"What?!"
The temperature of the room dropped by a few degrees the moment the guard finished speaking.
He quickly dropped to his knees, his back hunched in a deep apologetic bow.
"I apologize for being the harbinger of bad news, my Lord."
Ignoring the fear stricken guard, Savart stood up swiftly, pulling back his chair.
The princesses were all confused; only Nymphadora knew what was really going on and its impending aftermath.
"Savart, what does Ragnar want?"
Ragna Itadora, was the lord of Nakamai, the kingdom nearest the Sheath on the Incarnian side.
The two enemy kingdoms had experienced numerous clashes in the past.
Sequel to that, the kingdoms maintained severe hostile relations.
"This must be connected with yesterday's incident. Why else will the Incarnas cross the Sheath?"
The guard shuffled his feet restlessly. Raising his head an infinitesimal bit.
"We have to hurry, my lord. They won't enter the capital, but have massacred the Sheath sentries."
Kingdoms on each side of the Sheath always kept forces to keep close surveillance on the border.
Not for defense purposes but to provide crucial intel in the case of an invasion.
Moments later, a fully armoured Savart stepped out with Nymphadora, in her regalia as sorceress supreme.
Alongside the princesses and a few guards, they hurried on horseback to the gates.
As they came close, they could see royal troops maintaining a shield wall.
Already in battle array, facing the Incarnas.
The area had already been long evacuated of civilians.
Savart rode forward and the army parted a little. Breaking their ranks for a moment to let the royalties through.
The king wore a defiant expression, the Ace crystal in his crown radiating brute power.
He brought it along only as a necessary precaution. He hoped he'd not have to use it.
Nymphadora followed and so did the princesses.
Twelve horsemen, all clad in black armor, waited completely at ease. A few hundred metres away from the Shield wall.
Around them, dismembered corpses of the Cruceni defenders lay around.
Giving the place an acrid stench of blood and morbid thoughts.
The Incarnas didn't seem perturb by the fact that they were surrounded.
On the contrary, they looked perfectly at ease.
Elsa wrinkled her nose.
She slunk off her bow from her shoulder. In apparent readiness.
They couldn't be caught unawares. No one ever trusted the Incarnas.
Ever.
Nymphadora shot her a warning glance.
Tilting her head sideways, she flashed one to the troops commander too.
He got the message.
All with a single fluid moment.
Attacking first could end in a sure victory, but then they wouldn't get the intended message.
To be a little honest, everyone already knew what it was about.
Savart and Nymphadora rode out.
Likewise, a single horseman rode out to meet them from the Incarnas.
They stopped around ten meters from each other, shooting death glances.
Nymphadora maintained a stern countenance. Savart wore a mask of fury on it.
He hadn't forgotten Nymphadora's confession that very morning.
Tension hung thick in the very atmosphere. Thick enough to be literally sliced through with a blunt sword.
A tingling sensation of electricity settled on everyone's skin. Literally.
The mutual loathing even spread to the troops waiting restlessly for a signal to attack.
The Incarnian headsman pulled off his visor gracefully.
Elsa squinted to see his countenance. Her hand clutched her bow tightly.
She tensed instantly, pulling back in surprise.
On her right, she heard Beth whistle in surprise and something that sounded mysteriously like awe.
It was an expression of intense dislike, etched on a young face.
That was where the confusion lay.
Caramel skin, spiky auburn hair, haughty eyes…
All blended to produce the masterpiece of a face.
Clearly more handsome than anyone she'd ever seen.
She remembered that as a child, she had thought of Incarnas as huge humanoid ugly beasts.
Fuelling her intensive hatred for them.
Well, nothing was going to change that.
She'd never actually met nor seen one. And no one bothered to ever answer her questions.
She shook those thoughts out of her head. Looking on ahead, glaring at the Incarnas with intense dislike.
She would've swore she heard a voice in her head questioning her resolution.
"Savart Terlonni Diatsca", the Incarnian headsman called out distastefully. Rousing Elsa from her revolting thoughts.
He cleared his throat significantly, before continuing.
"Lord of Ellipe, and Nymphadora Salvadoria Diatsca, queen and sorceress supreme of Ellipe, I bring bad tidings."
'Queen?!'
Elsa glanced at her aunt to see how she'd reacted to the deliberate blunder of her position.
But her aunt remained majestically impassive.
Something Elsa would never keep calm after hearing.
Shedismissed that as one of the downsides of being a perfect lady of the Court. The ability to maintain your composure in the face of stark caricature.
"For you have spilled the blood of our noble Prince –" Ilyana and Elsa exchanged dark glances at this point "– and broken his heirloom sword, we'll be invading in retaliation.
You can call for all the help you can. However –" Elsa saw the soldier pout his lips in disgust "– you will not win. You cannot withstand our rage."
