无限阅币的韩漫app

Erlebnis’ short timeframe meant something else that was pivotal—this was no master plan, where Argrave had been manipulated into coming here and played like a fiddle to aid Erlebnis’ mastery of Kirel, the elven gods, and the Kingdom of Vasquer. If it had been planned long in advance, perhaps everything that Dimocles said would be true, and there would be no hope whatsoever.

Anneliese said she suspected the god of knowledge merely kept watch, and then acted accordingly when he found an opportunity to strike with Chiteng’s betrayal. Doubtless he’d have been paying close attention to this region, what with Kirel Qircassia manifesting so. Perhaps their party had simply caught his eye, and things spiraled out of control from there.

His presence on this realm meant Erlebnis had a breach of his own. Unlike the elven gods he had no strong ties to this land, and so a breach was necessary to manifest fully. All they knew about its location was that they came from the direction of the western coast, where the North Sea met the land. Depending on its location, Erlebnis was either quite far away geographically, or might potentially be in close proximity to Kirel Qircassia’s breach. If it was the latter… perhaps Argrave might be able to create conflict between the two.

Regardless, Argrave could obtain no more pertinent information. Indeed, he had to spin a suitable tale explaining why he did not arrive with Sarikiz’s aid as he had promised. He told them they were rebuffed by the same creatures that had engaged with the elven army and their gods.

After this long march of explanation and retreat, they made it to the central part of the Bloodwoods. Here, most were confident enough to be at ease, sending out thorough scouts to prepare for the next potential assault. Once there, Argrave had a brief respite in the high canopies of the Bloodwoods while waiting for a separate talk with Altan.

Argrave stared at the leaves of the redwoods from their spot, high up in the branches with his people. Kirel Qircassia’s ploy with the forest roots had left its mark—already, the green had turned to a faint brown, indicating that death had taken roots in even the branches of these titanic trees. Maybe they could be revived, but Argrave doubted it. The Veidimen were resting, exhausted, with Orion handling the situation on the ground. Anneliese and Ganbaatar were the only ones up here with him, and they stood by his side, totally exhausted. As his gaze wandered, his eyes met Onychinusa’s, as she stared at them from a distant branch. She turned her gaze away as soon as their eyes met. It certainly wasn’t shyness that made her do that.

“Okay,” Argrave said, turning back to the three of them. “It’s time to see if this will work. You’re going to talk to Batbayar?” Argrave asked Ganbaatar quietly despite the ward around them. These days, all of his conversations took place behind wards. He could afford no risks, not at the stakes he was playing.

Ganbaatar nodded, his eyes on the forest floor below. “…yeah. Yeah, I will. Seeing as you’re so persuasive, can you give me any advice? What should I say to him?”

Argrave blinked, then hardened and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t try to be like me,” he advised. “Do your… your normal angry insistence. If you’re fake, he’ll notice.”

Ganbaatar looked at him bitterly, then took a deep breath and gestured for the ward.

Argrave broke it, letting him pass, and then reformed it against around Anneliese. “Can you wrangle Onychinusa?” he asked her.

“Her?” Anneliese glanced briefly but didn’t let her gaze linger long.

“She’s temperamental. You’re well in tune with how she might react… and when it comes to restraining her, with [Life Cycle] you’re almost her antithesis. You could literally absorb her if you grab her, for as long as the contact lasts at least.” Argrave touched Anneliese’s arm. “Just make sure she doesn’t do anything impulsive. She’s a reluctant collaborator who was infamous for being unpredictable in Heroes of Berendar.”

“And you will be busy working Altan, I suspect,” Anneliese nodded. “Worry not. Onychinusa will cooperate and cause no problems. I will be sure of it.”

With that, Argrave gave her a hug and released the ward. She moved closer to Onychinusa slowly, almost like approaching a timid animal. For the first time in a long while, Argrave was waiting with nothing urgent on his plate. He was left alone with his thoughts… more specifically, his failures.

His first encounter with the divine had gone very poorly. He was still reeling desperately, seeking opportunity by feigning cooperation. Though there were lights of hope, the shadow trailing behind seemed liable to swallow him and the whole of Vasquer. With that… there would be deaths. Indeed, there already were—though he’d allowed the elven army to retreat from the emissaries, an attack of that magnitude hadn’t been without deaths.

