Dong~~ Dong~~ Dong~~
"Report! A coalition of undead pirates and dark elves is advancing toward Tiranoc!"
"Report! Urgent message from Tiranoc! Enemy fleet has entered the Ringed Mist!"
"Report! Watchtower sighting! Enemy fleet numbers at least fifty battleships!"
Inside the High Elves' War Council, one urgent report after another piled up in front of Tyrion. His expression was grim as he commanded the mobilization of all available forces for war.
The steady toll of the bell roused Phoenix King Finubar from his bed. Alongside White Lion Captain Corhil, he made his way to the War Council to hold an emergency meeting. Finubar seated himself atop the high throne, silently observing the War Council members as they convened.
"Our kin have allied with the undead!" Tyrion muttered, pacing furiously in the council hall. "We've delayed far too long, everyone!"
The elf princes were silent, finally realizing the extent of time they had wasted. Yet no one spoke up, and because of the emergency nature of the meeting, only about twenty to thirty princes were present, with others trickling in.
The usual packed council was now sparse and subdued. Only Princess Aethela of Tiranoc dared to voice her opinion. "War Commander, I propose we immediately reinforce Tiranoc's defenses along the coast and have the fleet set sail to meet the enemy forces!"
As Tiranoc's princess and de facto leader, Aethela was understandably the most anxious.
"I'm giving you five regiments, including the Eataine cavalry, and take your chariots too," Tyrion ordered without hesitation, his face grim as a shadow of the dread god Khaine briefly flickered behind him. The specter of the god of murder and war seemed to loom ominously, his beautiful yet terrifying face visible over Tyrion's shoulder.
All knew what this implied. Even in the face of Khaine's presence, few dared to speak. The Asur maintained a tenuous respect for Khaine, believing his fervor for battle could inspire their soldiers to fight with greater zeal. So, despite the intimidating appearance of the war god's shadow, no one commented.
"Yes, sir!" Under Tyrion's forceful command, and faced with the looming threat of Khaine's visage, the high elf princes set aside their previous squabbles and united. Officers quickly accepted their assignments and followed Princess Aethela out to organize.
Watching from his throne, Finubar realized that only in times of grave crisis would the Asur truly stand united. Otherwise, any attempt at centralization would be seen as suspect, viewed as a step toward Druchii authoritarianism and Malekith's tyrannical rule.
"Sea Lord! We need the Star Dragon Fleet to fight at full strength immediately," Tyrion shouted, turning to Eslin.
"The fleet is ready to deploy at your command," replied Eslin. Despite the arguments, the Sea Lord had prepared thoroughly.
"Good. And now for the ironclads. We need them too. Summon King Ryan and Grand Commander Fogen immediately," Tyrion continued. In this critical moment, Tyrion's unyielding will finally brought all under his authority.
As the summons for Ryan and Fogen went out, a new series of messages arrived.
"Report! Dark elf fleets sighted near the desolate islands of the northern coast!"
"Report! Chrace has refused to send troops, opting to defend the northern gate of Ulthuan!"
"Report! Caledor has refused to send troops, prioritizing the defense of Dragon Gate!"
"Report! Eataine requests to withdraw troops from Lothern! Likewise, Cothique!"
Each message worsened Tyrion's mood, and even the Phoenix King grew uneasy. But years of ruling had taught Finubar to hide his emotions, and he observed the council in silence, waiting for an opportunity to bolster his own influence.
Tyrion paced, growing increasingly agitated.
Eslin studied the map, considering both sea defense strategies and the ironclads' deployment.
Alith Anar remained silent, his cold expression unreadable.
"Under no circumstances will we withdraw from Lothern!" Tyrion finally declared, voice trembling with anger. "We must strike swiftly to defeat the invaders at Tiranoc, then rush north to reinforce Chrace and the desolate islands. May Aenarion's bloodline empower us, and may the Phoenix King protect Ulthuan!"
A heavy silence fell over the council as Tyrion invoked his lineage. None dared oppose him now—not without Teclis, Imrik, or any higher-blooded noble present to challenge Tyrion's claim to nobility. This was a blatant power play, but one no one could counter. Tyrion had seized control of the council.
