Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Jiol took in a breath, trying to be as calm as possible on this day. He and his Gra escort had arrived in Dolhr territory, for the express purpose of meeting with the Manakete Emperor. He had been summoned here to discuss Dolhr's current conquests. Though meeting with Medeus was not something he looked forward to, it would have been suicide to ignore the Emperor's command.

The first step in Dolhr's ambitions had already been achieved. Altea and Archanea, the nations that understood what Dolhr was capable of better then anyone else, had already been defeated and occupied. Those victories, however, were more credit to betrayals rather then martial might. Altea didn't expect its ally, Gra, to turn traitor and attack from behind as its armed forces were meeting Grust's army. Archanea had been prepared for a long siege, but their strategy fall apart after a simple blackmail resulted in one of the Archanean generals, Horace, telling Dolhr all of Archanea's secrets. Both Altea and Archanea more or less fell overnight.

Dolhr, and its allied nations, Macedon, Grust, Khadein, and of course, Gra, effectively had the continent already under their control. The only remnant of resistance was the still untouched nation of Aurelis. Aurelis was just one nation, a nation known more for its horsemen and its grassy plains then its military strength. Jiol believed that Aurelis could not possibly last against its enemies for more then a few weeks, if even that. There was also Talys, but Dolhr seemed content to ignore such a small island country.

As enjoyable as it was to reflect on the comfortable position he was in, a ranking member of this new world order, Jiol did not feel secure today. Emperor Medeus, the ruler of Dolhr, whose words were law, had personally penned a missive and summoned him. Jiol had been… terrified at first, but was mollified and placated when he learned that every leader of the nations under Dolhr had also been summoned.

As he and his escort neared the entrance of Dolhr Keep, where Medeus dwelt, he saw the usual signs of suffering. Corpses and parts of corpses littered the ground like refuse. Some of the humans looked like Dolhrians, others seemed of other ethnicities, but there had seemingly been no discrimination in regards to how painful their deaths were. That was just looking at the human remains that, while ravaged and mutilated, were relatively intact. Jiol looked at the hacked to pieces corpses, and wondered how many of the wounds had been inflicted while the victim was still alive. Dolhr's ways were brutal to what they perceived as an inferior race. Dolhr had executed Gra emissaries and couriers before for a variety of reasons, and that made him all the more uncomfortable about today.

A hooded figure appeared on the path. Jiol knew full well what this was. One of the Manaketes of Dolhr, dragons who assumed human form. They were the real power of Dolhr, and despite looking like frail elders and being not many in number, they were a military superpower just by themselves. Wearing hooded cloaks seemed to be the norm for these people, Jiol couldn't even see the face of this one.

"Jiol." The figure began, not even bothering to use the Gra King's proper title. He knew he would be regarded in a dismissive way and still the breath caught in his throat. The figure kept his head down, not allowing the sunlight to illuminate his face. "The other leaders of the lesser nations have already arrived. You are late."

Jiol started. So, Michalis, Gharnef, and Ludwik were already here. He immediately spoke. "A… a thousand apologies, sir. In Gra, I-"

The Manakete waved Jiol silent, not interested in the excuse. "Your escort will not follow you inside the Keep. They will set up camp outside, as the other escorts have done."

Motioning with a hand, the Manakete led Jiol's eyes to various encampments. He saw the banner of Macedon, of Khadein, and of Grust. He also saw the banner of the Sable Order under the Grust insignia. So, Ludwik had been escorted by his most elite troops.

"The human servants have been ordered to not harass the camps, provided they themselves are not provoked." Jiol continued to look, seeing indistinct figures around the Dolhrian landscape and assumed them to be the 'servants' the Manakete spoke of. "Only those the Emperor wishes to speak to will be allowed entry into the Keep."

