At the end of the long and interminable meeting, many important decisions were made. The most notable of these, however, was to increase the security of Mount Rhaz and to increase the number of Tiamat Guards as soon as possible. The necessity of the first decision was unquestionable. Mount Rhaz was home to the ancient monks of Rhazgord. Like other sacred sites, its protection had been entrusted to the Tiamats. Recently, however, there had been growing concern that this protection might be insufficient.
The monks never left the summit of the mountain. The mysterious rituals they performed, cut off from the world, allowed them to anticipate the impending demonic threat. And now, shadows prowled the lands of Rhazgord, unknown forces lurked. Therefore, the mountain's defences were doubled. As a further precaution, it was decided that the challenges for the Sharazir position would take place directly in the army camp, and not on Mount Rhaz as before. Thus, those who tried to infiltrate the mountain could be detected before they started. Although these decisions brought radical changes, they did not meet with great opposition because they were temporary.
However, increasing the number of guards was a difficult knot to untangle. Almost every Tiamat over the age of eighteen was either fighting in the ranks of the army or guarding the sacred places as guards. It was almost impossible to find new warriors without breaking the existing order. Therefore, some of the experienced soldiers in the army were ordered to join the Tiamat Guard. But many warriors were reluctant to leave the army. For them, the battlefield was a matter of honour, written in blood and iron.
But that was not something Corvus cared about. The decision had been made. And he was confident that it would be carried out. Whether by force or persuasion, his orders would be carried out. In these dark days under the heavy clouds covering the sky, there was no choice but obedience.
Another decision that attracted people's attention was that, on Corvus' orders, some three hundred Tiamat Guards were on their way to solve the bandit problem that plagued many parts of the country. Corvus had postponed this matter because of what had happened in Bahoz, but now it had to be dealt with.
Having completed his work here, Corvus returned to the Red Mansion to relieve the tiredness of the day. The city had fallen silent with the night. Only the echoing footsteps of a few guards were heard in the streets. As he entered the large courtyard of the mansion, he felt the wind howling against the cold surfaces of the stone walls. When he stepped inside, the massive pillars and heavy wooden doors were shrouded in darkness. The corridors of the mansion were silent, as if in a deep sleep.
Gliding like a shadow, he headed to his room. He had learnt a lot today. But one in particular had caught his attention-a report from the Guardian had revealed that a new gang of thieves had sprung up in the Tiamat region.
In the Rhazgord, theft was considered one of the lowest crimes. To steal anything here was tantamount to taking a warrior's sword and robbing him of his honour. So such cases were rare. But poverty and desperation could erode even the strongest laws. Still, no one had ever dared to steal in the Tiamat's territory. Because everyone knew that messing with the Tiamats would end in blood.
But now things had changed. The leader of the Tiamat Guard had just been appointed, so there was an inevitable disorganisation in the guard. And with the upcoming Tribal Council, attention had shifted elsewhere. There was no better time to rob the wealthiest tribe in Rhazgord.
Corvus saw an opportunity in the chaos. If these thieves could move undetected through Tiamat territory, they must surely be skilled. Moreover, they did not appear to be simple pickpockets acting alone, but an organised and large gang. Corvus needed just such men. But he had to figure out how to catch them and recruit them into his ranks.
He lay on his bed with these thoughts. As soon as he put his head on his stone-hard pillow, he felt something uncomfortable underneath. He frowned and lifted the pillow. There were a few documents underneath.
He narrowed his eyes and took the papers in his hand. These were the reports he had requested from Darkan. He had originally planned to receive them in the morning, but Darkan had apparently finished his work early and left the documents in his room without anyone noticing.
Corvus breathed heavily. It was both impressive and disturbing how easily Darkan had slipped in and out of one of Rhazgord's most secure locations. He knew of his abilities, but this... this was more than he had expected.
For a moment he intended to read the documents, but fatigue overcame him. Sighing, he put the papers on his desk. “In the morning,” he thought.
“In the morning I'll figure it all out.”
He closed his eyes. Night still reigned outside. But Corvus' mind was haunted by the shadows of thieves and betrayal.
