Before sunrise, three flagpoles had already been raised in the clearing.
The Elven engineers had worked through the night to erect them.
Each pole was as thick as a man’s forearm, carved from ironwood and driven deep into the hard prairie soil.
They stood in a perfect equilateral triangle, thirty paces apart.
Elyndra arrived before dawn.
Her Royal Guard marched behind her in two disciplined columns, their silver-tipped spears gleaming faintly through the morning mist.
She instructed Lysandor to prepare the meeting site.
Only one order mattered.
“Leave the center table completely bare.”
No decorations.
No banners.
Nothing.
She then took her seat behind the blue-draped Elven table.
Her back faced the Elven lines.
Her eyes remained fixed on the centre of the clearing.
Before her rested only a cup of untouched tea and a sealed record board.
She waited.
The Human delegation arrived shortly afterward.
When Orik rode out through Clermont’s gates with twenty cavalrymen, the sky was still dark.
His riders wore the finest armour still available.
Their sabres had been polished until they shone.
Not because they intended to fight.
Because appearances still mattered.
He had barely slept.
Half the night had been spent arguing with his adjutant over the identity of the mysterious third party.
Dwarves?
Impossible.
Dwarves never involved themselves in foreign wars.
Halflings?
They barely possessed cavalry.
Reinforcements from the northern frontier?
He had already ruled that out.
At last, his adjutant had offered one final possibility.
“What if…”
“…it’s those lizard creatures from the rainforest?”
Orik had never answered.
The thought had crossed his own mind.
Before the siege began, northern patrols had reported strange reptiles near the jungle.
Every report described them as wild beasts.
Now, as he looked toward the three flagpoles and the empty central table…
He found himself reaching a different conclusion.
Whoever the third party was…
It would not be an animal.
“General.”
His adjutant lowered his voice.
“The Elven formation looks…
unusual.”
Orik followed his gaze.
The Royal Guard had positioned themselves farther back than was customary for negotiations.
Not carelessly.
Deliberately.
The entire front section had been left open, creating a broad triangular space around the three flagpoles.
They were not preparing to defend against Humans.
They were making room for someone else.
Orik dismounted.
He ordered his twenty cavalrymen to halt where designated.
Sabres remained sheathed.
Shields stayed hanging from the saddles.
Then he turned to his adjutant.
“Tell everyone to stay calm.”
“No matter what happens…”
“That’s an order.”
The adjutant hurried away to relay the command.
The horses snorted into the cold morning air, white vapour drifting from their nostrils.
Their hooves pawed nervously at the ground.
They sensed something long before their riders did.
Orik approached the Human table.
He remained standing.
Looking directly at Elyndra, he asked,
“What exactly are the Elves planning?”
It was not an accusation.
Only exhaustion.
Weeks of siege.
Ten days of food remaining.
Then suddenly…
A ceasefire.
Negotiations.
And now…
A mysterious third participant.
He had never attended a meeting like this.
At this point…
He simply wanted an honest answer.
Elyndra raised her pale blue eyes to meet his.
The corner of her mouth moved ever so slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Closer to a sigh.
“The most important guest hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Be patient.”
Orik stared at her for several moments.
Then he quietly pulled out his chair and sat down.
Not because she had convinced him.
Because he had accepted reality.
Whatever game the Elves were playing…
Humanity no longer had the food or manpower to refuse.
He folded his hands upon the table.
The posture was identical to the one he had assumed every day while watching the same battlefield from Clermont’s walls.
Then…
The ground began to tremble.
Not an earthquake.
A steady rhythm.
Even.
Measured.
Like a heartbeat travelling through the earth.
The source came from the rainforest.
Ripples spread across the untouched surface of Elyndra’s teacup.
The Elven warhorses raised their ears.
The Human cavalry mounts snorted anxiously, scraping their hooves against the soil.
One young horse suddenly stumbled backward several steps.
Its rider cursed softly while struggling to control it.
Orik rose immediately.
One of his cavalrymen gasped.
Moments later, frightened whinnies spread through the entire Human line.
Every rider present was a veteran.
Many had fought Orcish charges on the northern frontier.
But none of their horses had ever smelled anything like this.
Nor heard the deep, rhythmic vibrations rising from beneath the earth.
“General…”
His adjutant’s voice had grown tense.
Orik lifted one hand.
“Hold.”
Elyndra stood.
She did not look toward the Humans.
Instead, her eyes remained fixed upon the immense wall of dark-green rainforest. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
The morning fog still clung to the trees, making the jungle resemble an endless black frontier.
Then…
She saw them.
Without taking her eyes off the forest, she spoke quietly to Orik.
“They’re here.”
“The most important participant in today’s meeting…”
“Has arrived.”
The first figures to emerge were the Cold One Riders.
Two companies appeared simultaneously from both flanks of the forest.
The scales of their mounts shimmered dark green beneath the morning light.
Behind them…
The infantry.
Five companies of Saurus Spearmen marched from the centre of the tree line.
At their head stood the Blessed Saurus Warriors.
The pale golden sheen across their scales glimmered brilliantly beneath the rising sun, standing in sharp contrast to the darker scales of the ordinary warriors behind them.
The Saurus Spearmen formed two disciplined ranks.
Then came the Skink Javelin Cohorts.
They did not march from the ground.
They descended from the trees themselves.
The skirmish line unfolded along both flanks.
Every javelin rested calmly across a shoulder.
Finally…
The towering blue figure emerged.
Kroq-Gar.
He walked from the depths of the rainforest.
Crossing the open ground between the Skink skirmishers and the Saurus formation.
Every step sent another measured vibration through the prairie beneath the cavalry’s feet.
He halted at the edge of the clearing.
His slit pupils slowly surveyed the gathering.
From the blue banners of the Elven Guard…
To the restless Human horses…
From the untouched teacup before Elyndra…
To the polished vambrace resting beneath Orik’s folded hands.
Then…
He stepped into the triangle formed by the three flagpoles.
The Cold One Riders silently spread into position around the perimeter.
The Skinks crouched along both sides.
Crusher remained hidden within the shadows beneath the rainforest canopy.
Only the tips of his three enormous horns caught the morning sunlight.
The Human horses finally lost all composure.
One stallion reared violently, its forelegs striking wildly through the air.
Its rider barely managed to cling to its neck before being thrown.
The remaining horses retreated together.
Their hooves carved chaotic furrows across the prairie.
The enormous blue Lizardman stopped behind the empty table.
He looked down at its bare wooden surface.
Then glanced toward the Elven table draped in blue.
Finally…
He looked at the Human table, where sweat already dampened the polished wood beneath Orik’s hands.
Elyndra slowly resumed her seat.
She lifted her teacup.
The tea had long since gone cold.
She drank it anyway.
Orik gradually lowered himself back into his chair.
His folded hands returned to the tabletop.
The knuckles remained pale.
Behind Kroq-Gar, the tracks left by the Cold One Riders stretched all the way from the rainforest to the edge of the meeting ground, deeply etched into the prairie soil.
“The third party…”
Elyndra’s voice returned to its usual calm.
She placed the sealed record board upon the corner of the table.
“…has arrived.”