The Last Primal

"We know it's incredibly challenging for you and your kind, Rillon, but still…" The man standing opposite of the other five, a roughly middle-aged man with a short mess of matte black hair and a clean-shaven face smirked with a disdainful, contemptuous look at the mustached musclehead. 

"…Try to go against the norm of your brethren and use your head for once." Instead of the leader-like figure, a grey bearded, much thinner-looking robed elder finished his words, matching the contempt in the leading warlord's voice. 

His response caused a series of snorted chuckles from the others in the room. Yet, the brawny bald man only frowned at the eldest, robed figure's words, not saying a word but only scoffing to voice his displeasure. 

The fact was that the thin, weak-looking elderly man was actually the leader of the most feared, strongest regiment in the Empire's 2nd Invasion Force. He was Exarch K'hlen, the leader of the Spellcasters, a powerful, and feared Wizard, with a specialization in curses and blights. Rumors say that he was responsible for several villages in the borders of the Wastelands to suddenly turn into nothing more than mass graveyards. 

Reports about the air in these settlements were said to be filled with the overwhelming stench of rot and death. The bodies of the villagers were filled with hideous blights and blisters. When one of the bodies were examined it seemed that some sort of illness or plague of some kind festered inside these poor unlucky sods, killing them slowly from the insides. It was said that those that died must have suffered tremendously as their organs, flesh, and bones slowly dissolved, leaving nothing behind but a gelatinous gooey substance.

Though he was never connected to the mass murders, Exarch K'hlen was known to be training with his apprentices around that region during that time. Yet, due to his high standing, his title as being one of the high priests of the Empire, just under the Primate, Holy One, the Godly Emperor's second hand, no one would have the guts to accuse him or his group over the demise of a few hundred commoners.

Exarch K'hlen had a smug, satisfied smirk stretched across his soggy face as he looked at the tall musclehead, Leader of the fearsome group of warriors, known as the 'Makhor' or translated to the Westerners Common, 'The Serrated Teeth of the Godly Emperor'.

The Makhor were mostly the trained melee combatant soldiers filling up almost 70% of the empire's forces. They were the frontliners, the ones that were the first to tear into the enemy lines and rip them apart, akin to how a predator would shred its prey to pieces.

The 6 leaders in the tent all represented one part of the Empire's Army, one slice, one section of the massive machine that already conquered and dominated the Eastern Regions and were now greedily looking towards the west. 

Standing to Rillon, the Leader of the Makhors, was a thin, tall, and lanky man with short, curly black hair and an unshaven rough looking face. He was Syf, the captain of the empire's probably currently most important battalion, the spies sent to scout and map out all potential points of entry into the Kingdom.

Feeling the tense air in the room, he gave a light cough as he leaned forward, and began to speak with a clear and crisp tone of voice.

"Lord Rillon, you see, though we do have the numbers and we could most likely succeed with your approach and take this border side city, the cost would be unfavorable for our long-term plans." He explained, turning to look at the scowling brawny bald man. "Higrove is actually home for not just a local branch of the Adventurer's Guild, but also houses the Kingdom's official Academy as well, meaning that this small city could actually call upon a rather strong mercenary force in times of crisis."

"Hmpf!" Hearing Syf's explanation the brawny brawler-looking man only scoffed, shrugging his shoulders as he asked with an arrogant tone. "What does that matter?  The Adventurer's Guild is not bound by any borders, they can't directly interfere in such matters!" 

Dorian, the man standing opposite of the other five, the acting General of the Army couldn't stay silent anymore and listen to the nonsense his not-so-bright bald man was spewing. His booming voice suddenly put an end to the discussion as he spoke.

"Enough!" He exclaimed, looking mostly at Rillon. "It doesn't matter if the Adventurer's Guild would directly interfere or not. From Syf's reports, we learned that the local branch is actually very weak, with only 2 of its members reaching the 3rd Rank!" He smirked disdainfully at the thought, joined by the others at such a revelation. 

"As for the Academy…" He turned towards Exarch K'hlen revealing a nasty-looking smile once again. "Let's just say, that they won't interfere… Am I right, Exarch?"

"Yes, General." The elderly warlock bowed with a matching smirk stretched across his face. "We have made contact, the current… *khm* local leader was quite inclined to work with us." 

"Excuse me, General…" Breaking the discussion of the men, a feminine voice came from just outside. Following it, a rather tall woman, dressed in the empire's dark red armor stepped in holding a folded piece of parchment in her hands. Her long black hair was folded into a ponytail hanging from the back of her head. 

"What is it, Lieutenant? Can't you see we are busy?!" Dorian asked with a clearly disgruntled, annoyed tone, frowning at the sight of the woman. 

Yet, the woman stood still, not reacting to the offensive tone at all, retaining a cold outward look as she stepped closer to the war table and presented the letter they have just received.

"General, Sir Syf's spies have come back with an update on the situation." She curtly spoke. Once the general accepted the parchment, she turned around and without saying any other word, promptly left the tent, ignoring the gazes of the old lechers around her.

—

Several hours quickly passed before Aiden finished recounting everything related to Number 3's situation. During his long-winded speech, he kept track of the swirl of emotions that his Master displayed, or (focusing on their connection) have felt.

Eventually, as he got to the end, he looked at her suddenly turning silent, waiting for her reaction. He was looking with great nervousness, wanting to glean, to learn how she would react to all of what he did. 

It took several minutes before Number 3 could process everything that was said, and look back at her eager pupil. Her expression finally eased, revealing a warm smile, that Aiden missed so much, causing the boy to instantly heave a sigh of relief. 

"Don't worry Aiden." She spoke, her tone carrying a sort of love, attachment of a parent that was standing in front of her mischievous child caught in the act. "Though I have no idea what your sudden decision, your action have actually made me into, regardless, I am thankful for what you did. Without that, I probably wouldn't be sitting here, and talking to you today, but would either be dead or something far worse…" 

Aiden visibly relaxed upon hearing her words and was about to stand up when suddenly, Number 3's face revealed a peculiar grin with a matching, though uncanny expression.

"However…" She exclaimed, hitting a strange, much colder tone. "You still did something that is grounds for punishment…"

---

AN: Hey there Readers!

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