Avatar Sun Tzu
The ferry was full of people from different races. He had learned that most were here chasing a chance at a better life by joining the Alliance. Some came to enlist in the army of the Gallan Wall; others hoped to hunt and find riches in the Untamed Realm.
He turned eastward, where their ferry was heading. On the horizon, the towering, shining walls of the main city of the Alliance—the ancient city of Maeyon—came into view. To him, this felt like a vacation. The scenery of this realm was majestic: farmland stretched along both sides of the river, with a vast forest rolling away on his left and mountain ranges brooding on his right. He saw farmers tending their crops, armies marching in order on the paved road beside the river, and caravans of travelers making their way toward the city.
Descending to the pantry where Michael awaited him for their first meal of the day, he came upon a long line of people waiting to receive free bread rations. The smell was stale, but the hunger in their eyes was sharp. He passed them and sat at the table across from Michael, who was gazing out the window.
"These people are starving, Michael. I thought this was the greatest city in all the Ancient Realm?" he asked.
Michael turned to him. "Yes, it is. Most of the people who come here belong to the poorest families from every Light race. They come for opportunity—a chance to turn their fate around. To serve the Alliance in defending the Gallan Wall. Once inside the city, they'll be given jobs according to their skills."
The Dark Lord pulled out a bag of coins and handed it to Michael. "The bread won't be enough. Use it all to buy them more food, discreetly."
Michael nodded, rose, and moved toward the pantry master.
"So, you're a philanthropist, are you?" a mocking voice cut in from his side.
The Dark Lord looked up to his right. A human stood there, glaring down at him. He was dressed in elegant silver-plated armor, every piece freshly polished and gleaming, with no dents to speak of. Untested.
"I'm a merchant, master?" the Dark Lord replied evenly.
"Lucas of House Adara," the knight declared with his chin lifted high, giving him a look of disdain. "And you are?"
The Dark Lord smiled. "Sun Tzu. A simple merchant."
"Well, a simple merchant wouldn't hand out coins to feed these miserable fools unless he had an agenda." Lucas pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "Now tell me, Sun Tzu—how did a merchant, dressed in strange armor, traveling alone from the Elven Realm, suddenly acquire a full-fledged knight out of nowhere, and now starts dishing out coins to feed nobodies?" His gaze was sharp, probing, serious.
"You're making me angry, Master Lucas." The Dark Lord gave a mischievous smile. "I assure you, you don't want me angry." He added this with such mock gravity that he nearly laughed at his own line.
"Is that a threat?" Lucas feigned surprise, his expression hardening into a challenge.
"Insult these poor people again in front of me, and you shall see." The Dark Lord's voice turned cold.
"Then you and I shall continue our business upstairs, merchant, because I challenge you to a duel—now." Lucas rose, his right hand resting on his sword hilt.
Chairs scraped. Several men stood. The pantry fell silent.
"What is the meaning of this!" Michael burst back in, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he faced Lucas and the knights at his side.
The Dark Lord stood calmly and raised a hand to signal Michael not to interfere. "I have important matters to attend to once this boat reaches the city," he said, his gaze locked on Lucas. "But I think there's enough time to teach you a thing or two."
He turned his back on them and strode toward the stairs leading to the open deck above. His cloak trailed after him.
By the time they reached the platform, several passengers had gathered, eager to witness the duel. The Dark Lord stood waiting. Lucas emerged at last, five sheathed swords strapped across his shoulder.
"Are you ready to defend your life, merchant?" Lucas declaimed as he stepped onto the platform.
"No more chitchat, Lucas. I'm getting tired of it—unless you're just full of empty words." The Dark Lord's cold reply drew a snarl of anger from him.
Lucas unclasped the scabbards strapped to his shoulder. Instantly, the swords floated into the air, spinning in a deadly circle a meter around him.
Lucas sneered. "You didn't expect your opponent to be a battle-mage knight, did you? Too bad. You'd better be good enough to survive me."
—
Ushnar the Battle Leader
Ushnar, the head-hunter, was greatly troubled. This had never happened to his pack before. Never in his watch had a prisoner escaped. But this was worse: all his captives except one had managed to break out and get away undetected. He had sent his best trackers to recover them, but they all came back empty-handed.
He would lose his head for this. It was a good thing their clan leader was out patrolling the borders of the northern forest, or they would have faced swift execution already.
He headed back to the remaining prisoner, tied to a tree. That elf had been the one who cried out and alerted them to the jailbreak.
Ushnar looked at the elf tied to the tree. The elf's head lolled; they had beaten him nearly to death in their frustration. The elf in the strange armour had been captured by the orcs during a patrol. They surmised the fool had come this far in search of his daughter, since that had been the first thing he asked when his guards brought him in. Unfortunately for the elf, his daughter was not here, and even if she were, any attempt to rescue her would be in vain. No one entered this forest and lived to tell the tale. They had patrols and hunters here—no one ever escaped.
This brought Ushnar's thoughts back to the escapees. They would be caught inevitably, but he and his pack would pay the price for being foolish enough to let those prisoners elude them. His pack would all be beheaded for this.
Ushnar studied the remaining prisoner. He realised he was now on the same footing as this elf. His son Azhug was not yet old enough to carry the axe of a warrior. If Ushnar died, Azhug's future would be ruined. He could not allow this; he needed to do something to get those prisoners back.
"Leave me alone with this elf," he ordered his guards, who quickly complied and left.
He would do everything. He would get the information from this elf by any necessary means to save his son. He would torture the elf to death if needed.