ACT IVTHE CIVIL WAR

  CHAPTER 64THE SMALL CELEBRATION As the horrors of Galenhall finally subsided, the Cndorian army moved in with cautious steps. Though Hans had assured them it was safe, the memory of the tentacle monster tearing apart their ex-comrades instilled a deep wariness. Hans and the Griffin Knights stayed behind in the rear while the gruesome task of cleaning the stronghold took nearly the entire day. Corpses and blood were cleared away before the rear guard finally entered.

  Reina wanted to minimise the loss of life on both sides, and as she feared Parv, led by Hans, was doing the quite opposite. She bit her inner feeling and remained calm.

  This stronghold was now going to serve as the new staging area for Cndor’s eastern frontier. However, the Cndorians were not the only ones mobilising. The Council had witnessed the fall of Galenhall, and though they had captured it in a single day, the Cndorians had done the same and had paid no price.

  And this wasn’t the only thing happening. As if their stars weren’t aligning them to their favour, bad news kept coming to the council’s ears. Northern forces had also marched forward, capturing the council-governed city of Willowbane, while the Southern frontiers used guerril tactics to chip away at their strength without making any further progress.

  “Is Xandor still not coming out?” queried one council member, Lord Dandor Celebryn, his long beard fiddled with absent-mindedly.

  “Screw Xandor. He was never reliable. But how did the Thalorians fail? Was their superior barrier truly nullified by that Parvian brat?” demanded Lady Penning Lorienneth, her big eyes narrowed in scepticism.

  Lord Varys Thalorian, once celebrated for his heroic capture of Galenhall, now sat in silent mourning after losing it just as swiftly. The heavy losses weighed on him, including four of their fifty mana artilleries. Despite his grief, he wasn’t going to tolerate mockery from Lady Lorienneth, whom he deemed a coward.

  The Lorienneths avoided physical combat, preferring to manipute enemies' dreams, inducing fear and confusion as their method of attack. But before Varys could retort, Lord Dandor Celebryn, the brains behind the council, intervened, fiddling with his beard.

  “Gentlemen, we have a problem here. We lost four weapons in Galenhall, and it is sure to assume they are still in working condition. Parv gave us their words that these were the only ready weapons they had, and those bastards never go back on their words—”

  “What are you implying, Celebryn?” inquired the feisty woman, the dy of Lorienneths. Her composure was quite a contrast to her dreamlike and serene appearance. If there was an award for being a seductress, she would have been definitely a winner. But Celebryn was too wordy for the impatient woman she was.

  Yet, Dandor didn’t mind her tone and continued, “I’m suggesting we prepare for the worst. If those weapons are indeed functional and in enemy hands, they pose a significant threat. We must strategise accordingly, utilising our strengths to counteract this new development.”

  “You mean it’s time for us to use magic towers?” The quiet Thalorian lord inquired.

  “Yes.” The calm voice of Dandor turned serious, and his hand finally moved away from his long beard. “Summon the tower masters. We will focus on crushing those southern flies first.”

  EASTERN FRONTIER

  The first day had been nothing short of a whirlwind for Hans. The glory of recapturing Galenhall was solely his, marking the beginning of his journey towards the necessary fame required of his stature as the imperial prince.

  It was his first step, but he craved more. Homar had urged him to garner unparalleled fame and proposed a battle between him and one of the top ten knights. However, Hans knew that outshining everyone in the war would leave Homar no choice but to bow before him, cementing his pce as the true master of the Golden Griffin, the most formidable knight order in existence.

  Night had fallen over the battlefield, but sleep eluded Hans. He y in the barracks within the safe walls of Galenhall, an unsettling feeling gnawing at his heart. “So, from tomorrow, I'll really be at the support unit, huh? I wanted to do more, but I guess I should wait for the opportunity instead of worrying about Grandma.”

  “Oye! Princess, are you asleep?” Delimira's voice called out from outside his tent.

  “Stop calling me princess, you dumb elf,” Hans grumbled as he stepped out. He noticed someone else beside her. “Chris, you came too!”

  “What, you weren't happy to see your first knight?” Chris frowned.

  “Nah, it's just you usually don't bother me like her,” Hans pointed at Delimira.

  “Yeah, I'm a good boy. But tonight, I'll be bad.” Chris grinned, revealing a dark bottle from inside his jacket. He pushed both Hans and Delimira back into Hans's tent, unscrewing the cork with his bare hands, his grip impressively strong. “I brought this to celebrate your first victory, buddy... no, Prince Hans. Let's celebrate.”

  “You know I’m underage... no, we all are underage, Chris—”

  “Tch! Tch! Hans, buddy, we’re at war. Who knows? We might actually die tomorrow. So let’s enjoy today.”