Jiol nodded, feeling the foreboding gleefully gnawing on his heart. He wondered where he stood with Medues. It was he, after all, who saw to the end of Cornelius, and it was he who kept Falchion from the hands of Cornelius' son. Jiol had rendered the greatest threat to Medeus impotent. On the other hand, he knew that the fact that he had allowed Marth, the Altean prince, to slip through his fingers, though an overlooked failure, had not been forgotten. If he made some grave error in Medeus' eyes, his past achievements in the campaign against Altea likely wouldn't spare him. He would die, and he had heard enough about Dolhr's idea of a 'merciful' death that the thought of gaining Medeus' ire totally unnerved him.

The Manakete opened the Keep's gate. Jiol believed he was keeping his face impassive as the gate yawned open like a great demon's mouth. The Manakete stepped forward, beckoning Jiol with a hand gesture. The Gra King motioned to his escort to set up a camp, then followed his host.

They spent some time traversing the Keep, Jiol took notice of how passages seemed to snake off in every direction, but he would not dare entertain any notion of exploring them. He would only go where his hooded guide led him.

In time, they came to what seemed to be some sort of waiting room. Just as he was told, Jiol was the last to arrive. King Michalis of Macedon, King Ludwik of Grust, and Gharnef, the Dark Pontifex of Khadein, were all already here.

Michalis' face was the first to crease with displeasure at Jiol's presence. Jiol, in response, raised his head so that he was looking down at the Macedonian King. Jiol turned to Ludwik, who seemed easily cowed by Jiol's expression, the Grustian King was cowed easily by most things. Gharnef's ghastly face twisted in clear delight at the unspoken hostilities.

The Manakete who showed Jiol in spoke. "The Emperor will not see you. Not yet. You shall obediently wait here until he summons you." Not bowing his head to what he perceived as lesser creatures, the Manakete left.

Ludwik took in a deep breath and glanced uneasily at Michalis. Despite their different temperaments and ambitions, he and Michalis got along quite well, whereas Jiol and Gharnef had no real allies or friends within the inner circle. Jiol and Gharnef were both schemers who wanted more power for themselves, but whereas Jiol's plots were paper-thin and easily noticed, Gharnef was a subtle and cunning creature. The Dark Pontifex sought to remove his rivals from power, and had targeted both Michalis and Ludwik. None of his plans to discredit or destroy Macedon or Grust had succeeded as of yet, and as long as Michalis and a certain Grustian general were drawing breath, none ever would.

Michalis looked at Gharnef. Nothing about the Dark Pontifex's appearance struck Michalis as normal. It wasn't just his robes, his style of hair, or anything like that. Gharnef had the look of a demon. His almost deformed looking head, his putrid skin tone, there was nothing natural about the Dark Pontifex. This was the result of the corrupting influence of his tome, Imhullu, or so it was told. To Michalis, Gharnef's appearance struck him as less a warping of his physical form, and more of a reflection of the Pontifex's very soul.

They waited for their audience with Medeus. The room had no windows, no way to see outside, it was lit only by candles, there was no way to tell time here. Gharnef assumed they had waited at least an hour and a half since Jiol had arrived. The only sound made, the only sound not made by the four leaders, were ambiguous screams punctuating the silence at times. The sounds of torture victims, Gharnef presumed. Dolhr was home to no shortage of human servants who failed their masters, and were disciplined accordingly. Other screams may have come from rebel prisoners. Archanean and Altean rebellions sprouted from time to time, but they all met the same end, and any prisoners that were taken were usually brought here.

Michalis crossed his arms. As he waited, his thoughts briefly wandered to Macedon, and his family. He wondered about Minerva… the older of his two younger sisters was likely busy sitting on her wounded pride right now. Perhaps he was responsible for tearing his family apart, but it was for the good of Macedon. He understood well the sacrifices he had to make for his country. Minerva did not seem to understand sacrifice like he did.

He was, he believed, a sharp contrast to Jiol of Gra. The Macedonian King looked at the Gra King, Jiol looked like a man who had never denied himself anything, and prioritized his well-being, and ego, over the welfare of his own nation. In those regards, Jiol had many similarities to Gharnef. He found a sliver of amusement in the fact that Jiol and Gharnef would undoubtedly be repulsed by the comparison.