Beth and Ilyana turned theatrically to Elsa, who looked as dumbfounded as anyone else.
Savart, however, tried really hard to keep his anger from spilling over beneath the surface.
However, It seemed to be taking all his willpower to stay calm.
Just from watching his sworn enemy rant about destroying them.
"For years now, the dominant Incarnas had been quiet, enduring all raids by Cruceni, lycans and vampires. You've mistaken our silence for weakness, and so, you shall pay heavily."
Savart forced himself to clear all vengeful tinges in his voice before speaking.
"Is there any other way we can pay this debt, without invasion?"
This question sounded like something coming from a scared king.
But Savart wasn't stupid. Even though he sounded so.
War, as at now, remained a very morbid possibility that he didn't want to explore yet.
Not with the Incarnas, of all races.
The last time Ellipe had clashed with Nakamai, he was still a Prince.
But he'd witnessed first hand the bloodthirsty battle fought at the Incarnian side of the Sheath.
It had been a stalemate, but the Ellipe took a very long time to recover from it.
And now a full fledged war?
He could already hear his soldiers murmuring restlessly.
They were all rearing to go to war. However, Savart had the interests of his whole kingdom at heart.
War had many drastic effects, not only on soldiers, but also on civilians.
Not only physical damages were inflicted, but also psychological and in some way, spiritual.
He didn't want to consider what would happen to their religion, if they lost the war at the end.
Also, becoming a vassal to an Incarnaian kingdom wasn't particularly one of his life dreams.
Exactly what he wanted to avert.
But, if the Incarnas refused his wager… then they would all, proudly and readily, go to war.
The gods would be his witnesses that he'd tried to negotiate.
The Incarnian had turned back at his colleagues, at the suggestion. Perhaps asking for a resolution.
None of them gave anything close to a signal. The soldier turned back, his expression now spiteful.
"You injured our noble Prince. A blood debt is paid only by blood. Also, you broke his blade. We're the Blade Incarnas. Our blade is a living personification of our honor."
"Rubbish," Elsa pouted her lips in disgust, "if it's about his honor, why can't he fight his own battles?"
The Incarnaian smiled at her words. A chilling smile, as he imagined that scenario.
"Believe me, you'd rather hope he doesn't. Also, the Dark Prince is the Incarnaian responsibility."
Without waiting for another question, he turned and walked off.
Another deliberate profanation to Savart's honor.
But still, the king kept mum.
Elsa glared at the withdrawing soldier, dislike etched on her face.
She reached into her quiver and pulled out one of her special arrows.
Special arrows, impregnated with a lethal dose of drakon blood.
Drakon blood, obtained from the Drakon, a legendary super rare beast, rumored to be the ancestors of the dragons.
The only notable difference was that dragons usually blew fire, but drakons spit poison.
Also, their blood constituted the most fatal poison to Incarnas.
For this reason, great Cruceni nations near the Sheath, had procured at least one drakon for 'milking'.
Ellipe didn't have any, but Vandel Marakin did have one.
The arrows were a gift from a distant Cruceni Overlord, who had been interested in her.
She had politely turned him down, to the horror of her family. But he'd insisted that she still accept the gifts.
And she did.
Somehow, she knew that they would come in handy on days like this.
In this war, even if Nymphadora had spilled the first blood, then she would spill the second.
Giving her people an edge over the bloodthirsty Incarnas.
They'll be the ones to have drawn the First and second blood, changing the balance of the War at the very start.
In the Sapiens realm, an age long tradition prevailed, accepted by both Incarnas and Cruceni.
If a side draws both first and second blood, if that war happens to end in a drawn out stalemate, then that side emerges victorious.
As long as the other nation has been stretched thin, lacking resources to go on fighting.
She notched the arrow and aimed.
The movement of her target should have made aiming a bit difficult.
But then she's already a transcended archery legend.
At that point, Beth noticed her intentions with wide eyed surprise.
But that didn't change anything. Her reaction came far too late.
"Elsa!"
Elsa released the arrow.
Savart turned to see the reason for Beth's outburst but he was distracted by the sailing arrow.
It missed his own face by inches, so he could only follow it's trajectory with an impassive gaze.
The arrows sank into a crack in the armor of the unsuspecting Incarnas soldier.
He fell off his horse with a loud cry, and another arrow brought the horse crashing upon its rider.
Both, silenced forever. All in seconds.
The remaining horsemen did not react. Didn't even spare their fallen comrade a glance.
Rather, they turned and galloped away, in the same array with which they had come, leaving the gap of the dead rider in their middle.
On reaching the invisible Sheath, they dissolved seamlessly into it.
Elsa returned the third already notched arrow to her quiver.
Everyone watched her, some soldiers gasping in admiration.
Ilyana looked on jealously. The soldiers didn't even bother to lower their voices as they praised her.
