The next morning, they finally gathered together, with the work-horses they had pulling their wagon, they had thirty-seven massive warhorses. For a long time, the only person that could even be near them was Alastair, it took him hours to get the horses use to their assigned riders. 

Ulirivaka was especially ecstatic to ride, in his own words, magnificent beasts of battle. Even when he was almost stomped by one, he kept on trying to get closer to it until Alastair couldn’t take it anymore. 

The scene caused one of his skills to flare without a moment's pause. The ethereal, see-through words hovered before him once before it was relegated to a nuisance at the edge of his peripherals. It left a marked connection with each war-horse. Their restlessness and burning desire to charge at anything at full speed overwhelmed every other emotion including Alastair’s for a moment. 

Beast Connection

At least until he took a deep breath. With it he tried to exude a cool calming sensation from his end. It took a while, but the horses stopped stomping and attacking everything that came near them. He paired each horse with a person, giving the beasts a similar--though less complex--connection with their riders. 

With each person riding a horse, they finally moved out. Behind them they pulled three wagons filled lumber and some with iron unrefined. At Kendo’s suggestion, they had Alastair pull out some raw resources from the ring placing them in some beat up wagons. They also cut down a few trees, with the help of the elves, and cleaned the extra branches and twigs off the main trunks. 

Kendo’s idea was simple. They would look less suspicious as mercenaries than a group of black cloaked individuals showing up at the front gates of high strung guards on duty on top of the walls and in front of the gatehouse. With the large amount of resources, they had a plausible reason to keep the masks and cloaks on. 

Jacob also made sure to convince Alastair to let him and Kendo act as the caravan masters. Which obviously meant they should wear the fanciest clothes they could get their hands on. Of course, this was only to trick the guards and nothing more. Or so he said with a goofy smile that left Alastair with a half frown, half smile. 

______

Baligdeh sat in a dark room hunched over a table. His elbows were on the hard surface and hands barely keeping his head up. His long locks of golden hair covered his face from the soft glow of three orbs sitting before him. 

They were the only source to brighten the room, tinting it in three different colors.

Red; Crimson as blood.

Blue; Azure as the Ocean.

White: Pure as Innocence. 

Yet, the scene missed a portion meant to be there. A certain color that was meant to complete the ambience and bring the room to its proper state. It had shined just moments ago in all its glory.

But it flickered once, then disappeared.

Baligdeh knew what it meant and it brought despair to his heart. He choked back a sob, trying to hide his emotions. It wasn’t the royal way to be so vulnerable. Wear a mask at all times, always hold the advantage. Yet, he could not stop the tears from falling or the pitter patter onto the smooth surface of the table. 

He reached out to the last orb; the fourth one. His shaking hand hoping it was not true, yet he knew better. It was over, once it had darkened, it would never take light again. Forever would it be a story in the past without a future. It would take a miracle so large it would shake the dragons from their thrones carved into the mountains, bringing fear even to the races under the depthless seas. 

A miracle not even the devils crowding in front of the doors to heaven could accomplish.

The shuffling of a long robe dragging on the ground brought Baligdeh to the current moment. “Your highness.” said a woman. 

Her motherly voice only made him want to bawl his eyes out even more. But, instead he bit his lip and gritted his teeth. He felt blood trickle down his chin as he pushed the chair back. It caused a screeching noise that was almost never heard in this room. 

He tried to speak, but could not find the strength until his third try. And even then his attempts to keep within the culture he was so trained in failed. “They’re gone, Jacquese. They’re all gone.” It came out as a whisper, but was loud as thunder to any who dared to listen. 

“Who’s gone, Your Highness?” He felt her place a hand on his hunched back. She tried to console him even though she did not understand. 

“I can see their lights, I’ve watched them since childhood. Not once had I needed to bring a candle to this room, for their colors were enough to brighten the darkest of corners…”

“You are chosen, that is beyond question. B-but, I don’t underst-”

Baligdeh shot up to his feet, his robes fluttering madly to an unseen wind. In the process, his chair was sent to crash on the wall far behind him. 

Jacquese yelped as she dodged. 

He turned with murder in his eyes and tear stains on his cheeks, a sight that frightened his caretaker. The kind boy she knew was not there, only the warrior he was on the battlefield.

“He sent them to their deaths! He killed them all! I won’t let him get away with it! I swear that by oath to He Whose Domain Is The Strongest Memories!” he screamed.

Jacquese looked alarmed. “Your Highness! Don’t swear such oaths! You can’t take them back!”

“Neither would I ever do so, even if it kills me.”

“My prince, heir to the Empire's Throne. What has gotten into you? Where is the calmness you are so known to be? The thoughtfulness your enemies fear? Whatever happened, you can fix. Because there is nothing you are not capable of, that I trust ful-”

Baligdeh raised his hand interrupting her, the first time in over a decade. “This...this I cannot accomplish, for I am not an angel, neither am I a devil.”

He expected the shocked look on his caretaker's face. Never had he spoken such words even during the worst of times. He was the Prince of the Impossible. The conqueror of Narial, city of a thousand trenches and a thousand more walls. 

“What?” The disbelief was palpable. 

He looked her in the eyes, holding that stare for long seconds. 

“They’re gone, Jacquese. They’re all gone. The Golden Tide is no more.” he whispered. 

Turning around he walked away only to hear her drop to her knees.

But, he never looked back, a war shall begin and with it shall come his destruction or his abominable enemies.