Trinity of Magic

The scene transformed within moments.

Once Zeke had claimed his seat, the others could no longer remain passive. It was unthinkable to stand in the background while he alone sat at the table. One by one, the faces of the young elven delegates were replaced by representatives of the forces fighting on the front lines.

Like a dam finally giving way, the entire structure collapsed.

As Zeke glanced around the eleven chairs, not all of them yet filled by their new occupants, a quiet certainty settled in.

The real strategy meeting was about to begin.

Meanwhile, the elven woman standing at the center of the upheaval remained silent. It was her way of granting tacit approval for the change. Zeke was glad for it. Though it might have seemed a minor concession, a less intelligent or more prideful person would not have been able to make such a decision easily.

For an elf of her status, she was remarkably flexible. Among her people, she might even be seen as a free spirit.

Only once the last of the elves had been replaced did she resume the meeting. Her voice remained calm, but her tone had unmistakably changed.

“...Since it now appears as if my information does not fully account for all your achievements or strengths, I propose that each of you introduce the forces you represent.” Her gaze shifted naturally to the representative of the First Branch, Stella Eventide. It was a silent demand for her to begin.

Stella frowned slightly, remaining seated on her throne. It was not refusal, but calculation. As the first to speak, she would have to decide exactly how much she was willing to reveal.

Zeke silently applauded the elven representative for the move. It was shrewd. None of the forces present wished to expose all their trump cards, yet they would have to reveal enough to receive appropriate assignments. Reveal too little, and they risked being sidelined. Reveal too much, and they could be sent into perilous situations with no hidden leverage left.

Stella answered only after several moments had passed. The fact that she did not rush her reply, even under the weight of so many stares, already said much about the kind of person she was.

“I command an elite unit of just over one hundred combatants,” she said. “We require no logistical support. Every member is fully operational in the field. Our specialty lies in rapid strikes and decapitation operations.”

One hundred. The number was lower than expected, even lower than Zeke’s own. But numbers meant little in isolation. A force like that could be anything from ceremonial to catastrophic.

More telling was what she didn’t have.

Logistics.

Zeke’s gaze sharpened. A unit that traveled without supply trains, without baggage, without support personnel could only function through spatial manipulation. Space Mages, then. Likely operating off distant caches, resupplying at will.

When it came to convenience and mobility, Space Mages had a clear advantage over almost anyone else. That same advantage, however, was precisely why they were rarely used as combat assets.

The elven coordinator nodded and turned to the representative of the second Branch, Odyr.

“I brought three thousand druids,” he said. “Fighters, all of them. We hunt, maintain our own equipment, and live off the land. As we always have.” There was pride in his voice. “Our strength lies in frontal engagement.”

No commentary followed. The elven woman moved on, looking at the representative of the third Branch.

”I represent the Bloodletter Second Army,” Krazal said, his pride evident. ”It consists of five thousand men in total. That includes combatants, logistics personnel, scouts, cooks, and other specialists. My force can operate as an independent army. We have no particular specialty or weakness, but if I had to name one strength, it would be sustained combat.”

The elven woman nodded, a glint in her eyes that had not been there before. Clearly, she favored such a traditional army over a ragtag force like Odyr’s druids.

Zeke was not entirely sure he agreed fully, but even he had to admit that such a well-rounded, organized force had clear advantages.

Before he could dwell on it further, he noticed the woman looking directly at him. As the representative of the fourth Branch, it was his turn to speak.

Zeke gave the answer he had already prepared. ”I have brought a mixed force consisting of a Chimeroi shock troop, supported by a small number of elite mage combatants. Our specialty is covert movement and air superiority.”

Unlike before, someone spoke up the moment he finished. ”Is it true that you’ve brought an invisible airship?”

The speaker was Marek Volst, the leader of a large mercenary force from Tradespire. Clearly, news had already reached him.

”That is correct,” Zeke answered easily.

”How many passengers can you accommodate?”

Zeke met his gaze and saw the eagerness there. ”Why do you ask?”

”...It could become relevant during planning, especially if we need to cooperate or evacuate. Don’t you think?”

The request sounded reasonable, but in truth, it was anything but. Knowing an airship’s capacity meant knowing its dimensions. For an invisible ship, revealing its size was a critical weakness. It was not information to be given lightly.

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Zeke frowned. ”I won’t share such details.”

Marek’s expression contorted, as if he had bitten into something sour. ”Isn’t that exactly why we are here?” he asked sternly. ”To share information about our capabilities, so that we can cooperate smoothly. I must say, Lord von Hohenheim, I find it perplexing that you would be the one to stand in the way of that cooperation after all you have said so far.”

Zeke’s gaze sharpened. So, it had finally begun. The foxes who had kept themselves hidden until now were starting to show their claws. Marek was applying pressure, trying to force him to reveal critical details.

But since when was Zeke someone who could be swayed by petty tricks? If they truly believed that a maneuver of this level was enough to make him sweat, then he could only pity them.

”You are completely right, Lord Marek. You have convinced me with your words,” Zeke said evenly. ”I can house exactly five hundred people, the size of my force, and not a single person more.”

Marek studied him intently. His gaze seemed to say: Do you really think anyone here would believe that? Zeke had already revealed that he had rescued an additional thousand native mages. If his ship could carry only five hundred, where would the rest be? Strapped to the hull?

His statement was an obvious lie, and everyone knew it. There was not even an attempt to make it believable.

”...That seems a bit hard to believe,” Marek said after a moment, his eyes almost twitching at the audacity.

Zeke raised a brow. ”Is your trust in me truly so lacking, Lord Marek? I did not hear you question Lady Eventide or Lord Odyr in such a manner. Or, do you expect me to give everyone a tour of my personal quarters to prove myself?”