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound. A repeating thumping sound… like footsteps. Yet not the deeper sound that accompanied a soldier march.

The door to the room opened. A bunch of… children, entered. They were bruised and bleeding from dozens of cuts, most of them were holding blood-coated weapons. A larger figure entered behind them.

"Morzas… is it?" Gharnef spoke calmly. The Manakete behind the children looked at the Dark Pontifex. It quickly became clear that Morzas, who, as Gharnef was told, would soon be overseeing the occupation of Altea, was not aware that the leaders of nations would be in this room. The Manakete's eyes darted from left to right, quickly determining all of the room's unexpected occupants. He sniffed dismissively at their presence.

"I am merely seeing to the next set of human servants. They've passed their Blood Test, and are about to come of age."

Ludwik looked at the children. There was a chilling coldness to them. They kept their heads bowed submissively, and looked like they were ready to fall over, they had clearly just gone through a truly demanding physical trial. Their weapons had just been put to lethal effect against… some kind of foe. Perhaps rebel prisoners given the chance to fight back, or a herd of wild and dangerous animals. After a moment, Ludwik, despite being easily terrified by the Manaketes, could not let his curiosity go unsatisfied.

"B-Blood Test?" Ludwik asked, trying to speak as fast as possible, trying to get the words out before his own fears stilled his tongue.

Morzas smiled wickedly. "Yes. We shall only allow the strongest of humans to serve us. Once they reach a certain age, those who have survived their training to that point… take part in the Blood Test. Humans might liken it to Coliseum combat. The human children are placed in an arena and are ordered to slaughter each other. They will not stop until the Manakete presiding over the Blood Test commands a cease. These children are those who passed today's Blood Test. They survived until I was satisfied and ordered that they stop."

Ludwik shuddered at the explanation, and dearly, dearly wished he hadn't asked.

"It's pathetic, really." Morzas added upon seeing the effect the words had on Ludwik. "Some of them tried, and were put down by those they had fought alongside of before. Others refused to attack those they knew so well, and were slaughtered. An appropriate end, those humans who do not commit themselves fully to the Manaketes of Dolhr and obey our orders without question must die. Their only loyalty is to be to their masters, they cannot feel attachment to anything else."

The children looked like they were barely nine years old. Michalis was not an empathic man, but the knowledge that somewhere in Dolhr butchered bodies of children were simply left lying under the sun sickened him to his core. It was made all the worse that this was a practice that had clearly been going on for a long time.

While Michalis and Ludwik displayed two different levels of disgust for this, Gharnef seemed amused. Similar tests of worthiness had taken place in Khadein ever since he took control… though those involved were usually much older.

"Now all that's left is to make them a part of the proper Dolhr army."

"How are they supposed to compete with the adult soldiers?" Jiol asked. He didn't seem to exactly approve of this cultural practice, but he would condone, and even praise, anything if it allowed him to stay in Dolhr's good graces. Despite this, he had a question. "Those who have been training their whole lives… does the training allow them to fight alongside them competently?"

Morzas began to laugh before abruptly stopping. "No, no. As they are now, they would be devoured on the simplest of combat assignments. They must grow…"

Michalis blinked. "Didn't you say they were ready to come of age, now that they had completed their Blood Test?"

"Yes. As they are now, they are nearly worthless. Yet in just a moment, they will be worthy soldiers of Dolhr."

"How-"

Morzas sighed and shook his head. "Perhaps its time you saw more of Dolhr's… practices. It really matters not what room of the Keep I do this in." Morzas stretched an arm out, revealing a shriveled hand from within the sleeve of the robe. Most Manaketes had an elderly look to them, but Morzas' hand looked more warped and deformed then it did aged. A small amount of energy swirled around Morzas' hand. Ludwik knew that Mage Dragons like Morzas were like an immensely powerful Mage when in human form. He looked to the leaders, and reveled in his next words. "I have the ability to… accentuate, their growth."

