"How are they doing?"
[No good. Our kin will die.]
"Then let's wait a little longer."
...
"What about him?"
[He's acceptable. He belongs to the faction that seeks to capture us and use us to open spatial gates.]
"You seem to know quite a bit."
[We've been fighting them for centuries.]
"Alright." Lann gave a nod, then slapped the ground. He summoned the powers that had arrived in this world ahead of schedule—several bright emerald-green motes of light flared to life around him.
"Take care of yourselves. We'll see each other soon!"
...
"Avalac'h, you said you sensed a spatial fluctuation—where exactly?"
An impatient rebuke rang out nearby. "It's been three years, and we haven't seen a single unicorn!"
Beneath them was the lake's shallow shore, normally a place where nearby animals gathered to drink.
But now, not just the lakeside—the entire valley was devoid of life. No birdsong, no insect chirps. Only the water remained clear and radiant, beautiful in its solitude.
The elven knights had paused to rest, calming their steeds on the gravel-strewn beach. At the center of the group stood the elven sage Avalac'h, who furrowed his brows at the complaint beside him.
"Watch your tone, Eredin. Don't forget who got us into this mess in the first place."
The leader of the Wild Hunt still wore his skull-like iron armor, his menacing presence standing in stark contrast to the other knights.
He was currently focused on rebuilding his interdimensional strike force, which made him all the more invested in the unicorns' whereabouts. Hearing Avalac'h's blunt response, his face flushed red with anger.
"You must be pleased, aren't you? You've always opposed slaughtering unicorns, always tried to stop us from capturing the Elder Blood!"
Eredin suddenly stood up.
"You go around preaching your bullshit about 'peaceful solutions'! Now that my entire unit has been wiped out in the mountain ranges, no one's happier than you!"
Avalac'h kept his expression calm, as though the Wild Hunt's commander hadn't been aiming those words at him. He split his focus—part of him sensing the space around them, the rest fixed on Eredin with a sideways glance.
"Your accusations mean nothing to me. No one grieves more deeply than I do for our fallen kin. For years, your Red Riders have supported us, and I've never forgotten that."
"But you're the commander," he continued, tone still steady. "You bear inescapable responsibility for the annihilation of the Red Riders. Everything we're doing now is the consequence of your misjudgment."
"As for the Elder Blood's power, we've only ever heard your version of the events. None of us knows what really happened in the mountains."
"You claimed a single 'lion' wiped out not only the Red Riders, but multiple other factions as well." Avalac'h lifted his gaze.
"Not even Lara could've reached such power. And now you expect us to believe her twenty-year-old descendant unleashed that kind of force on her own... It's hard to swallow."
"You're saying I—Eredin Bréacc Glas—am lying?"
The plates of Eredin's armor clattered with every heaving breath.
"Avalac'h! You—"
The elven sage suddenly stood up. The commander of the Wild Hunt nearly thought he was about to attack—but in the very next second, Avalac'h's voice rang out in excitement.
"I've found it! Another spatial fluctuation, and it's close!"
The knights spurred their horses forward, iron boots thudding against their mounts' flanks. Hooves clattered against cobblestones, then thundered across dirt, each beat more urgent than the last.
Ahead lay the forest. Avalac'h spat out a rapid incantation. Instantly, the forest responded—vines and trunks stirred as if conscious, parting to open a welcoming path for these ancient beings.
The knights, well-trained, raised their longbows and spears in anticipation of a fierce battle. But what they found stunned them—there was hardly any resistance.
A dozen or so weary unicorns had gathered in a clearing, licking one another's wounds. Even walking seemed a struggle. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, falling on them and the grass below, casting a sacred, almost heart-wrenching glow.
But the elegant elves remained cold-hearted. Their eyes lit up with excitement at the sight of these battered creatures.
"Surround them—take them alive!" shouted the elven sage without hesitation.
With practiced ease, the elven knights jerked their reins, nearly brushing their own faces with the manes of their mounts. They moved in flawless formation, encircling the panicked unicorns, sneers playing on their lips.
Eredin, however, disregarded the order. He released his bowstring without warning.
The unicorn leader's pupils contracted. With a powerful leap, it moved to intercept the deadly arrow meant for its kin.
