Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

I'm so tired, so sleepy, and so hungry.

Imrek's deepest desire was to have a hearty meal, to fill his belly with hot wine and abundant meat, and then to fall into a deep sleep until he woke up naturally.

However, he couldn't.

Because he is Imrek.

He is the son of Caledor, inheriting the blood of dragons and fire; he is the regent of Ulthuan, bearing the fate and future of his entire race on his shoulders.

He gazed at the empty seats in the council chamber that should have belonged to the Sarien family, now only filled with the past and desolation, and couldn't help but sigh deeply.

That was not a weak sigh, but a heavy sense of helplessness and anger, a burden as heavy as iron on the heart.

Before returning to Tal Sammersan, he had already heard the news of the Val Anvil, a truth that struck him like a hammer blow, leaving him with a heavy burden. At that moment, he knew that what he would face in the future was not glory, but unbearable pressure.

Upon returning to Tal Sammersan, he did not hesitate for a moment and did only three things.

The first thing he did was to let the dragons spread their wings and soar through the sky. The roaring dragon cries echoed across the plains and cities, allowing the people of Caledor, young and old, to look up and see those magnificent figures, drawing from them a long-lost sense of pride and hope. It was a symbol, a proclamation, an undeniable power, like igniting a flame in every heart.

The second thing he did was arrange the resettlement of the dragons. These ancient beings, awakened from their slumber, were not mere phantoms of legend, but real, colossal shadows. They needed a place to dwell, a place to reintegrate into the land. He personally oversaw every detail of their resettlement, for he understood that the dragons were not merely symbols of power, but pillars of the spirit, the very source of Caledo's soul.

Only after these two things are done can the third thing happen—the meeting.

In the cold, austere stone hall, candlelight flickered, and the air was filled with the scent of grease and paraffin. The Dragon Prince and the Dragon Mage were gathered together, and all eyes were on him.

In front of everyone, he displayed a composed, elegant, and proud demeanor. It was as if he had never been tired, never been anxious, and never longed for even a moment's rest.

He knew that he was the embodiment of hope.

He must be the beacon in everyone's eyes, an unwavering will of steel. Even if a storm rages within him, even if his body is exhausted to the point of collapse, he cannot reveal the slightest weakness.

Because he knew very well that once he showed any weakness, the entire kingdom's faith would collapse.

Then, he slightly raised his chin, his gaze as intense as flames, carrying a unique pride and aloofness, like a king born to rule the skies and the flames.

However, the situation on the sand table could not be described with rhetoric or depicted with language.

It was a cold reality: the marked borders were shrinking, the black pieces were spreading like venomous snakes, and the power of iron and fire was devouring the land of Ulthuan.

It is naked, cold, and cruel.

It renders all embellishment and rhetoric pale and powerless.

When Imrek's ancestor, Imrek, became the third Phoenix King, the situation he inherited was not as chaotic as it is now. Although there was turmoil and threats then, it was at least not as fragmented and precarious as it is now.

The sand table sat quietly in the center of the council hall. It was a miniature version of Ausuan and a microcosm of the situation on the entire continent.

The Kingdom of Itaien was stained a deathly black, a patch of darkness resembling a festering wound, stinging the hearts of all who beheld it. But Itaien was not alone; the Kingdoms of Iris and Kosquie were also stained black. The blackness spread across the sand table like an undercurrent, slowly and resolutely eroding the flesh and blood of Ulthuan.

The kingdoms in the eastern outer ring of Ausuan were all under the control of Duruchi. Blackness engulfed them from the edges, pressing in like a tsunami.

Imrek stared at them, a boulder looming in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. But that was alright; he was already aware of the situation before he sang the Dragon Song. What truly sank his heart was the discovery, upon returning from the echoes of the Dragon Song, that the Kingdom of Safriar on the sand table had also been stained black.

what does this mean?
This means that not only the eastern outer kingdoms of Ausuan, but also the inner kingdoms are firmly under Duruchi's control. The black forces have infiltrated from the periphery to the core, and Duruchi's power has become a unified whole, no longer a scattered threat, but an interlocking, iron-clad encirclement.

More importantly, the Kingdom of Caledon has now lost the support of magical power, and the radiance that symbolizes spirit and protection has been completely stripped away.

This involuntarily reminded Imrek of Belanar's reaction at the Lorthorn Conference, and of the various veiled hints that Leander had made in the cave.

If all the speculations are correct, then the result is clear—the White Tower of Hosse, that sacred place that should have been a symbol of knowledge and light, has completely sided with Duruci.

In fact, Imrek's judgment was almost identical to the truth. At this moment, Windswept Plains and Finnuwa Plains had fallen entirely into the hands of Duruchi, like cold iron clamps tightening around the heart of Ulthuan.

In addition, not only was Darkus drifting on the Inner Sea, heading towards Lorthene, but also the members of the Hothian Council were traveling with him. Aurelian, Miserion, Arelani, and Asantir—names that carried significant weight in the Council—were all walking alongside him at this moment.

When Daculus demanded a deadline from them at the meeting, Arelani and Asantir returned to the White Tower of Hoss that very night, almost without hesitation. When the two council members returned to the port of Elisthenes, they did not bring back the clear answer Daculus needed.

It wasn't out of disrespect, disregard, or any other conspiracy; rather, it stemmed from Asur's deeply ingrained belief that their approach to time was too slow, their administrative system too rigid and sluggish, like the rings of an ancient tree—heavy, clumsy, and unshakeable. Moreover, the Hosse parliamentary members were already too dispersed, making it impossible to consolidate power quickly.