  “You do know that’s not going to happen, right? Even a little screw-up, and I’ll drag you two back to Concordia,” Hans assured, but Delimira intervened.

  “He knows, Princess. He just wants to drink. Are you really that dense?” she sneered.

  “Fine then, give me some.” Hans picked up a gss, asking Chris to fill it up.

  “Sure, buddy.”

  “Oh! I’d love to see our teacher’s face right now,” Delimira teased while holding out her own gss to Chris. After filling their gsses, the three cheered, “To our victory—to our safe return—to burying Xandor.”

  Hans said the st phrase and chugged his drink while Chris and Delimira tried to stop him. “Ugh! This tastes like piss. How can anyone drink this?”

  “Buddy, this is wine. What would you say if you tasted real alcohol?” Chris compined, but Hans was knocked out in a second. “Geez, he really is a kid—”

  “Give him a break, Chris.” Delimira gazed at the mumbling Hans and covered him with a bnket. Since it was the eleventh month, winter was approaching swiftly. As she turned to Chris, she saw him looking intensely at her.

  “You’ve really changed, Deli,” he said warmly, chugging his drink. “You were like a thunder hedgehog, ready to shock everyone. But look at you now—you came to Cndor on your own, fighting alongside elves you used to hate. And,” Chris pointed at Hans, “you’re even caring for someone other than yourself. You’ve really grown—

  “Okay, Grandpa Chris. I’ve grown, but you’ve gotten old. Why are you talking like that?” She sipped her drink, fiddling with her gss, embarrassed.

  “No reason,” Chris replied, his eyes sincere. “It’s just... good to see you like this.”

  “This is getting cringe, Chris. But you’re wrong about something.” Delimira took another sip and said, “I’m not here to fight in the war. I’m just here so I won’t get bored because you two idiots decided to do this stupid thing. I won’t fight unless I or something of mine is in danger.”

  “I wonder who or what that might be, Delimira Winters,” Chris commented. But when Delimira’s furious, slitted eyes stared him down, he chugged the bottle dry and passed out. Meanwhile, Delimira continued to take a few sips.

  “He is right though,” she mumbled staring at sleeping Hans. “I’m really in trouble…”

  NEXT MORNING.

  “What a mess. Three kids snuck wine and got knocked out. You all get an A for discipline,” a voice chided. Hans rubbed his eyes and woke up, seeing his bnket snatched away by his friends. “Some friends they are,” he grumbled. When Sierra's scolding gaze met his, he tried to weasel out, “We aren’t at Concordia, Grandma. You can’t grade us.”

  “That was sarcasm, idiot,” Delimira said, embarrassed.

  “Ooh! I think I’m still fuzzy,” excused Hans.

  “You wouldn’t get it even if you were sober,” Delimira compined, clutching her head. “Ahh, do you actually get this splitting headache? I thought people just faked it to avoid others. Ugh.”

  “Stay steady,” Sierra said, stretching out her hand. “Detoxify.” A two-circle spell for nullifying poison, it worked wonders on drunkards. Within a minute, all three were as good as new. “Now you three—”

  “Dear, let it go,” Rudolf surprisingly took Hans’s side.

  “But they are all underage.”

  “One is almost sixteen,” Rudolf pointed out.

  “What about these two? One is fifteen while our brat is only twelve—”

  “In my defence, I’ll be thirteen in two months,” Hans muttered, not so silently.

  “And that is still three years early for you to drink,” Sierra compined, but Rudolf interrupted again.

  “Oh, come on, Sierra. You’re acting like we weren’t like them when we were kids,” Rudolf argued.

  “I know. Did you forget how you almost got your head hunted by the temple—”

  “How could I? I sneaked a kiss from their divine dy,” Rudolf nudged her, and their audience waited for more details.

  “Shut your mouth! Kids are watching. Is that what you want them to learn? Sneaking kisses while drunk—”

  Rudolf turned to the three, “Kids, do not try this at home, school, or anywhere. Got it?”

  Chris nodded while Delimira blushed hard, as if she was caught red-handed. The st night fshed before her, “That was too irrational of me. What is happening to me?” As she silently contempted, Hans, unaware, urged Rudolf. “Yeah, yeah, Grandpa. Carry on, what next?”

  “Go wash your faces, brats. You’re years early to know these kinds of things.”

  “As if. You don’t know what kind of novels circute in Concordia, do you—” Before Hans could sabotage and spill the secrets of what the senior students had created to the dean of Knights, Chris hurriedly covered his mouth.

  “Are you out of your mind? He’s the dean, you idiot,” he whispered and dragged Hans outside while Rudolf compined in silence, “Did my disciple forget that I was also a student there?”