Velkharion sat upon the Frostfire Throne in his favored obsidian-and-crimson plate, Crimson Fang sheathed at his side. Before him, the generals—Sythera, Kroxar, Zelefar, Valnor, and Isaril—stood in disciplined silence, awaiting his command. Tonight, the fate of kingdoms and underground empires alike would shift beneath their feet.
Sythera, Frostscale Tactician, unfurled a glowing map of the continent on the table before them. "My lord," she began, voice cool and precise, "our intelligence identifies five major powers: the Re-Estize Kingdom, to which E-Naeul belongs; the Baharuth Empire to the west; the Slane Theocracy to the south; the Roble Holy Kingdom to the northeast; and the Genbaa tribal confederations and Dragma city-states in the north. Each possesses unique strengths and vulnerabilities."
She tapped at the map. "Re-Estize: weak monarchy under King Ramposa III, reliant on trade and fractured aristocracy. The Baharuth Empire fields formidable cavalry and presses westward for maritime power. The Slane Theocracy wields divine magic, fearful of arcane rivalry. The Roble Kingdom's knightly orders stand allied to Slane. And Genbaa and Dragma offer mercenary cadres and unsteady tribal alliances."
Sythera's eyes flicked to Velkharion. "Given our knowledge—and your minutes under the guise of Hans von Eisenhart—the Re-Estize Kingdom presents the easiest foothold. Its internal strife and trade dependence render it vulnerable. I propose we solidify our control here first: infiltrate noble ranks with a puppet, and seize the underground networks that truly run the streets."
Velkharion nodded thoughtfully. "A sound strategy." He turned to Isaril. "But we must not limit ourselves to Re-Estize's underbelly. We hold a unique resource in our recent captives—those base criminals we extracted from E-Naeul's Western Quarter." He regarded the generals steadily. "I suggest we leverage the Baharuth Empire's underground organizations. We can funnel these humans into key roles—spies, enforcers, informants—thus gaining a second, powerful network of influence."
Sythera paused, surprised at the shift. But her duty responded swiftly. "Yes, my lord. Combining direct infiltration of Re-Estize's aristocracy with control over Baharuth's subterranean syndicates will yield unparalleled reach."
From the shadows, Zelefar's voice rose. "To exploit Baharuth's criminal web, we'll require more human subjects—diverse and expendable." He folded his arms, fangs of gold glinting. "Our R&D division would welcome additional test subjects for research and conditioning."
Valnor, ever the pragmatist, added, "Funds and resources can be allocated, but we must secure more manpower discreetly."
Isaril stepped forward, brows furrowed in concern. "My lord, why shift our primary focus away from Re-Estize's heart? We have already neutralized Baron Helmut's threats and stand ready to cement our puppet's position there."
Velkharion's crimson gaze settled on her. "Because power in this world springs from versatility. Re-Estize's puppet and underground hold will secure our flank. But the Baharuth Empire, with its martial might and secret networks, represents the next inevitable stage of conflict. We must preempt the coming storm by weaving our influence into its bones. Between Re-Estize's court and Baharuth's back alleys, no power will move without our sanction."
The generals exchanged glances, then bowed in unison. "As you command, my lord," they intoned.
Velkharion rose, his presence filling the chamber. "Then let us begin. Sythera, prepare your plans to fracture Re-Estize's nobility." He gestured to Kroxar. "Mobilize the infiltration squad—Miryss and Lumina. Their shapeshifting talents will allow perfect replacement of any noble we choose. Tonight, we enact the baron's disappearance." He glanced at Zelefar. "Elixirs of memory-forge to be readied. Valnor, arrange financing to smooth the baron's transformation. Isaril, oversee these operations and coordinate the R&D division's new subjects."
Under the cover of late evening, Miryss led Lumina—her closest comrade in the Scouting Division—through shadowed corridors of Helmut's estate. Lumina's form shimmered between shapes until, with a final breath, she became the baron in every countenance: curling moustache, embroidered doublet, and the faint scent of tobacco that Helmut favored.
In the grand bedchamber, Helmut slept, surrounded by opulence. At the door, Kroxar whispered the all-clear. Shuna slipped beside the dais. She murmured "Mental Dominion", fingertips brushing Helmut's temple. Memories unfurled: his bribes, beneficiaries, kidnapping orders, and a particular fixation on "Lady Shuna" as his next prize. Extracting every vile plan, she released him—helpless and drugged—while Miryss stepped forward to sedate him completely.
Crimson-Blood Fang stayed sheathed; no unnecessary violence. Under Lumina's guise, the baron's relationships and diplomatic calendars were identified. In the courtyard, looted carriage awaited. Miryss bound Helmut and—accompanied by Kroxar's silent squad—transported him to be exiled. The proclamation of disgrace spread through Re-Estize's couriers: "Baron Helmut van Gallen, stripped of titles, banished for crimes against the crown."
As dawn crept across the sky, Lumina, posing as Helmut, emerged upon the palace steps. Wounded eyes glistened, and trembling hands promised reform. "I have been judged," she announced in Helmut's voice, "and seek redemption at King Ramposa's mercy." Her speech was flawless, her tears impeccable. Courtiers whispered of divine intervention; nobles sought her counsel in confidence. Thus the puppet took its place.
Behind closed doors in the Eternal Dominion's R&D labs, the real Helmut languished in crystalline cells, a subject for experiments. Nimble researchers—guided by Zelefar's curious intellect—tested the depths of his fear responses, memory alteration, and hypnotic suggestion. "Demiurge protocols," the head researcher murmured. "With these, we refine our control–and yield more potent agents."
Weeks passed as Lumina, in Helmut's attire, navigated the fractured tapestry of Re-Estize politics. She wrote letters of alliance that never arrived. She hosted "charitable" banquets that masked subversive gatherings. Shuna, via Mental Dominion, periodically refined the puppet's memories—ensuring no slip betrayed its origin.
Sythera's giant map in the War Room recorded each shift: alliances wavered, debts transferred to Dominion-controlled merchants, gifts of copper and cloth from E-Naeul to indebted nobles. Rival houses, once united by trade interests, now eyed one another with suspicion. Each whispered betrayal strengthened "Helmut's" perceived nobility as a reconciler—bowed and repentant.
In the Frostfire Throne Room, Velkharion convened his council once more. He regarded the lit map of the continent. "Our puppet secures Re-Estize's court, and our captives advance our hold in Baharuth's underworld. Soon, both fronts will converge at the empire's gates, and we will stand at the fulcrum of power."
Sythera inclined her frost-scaled brow. "The next step: diplomatic overtures to the Slane Theocracy and Baharuth's merchant lords. If we control trade and religion, armies follow."
Valnor produced ledgers of newly funneled silver—enough to bribe guildmasters in slane and merchants in Baharuth. "The funds are ready," he confirmed.
Isaril's voice was soft but firm. "Shall I dispatch envoys and secure invitations to court functions? The puppet Helmut can issue them under his new, sterling reputation."
"Do so," Velkharion commanded. "And prepare a grand council in our floating fortress—disguised as a neutral court—to host emissaries from all five powers. There, we will steer their alliances as we see fit."
He turned to Shuna, warmth in his crimson eyes. "Your contributions with Mental Dominion and shadow magic have been invaluable. Continue refining our puppet's persona. Ensure no one suspects the true helm that guides this kingdom."
Shuna offered a proud nod. "My lord, I will be the silent blade at his memory's edge."
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