"You what?"

Morzas offered a sick grin, then thrust his arm out. Green tendrils of energy burst out of his palm and connected to the back of the children's heads. They all fell down immediately and began to shriek in pain. Gharnef grinned in delight at the suffering.

Morzas seemed to feel a rush of some sort as the children's bodies began to contort. The young ones cried in agony as their muscles burst into unnatural growths and their bones grew with their now rapidly aging bodies. Morzas seemed to be draining something… spiritual, from their bodies, but not even the Dark Pontifex knew exactly what the Manakete was sucking out of them. For just one second, Gharnef suspected that Morzas would not stop, and would only stay his hand after the children were ancient and decrepit.

To his surprise, the Manakete did stop. The children, not children anymore, laid down at first. The clothes that had fit comfortably on them moments ago had been stretched into torn rags. They were all in obvious agony, and didn't seem to have the strength to as much as open their eyes.

"Rise." Morzas ordered. For all the suffering they were going through, they immediately obeyed. Getting to their now grown feet, they stood on legs that were strong but shaking with pain, their unnaturally grown muscles rippling with the full strength of grown men. Morzas smirked and bade them to leave the room. "That will be all for today. Simply outfit yourself and accustom yourselves to your new strengths. New trials will begin tomorrow."

The soldiers of Dolhr, who now had the bodies of men in their mid-twenties, slowly walked out of the room.

Morzas looked at the leaders, seeing the clear sickness in Ludwik's face, the guarded disapproval in Michalis'. "Humans have no rights in Dolhr, they are treated as the animals your species should be regarded as. They are to be used, and then disposed of once their usefulness is expired. We need warriors now, not ten years from now. Our methods of training all, then thinning out all but the best and strengthening them like this, has always ensured that we have an acceptable number of true elites. Unlike the uneven weakness prevalent in your armies."

Michalis thought for a moment, and then something occurred to him. All of those former children were boys. He wondered what sort of conditions female human servants suffered through, or how much connection they might have to any children. Children they likely conceived only when their masters decided they wanted new slaves. He held his tongue, after that sight he did not want his curiosity indulged on that subject.

Morzas turned, but not before taking a joyous second look at both Ludwik's and Michalis' faces. With no particular speed, he left the room.

Barely a minute after Morzas left, another entered.

Xemcel, the Hand of Medeus. Gharnef's eyes gave unspoken description to his irritation to their long wait. Yet the look in his eyes was hardly necessary, Xemcel could almost smell the annoyances that Michalis, Gharnef, and Jiol would not dare voice out loud. He could also see the fear in Ludwik's eyes over the fact that it was now time to appear before Medeus.

"The Emperor does not need to justify your delay in seeing him." Was all Xemcel said to address the collective unspoken complaint. He motioned with his head, the throne room awaited.

Jiol was the only one who had been in here before. He had met with Medeus to speak to the Emperor about the defeat of Altea's armed force, and to hand the Falchion over to Dolhr. The room was much like he remembered, large, spacious, and darkly lit. The long rows of torches seeming to cast almost no light and illuminate nothing, it struck him as looking somewhat like a ritual room. He could look ahead and dimly make out the outline of Medeus' throne.

Michalis and Gharnef, despite their lack of familiarity, stood calm, almost like statues. There was no hint of fear nor was there any sign that they were stressed. Jiol looked totally unnerved, but seemed calm and composed next to Ludwik.

Jiol's eyes darted around. The room was far less populated then it had been last time. Last time had been not long after Medeus had been revived… this room had been filled with Manaketes and Dolhrian humans worshipping Medeus as though he was a deity. To them, perhaps, he was.

The throne room suddenly shuddered. Jiol returned his thoughts to the here and now. He noticed a large, moving shadow behind the throne, which he only just now realized was vacant.