As day after day passed, Corvus' life was torn between the visible face of the Tiamat Guard and the one hidden in the shadows. On the one hand, he was concerned with the order, training and defence strategies of the Guard, while on the other he watched for hidden threats with his men in the shadows. Sometimes he could be found in the training grounds where swords clashed, sometimes in the quiet whispers of the dark streets.
Meanwhile, Darkan and his men had located the thieves after weeks of tracking and observation. But they would not act without Corvus' orders. But this matter had to be shelved for a while. Because the expected day had finally arrived-the Tribal Council was meeting.
It was to be held at the Red Mansion. All the leaders of Rhazgord, from the largest tribe to the smallest, were invited to this meeting. But this meeting brought together not only tribal leaders, but also warriors respected by all the people of Rhazgord. Some were still young, sword in hand, a deadly warrior, while others were already old, masters who taught their grandchildren the finer arts of war.
Anyone who stepped into the mansion could feel the tension in the air. Even those who had once fought shoulder to shoulder on the same front now looked at each other like enemies. Years of disagreements, enmities and resentments had returned as whispers echoing in this great hall. Conflicts between the tribes were inevitable, and these conflicts meant that the meeting risked turning into an uproar at any moment. Throughout the day, Corvus' job was to prevent conflict. He constantly intervened, trying to drown out the rising voices and soften the threatening glances. But this was a war - a war fought with words instead of swords.
At last the expected news came. The meeting was announced to begin. Corvus felt the heaviness in his chest ease a little. At least, the discussions would now proceed on a set plane instead of uncontrolled chaos. Taking a deep breath, he entered the large hall where the meeting would be held.
When he stepped inside, he walked under the gaze of hundreds of people. Everyone was in their seats, silently weighing each other. But what was remarkable was who was sitting with whom. Friends sat with their friends, enemies with their enemies. The boundaries between them were drawn not only by distance, but also by hard looks and suppressed anger. Murmured whispers circulated through the hall like the wind before a storm.
The one to preside over such a large and sensitive gathering would, of course, be the former Sanguinar, Drakar Tiamat. Once the most powerful man in Rhazgord, Drakar was still a revered figure. His authority was the only force that could hold the restless tribes together. But he was not in the hall now. Neither he nor Sakhaar... They were waiting for them to arrive.
The moment Corvus sat between his uncle Valerius and his old master Montis, the wide doors burst open. Stepping into the parlour, father and son instantly swept away the buzz of the room. Sakhaar's steps were heavy and sure, while Drakar walked silently beside him. But it was clear who was more dominant there. Despite his age, Drakar's presence hovered over his son like a shadow. All eyes turned to them. Drakar stood in the centre of the hall as Sakhaar made his way to his throne. His eyes passed over everyone, one by one. And at that moment, everyone in the room fell silent.
As Sakhaar settled on his throne, Drakar's voice echoed:
“Welcome.”
The council began, as always, with a hearing of the tribes' problems. It was customary that the smallest tribes spoke first, voicing their grievances and demanding solutions. Everyone, including the Tiamats, accepted this order. The Rhazgord was not a place where chaos reigned. Problems were discussed openly, solutions were debated, and those that were appropriate were decided on the spot. Others required more extensive planning, so they were left to time. The atmosphere in the hall was relatively calm as the daily issues were dealt with one by one. Until Drakar took the floor.
“Now for the reason for the early meeting!”
Drakar's voice descended on the hall like a hammer. Suddenly, all conversations stopped and all eyes turned to him.
“As you know, there have been events that began in Bahoz and resulted in the fall of the kingdoms of Lakson and Bahem!”
At these words there was a stir in the hall. Most of the council members knew a little of the background behind these events, but they realised that there was more to Drakar's story.
“If my grandson, Corvus, had not been in Bahoz, perhaps we would still be at war today!”
Drakar paused briefly. This sentence echoed in everyone's minds. Then he continued, sweeping his eyes over the crowd in the hall:
“So, firstly, we would like to announce that we have given Corvus Tiamat one hundred kilos of Lightstone!”
Suddenly the air in the room changed. Whispers began to rise. The Lightstone was a strategic boon not only for Rhazgord, but for all continents. To give such a large amount to one person was no ordinary reward.
