Leonard's gaze swept across the circular chamber, lingering briefly on the intricate runes etched into its walls. In better times, he would have regarded the décor as elegantly arcane—an excellent setting for strategy and planning. The Magic Tower gave a wonderful view of Hassel, and he enjoyed taking his meals on the balcony.

Yet what occupied his thoughts now was the necessity of holding this meeting here at all, rather than in the citadel, as it should have been. The last battle had rendered the entire fortress hazardous, with its foundations compromised and its ambient mana disrupted by the opposing forces that had been deployed within its halls.

He'd made sure to cleanse the taint of the Void completely, of course, even going so far as to delve deep within the dungeons, lest an infestation grow unchecked, but it would take a while before he could claim it as his seat.

The Mage Corps was hard at work, but they could only spare so many men when they had to rebuild the entirety of the wards and attempt to re-establish the connection to the leyline. I couldn't let it be, but it was a big blow to the city's defenses. We'll have to empower the wards on our own for a while.

He exhaled softly, aware that everyone was waiting for him to begin. At the long oval table before him sat Amelia, Gareth, Oliver, Neer, and the newest addition to the War Council, Guildmaster Rusty. Candles flickered overhead in the softly lit room, sending wavering shadows across sheaves of maps and documents—though that might have been Amelia's doing. The thick, musty odor of parchment mingled with the faint tang of ozone that perpetually clung to magical strongholds.

"Let's start," Leonard said finally, and the restless chatter faded. "We have a lot to discuss. Amelia, please begin with your report."

Amelia inclined her head, dark hair sliding over her shoulder. She was much better now, with a few good nights of sleep. "We have confirmed that the Southern Revolutionary Army in Treon has broken Garva's siege. What's more, the enemy has been cleansed from all major ports along the lower Slitherer. Several warships remain afloat, mostly battered frigates scattered downstream, but they pose little threat as our Navy is harassing them, and their crews are far too diminished to attempt a raid on our shores."

"Is Garva himself truly gone?" Guildmaster Rusty interjected, disbelief plain on his weathered face. He was a burly man sporting a thick auburn beard, his guild patch visible on the breast of his tunic. "I read in the report that Jean Franklin killed him in single combat. But that's… that's unimaginable. He was a Champion. I've seen just how powerful he was with my own eyes."

Gareth snorted in contempt. Leonard knew he had his own history with the Duke, but he seemed content to leave it at that. Oliver shrugged as though the news was no surprise.

Rusty's astonished eyes flicked between them, seeking other skeptics and finding little purchase.

Amelia's lips curved in a slight smile. "Yes, I did say it exactly as you heard. Archmage Jean confronted Duke Garva above the skies of Treon, and she killed him in single combat."

Murmurs of awe ran through the group despite the matter-of-fact tone. Leonard couldn't help the upward quirk of his own lips. He had received the news from Jean personally, thanks to her newly tested message spells, which allowed real-time communication across vast distances, if only for people at Master tier and above, due to the significant strain they put on the mind.

He had even felt the echo of her final Ascended-tier incantation. Such spells produced effects far beyond normal magic, and they were more akin to Miracles, and he suspected they had been noticed by more than just himself.

I might have to prepare for some of the other powerhouses to get interested. I know the Grandmaster must have felt it, and while she's very far, I don't doubt the Emerald Queen has, too. I only hope Sharken doesn't wake up; otherwise, I'll have to personally deal with him. There is no one else who can handle an Elder Dragon, and while the Death Pass isn't our land, his rampage would kill countless innocents.

"Duke Garva was among the greatest threats we faced," Amelia continued. "His defeat means that the south of Hetnia, at least, lies free of the kingdom's oppression—for now. The blockade is gone, and Treon stands fully under Revolutionary control."

Rusty looked ready to ask another question, but Leonard gestured for Amelia to continue. He needed a full picture before the conversation veered off into speculation.

"Our scouts have confirmed that the vast majority of Garva's loyal captains are either captured or missing. The local lords who bent the knee to him have escaped beyond the Great Slitherer, presumably seeking support from other loyalist forces. But with the river now as our ally, the Southern Revolutionary Army has a route to strike deeper if we so choose."

Leonard saw her gaze drift to the large map spread across the table. It showed two red marks on the western bank of the river, where he knew crossings would be possible now. To think that it was a simple Captain who managed to convince the spirits to join us. Had I known it would be that simple, I wouldn't have let Amelia orchestrate the mess in the Scales… But then again, just because Charry is weaker than us, it doesn't mean he didn't achieve a great feat.

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He placed his palms on the table's edge. "I want to hear our options for exploiting this victory," he said, nodding toward the map. "We could establish a beachhead on the opposite side of the river, maybe in one of the smaller towns, then push further north and take over the farmland. We might even avoid heavy casualties, considering that the latest reports show that the rural localities are the most sympathetic to our message."

Amelia inclined her head. "Precisely. We have a chance to expand our territory. But we must act swiftly if we want to catch the loyalists off-guard. They'll regroup if we give them time, even if they have to pull soldiers away from the borders."

Rusty cleared his throat, glancing nervously at Leonard. "I won't pretend to be a master strategist, but the guilds in that region are restless. Many crafters resent Garva's levies, so we might find allies among them. On the other hand, I have no idea if there are enough men in the South for such a maneuver because I don't think we should weaken our position here. If we overreach, we risk getting caught lacking by the Royal Army."