A massive foot came down beside the throne. Ludwik's legs nearly buckled as a tremor ran under his feet. A large dragon, much larger then any Fire or Mage dragon, was on the opposite end of the throne room, and they had its undivided attention. Walking on its four legs, as every dragon that Jiol had ever seen did, it passed over the throne and moved purposefully toward the four.

"Human Kings…" The dragon began to speak with clear disdain. It seemed as if he thought the words he had just spoken were an oxymoron. "Rulers… presiding over their species. A species that, since it came into being, has pushed on with life only due to fear of death. Unlike Manaketes, who have ever pushed forward, striven to raise their civilization to grander heights, until your species disrupted the balance of things."

"Medeus." Michalis said quietly, recognizing who the dragon was easily enough. The Emperor stopped in front of the four, just looking down at what was before him. Michalis saw quite well the rows of teeth in Medeus' mouth. Each fang was longer then Michalis' arms and would be more then capable of tearing a human in half with one lunge. Medeus' size was disquieting, he could crush Michalis like the bugs that scuttled along the ground. He wouldn't… only because Michalis had use to him at this time. The day Michalis, or anyone else, human or Manakete, stopped being useful, however…

The dragon's eyes glowed, dimly, in this dark room. Medeus looked at those before him, and was almost pleased that Michalis and Ludwik, descendents of people who had challenged him eras ago, were now serving him. The memory of humans who faced him with unbending knees, however, was too vivid for him to take true enjoyment.

"You summoned us." Gharnef spoke calmly, not caring that he had not yet been called to speak.

Medeus' eyes swiveled to Gharnef. The massive head nodded. "Yes, to speak to you about what there is left to do, to return this world to the old ways, as it should have stayed." His massive head cocked as he continued to speak. "Only under the old ways, can your kind live as you should."

As slaves whose lives mean nothing. Michalis mentally amended.

"I shall brook no disobedience from you or your nations. You will stretch your nations to their destruction without protest if I so desire it. You will allow death to claim your lives, and the soil to claim your bodies, if that is what I wish. You will fight for the honor of Dolhr, and die for the glory of its Emperor. Through all this, you will provide me unquestioning obedience, as all of your ancestors once provided."

He seemed to take a moment to let the words sink in. The four standing in front of him, all humans in fact, were descendents of slaves. "The words of any dissent will not be tolerated, either from you, or your vassals, or your people. I am not unaware that there are those among your people who whisper that your alliance with Dolhr was wrong."

Medeus craned his massive neck, raising his head high. Ludwik thought of Lorenz, and shuddered. He did not believe he could completely silence Lorenz, and he would dread having to execute someone the Grustian military regarded so highly.

"Should any campaign go poorly, such whispers may become shouts, and they will find appreciative ears. To ensure the return of the world to how it should be, more must be done then just slay the obvious fools who raise their banners and battle cries in military defiance. More subtle rebellions must also be put down. Tongues of defiance must be stilled, and the threat of rebellion silenced."

"W-what if they refuse to be quiet?" Jiol asked. He knew about the whispers of disapproval in Gra. Many, many people resented their King ever since he betrayed an old friend in Cornelius and a valued ally in Altea. He was already considered a untrustworthy pariah in his own social circle, and there was a growing dislike for him even among the most loyalist of the military. "What should be done if warnings alone can not dissuade them?"

Medeus' draconic lips curled in what might have been a smile. "Execute them. Publicly. Their suffering and death will serve as a great example to others."

"And if their sacrifices only rally others?" Michalis asked, sounding a bit defensive.

"Stamp out the embers that such political rebels leave behind. No measure will be too extreme, and no body count too great."

The great dragon was ready to move the discussion to something else. "Among those capable of true defiance, there is only one nation left that would dare try to oppose the future that's already written."