[Crack!]
Lightning flashed across the air.
The broken shaft of the arrow hit the ground. Avalac'h lowered his left hand, still crackling with arcs of electricity, and fixed Eredin with a cold stare.
"I said—surround them."
"Three years, Avalac'h! Three years!" the commander of the Wild Hunt roared. "It's taken us this long just to see unicorns again! This isn't the time for your gentle approach! We should be cutting off their horns, draining their blood, and rebuilding my Red Riders!"
"It's precisely because time is short that we can't do that, Eredin," Avalac'h said, shaking his head. "That method is far too inefficient."
"The unicorns have been gone for three years. Clearly, our aggressive pursuit forced them to flee this world. And now that they've returned, it can only mean one thing—something went wrong in the new world."
Avalac'h's gaze passed over the unicorns' wounded bodies.
"Their leader is among them. They might be the last unicorns left."
"Then kill half, and keep the rest for breeding!"
"Like I said—that's far too slow."
The elven sage still shook his head. "These ten unicorns each have the ability to traverse space independently. If we harvest them for materials, we might be able to outfit a unit of a hundred at most. What could that accomplish?"
"But if we can persuade them to submit to us—if they yield—then with my magic and His Majesty's, combined with the remnants of the Gate of Time and Space... we might be able to directly launch interdimensional military operations."
Eredin clenched his fists, unconvinced.
"And how can you be sure they'll surrender? What we need right now is time—it's already been three years!"
"If they're willing to accept our terms, we can begin the operation tonight," Avalac'h said firmly. "Don't forget—they are sentient beings. They can be reasoned with."
"How many years have we fought them? Aside from the very beginning, when have unicorns ever bowed to us?"
"When a species stands on the brink of extinction, its leader will cling to even the faintest hope," Avalac'h replied, his gaze resting on the tallest unicorn in the group.
"And more importantly—you haven't atoned for your crimes yet, Eredin. You'll follow my command now!"
Without his loyal Red Riders, the commander of the Wild Hunt had no choice but to relent. He bit back his fury, casting one last, lingering glance at the unicorns he so coveted, then turned his head away and closed his eyes.
Avalac'h whistled sharply. In response, the knights surrounding the unicorns drew their lassos with practiced ease.
The sound of ropes slicing through the air came in rapid succession. Each unicorn was simultaneously yanked in at least four different directions. Their iron hooves kicked up clouds of sand and dust that flew as high as a man's head—but not one of them could move from their spot.
"Before you inject the tranquilizer, collect their blood samples and tend to their wounds," Avalac'h instructed. "His Majesty needs their blood—it's been three years."
...
"I should have had you executed long ago, Fringilla Vigo."
"Your mercy, Your Majesty," Fringilla replied, bowing her head.
"I kept you alive not for your uncle, not for your family name, but for your loyalty. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Fringilla stared at the tiles beneath her feet and drew a deep breath.
"You've trained many battle mages over the years, helped reform the army, and overseen the design and construction of various magical devices." The shadow before her turned to face her. "So tell me now, my magical advisor—why, when we faced Lannister, were we routed without even a fight?"
Fringilla didn't dare lift her head.
The figure standing before her had the build of an ordinary soldier, but his presence surged like a crashing tide. Though the only thing watching her from ten paces away were a pair of eyes, Fringilla felt as if the weight of an entire empire bore down on her.
"Our offensive was more powerful than ever before, yet our results were worse than they used to be."
"We had more soldiers, more logical formations, more advanced equipment—and still, we failed."
Fringilla dared not respond.
"Because while we were changing," Emhyr continued, "so was the North. The North, which hadn't changed in centuries, suddenly did."
After a moment of silence, Emhyr sighed.
"This war should end."
"…Your Majesty?"
"It's difficult to accept—but we must accept it. We must learn from this failure, uncover the root of the North's newfound strength, and defeat them in the next war."
Emhyr spoke slowly, deliberately: "So once again, I will spare your life, Fringilla. Can you live up to my trust?"
Fringilla was drenched in sweat. "Your mercy, Your Majesty!"
"That's not the answer I want to hear."
"I will not betray your trust, Your Majesty!"
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