"That's the other point," Leonard said, his voice firm. "The Royal Army is advancing from Nevielle. Amelia, do you have anything new on their movements?"

She nodded, flipping through a pile of notes. "They've taken the last major town before the farmland that borders Hetnia. Reports indicate they've brought in additional cavalry and raised new levies. I'd estimate they'll number around fifty thousand soldiers within the week."

A low whistle escaped Neer, who didn't seem all that bothered by the prospect of fighting so many. Gareth's eyes darkened at the figure, and Rusty's earlier excitement dampened as he took that in.

"We can't afford to be caught between that Royal Army and any other front," Leonard stated. "So, we'll proceed carefully. First, we must send scouts across the Slitherer to gauge the feasibility of a crossing. We'll organize a strategic push from the south if everything looks favorable. We might need to send some elite forces to assist them, but I want the bulk of the army here to keep a close eye on the Royal Army's buildup. I'll not sacrifice our people for a rash gamble."

The others nodded in agreement.

"All right," Leonard said, straightening up. "Gareth, your team will manage the scouts. Neer, collaborate with Rusty to ensure the supply lines are ready for a potential campaign. Amelia, monitor the Royal Army closely—if they split their forces or increase their pace, I want to be informed. Any questions?"

Silence stretched for a moment, then each person gave their acknowledgment. "Dismissed," Leonard concluded.

They rose from the table, gathering up sheaves of papers and small rolled maps. Oliver paused by the door, glancing curiously at Leonard and Amelia, who remained behind. Leonard shook his head once, and the young man closed the door with a quiet click, leaving the two of them alone.

Amelia set down her notes and turned toward Leonard, her eyes cool and assessing. "I suspect there's something else you wanted to ask me about."

Leonard exhaled, folding his arms across his chest. "Yes. It's about him. How is he doing?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Amelia's features. "He's still in the building he commandeered when we arrived. As far as I can tell, he hasn't left for days. He's not taking visitors, either, allowing the other generals to handle the army."

Leonard's jaw tightened. "Then remain vigilant. I know… I know we have a complicated history with him. But I need you to stay objective. If he requests a meeting or decides to wander around, I want an immediate update."

She pursed her lips but nodded. "I'll do it. But you know my position. I'd much rather keep him at a distance."

"I understand. But I also know he can be valuable if properly handled—" Leonard paused, noticing Amelia's frown deepen. "—or a catastrophic threat if we ignore him. Until we know his intentions, we must proceed with caution."

Amelia looked away for a moment, then met his gaze again. "You'll be the first to know if he so much as steps out for fresh air."

"Good," Leonard said quietly. He lifted his notes under one arm. "That's all. Thank you."

They exchanged a few more words about minor details, then Amelia departed through a side corridor, her footsteps echoing down the tower stairs. Leonard lingered, letting the tension seep out of his frame.

Finally, he departed as well, descending the spiral staircase. His guards followed closely behind, and together, they exited the Magic Tower. Outside, the sky was bright, and the air held a sense of renewal, so different from what it had been during the battle. He made his way to the stables, where a groom had prepared a horse. Smoothly mounting, Leonard nodded to his escort.

They rode through Hassel at an easy canter, weaving past reconstruction sites. There were scaffolds everywhere—rooftops were being replaced, crumbled walls were being repaired, and half-finished new structures were rising amid older ones. Laborers called out greetings, and children waved excitedly. Leonard raised a gauntleted hand in acknowledgment, sometimes exchanging a quick word with familiar faces. The populace was still wary, but it looked like his outreach efforts were bearing fruit.

It was surreal to see this city working relentlessly toward recovery. Just weeks before, there had been bodies in the street and smoldering ruins everywhere. Yet life persisted.

Leonard felt a surge of pride. As long as there is hope, people will do amazing things to survive, he thought, remembering Belinda's soft-spoken conviction that people always rose from adversity if given the chance.

As he approached the former Air Force fields, now repurposed into the main training ground, he slowed the horse to a walk. A sturdy wooden fence bordered a broad expanse of flattened dirt. Rows of recruits practiced with spears, swords, or the newest generation of rifles. Officers barked orders, and the occasional crackle of spells soared high above in the sky, where the budding Griffin Order was training.

Dismounting, Leonard passed the reins to one of his guards and strode toward the cluster of field tents. The recruits halted their drills and bowed in respect, some fumbling with their weapons in haste. He offered them a small smile and a nod.

He spent the next half hour observing their drills and speaking briefly with the instructors. Noting improvements in footwork or a promising archer's rapid progress, he felt a flicker of pride. Not only was the Revolutionary Army a force to be reckoned with, but it had developed a method to build new recruits into good soldiers that far surpassed what the Royal Army had. Even with fewer people to draw from, they could match their numbers.

Despite the sense of calm, his mind briefly strayed back to what he'd asked Amelia to do. He'd very much like to avoid having to face his old friend, but he wouldn't allow his emotions to rule him.

Finally, as the sun dipped westward, Leonard moved toward the fence line, watching the recruits form ranks for their final session of the day. His guards kept a respectful distance. He inhaled the fresh air, letting it cleanse some of his lingering worries.

"I hope Bernard does the right thing," he murmured under his breath. Because if he won't come to me peacefully, I'll have little choice but to make him submit.

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