Corvus was not surprised by this gift. However, this gift was not truly a reward as it seemed. In reality, Corvus had previously made a deal with Adler Prince Belisarius in exchange for one hundred kilos of Lightstone. This agreement had not been publicly announced, but the Lightstones had already been used. Now, this “reward” served as an official explanation for where that resource had gone.
Drakar scanned the restless movements in the hall with his eyes. He remained silent for a few seconds to check if there were any objections. However, no one said anything. No one was foolish enough to show even a hint of doubt in front of Drakar Tiamat.
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When no objections came, Drakar spoke again:
“Most of you are aware of the events that have transpired. However, to explain the details, I now give the floor to Corvus Tiamat.”
At that moment, all eyes in the room turned to Corvus.
He slowly rose from his seat. There was no haste or hesitation in his movements. As he walked toward his grandfather, he felt the weight of his steps. At that moment, just by being there, he had already made history. He was the youngest warrior ever invited to this council. But now, he would go down in history as the youngest warrior to speak at this council.
Corvus took a deep breath and let his gaze sweep over the crowd in the hall. Some faces showed curiosity, others suspicion, and some even open displeasure. But none of that mattered.
His voice rose, clear and strong. First, he spoke about why he had been in Bahoz. Then, he explained how he had uncovered the plans of the Black Masks, the danger they faced, and in the finest details, how the kingdoms of Lakson and Bahem had fallen. Most in the hall knew the general outline of these events. However, Corvus’ words illuminated the hidden aspects of the story. Each sentence was like a puzzle piece falling into place, revealing the full picture of what had truly happened.
When Corvus finished speaking, everyone assumed he would return to his seat. But he stood firm where he was. His shoulders were straight, and his eyes scanned the hall one by one. He was not finished speaking yet. Drakar already knew his grandson would not stop. He could see it in his eyes—Corvus had more in his mind. So, to clear the way for him, he raised his voice again.
“Bahoz’s treacherous plans may appear to be the doing of Galir, Behem, and Lakson Kingdoms. However… my son Valerius and my grandson Corvus claim that there is something much bigger at play!”
Drakar’s voice echoed like a hammer in the room. A moment of silence followed, then murmurs spread through the hall.
The council members turned to one another in surprise. Most believed that these three deranged kingdoms had fueled the war due to their arrogance and ambition. However, the sharper minds had already suspected that such small kingdoms could not have undertaken such madness on their own. Yet, what Drakar was implying was on an entirely different level.
As the tension in the room rapidly escalated, Drakar raised his hand. The room instantly fell silent. Then, he granted Corvus permission to speak. Corvus stepped forward. His eyes roamed over the hundreds of people in the hall. Many here had already heard his story, but what he was about to say now was far more important.
“As I just explained… The ones who orchestrated this were assassins hiding behind the Black Masks.”
His voice was clear and strong. He continued with slow, deliberate care:
“I came face to face with the man I believed to be their leader in the Battle of the Black Plains! I fought him, but I could not kill him… Yet, I did not forget his eyes.”
His words lingered in the air. Faces in the hall showed curiosity and unease. Corvus clenched his fists and paused briefly. Then his voice rose in a darker tone:
“And I saw those same eyes again when we went to lay waste to Greuth, the capital of the Galir Kingdom!”
With that sentence, the room tensed like a volcano on the brink of eruption. Expressions among the council members changed. Some whispered with skepticism, while others silently weighed Corvus’ words.
Now, a single question dominated everyone’s mind. Who was behind all of this? And more importantly, what would the next move be?
The murmurs in the hall were suddenly cut off by a thin yet chilling voice. It sounded like the hiss of a snake slithering through the darkness.
“Then, who owns those eyes?”
As the words floated into the middle of the room, all heads turned toward the source of the voice. All eyes focused on Sherkhan Iskat, who sat right beside Sakhaar.
Sherkhan was leaning back, resting one hand on his knee. His eyes were like doorways leading into the depths of a dark forest—impossible to read. A faint, unreadable smile played on his lips. The fact that he sat close to the Tiamats made it clear where his allegiance lay. But that alone was not enough to describe his presence. Sherkhan Iskat was the leader of one of the most powerful tribes in Rhazgord. He was also Corvus’ future father-in-law.
