For the next few days, Ryan and his party found themselves with little to do but wait as the high elves slowly organized their forces. With the Phoenix brooches granted by Finubar, they explored Lothern's outer city, touring its sights while maintaining a relaxed front. With Ryan's newfound openness with Sulia, their relationship blossomed, making each outing feel like a honeymoon adventure. Every evening brought them back to their villa, where the Lady of the Lake, Sulia, and Olica took turns sharing Ryan's company—a life that, while delightful, stirred jealousy in Olica and the Lady alike, as Sulia's recent affections claimed the lion's share of Ryan's attention.
Yet, behind the scenes, their investigation continued. Ryan and Fulgrim tried to observe the fabled Great Wall of the inner city, but were quickly spotted by the high elf sentries. The guards seemed to view their attempts with tolerant amusement, dismissing it as the overzealous admiration of foreigners unaccustomed to the grandiosity of Asur's culture. The Great Wall was indeed impenetrable, as Olica had warned, and brute force wasn't an option. Ryan's psychic abilities couldn't even help; without line of sight or pre-existing markers, he couldn't teleport into the unknown, making any such move perilous.
To add to their annoyance, the high elf liaison, Althena the Scholar, clung to them like a shadow. Any time Ryan ventured outside, Althena would conveniently appear at the inn's door, ready with a pleasant excuse to accompany him. No matter the pretext, he would persist with an infuriating smile, maintaining his distance but always within a block, trailing them with his spyglass from afar if he felt particularly intrusive.
Yet as the days passed, an unexpected opportunity arose from a surprising source—the Lady of the Lake.
"A military inspection?" Tyrion furrowed his brow as he received the suggestion from Teclis, wondering what could have possessed his usually reserved brother to bring this up. Was Teclis under the influence of one of Lileath's whimsical impulses again?
But upon further reflection, Tyrion found he rather liked the idea.
Tyrion had managed to rally the forces of Tiranoc, with Princess Eldira arriving alongside the army of Yvresse, and the Everqueen's chief handmaiden, Istorne, bringing in a contingent from Avelorn. But even with this support, Tyrion dared not call up too many forces from Avelorn, fearing the backlash. Despite his status as the Eternal Queen's consort and chosen champion, Alarielle represented the Asur's spiritual authority, and mobilizing her homeland's entire army would provoke a flood of petitions against the Phoenix Throne, something Finubar could ill afford if he wanted to maintain his role as a mostly ceremonial figurehead.
In fact, just two days earlier, Tyrion had clashed bitterly with Imrik in the War Council.
Tyrion demanded that the warriors of Caledor, the most battle-hardened kingdom of Ulthuan, mobilize their forces for the assault on the Vampire Fleet. The Caledorian dragons were a crucial asset, and without them, the fleet would be severely disadvantaged.
Imrik, however, was not inclined to comply without substantial conditions.
First, he demanded that he himself be appointed as commander of the war effort with Finubar's official written decree. Second, he insisted that the Caledorian dragon banners be prominently displayed, and that his Dragon Princes should issue commands in the field. Tyrion found these demands entirely unacceptable, and their meeting ended in an impasse.
Tyrion knew he needed the dragons' power but refused to cede command. When he asked again for Caledor's support, Imrik only became more evasive.
"I would like nothing more than to join the battle, Tyrion," Imrik replied in a tone as cold as iron, "but Caledor's armories are sorely depleted. Our Val anvils need more iron ore, more rare metals. Without a supply from the Phoenix Throne, our smithies can't fulfill the demand for arms. Otherwise, it may take ten years to prepare our forces."
"Caledor's forces are eager, but logistical constraints have delayed our progress," he continued. "If you want Caledor's legions on the field, then Phoenix Throne must cover all provisions for our troops' upkeep. We can offer five Dragon Princes and two hundred elite warriors to accompany your advance for now. Once the supply train arrives, our full forces will be ready to march."
Tyrion was beyond exasperated with Imrik's stalling tactics but could do nothing about it. The tension between them was rooted in Ulthuan's traditions. It had been customary, since the days of Phoenix King Caledor I, that whenever the Phoenix Throne required the might of Caledor's dragons, command was often handed to the Dragon Princes of Caledor.
But Tyrion was not about to cede command to Imrik, leaving the issue unresolved. Wanting to bolster his forces, Tyrion eventually turned to Finubar with a request to conscript from the Asur's citizenry.
Without much choice, Finubar signed the order, and soon Tyrion's forces swelled to over 60,000, ready to be marshaled in Lothern for the impending strike.
It was then that Teclis approached Tyrion with an unusual idea: to hold a grand military review and demonstration of Asur might for their Bretonnian allies.