An hour later, Ryan, Sulia, and Fogen finally arrived. Tyrion wasted no time, addressing them directly. "King Ryan, Commander Fogen, the enemy is upon us. We need the ironclads. Are you ready?"
"The ironclads are battle-ready," Ryan answered, though he wished to discuss strategy. However, Tyrion seemed to be looking only for affirmation. Satisfied, he immediately turned to Sea Lord Eslin. "The Enterprise and Saint Sophia are yours to command. They'll follow your lead."
"Understood," Eslin said, turning to Ryan and Fogen. "You'll follow the Sea Dragon and Prince as they lead us into battle."
"We'll meet the enemy before they reach Ulthuan's waters and destroy their fleet," Tyrion continued, strategizing quickly. "Once they're neutralized, we'll reinforce the northern islands and prepare for our kin's attack!"
The council quickly shifted into strategy mode. Plans were drawn to prevent the coalition fleet from breaking through the Ringed Mist and landing in Tiranoc. Speed was paramount, and the objective was to break through and reach the desolate islands before the Druchii forces could seize Khaine's Shrine.
As debate over tactics flared again, Ryan and Fogen, overlooked and ignored, exchanged weary glances. They resigned themselves to the side, deciding to wait out the arguments.
Watching this, Finubar made his move. Coughing softly, he rose from his throne. "Gentlemen, may I speak?"
All voices fell silent. The Phoenix King's mere request commanded attention, though most of the time he served merely as a figurehead.
"This is a momentous war, and it seems consensus is elusive. Therefore, I have decided that I shall lead this campaign personally!"
Tyrion: "…"
All council members: "…"
High elf princes and princesses: "…"
Finubar's ministers and White Lion Captain Corhil: "…"
Silence pervaded the council chamber.
Finally, in a tone that sounded like mourning, someone cried out, "Your Majesty, this must not be! We cannot allow it!"
"Please reconsider, Your Majesty! Ulthuan cannot lose its Phoenix King!"
"Lothern needs you, Sire! A naval battle is no place for your royal personage!"
One after another, the princes kneeled, "imploring" the Phoenix King not to endanger himself. The thought of Finubar—a commander capable of leading a thousand elite troops into near-equal battles against monstrous beasts from the Anulii Mountains—taking charge of this crucial naval clash horrified them.
"Sire, as you have entrusted me with command, please remain here in Lothern," Tyrion implored, visibly pale at the idea of Finubar's direct intervention. "I will see to the army's arrangements."
"But, Lord Tyrion, it seems you're unable to finalize strategy. Perhaps it would be best if I…" Finubar began, only for Tyrion to cut him off.
"Enough! The Phoenix King has spoken. We'll waste no more time—finalize the strategy, now!"
"Yes!" The council snapped to attention. All disputes and gripes vanished. Within half an hour, marching orders and strategic goals were set. Tyrion handed the finalized plan to Finubar. "Your thoughts, Sire?"
Finubar took it, his assertiveness quickly diminishing as he resumed his usual vacant expression, eyes glazing over. Even from afar, Ryan and Sulia doubted he truly comprehended the plan.
"Let it be as Lord Tyrion says," Finubar declared after a mere few minutes of browsing.
No sooner had he spoken than the High Loremaster, Teclis, burst into the council chamber, bringing fresh news.
"The Vortex has begun to destabilize! The White Tower mages predict a coming Witch Night, which will unleash hordes of Chaos daemons upon us!"
"What?!" The council erupted.
"We can't delay any longer. Gather the army. In three hours, the fleet departs!"
"Yes, sir!"
---
Meanwhile, on the open seas beyond Ulthuan…
"Your Majesty," a voice whispered, "the council has finalized their plan. They'll sail from Lothern's sea gates to engage our coalition. I've copied their strategy here…"
In whispered tones, the plot was revealed.
"Good," Malekith said. "Relay this to Kraken Lord Lokhir Fellheart immediately."
"This time, I will see our kin's precious Star Dragon fleet utterly destroyed."
"This will be the first step in reclaiming Ulthuan."
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