He did not need permission to speak in this council. Yet Corvus did not need to answer this question. As Sherkhan’s words hung in the air, another voice rose. Deep, authoritative, and indisputable.
“One of Brihmond’s soldiers.”
All eyes now turned to the man who had spoken.
Valerius Tiamat.
He was not just Drakar’s son or Sakhaar’s brother. He was one of the two highest-ranking commanders of Rhazgord. And most importantly, he was one of the few in this council who did not need permission to speak. His voice was sharp and precise as a blade. But the real shock came with his next words.
“More precisely… one of Millan Mirones’ guards.”
His words spread like fire through the hall. At first, a few murmurs rose, then an uproar followed.
Brihmond!
Almost all of Rhazgord’s borders opened into this country. Brihmond had never been a true ally, but neither had it been an enemy. A stable relationship had always been maintained. It was Rhazgord’s only gateway to the continent. If what Valerius said was true, then this was no longer just a war started by three small kingdoms. This concerned the entire future of Rhazgord. The murmurs in the council surged like waves. The tension filled the room like a thick fog. Some whispered in concern, while others clenched their fists in anger.
And at that moment…
“Then do you have proof?”
A deep, defiant voice silenced the murmurs once more. For a brief moment, everyone turned toward the speaker.
Carek Nabuk.
He had remained silent since the council began. But now, his gaze was fixed directly on Valerius. In his eyes, there was both a challenge and a poisonous suspicion. He had deliberately distanced himself from the Tiamats, just as his family had done for centuries. Because the Nabuks were Rhazgord’s second-largest tribe. For centuries, they had been in constant rivalry with the Tiamats. Yet, despite everything, they had survived in these lands and held the second-greatest influence over Rhazgord’s army, just after the Tiamats. A mocking smirk appeared on Carek’s face. His eyes locked onto Valerius.
“And if Brihmond was truly the enemy, why didn’t you take their heads, Valerius? Were you afraid?”
The words stabbed into the room like a blade of steel. The tension immediately spiked.
Valerius’ eyes burned like fire. The other Tiamats in the hall clenched their teeth, shifting in their seats. The Nabuks did not back down either. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire hall would descend into chaos. But no one would dare go that far in the presence of Drakar and Sakhaar.
“I do have proof, of course. My first proof is the words of my nephew, Corvus! My second proof is the Brihmond soldiers who greeted us when we arrived in Galir.”
Carek Nabuk stood up slowly, a sly grin spreading across his face as he approached Drakar. There was a menacing slowness in his movements. He was speaking without permission in the council, but no one stopped him. Yet, he knew one thing very well—he avoided making eye contact with Drakar. In the gaze of that magnificent old man lay a threat that had loomed over the Nabuks for centuries.
Carek’s voice echoed in the air like thick, sticky poison.
“So, all you have are the words of a brat and soldiers who claim they came to honor their friendship with us?”
His words dripped with mockery and contempt. Even their echo, bouncing off the stone walls of the chamber, was provocative. Some tribal leaders in the council grumbled, exchanging glances, while Valerius’ steel-like gaze locked onto Carek. He was about to open his mouth to respond when something happened that escalated the tension in the room to an entirely different level.
A crimson light drew everyone’s attention. Corvus’ eyes were burning like flames. His steps were clear and determined. When he stood in front of Carek, he showed not even the slightest hesitation despite the difference in their height. His clenched jaw and eyes blazing with fury made his defiant voice rise to the ceiling of the hall.
“Would you like to test that brat, Nabuk?”
The council hall plunged into silence.
The mocking grin on Carek’s face vanished, replaced by an icy rage. At that moment, it seemed as if not a single person in the room dared to breathe. A Nabuk and a Tiamat had clashed on the battlefield countless times throughout history, but such a direct challenge, right in the heart of the council, was almost a scandal.
