The nights became sleepless as his thoughts lingered on his sister. He would lay awake for hours, worrying, and eager to set things in motion. He wanted desperately to cut Alimar down, the man had lied to him despite being acutely aware of just how powerless he really was. 

But he didn't know that Zeke knew the truth of his deception, not yet at least, and it would all come in due time. 

A cool breeze swept past him, blowing his dark hair from his eyes and he decided to retire inside, where the fireplace flickered and crackled. The flame emitted a sense of coziness and comfort and when the city went to sleep, he would do his thinking there in the warm luminous glow. 

 

His trouble sleeping wasn't the only thing keeping him up late in the night. He had a meeting planned with someone of great significance - a General, and it wouldn't be long until he arrived.

He stepped upon the cold marble floor, his warm bare feet making it feel like ice upon each step. Moving towards a dark-stained wooden chair by the fireplace, intending to wait there until the general arrived.

 

 He sat down slowly and stared into the flickering flames. Like the fire, his eyes were ablaze; he knew what needed to be done and he was taking a great risk letting the General in on the plan. If he had to, he would make the man obey. Not through the detaining of loved ones; unlike Alimar, but through the sheer power of force and status. 

 

Zeke was well known amongst the soldiers of Alimar - A legend. The resurgence of anyone with his abilities had faltered. Not even through dark rituals could they hope to imitate the power of a Wayfinder. He was a necessity and someone they simply could not lose. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Zeke called out for the man to enter and a moment later, the tall elven General entered the room. 

 

The elf's golden hair fluttered in the faint breeze that swept through the bedroom and his handsome face was one of attention. His silver eyes unflinching as he watched Zeke in the chair without a hint of expression on his face. 

 

He wore a simple, loose, and white longsleeved shirt made from leather. It was clear it had been recently cleaned as it shone in the firelight. His dark pants and boots rustled as he took another step towards him and the leather of his boots made a high pitch squeak as he stopped. 

The elf didn't say a word and simply bowed to Zeke with respect, waiting for him to speak.

 

"General Farion of the ninth battalion in the army of Alimar," Zeke started, hoping the acknowledgment of his full title would somewhat help the elf feel respected in his presence, "Greetings."

 

Farion's face didn't change in the slightest, only tipped his head slightly upwards. Zeke could read him and he could see the pride hidden beneath the surface. 

 

"Greetings Zekhalin, son of Zanathar and Wayfinder," Farion replied, his powerful voice strong and confident.

 

"Enough of the pleasantries," Zeke said with a smile, "Come, sit with me and be at ease. We have an important matter to discuss."

 

The elf obliged and took a seat in an empty chair by the fire to Zeke's side, the two watching the flames in silence for a moment.

 

"So," Farion started, his strong voice slightly shaking, "What did you call me over for?"

 

"I'm curious, are the men growing restless? Are they eager to invade the other world?"

 

Farion nodded, "I've heard whispers amongst the men. They are eager yet confused. They wonder how long it will be before the order comes."

 

Zeke was satisfied with the answer and let a small smile creep upon his lips.

 

"I too am eager," Zeke replied, "Though Alimar insists on acquiring the gems first and foremost. I'm beginning to feel that we do not need them for the initial assault."

 

"I agree," Said Farion, his voice regaining its composure and strength, "We are ten-thousand men strong and with a presence in Sciolyn; we can spread out the search far wider."

 

Farion had to know what Zeke was suggesting, the idea had been sprinkled within his mind the moment he entered his chamber. A word Farion was afraid to say aloud.

 

"What do you suggest we do?" Farion looked to Zeke expectedly.

 

"We overthrow Alimar."

 

"What? That's treason. The rest of the Lieutenants and Generals would never approve."

 

"I will make them," Zeke replied coldly.

 

"How? You have me on your side but I'm one amongst many. Do you think others will follow your cause?"

 

Zeke placed a hand on Farion's shoulders reassuredly, "My cause is no different to that of Alimars, only the action will change. We grow tired of this subtlety - Hiding in the shadows.  It's time to make our presence known again and I have no doubt in my mind that the others will agree."

 

Farion was silent, he sat processing the plan in his head. His silver eyes followed the flames as they licked the chimney before them. Zeke patiently waited for the elf's response.

 

"How exactly do you intend on overthrowing Alimar?" Farion finally asked. 

 

"I need you to stage an insurgency within the city. Plant the idea that Alimar is incapable - worthless. The people want action; a reclamation of their home, and that's exactly what I'll give them, gems or not."

 

"A lot of people may be killed in the insurgency. Are you sure this is the right way to go about it? Why not simply assassinate him and be done with it?"

