The Sea-Drake king murmured the name to himself. He was sure he'd heard it somewhere before, but the memory wouldn't surface.

"Rest assured," the king said, his voice firm with conviction, "as long as the Giant King is not leading the expedition himself, their target is not the Sea-Drake race."

He had no doubt about it. The Sea-Drakes were a major faction with their own arch lord. Without Orion at the helm, any force the Stoneheart Horde could muster would simply be swallowed by the sea.

"Then who is their target, Father?" Voryn pressed. "Could it be… Aenari Island?"

A heavy silence hung in the water between them. The king had all but forgotten about the island. Gifting it to the Stoneheart Horde had been a calculated move to push a problem onto his new neighbors. When Orion made no move to claim it, the king assumed he'd seen through the ploy, and the matter was never mentioned again.

"Send an envoy to their fleet," the king commanded, his mind already formulating a plan. "Tell them that as their partners, in the spirit of our friendship, the Sea-Drake race would be honored to offer our assistance. Provide them with detailed charts of the surrounding waters. Offer them guides." He paused. "Under the guise of this aid, discover if their destination is indeed Aenari Island."

Voryn's eyes lit up, filled with admiration for his father's cunning. "And if they refuse, Father?"

"This is their first major naval expedition. They won't refuse," the king said with the ingrained superiority of a sea-dweller discussing a land-dweller. "But if they do, dispatch a small squadron to follow them. Openly. From a great distance. Make it clear you are observing, not threatening. Do not get close enough to provoke them. It is a statement of our presence. If the one leading the fleet is intelligent, they will understand."

After a moment's thought, he added a few more details, and Voryn, his earlier panic replaced by his father's confidence, hurried off to make the arrangements.

In a deep, unknown trench of the sea, the king did not return to his slumber.

An attack on Aenari Island… does this mean the Stoneheart Horde has hit a developmental bottleneck? Are they expanding to meet new needs? he mused. Has the Giant King himself hit a ceiling, forcing him to conquer new territory to harvest more faith?

He considered the target. Aenari Island was a forsaken place, a penal colony for the dregs of every race. Can the horde actually conquer it? Where does their confidence come from? And should we, the Sea-Drake race, get involved?

He immediately shook his head. The Sea Race exiles on that island, criminal though they were, still had families and clans in the deep. Intervening would inevitably drag his kingdom into conflicts with other undersea powers. It was not in his people's best interest. No. We will pretend we see nothing.

Having made his decision, he activated the communication bubble again and left a final, concise message for his son. "If you confirm their target is Aenari Island, recall the squadron immediately."

***

Silverwood Realm, the Hydraea Plains.

This land had once belonged to the moon giants. After the demonic invasion, it had fallen to the Cult of Four. Now, with Orion's capture of the Black Tower, it was technically Stoneheart Horde territory—though that claim was tenuous at best.

At this moment, Orion looked like a mythic shepherd, driving his flock of demonic monsters steadily south across the vast plains. His "sheepdog," Dirtclaw, trotted eagerly beneath him. The hell-hound had enthusiastically volunteered for the role of mount after Orion had asked, "Do you dare ride with me to the front lines?"

"Your two boys," Orion said conversationally as they moved, "I've arranged for them to study under Elara and Pallas."

"Lilith will look after them as if they were her own," he continued, directing the monstrous horde with his will. "They will receive the best education and cultivation resources we can provide."

"Praise be to the Queen!" Dirtclaw barked, his voice filled with genuine joy. "And praise to Princess Elara and Prince Pallas! For Anubis and Wepwawet to serve them… it is the greatest honor imaginable!"

He was ecstatic. This was the reward for his promotion to Warden and his service in the Godforsaken Land. Under normal circumstances, his sons would never have been granted such a privilege. He had tried many times before his ascension to get his boys into the royal household, but he and his sons had been deemed unworthy.

Only after he became a lord, securing the future of his bloodline, had Anubis and Wepwawet truly earned Orion's notice. It was an unspoken acknowledgment: in Orion's eyes, his sons now had the potential to reach, at minimum, the Legendary level. The thought made the hellfire wreathing Dirtclaw's body burn a little brighter.

"My lord," Dirtclaw said after a moment, "I would ask a favor of you."

"Speak."

"I wish to rename the city you granted me. I want to call it the City of Miracles."

Orion was intrigued. "Why?"

"My lord, for a gnoll like me to have risen to this height… to my people, it is a miracle," Dirtclaw said, a hint of pride in his voice. "It may sound foolish to you, but the story of my success has spread throughout the entire gnoll race, and even across the horde." He let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I know my 'miracles' are nothing compared to yours, my lord. But if that is what they believe, then I want to use it. I want to rename my fiefdom the City of Miracles to inspire my people. I want them to believe that one day, more like me can rise from that city."

Orion listened, and for the first time, he saw past the fawning sycophant. He saw a leader—one who was ruthless to his enemies, but deeply loyal to his master, and fiercely devoted to his family and his tribe. In that moment, Orion felt a surge of genuine respect for him.

"Granted."

AWOOOO!

At Orion's consent, Dirtclaw threw his head back and let out a triumphant howl, his paws pounding against the earth as he broke into a joyful, loping run.

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