Carek’s body leaned forward, his chest swelling with each breath, his muscles tensed like stone. The veins on his face became more prominent, and his eyes were lost in the shadows of deep fury. A mere ‘brat’ was challenging him in front of hundreds of tribal leaders!
Corvus felt the fire within him rising uncontrollably. Normally, he wouldn’t take such a reckless step, but this time, he had listened to his heart. What he saw was not a Brihmond soldier who had come to honor a friendship. What he saw was a foe, drenched in the blood of his closest friend, Kragan. At that moment, the chains of reason had shattered.
As Carek’s rage intensified, the overwhelming Lightstone energy in the room was suddenly unleashed. Even the air seemed to tremble. The goblets on the tables rattled slightly. Corvus trembled under the crushing weight of this immense force, but he did not fall. His knees bent slightly, his breath caught in his throat, his hands clenched into fists against his will. Yet, he stood tall.
Carek hissed in a deep, guttural voice:
“Do you have a death wish, brat?”
His voice was as sharp as a blade. When his eyes met Corvus’, everyone in the Red Mansion realized—this was no longer just a war of words. The council was on the verge of war.
“Are you threatening my son before my very eyes?”
The voice came from the highest authority in the room. Sakhaar Tiamat. He was leaning against his throne, resting his head on one hand, as if the words just spoken did not concern him in the slightest. The searing vibrations of Lightstone energy filling the room crashed against his body, yet Sakhaar did not feel the slightest discomfort.
Moreover, he was not even looking at Carek Nabuk with anger. His crimson eyes carried a terrifying tranquility. It was as if even rage itself was forced to kneel before him.
Carek’s fury dissipated as swiftly as the Lightstone energy in the room. That sly grin on his face returned, as if it had never left. He stepped forward with slow, measured movements, inclining his head slightly but not out of submission.
“On the contrary!” he said, injecting a cunning tone into his voice.
“I am merely trying to teach this young and brave warrior that every word has a price.”
After these words, he took a few steps back, as if he needed to distance himself from the throne’s shadow. Then he returned to his seat, sitting in silence like a restrained predator.
When Drakar sent Corvus back to his place, the murmurs in the hall had already returned. But this was not the sound of chaos—it was the echo of thoughts. As discussions ignited in every corner, Drakar did not intervene this time. Because this was a matter that needed to be spoken about. As the leaders exchanged uncertain glances, time moved forward slowly.
And then… Sakhaar stood up. The voices in the hall were instantly severed like a blade. All eyes turned to him, his very presence an unspoken command—when he spoke, all had to listen.
“I do not believe that Valerius and Corvus are lying.”
His voice was neither cold nor warm, but absolute and unwavering.
“However, this is not a simple matter. War or peace? I will not decide this alone.”
As his gaze swept across the hall, everyone there felt the weight behind his words.
“By tomorrow’s council, everyone must make their decision. There will be a vote tomorrow. And rest assured! All matters left unspoken today will be addressed after the vote. For now, this meeting is adjourned.”
As Sakhaar exited the hall, the chamber rapidly emptied. High-ranking leaders streamed outside, whispering among themselves as they debated their decisions. As Corvus stepped out, he noticed that his grandfather, Drakar, had summoned Carek to his side. But for him, the meeting was over, and outside, there were many who wished to speak with him.
Now, only Drakar and Carek remained in the hall.
As Carek awaited Drakar’s words, he felt the same unease a young predator would feel when staring into the eyes of a seasoned hunter. Drakar’s massive hand descended upon his shoulder. This was no simple gesture. Beneath that hand lay the weight of a mountain. But Carek’s body did not move, did not waver. Because he, too, was no ordinary man. He was a warrior who had climbed to the peak of Rhazgord.
And yet, the words Drakar whispered into his ear... Could crack even the most unyielding stone.
“Remember what happens when you harm one of my blood, brat.”
His voice was a dagger, plunging directly into Carek’s past.
“Remember your father writhing in my grasp. Remember... how I severed his fucking head from his shoulders!”
With these words, Drakar turned and left the hall as if nothing had happened.
But Carek…
He was burning with fury. Yet he could neither take a step nor draw a breath. Because his past had become a chain around his neck. And that chain was in Drakar’s hands.