 

Zeke ran his fingers through his hair slowly, "That's exactly the plan. The insurgency is meant to be a distraction, a way to hide the treason involved in his death. The sacrifices will be worth it," Zeke paused, "Even if the others feel the way we do, they'd never approve of an assassination."

 

Farion looked confused, biting his lip as he thought of his next words, "Why are you telling me this then?"

 

"Because I need only one to understand just how important it is to make our return, to make progress. We're stagnating and you know it. If one understands, the others will follow. We all want the same thing."

 

Farion leaned forward with his elbows on this knees, "I'll break off a small amount of our weapon supply once the seeds have been set. All we'll have to do then is wait."

 

"Simple," Zeke shrugged, "Rekindle the forges for our men, we'll need all the weaponry and protection we can get."

 

Though Farion seemed full of conviction, Zeke could read some doubt on his face. 

 

"Is something wrong, Farion?"

 

The elf hesitated for a moment and nervously ran his fingers through his hair. His voice emerging slightly shaken, "Something feels wrong about using our own people as a scape-goat for assassinating Alimar. Why do we need to? We could imprison him."

 

"It's personal," Zeke replied firmly, making clear to Farion not to press into it. 

 

The elf didn't seem satisfied with the answer, Zeke could see it on his face; though he nodded in response. 

That ended the meeting between the two and Farion rose from his chair, making his way to the patterned wooden door that lead to the dark, cold, empty halls outside.

 

"One more thing before you go, Farion," Zeke called to him as he approached the door, "Speak of this to anyone and You'll lose your last ticket to Sciolyn."

 

Farion turned and placed a hand on his chest, bowing to the elf before him, "Your secret is safe with me, Zekhalin. For the good of our race - for progress."

 

Zeke replied with a smile and with a creak and a thud, Farion had left Zeke on his lonesome. He sat back in the chair with a sigh of relief, staring into the fire as he reflected and thought exactly how his plan would play out. It would be a slow burn, like incense. The smoke and smell spreading across the city until all had basked in the pleasant scent. Only time would tell now. 

---

Farion sighed as he left the room and made his way down the cold and empty marble halls. He was a soldier - a warrior. Never in his life would he have thought he'd find himself plotting against his own leader, a man who had fought in the ancient wars and the man who had been the driving force that built the city they all resided in.

 

He felt like a traitor and it disgusted him. He had been loyal all his life up until this point, but he knew, as they all did, that progress was stagnating. It seemed that they were waiting for a battle that may never come. 

The restlessness - he had seen it within his men every day as they longed for battle. Sharpening their blades by the braziers in their quarters without purpose; a monotonous task to waste away the days waiting.

 

They had been preparing their whole lives for this, for their return to Sciolyn. That's what they were trained for and yet nothing had come of it. The sense of duty was diminishing, becoming nothing more than military police. It was time to return, this was their chance. 

With the crown or not, he was confident that they could take back Sciolyn and it seemed Zeke felt the same way too. A Wayfinder, one of the last of his kind and their only way back to Sciolyn. 

 

It meant a lot to him that he was trusted with knowledge of the plan and he intended to follow it to the best of his ability. The bitterness towards the humans hadn't subsided over thousands of years and his soldiers were ready to unleash the pent up rage that had been dwelling within them for years. 

 

He silently promised himself that he'd never second guess whether it was the right decision to follow Zeke - Never again.

The people were tired of being couped up within the city and were at a breaking point. All they needed was a little push and the weapons to drive them forward.

 

He made his way through the halls with long powerful strides, passing smoldering braziers and hanging tapestries towards the barracks where his men were likely sleeping. He would have to be cautious when he would move the weapons, though not out of his authority, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye over his shoulder. 

 

The problem was who he would ship the weapons to. He would need a recipient, someone willing to do what was required. For that, he'd need to go undercover, not as Farion - General of the army of Alimar, but as a member of the common folk.

He arrived at the quarters, a large marble room with an equally large red rug in the middle. The rug bore the symbol of a crown, one with a snake wrapped around it and it was soft to walk upon; making his steps feel weightless as he made his way over it and to his private room at the other end. 

 

The men slept silently in the cushioned cots that were spread in organized rows across the left and right walls of the room. The silence made his steps feel louder than they really were. 

He had to disappear during the nights when all were asleep, lest the others get suspicious of his behaviors, and roam the streets in search of someone interested in causing a ruckus for the plan to go ahead.

 

Though he felt guilty going behind the backs of his comrades, he knew it was the right thing to do, or so he kept telling himself. It was the only way he could justify what he was doing. 

He sat down on his bed and rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. He knew he'd feel better if he slept on it. He lay on his back, staring at the dark roof above, and sleep quickly took him over, taking him away to dreams beyond.