Movement beneath brought Argrave out of his thoughts, and he looked towards the source to see Altan pulling herself up to the branch he stood on with wires. She walked to him quickly, then stopped.

“I greet His Majesty,” she said, kneeling before him.

Argrave looked around, perplexed, then bent slightly to grab her shoulder and help her up. “Why are you doing this, exactly?”

Altan accepted his guidance, rising to her feet. He studied her face. She had a thin, tall head, with sharp cheeks and chin marred by many scars. Her red eyes were small and seemed almost naturally hateful. She looked just as Argrave remembered… and in Heroes of Berendar, she’d certainly never been a worshipper of Erlebnis. He recalled her as a cynic, but a pragmatist. She was not this woman, who would stand idly by and watch the Supreme Myriarch die.

“I have been assigned to become your loyal servant, however you wish that to be,” Altan told him. “You certainly asked many questions, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t call me that. Not worth the risk,” Argrave instructed her. “You didn’t seem to have any problems answering those questions.”

“I had to be helpful. My position as Supreme Myriarch isn’t entirely secure,” she told him while crossing her arms. “Your aid on that front would be greatly appreciated.”

Argrave felt pleased, finding another chink in Erlebnis’ armor. He restrained his exuberance and instead acted disappointed, admonishing, “The emissaries told me you were Supreme Myriarch already.”

“Acting Supreme Myriarch,” Altan emphasized, seeming bitter about that fact herself. “But the title is chosen among the myriarchs. So long as you can help, it’s all but guaranteed I retain the position long term. And from there… I’ll command a migration to Vasquer, where we will be under your mercy.”

Argrave clicked his tongue, looking down below. “From all I’ve seen of your people, it’s going to be impossible to convince them to migrate to my kingdom quickly,” he began, taxing his mind to begin this elaborate play of his. “Even if I offer shelter, it won’t be taken.”

“I’d agree,” Altan crouched down, looking down. “But in the end, it’s not a choice. Factors beyond their control will determine how quick the exodus comes; namely, we won’t have a home to stay in much longer. I’ll offer all the help I can.” She looked up at him. “I hope you can do the same.”

“You’re fine serving me?” Argrave questioned. When she tilted her head in confusion, he continued, “There won’t be any problems accepting your status as vassal instead of leader?”

“In the times that come, I saw it all,” Altan looked back down. “We have to serve somebody. Let it be the one who can benefit us the most, materially speaking.”

It may be the devil, or it may be the lord… but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.

Argrave took a deep breath. It seemed it was time for him to put that conventional wisdom to test.

#####

“You can’t be serious,” Batbayar chided Ganbaatar. “After all that time disappeared, chasing your fancy and abandoning your duty to the army, you come back to me and ask me this?!”

“I left the army with no stain to my honor,” Ganbaatar disagreed. “And I ask you because you’re the only one I can.”

Batbayar cupped his forehead and said, “Because you’ve angered all of the rest with that attitude of yours.” He looked at Ganbaatar harshly. “Now you come back, playing lapdog to a foreign king?”

“I’ll be as damned dogged as I want when it comes to saving my people!” Ganbaatar veritably growled through clenched teeth. “This isn’t about Arrgave, it’s about us.”

Batbayar waved his hands away, stepping until he peered out at row after row of sleeping soldiers, all exhausted and injured by the constant warfare of days past. “I ought to take this before all of the myriarchs, make this public. The dryads—pfft,” the S-rank spellcaster scoffed.

“But what will you do?” Ganbaatar stepped up behind him.

Batbayar raised his hand up, fingers twitching as his red eyes grew distant and hazy. When no answer came to him, he said quietly, “You’ll know in the morning, I suppose.”

“But Batba—”

“Keep talking, I’ll name you traitor,” the elf turned his head. “You’re still under my command, Ganbaatar, even if I allowed you to retire. Leave me be… and let me think.”

Ganbaatar looked like he might burst in fury… but it seemed the elven rogue was better at containing his temper before his old commander than the gods of his pantheon. He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Batbayar to stand in the silence of night.

“Damn it, boy…” he sighed grimly, with no one around to hear.