Page 99 of Interion

The man stiffened, his face twisting into a grimace of distaste.

“No, Zion. I don’t want to get the hang of it. This is... madness. What you do is madness—commanding ten squadrons through territory crawling with lamias and Drutes is inconceivable, at the very least. I don’t know how you stand it.”

Though the man stood motionless, rigid as stone, his eyes and the way he gripped his hands to keep them still told a different story. The interim general was clearly rattled.

“The secret is delegating well among the squadron captains. Talk to my second-in-command—she can help you with that. Kaori knows who to trust, and she’s good at giving orders.” Zion knew how hard it was to manage ten squadrons at once. Without help, it was nearly impossible.

Cauê looked at him and sighed heavily.

“Your second-in-command hates me.” He looked defeated. “Since she laid eyes on me, she’s made my life a living hell. She’s great at giving orders, especially to me.”

Zion smiled at the thought. Kaori, besides being his second-in-command, was also a gorgon who led the gorgon soldiers in the army. By rights, she should have been interim general, but the king refused—he didn’t like the idea of a woman, much less a gorgon, leading his armies. To Zion’s displeasure, he’d put Cauê in the position instead. Still, everyone knew Kaori was the one who really called the shots. She’d always had a difficult temperament, didn’t get along with authority figures, and was prone to arguments—especially when she was hungry. The problem was, she was always hungry.

“Win her over and things will get better,” Zion said finally, and it was the honest truth. Kaori was extraordinary when properly motivated.

The generals heard a sound from the other side of the door and straightened even more. Soon the door swung open, revealing a vast room awash in the richest shades of green and gold. The only exception was the royal red carpet that stretched up to the throne. The walls were made of golden, gleaming solar stone, and around the room, tall arched windows of magically reinforced glass let in an icy breeze. During the day, those windows filled the space with light and air, as if the sun itself wanted in—but since it was nearly eleven at night, only darkness pressed against the glass. The throne sat atop three steps, and there the king of Interion lounged upon it. As a child, Zion had thought Elitium resembled a dragon perched in his castle of gold. He still held the same opinion. The king’s hands rested casually on the cushioned armrests, his eyes radiating pride and power. He wore no majestic robes, no tunics or jewels—he dressed exactly like any other soldier. The only exception was the thin golden crown set with green sapphires resting on his short hair.

Four cushioned chairs surrounded the king. In the two on the left sat his newest pillars: Koduz, a powerful electrokinetic with dark skin and Vinturian features, and Zafira, one of the few force field elementals in existence. On the other side, one chair stood empty, as it had for the last two hundred years. Beside it sat Serguei in his usual gray suit, looking bored.

Zion approached the throne and gave the king a slight bow. Cauê followed suit, though his bow was deeper and lingered longer.

“It's always a pleasure to speak with Your Grace,” Cauê said warmly. The king looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Stop with the formalities, skip the ceremony, and get straight to the reports. Isn't that what we're here for?”

Elitium, unlike other kings, didn't like being fawned over. Zion had understood this early on, keeping all their meetings quick and to the point.

Intimidated, Cauê cleared his throat and began to speak:

“No battles or Drutes squads have been spotted in recent months, and we found only one breeding camp.” Cauê opened the bag at his side and pulled out the reports, handing them to the king's servant standing near the throne. “Our only trouble was a lamia nest—two low-ranking soldiers were killed in that incident. We also lost one soldier to a wild animal attack.”

Elitium had become a paranoid king after Red Day, when his brother Elaizer was assassinated. He maintained a safe distance of ten meters from anyone who entered, except for his four pillars—or rather, his three pillars, since he had killed Lea.

His gift was among the rarest, which was why the crown still belonged to his family. He descended from the mimetic bloodlines—fae whose gift allowed them to borrow the abilities of anyone within a ten-meter radius.

“Interesting. So the Drutes are retreating?” he asked, his tone arrogant. Zion had to suppress his disgust when he realized the king didn't even care about the casualties—he'd focused only on the enemy.

“We believe so, Your Grace. We patrolled the entire central region where our troops maintain the strongest presence, but we found no soldiers.”

The king sat back with a thoughtful expression, then gestured:

“Come closer. I want to verify.”

Not that he needed proximity to read minds, much less a warning. If the king wanted, he could enter any unprotected mind within the inner walls, thanks to Serguei's gift. But by giving warning, he implied he would seize the person's mind and violently rummage through their memories.

Zion held his breath and stared at Serguei. The man stared back sternly, as if concentrating on something—probably erasing any suspicious information from Cauê's head.

The provisional general stepped forward onto the first stair. Koduz was focused on everything happening around him, lightning crackling in his gaze, and Zafira stood ready as well. At any sign of danger, she would protect the king while Koduz attacked without mercy. The king concentrated, his eyes going vacant. Serguei held steady at his side. Several minutes passed, and then the general staggered backward—sweating, panting, visibly shaken.

“Interesting,” the king said. “What you say is true—they are retreating. Perhaps this is the time to send more squads to clear the area.”

Zion could almost see the gears turning in the man's head.

Cauê was still gasping, trying to clear his mind. It was obvious his psyche had been turned inside out—the king was a butcher compared to Serguei.

“I want the troops ready for a rapid advance. This is a unique opportunity for Interion. If we can get closer to the city, we can finally surround them and massacre them one by one.”

Zion watched him, brow slightly furrowed. The hatred Elitium harbored for the Drutes was almost physical, and the shadows stirred, sensing such rancor. Zion held his own grudge against the reds, but he understood that not all of them were enemies. There were civilians who weren't part of the war, children who had never wielded a weapon.