"Aurelis." Gharnef said evenly. "A nation known for its horses, its grassy plains, its crops… a nation known for peace and serenity… a nation not known for its military power. It would be simplicity itself to take such an unsuspecting nation and-"

"Unsuspecting?" Michalis shot Gharnef a look. "Do you really think that Aurelis is oblivious to what has been happening everywhere else in the continent? Do you also ignore Aurelis' assets, Dark Pontifex? They breed the fastest horses, and have the greatest archers and horsemen the continent over. You also must know that Aurelis has always stored a great amount of food in reserve, primarily for the purpose of a famine, but they could easily use their stored grain keep themselves well fed if besieged. It will take more then randomly Warping you and your Mages into the nation to defeat that nation."

Gharnef bridled at the words. The words of the Macedonian King were proud, and Gharnef didn't see any clear and immediate errors in the words.

Medeus' head hung above as Michalis and Gharnef seemed to square off.

"You cannot truly be saying that you think them capable of fending off Khadein, Macedonian King. You give the plainspeople too much credit."

"Don't make such arrogant assumptions about another's abilities. You've been a remarkably bad judge of what Grust and Macedon are capable of." Michalis reminded Gharnef. The Dark Pontifex's face contorted in fury. "Even a child can kill if he's underestimated."

Gharnef grumbled beneath his breath. In Khadein, he would kill for being corrected. Here, he was forced to regard the Macedonian King as an equal. How he longed to see Michalis become a corpse…

"Yes, children can kill, provided they have the means to do it." Medeus said with a deep, unmistakable ire. His thoughts raced back to the moment forever branded in his memories, when a former peasant human sunk the Falchion into him. "They must be destroyed, but a swift death for Aurelis… the death of Aurelis will not discourage many of those who hide and bide their time if it comes too quickly."

Jiol cocked his head, then immediately looked to the side to hide his confused glance. Michalis, Gharnef, and even Ludwik seemed to comprehend Medeus' point, and yet he-

"It must be a long death." Medeus continued. Jiol shivered, wondering if Medeus was clarifying just for him. "Through the example of Aurelis, it must be shown that military opposition could never loosen Dolhr's grip. Immediate destruction could very well only encourage rebels hiding throughout the continent. Rather then destroy them in an instant, we shall stave off their death for as long as possible. Aurelis must be crushed at every turn, they must lose every battle and only manage token pyrrhic victories, proving every step of the way that directly challenging the growing Empire is futile."

"I have heard of Aurelis' strengths." Michalis said. "They suffer from not having a large body of soldiers, it's true, but they are cunning soldiers all the same, the King and his brother are both shrewd tacticians. Particularly the brother. Their 'slow death' could take years if we allow them to push even the slightest advantage. I doubt it would even be possible to march straight to their royal castle and destroy them instantly."

His words sounded almost like he was praising Aurelis' strengths. Medeus lowered his massive head, meeting Michalis face to face. "Macedon King. You are the most recent addition to those nations that serve me. Despite the spoken of strength of Macedon's Wyvern Knights, you and your nation have not yet proven yourselves. If Aurelis' strength concerns and impresses you so deeply, combat them yourself."

"I…" Michalis looked like he was going to protest. He looked put out, but quickly nodded. "I accept this assignment. I shall personally lead incursions into Aurelian territory, if I act quickly enough I can force them underground, into a disadvantageous position, within three months. From there, I can leave one of my lesser generals in charge of slowly smoking out what's left."

"Acceptable." Medeus nodded his head. His eyes turned to regard the others. "As for you, destroy any rebellions against Dolhr that emerge from within your lands. Not just those who raise sword, even those who raise a curse against Dolhr must die for that alone. That is all for now. After Aurelis is slowly destroyed, we can focus on the last little weed…"

He was, of course, speaking of the Altean prince, who's current location was unknown. He was the last person in life who would be capable of wielding Falchion, one of only two things that could give Medeus pause, but the sword had exchanged hands a few times. It went from Jiol to Medeus, and from Medeus to Gharnef. Even if Marth returned now, he would likely race to the wrong person to try and retrieve Falchion. By the time he realized where Falchion really was, it would be clear that he had returned, and Dolhr would be directing all of its forces to destroy him and his rebellion.

