Montelira was a temperate continent, its northern half covered with rugged mountains and forests, while its southern half featured more gentle hills and sparse woodlands. The north, east, and west of the continent were enveloped by the impassable, high, and majestic Gray Mountains, almost like a natural fortress wall. To its south lay the calm Calerion Sea.
Looking at the continent from the sky, from the eyes of the Serathi, it looked like a place composed of two separate parts. The northern part of the continent was a rugged and wild mountainous area, intertwined with the Gray Mountains. The southern half, previously attached to the mainland, had turned into a peninsula at that fateful moment, during the first conflict at the beginning of the War for the Sky. It was one of the few concrete pieces of evidence showing the violence of that apocalyptic war between the Sky Gods and the Dragon Lords, one of the few deep scars opened on the planet's surface.
Aenrith Tavriel, with his "Tavriel's Legacy" fleet, consisting of a few allied houses under his command, had set his sights on this continent. For him, this was more than just a simple piece of land. He would begin the conquest of these new lands from that sacred place where his "Gods" had fought their first great war, where the sky had practically turned into hell.
However, Aenrith was not like the other commanders. His ambition had not blinded him like Elandor Vethakar, nor was he as wise and prestigious as Valtherion Dravakar. And he certainly was not landing on calm, relatively empty lands like Thalindel Myrindel. He was landing on a continent between continents, so to speak, a mountainous, populous, and rugged continent that was easy to defend and difficult to conquer.
This decision was based less on logic and more on calculated ambition. For the elves, this continent's spiritual value was immense; it was the symbol of the first victory won against the dragons. Aenrith thought that if he could achieve a showman-like success in his first move, without spilling blood, he could find many supporters from Qualar, that adventurers and minor houses would gather under his banner, and that he could continue his conquests in this way. Therefore, he had to choose his first move carefully and meticulously.
He set his sights on a small port city on the continent's eastern coast, one not even named on the map. First, he had to land his warriors safely ashore. This small port was perhaps pitifully inadequate for the 65 ships in his fleet, but that was not a problem. He could also unload his warriors slowly. At the council on Dawn Isle, he had heard Elandor aiming to directly attack a partially large and wealthy port city. This idea, in Aenrith's eyes, was quite daring and even foolish for someone with only 4,000 warriors. Aenrith's plan was simpler, calmer, and required more patience. First, he would land and find a port that would serve as a secure forward outpost for support coming from Qualar. Afterward, using the spiritual value of this continent, he would draw the thousands of elves who wanted to come here and make his real move then. The houses that came with him were quite small compared to Aenrith's own house. He didn't need to distribute power and spoils fairly to maintain his prestige like Valtherion; it was enough to silence them with a few small promises.
The port city Aenrith would land on belonged to humans; it was a place unnamed on the map, one the mapmaker hadn't even bothered to write the name of, an almost forgotten place. Aenrith did not want to lose a single warrior in this small port, which he could easily crush with sheer force. For his grand plan depended on the powerful effect the first news to reach Qualar would create. He wanted to be remembered thus: "Aenrith of House Tavriel captured the first port in the holy lands without losing a single warrior." He had to prepare his plan meticulously, and this plan had to work flawlessly.
When night fell, during the pitch darkness, Aenrith ordered all the fleet's lights to be extinguished. The ship lanterns went out one by one, and the 65-ship fleet turned into massive, silent shadows on the sea. Chosen warriors, disembarking from a few small longboats that quietly approached the shore, killed the sluggish sentries on the coast like ghosts, without even allowing them to make a sound. After security was established, the ships also approached the mouth of the harbor one after another and placed wooden planks between each other. Thousands of warriors, passing from one ship to another, flowed silently from a giant floating platform into the streets of the port city.
Aenrith, his armor gleaming faintly in the night, gave that one-word command the moment he himself stepped ashore, before the sun had yet risen and while the city was in its deepest sleep: "Kill all the humans! Cleanse these holy lands by watering them with their blood."
Everyone in the city was slaughtered that night. The warriors burst into the houses; fishermen, merchants, guards caught in their beds... they died without even a chance to fight back, without understanding what was happening, without being able to kill a single elf.
When the sun rose, Aenrith had completed the first part of his plan. He was looking at a silent port. He had captured the city without losing a single warrior. Although it was a small, miserable city, it provided that secure point needed to come ashore. Aenrith ordered his men to throw the corpses into the sea, to "cleanse" the city and begin preparations to resettle it, and to expand the port so the ships could dock more easily.
Afterward, he retired to his ship's cabin and wrote his report to the elven council in Qualar, informing them of his brilliant victory. He informed them that he awaited new warriors and adventurers in the "holy lands."
His plan had worked flawlessly. Almost... too flawlessly.