and he let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob.

  "Thank you," Robin said, his voice thick. He looked up at Sael, his eyes glistening. "I—thank you."

  He moved again, tentative at first, then more confident, like a fox testing the boundaries of a cage that had just been opened. His movements grew bolder, freer, and he spun once in place, testing his balance. The relief on his face was almost painful to witness.

  Sael nodded once. "You're welcome."

  Robin laughed again, this time fully, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his paw. "I—yes. I'll come with you. If you'll have me."

  Before Sael could respond, he felt it again. The tremor in the ground, stronger now. The rhythmic pounding of hooves, closer than before. He turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the road wound through the hills.

  The army was almost here.

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