Seated in a throne of gold and black, Ned called out to Elian.
[I hate to break up the chatter, but time is short Elian, what you see here is but a fraction of the might of the End. And while we have a sizable force, it is not enough. Do not worry about this place, regroup with the other legions and go.]
Though he looked majestic, Elian could sense the exhaustion hidden in the voice of his friend. While he and his wife tried to appear jolly and carefree, their preparations spoke of the opposite.
What would he have done? To spend millennia trying to fight an enemy you had no hope of defeating. With each army of the End they found over the years only drove home how outnumber they really were.
And despite the time that passed, they could only prepare in silence. Yet even in the face of death and the threat of annihilation, the Weapons of Valestra never despaired.
No. Just like he thought them, they sharpened themselves and learned.