"That is all." Medeus said. "Return to your escorts. Leave for your own nations and fulfill my commands. Pray I never have reason to see you again before Aurelis' destruction."

Michalis was the first to turn and leave. Ludwik followed closely behind, eager to leave this most terrifying of places. Gharnef and Jiol followed behind.

The door shut behind them. Medeus' immense form suddenly started to glow… and then shrink. Xemcel, who had stayed silent throughout the entire proceeding, stepped forward as Medeus reassumed his human form.

"My Emperor." Xemcel knelt down. Medeus sat onto his throne, raising a hand and looking at the human flesh, looking repulsed to see such a thing coating him. After a moment, he brought the hand close and let the fingers brush through the facial hair of his human form. "How much longer must we tolerate them? The ones foolish enough to think that humans can be rulers? The very heretics who presume to rule?"

"As long as they are useful. They have use to me in this time… and should they ever cease to be of aid to me…"

Xemcel lowered his head submissively. He did not see the use of the human rulers, but he would not claim to understand the Emperor's plans. So he would do as he had always done, putting all of his faith into the Emperor and following his commands without question.

"Continue to watch them, the Dark Pontifex in particular. He has gained far too many assets. Manipulate the rivalry between nations if you must, and see to it that Khadein is forced to surrender its advantages to Macedon or Grust."

"Yes, my Emperor. As always, your word is my divine command."

Michalis hurried to leave. It was getting dark quickly. The Gra and Grust parties would likely encounter some difficulties as the sun dared to disappear completely over the horizon. Gharnef and his Mages would simply teleport back to Khadein. As for Michalis…

It was fortunate that all the members of his escort were comprised of Wyvern Knights. A Wyvern's eyes pierced the darkness, seeing as clearly as though it was daylight, as though their eyes were lanterns. His own Wyvern, of the powerful black breed, was already well-versed in night-time travel.

As he left the Keep, he passed by some Dolhr soldiers. They weren't the same children he had seen with Morzas, and yet… he fought the urge to shake his head at the sight of soldiers who endured such a forced growth. Soldiers who didn't seem bothered, rather, were pleased to have lost a decade or more of their life for the convenience of those who had no true concern for them.

Far off in the distance, his Wyvern roused from its slumber. It caught sight of its master's approach from its sleep before any of the awake Wyverns noticed the King.

"We return to Macedon." Michalis said as he neared, addressing his soldiers. "Only to prepare for military conquest. We have been given the duty of invading Aurelis."

His soldiers exchanged some glances, then they all saluted. Michalis got onto the saddle of his Wyvern, signaling that they were leaving immediately. He paused as he heard a humming sound. He turned to the predictable sight of Gharnef and his Mages departing via a plethora of Warp staffs. They were already back in their nation. He had to admit, magic was a useful thing, but Macedon, like most nations, was still more a nation of steel then it was a nation of the arcane.

Elsewhere, Jiol and Ludwik were preparing to leave. He was not worried for Ludwik, with the Sable Order defending him there was no chance of his life being claimed. Jiol… Michalis allowed himself a smile of genuine mirth at the fact that if Jiol had the misfortune of being torn apart by some wild animal, he'd hold a banquet in Macedon to celebrate.

His Wyvern began to flap its wings to rise from the ground. The sun was setting. A single night's stay in his own home, and then an invasion of a nation that had never lifted a hand against Macedon awaited him. Without another word, he and his escort departed through the skies.

Eh, random write-up. I'm not even sure where I was going with it. The primary focus had just been to see all the big villains of FE11 interacting a bit. (Ludwik's characterization is kind of a shot in the dark. He doesn't seem to have any known personality trait besides being weak-willed.)

I did like writing the scene with the children. Not because I'm sadistic or anything, but because I find it interesting and fresh to write Dolhr as an unambiguously evil nation, after the somewhat gray way that more modern antagonistic nations like Grado and Daein are presented.

Please review.