Tyrion found himself intrigued. Imrik's reluctance and the lack of dragons made the ironclads invaluable, and perhaps the human king and his marines would appreciate seeing Asur's famed military spectacle.
In early November, Year 2513 of the Imperial Calendar, marking the 350th year of Finubar the Voyager's reign, Ryan, Sulia, and the Old Guard officers arrived in the inner city. Fulgrim led his Phoenix Guard alongside them, graced with official permission to observe Ulthuan's military prowess firsthand.
Within Lothern's gleaming inner district, tens of thousands of high elves were arrayed in shining armor. Their ranks were a testament to discipline and order, an art form executed with flawless precision and coordination, every movement as if rehearsed in harmony. Observing them, Ryan couldn't help but imagine how remarkable it would be if his kingdom's peasant levies could display even a fraction of such sophistication.
But he knew it was impossible. These were citizens who had spent centuries refining their craft.
In Tyrion's host, the elite professional soldiers and standing troops were few; the ranks mainly consisted of conscripted citizen-soldiers. But even these high elf militia forces vastly outstripped the discipline and training of ordinary human soldiers, exhibiting a sense of martial pride and readiness that even Ryan's standing forces could rarely match. Only the Old Guard, Coldstream Guard, and select detachments of Fulgrim's elite Phoenix Guard could match them in drill, maneuver, and sheer presence.
For the high elves, military service often began with the bow as "White Arrow archers," mastering swordsmanship and archery through decades of service. Over time, they would transfer to spear formations, forging ranks of spearmen who drilled as precisely as dancers performing a tightly choreographed routine. Without orders, they instinctively closed ranks, their spears forming an unbreakable wall that moved in perfect synchronization.
Only after centuries of such training would the best among them join standing armies, advancing to become Lothern Sea Guard or other permanent forces.
Unlike other races, their disciplined formations relied not on shouted commands but on a profound instinctive awareness of their comrades' intentions. It was an art bred from long years and could not be replicated by human means.
The Old Guard officers and Fulgrim's Phoenix Guard were equally awed, exchanging words of appreciation as they took in the Asur's flawless parade.
"This is indeed a formidable army," Ryan remarked to Fulgrim. "The elves certainly know what they're doing."
"They've had plenty of time to perfect it," Fulgrim replied. "Never underestimate the ancient races."
Nearby, Tyrion and Princess Eldira of Tiranoc observed the scene with satisfaction. Tyrion approached Ryan and Fulgrim with a confident smile. "Well, my lords, what do you think of our Asur forces? Are they not magnificent?"
"Like wolves ready to pounce," Ryan answered with a grin, feeding Tyrion's pride.
"And our provisions?" Tyrion asked, gesturing to the mountainous stacks of supplies and weaponry.
"Impressive. A fine force, well-prepared," Ryan nodded.
"Very good!" Tyrion, pleased by Ryan's admiration, stepped back, turning to arrange his final preparations, leaving Ryan, Sulia, and Fulgrim to themselves.
"What do you think?" Ryan whispered to Sulia, taking her hand. "How does the high elf military impress you?"
"They're formidable, but it's also clear the conscription itself reflects their decline," Sulia mused, gracefully lifting her teacup. "The fact that they rely so heavily on conscription suggests a society stretched thin. The real miracle is that they haven't collapsed after centuries of war with the Dark Elves."
Ryan and Fulgrim burst into laughter. "Well said, dear!" Fulgrim agreed, nodding approvingly at Sulia's insight.
The conscription system, while powerful, tied the army directly to social stability. Frequent and large-scale mobilizations could devastate the citizenry, breaking the back of the yeomen who bore the brunt of such wars. Overuse risked the ruin of those middle-class landholders vital to high elf society, as well as social collapse.
Lost in thought, Ryan was brought back to reality by a sharp voice. Tyrion's niece, the warrior-princess Eldira, had overheard their conversation. Proud
and hot-tempered, she approached with a cold glare.
"So, you're the so-called King of Knights?" she sneered, crossing her arms with a challenging smirk. "When did it become appropriate for foreign monkeys to judge the might of Asur?"
Ryan, already in a slightly defiant mood, stood up with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What, is one required to have pointy ears to comment on high elf military prowess?" he asked dryly. "Or perhaps you don't think I'm qualified to appreciate it?"
"There's only one way to know if you're worthy," Eldira replied, drawing her sword and planting it into the ground before him. "Shall we see if you have the honor for a duel?"
Ryan's gaze lit up with interest. He stood up, feeling Sulia's eyes on him, her expression a blend of amusement and approval.
"Bring it on," he said with a grin.
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