Marek’s mouth opened, but no words came out. There was nothing to be said. Nobody here was going to submit proof to back their claims. And if they could not trust each other even that far, then what was the point of talking in the first place? Cooperation required at least a modicum of trust.

It was fighting fire with fire. And if Marek continued to speak of unity while openly showing distrust, he would only expose himself as a hypocrite.

The mercenary leader grasped the predicament at once and adjusted his words as if he had never intended otherwise.

He nodded lightly at Zeke. ”Five hundred people, then. That is good to know. I will keep it in mind for any plans involving you in the future.”

Zeke returned the nod, a faint smile on his face. Though Marek had tried to pressure him, he was also someone who knew when to retreat.

After a brief lull with no further questions, the coordinator signaled for the representative of the fifth Branch to introduce himself.

Kernt Ossyrian brought a standard army of five thousand from the Ossyrian family. Their main combat force consisted of Bone Mages, and their specialty was defensive battles.

The sixth Branch representative was Loyd Cairnwyc. He led a battle troop of several hundred shapeshifters. They were Flesh Mages, like Odyr, but it seemed they did not specialize in direct combat but in infiltrations.

As the man spoke, Zeke noticed Odyr scowling at him. It was evident that the two did not get along. Perhaps there was a sense of rivalry between mages of the same affinity who belonged to different factions.

Something to remember.

The representative of the seventh Branch was a man whose entire body was covered in tattoos. Rather than meaningless markings, they depicted monstrous creatures. He was Karas Skarn, a summoner from Invocatia.

”I’ve brought House Skarn’s First Battlegroup. Two thousand five hundred combatants. I dare say we are the most versatile force here, capable of handling any assignment.”

His confidence was not without foundation. His force was among the largest present, and Summoners were known for their versatility.

Though Zeke himself only had Akasha, a proper Summoner usually contracted with a large number of spirits. It was not entirely wrong to claim that they could, at times, fill the role of an entire unit by themselves: scouting, frontline, backline, and support.

Such capabilities, however, came with their own drawbacks. Chief among them was the immense mana cost required simply to keep multiple Spirits materialized. Were it not for that limitation, Invocatia would have conquered the continent long ago. Even so, it still ranked among the most formidable military powers.

Next to introduce himself was Marek Volst, the man who had questioned Zeke earlier. He was the representative of the eighth Branch and commanded a thousand troops of mixed affinities, notably including dwarves, elves, and Chimeroi.

There were no questions regarding his forces, and all gazes turned to the representative of the ninth Branch: Adhira Rakshak.

His troops were organized into small strike units of powerful mages, each protected by Chimeroi slaves. It was a typical Korrovan formation. Predictable, but far from ineffective. Their coordination within each unit was excellent, maintaining a careful balance between offense and defense.

Unexpectedly, before anyone else could be called, the representative of the Twelfth Branch introduced himself: Vajran Kothari. Though it was not technically his turn yet, his nearly identical forces made the transition seamless. The two Korrovan natives clearly knew one another well and appeared to be on amicable terms.

Silas Dorn, representative of the tenth Branch, was c next. Like Marek, his force hailed from Tradespire and showed a similar pattern. But from the sharp looks these two occasionally exchanged, they were anything but friendly. If anything, Zeke would bet the two men were likely long-standing rivals.

Last to introduce himself was the only half-elf and the leader of the mercenary force originating from Rukia. Zeke noticed the brief, meaningful glance the man cast in his direction before he began.

“I am Ryn Greymarch, leader of the Thornveil Mercenary Company of Rukia. We originally numbered eight hundred and fifty-three. Since the start of the war, however, our forces have grown to over nine thousand.”

The number drew the breath from the room. It was hard to believe that they had not only avoided losses, but had multiplied their numbers severalfold. Beyond that, it also meant that, at least officially, Ryn now commanded the largest force present.

“You may be wondering how such a miracle was achieved,” he said after a brief pause. “Rather than explain it myself, I believe it is better to let the one truly responsible speak for herself.”

As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the woman standing beside him.

Zeke had noticed her long before this moment. She was one of the few who kept her face concealed, hidden even from his scrutiny. That level of secrecy had drawn his attention from the start.

At this moment, she stepped forward and lifted her hood and mask, finally revealing her face. Her features were delicate, her ears faintly pointed. She was attractive, certainly, but not striking enough to immediately command attention. In a gathering like this, she appeared almost ordinary.

In sharp contrast to Zeke’s indifference, a quiet, startled gasp came from his side the moment the face was revealed. Irisen was staring at the woman in shock.

She recognized her.

The newcomer met her gaze and offered a faint, knowing smile. “It is good to see you again, Irisen.”

Then she turned to the assembled leaders, bowing deeply before straightening. Her voice carried clearly through the chamber.

“...Before anything else, I wish to thank all of you who have come to the aid of Rukia in our time of need.”

Zeke’s brows furrowed. When people started by thanking you, it usually meant they wanted something.

“Now, allow me to introduce myself properly,” she continued. “I am Miriel Arden Rukia, Second Princess of Rukia. In my mother’s absence, I have assumed command of our remaining combat assets. Together with the Thornveil Mercenary Company, I aim to rebuild our armed forces and drive the invaders from our land. As is our duty...”

As she spoke those last words, her eyes drifted back to Irisen.

She did nothing to conceal the intent in that gaze.

Nor the greed.

Zeke cursed himself inwardly for bringing Irisen, as well as for revealing how many native mages he had rescued. At last, Ryn Greymarch’s earlier glance made sense.

For a ’legitimate’ faction like this, his forces were not allies.

They were assets waiting to be claimed.