The arrows had been a complete sheave when gifted to her, so it now remained twenty two.
Savart dismissed the soldiers and turned left.
He had too much on his mind to dwell on Elsa's atrocity.
The news of this proposed invasion disheartened him. Even if he'd supposed t expect it.
"Elsa!" Beth cantered beside her sister, her eyes gleaming with admiration. "What was that for?"
"He lied", Elsa slung back her bow, nonchalantly. "He was right on track at the beginning, but at some point, he began to rave."
She suddenly realized that she couldn't tell how she knew that. It had just been a nagging feeling.
"I don't know how I knew that ", she added as Ilyana raised an eyebrow. "Please don't ask how."
"How would I? You killed an Incarnas. Now we've drawn both the first and second blood. Father would be proud."
"Don't brag about me killing an Incarnas; we will have to kill more if there's going to be an invasion." Elsa looked around, they were going deeper into the woods.
"Where's father leading us to?" Her distracted eyes travelled over restlessly.
Ever since their mom died in a hunting trip, Savart had never allowed them into the woods.
"To retrieve a spoil of war. Father wants no crowds too." Beth replied, also scrutinizing their present surroundings.
"What if we're attacked?" Elsa asked worriedly. "I can't tell if I've angered –"
"No sane king sends emissaries into enemy territory and expects them all to return. You can say Ragnar surely expected it", Nymphadora reassured, earning herself a glare from Savart.
"And Ragnar is a sane king, in spite of his misgivings."
"Misgivings?"
"Yes", Savart said at once. "That's a very dumb reason for war. But he will regret it soon enough.
I will invite all the overlords I can sway. As long as the Prince isn't yet released, we have the upper hand."
"Released?", Elsa didn't get the full gist.
"To use his full range of powers. The Prince of Darkness is always bound by a powerful locket. It curtails the full extent of his powers, due to its host-killing and destructive effects."
"So the Prince is a danger to himself and as well to his neighbors?" Elsa sounded horrified. "So why do they let him live?"
"He could be a valuable weapon." Nymphadora snapped. "That's too obvious. The powers are too possessive, and there's always the tendency to erupt someday."
"You make it sound as though the powers are alive."
Nymphadora shrugged. "Possibly. According to the myths, the powers always strive to break out.
This could happen anytime the Prince's experiencing some really strong emotions, or when he's doing something delicate and power consuming."
"Like what?", Elsa asked sharply.
"Necromancy. Summoning the dead, like a reanimation for a short period. It's really hard and in most cases, fatal.
The Prince of Darkness is a very difficult task for anyone to handle. Imagine having to fight against dark forces trying to possess you at every given time. Any loose slip and you're gone, leaving them to use your body as they please."
Ilyana was evidently enthralled by the reanimation art. "Tell us how it works," she pleaded.
"Why bother? You won't be able to ever do it. Not with your –"
Ilyana flung something at Beth, cutting off her off mid speech.
Elsa smiled at her sisters before turning away, deep in thought.
She could already feel something for the Dark Prince.
She won't dare voice it out, before she would be misunderstood.
She could already identify the feeling.
Pity.
Imagine having to blend in your life with fighting malevolent forces inside your own body?
Nymphadora rolled her eyes, but still went ahead to explain.
A sudden flicker of lightning in her palm stopped the bickering completely.
"I don't really know much about it, but it's done in Venti."
She noticed the blank expressions on the faces of her nieces at once. "The language of the dead", she explained.
"So, living people speak it?", Ilyana leaned in to Nymphadora so much that she was in danger of falling off her steed.
Elsa rolled her eyes. Ilyana's stupidity rarely had limits, so she wasn't at all surprised.
Her sister's brain cells usually hibernated a lot, making her awfully clueless at times.
"Only certain high ranking sorcerers and witches.
Mind you; there's a remarkable difference between Sorcery and Witchcraft."
Nymphadora's explanation confused Ilyana the more, something Elsa noticed.
"Just stop," she caressed her horse's neck, noticing Ilyana's lost look. "You won't like her sneaking into your library after this.
Nymphadora laughed it off.
"But I don't really want you in my library, Ilyana. Just to be clear, I won't tolerate it."
Nymphadora's library contained priceless volumes about magic, sorcery and witchcraft.
Something many base sorcerers would die for
Regrettably, only Elsa had a little interest in those things.
Beth and Ilyana didn't care in the slightest. They only loved freedom.
Even training was a complete bore to them.
Beth explored the woods, wandering a way off at times. Nymphadora kept track of her essence, calling her back if she strayed too far.
Thus she contributed little to the conversation.
"But you do the two?"
Nymphadora nodded in the affirmative.
"But then, what's the difference?"
Nymphadora opened her mouth to reply before her eyes caught sight of something and she exclaimed.
"We're here!"