"Thou hast done mightily, My Lord!"
Kael flinched as a loud voice suddenly boomed in his ears, and he almost summoned his weapon; but as soon as he recognized the voice, he turned in the direction it had come from and stared at Bjorn with narrowed eyes.
His gaze landed on a hulking mass of muscles and steel. Bjorn had thick red dreadlocks, and a red beard plaited into seven thick Fléttas.
A blue marking stretched across his face, amplifying his heterochromatic eyes.
One eye was a fierce electric blue, and the other was a stormy grey.
Slung across Bjorn's back was a war hammer, with a head the size of an average Human's body.
He was clad in intricate misty-grey armor covering his whole body. He had received that Reflection from slaying an Armored Crocodile—a Savage Rank Beast.
The thick metal armor matched his 2-meter-height and burly physique, making Kael understand why most warriors of the encampment feared him.
Bjorn strode forward with a wide smile on his face as though he had just had the best time of his life—and that was probably the case, because the fragrant scent of the opposite gender still lingered around him.
…Kael sighed.
"How long have you been here?" he asked, after Bjorn reached his side.
"A few minutes, My Lord!" Bjorn answered in a loud voice. "I did not want to disturb your peace, so I waited patiently!"
Kael stared at the smiling face of Bjorn, before tilting his head to the side.
"Greetings, My Lord," a young man greeted respectfully, bowing his upper body at a perfect ninety degree.
Kael acknowledged him with a nod, and Roland rose, waiting silently for Kael's orders.
The young man was about Kael's age. He had a pair of dull red eyes, ebony black skin and short black hair.
He stood at an average height of 5'6", and had a long silver metal staff strapped to his back.
The staff had open ends and was hollow, making it an ideal noise maker. And yet, there was no sound coming from Roland's direction.
Kael didn't even 'sense' him approaching, only when he greeted did he 'notice' his presence.
Roland and Bjorn were Kael's loyal vassals. They had served him while in house Draven, and hadn't left him after he was banished. This not only made the trio much closer, but they had become more understanding of themselves… literally.
They knew each other's powers like the back of their hands. They could talk about almost anything with each other, and they had braved various challenges and desperate situations together.
They were like a small family of their own.
"How did it go?" Kael asked after Roland faced him.
Bjorn's grin immediately faded upon hearing that question, and he focused, taking on a rare look of seriousness. What they were about to talk about was that serious.
Roland snapped his fingers, causing all sounds in a five meter range to be blocked out.
Kael noticed this, but chose not to speak. Whether Roland casted a sound barrier or not, he was going to anyway.
"She doesn't seem to suspect a thing," Roland answered. "Her warriors aren't on guard, and they even seem… lax."
Bjorn raised his head up, growling:
"Something is amiss… I smell a trap."
Kael only nodded, feeling the same.
Her guards had become lax, only after they started plotting to overthrow the Queen. That was definitely a red flag, and if they weren't careful, it would be a recipe for disaster.
"She's unto us," Roland added. "I suggest we lay low for a while befor—"
"No," Kael muttered, but to Roland, it might as well have been a powerful shout.
"What do you mean 'No'?" He asked.
"Now's the best time to strike," Kael replied, a devilish smile creeping up his face. "Moreover… we have a trump card."
---
A few minutes later, Kael stood before a group of warriors—hunters—staring at them as they trained under the scathing heat of the sun.
They were Kael's men, and they were the few who had survived Anastaria's earlier attack on them in the wastelands.
Kael still didn't grasp the full reason why Anastaria decided to test him that way, but he understood that it was for a good reason.
He had seen snippets of her memories, and he knew that she hadn't done it because she felt like it, but because she had to.
Kael's men were strong as a whole, but individually, they were weak. Anastaria had helped him, in some way, to weed out the weakest of them and give rise to stronger warriors who survived her Bone-fog Undead.
The warriors weren't really strong as of now, but they weren't as weak as before, having been taught a valuable lesson that personal strength was just as important.
The men—all donning black and gold armor, but wielding weapons of various kinds, colors and designs—sparred with each other, while some fought magical wooden puppets, and the rest cultivated.
Kael watched them earnestly as though searching for something.
He was planning a coup against one of the Rulers of the Wastelands. Queen Vernacia of the Ironhold; The ruler of the encampment Kael stayed.
Queen Vernacia was a tyrant who ordered and used her followers like mere tools. She wasn't the kind of person who was meant to rule, or be anywhere near a ruler.
She was emotionless, killed people like they were livestock, and forced the warriors beneath her to fight on a daily basis.
Kael was one of her so-called Warlords, and he had his hands full of battles.
He wasn't as strong as he was now when he first became a warlord, but he was made one anyway because he was once a noble.
Queen Vernacia took delight in his misery, reveling in the idea of having a Draven as her subordinate.
But Kael was done with that. She had done worse things than he could imagine, and her reign was coming to an end!
Kael paused, looking to the side as a scruffy little emaciated boy approached him. In that moment, his eyes appeared like two burning suns, his hair billowing like a storm had kicked up. The thought of revenge and ascension making his presence multiply manifold, exerting pressure on the world around.
With a barely controlled speech, the boy stuttered in fear:
"W..war.lord Draven...the Q.ueen summ.ns y..u."