However, even so, their return still amounted to an indirect statement.

In addition, they also brought out the four-piece set of Bel-Khadis Sword, Star Cloak, Phoenix Book, and Cyos Staff, which were kept in the White Tower of Hoss.

When these four treasures appeared outside the White Tower of Hoss, the signal they sent was crystal clear. It was not a retreat, but a cry for help; it was not a wait-and-see attitude, but a declaration of battle.

As for Dakous's request, the two council members did not give a definite answer, but they suggested a delay—to wait until Lorthern to finalize the outcome.

What could Dakous possibly say about this?
Aside from failing to provide a clear answer within the deadline he requested, they did almost everything flawlessly. Delaying the decision was not tantamount to shirking responsibility, and waiting until Lorthene made a decision was perfectly acceptable.

As a relative and staunch supporter of Finnubal, Keliss Starlight returned to Lorthen by ship after the ceremony at the Temple of Asuyan. Accompanying her was Anulian, Azalion's father-in-law, as well as council members related to Finnubal or from the Kingdom of Itien—Bel-Tanya, Morian, and Arthuris.
In addition, there was another person who was particularly noteworthy: Belanar, who had returned from Death Island and went directly to Lorthorn.

These people were born in different kingdoms and came from different families, with completely different identities and experiences, but they shared a common title and affiliation—they were all members of the Council of the Hossian System.

It can be said that, apart from Belorda's father, Serafion, and those archmages and dragon mages who have clearly chosen to stand on the side of Caledor, as well as some archmages who have accompanied Darkus to Lorthion, almost all the other council members are gathered in Lorthion.

In this atmosphere, giving a response seems more like a necessary formality.

Currently, Duruci's relationship with the Hoss Institute is like an ambiguous and dangerous romance.

Their stance was ambiguous, neither openly established nor secretly deeply intertwined. The best example was when Duruci's army entered the Kingdom of Safri, encountering almost no resistance; that strange silence and tacit agreement was the most direct statement. And the series of events that followed further corroborated this.

The journey from the ambiguous stage to officially establishing a relationship is actually just one step away.

Even if the spellcasters of the Hothian system don't fight, their statements and attitudes are their most powerful weapons. This is a political game, a contest of hearts and minds.

"Has there been any news from the Kingdom of Charis?" After a long silence, Imrek stared at the crisscrossing black lines on the sand table. He raised his hand to stop the dragon prince and the dragon mages from their discussion, and then asked in a low and restrained voice.

“No!” Elisander replied directly, his words crisp and decisive. After speaking, he pointed directly to the northern peninsula, another sensitive focal point of the situation. (Eliseander, introduced in Chapter 833)

Imrek glanced at the northern peninsula in the direction of the finger, a cold shadow crossing his brow. He nodded slightly but said nothing more.

Because he knew very well that he didn't need to ask. He already knew the situation regarding the Kingdom of Avalon and the Eternal Queen's reaction.

He knew his cousin, and he knew even better the dragon princes and dragon mages in this meeting hall. If there were any news, if the Eternal Queen had truly made a statement, he would have learned of it while he was in Dragonspine Mountains, or his cousin would have told him himself right now.

Furthermore... deep within his heart, a heavy worry was surging—following the Kingdom of Safri and the Hoss lineage, what he feared most was that the Eternal Queen would also side with Duruchi.

For him, such an outcome would be utter destruction, a despair that even dragon's breath could not burn away.

At this moment, no news might be the best news. He could temporarily attribute it all to the obstruction of communication, which had been intercepted by the Duruchi army operating on the northern peninsula of the Kingdom of Elion.

"The Kingdom of Elion hopes to receive our support to drive Duruchi of the Northern Peninsula into the sea." Seeing that Imrek remained silent and had not expressed his opinion, he added, still pointing at Elisander of the Northern Peninsula.

"What's the situation on the northern peninsula?" Imrek raised his head, his eyes sharp and heavy, and looked directly at Elisander.

"The Kingdom of Elion is mobilizing. They are building a defensive line along the Night White River and the Dragon Gate in an attempt to stop Duruchi from continuing his southward advance." Elesander's tone was calm, as if he were carefully choosing his words, but a hint of helplessness could still be heard in his voice. "At the same time, they are waiting for our reinforcements, preparing to launch a counterattack when the time is right."

After speaking, he paused, and seeing that Imrek was still staring intently at him, his gaze so intense that it made his heart burn, he had no choice but to spread his hands, as if he had already laid out all the information he had, and had nothing more to add.

Imrek's eyes widened suddenly, a look of disbelief flashing in them. He felt as if he had been doused with cold water, his heart churning with anger and shock.

"Druucci's forces, their size?" After a long silence, he finally suppressed the turmoil in his heart and expressed the unacceptable fact in the most direct way.

“Unknown!” Ellesander’s answer was crisp and decisive, but it carried a chilling weight.

Imrek opened his mouth, his lips almost bursting with rage, and the urge to unleash a torrent of curses surged to his throat. But he held back with all his might, his Adam's apple bobbing, his jaw clenched, and the emotion was forcibly suppressed deep within his chest.

“Tal Paratul and Tal Uvis should have already fallen,” Elisand continued in a deep voice, with an unquestionable tone. “Dulucci has established a forward base there.”

He immediately bent down, picked up his baton, and pointed crisply to the point on the sand table where the Yebai River and the Northern Peninsula meet.

"Druucci has blocked this place." His voice echoed in the stone hall, sounding particularly cold and hard. After saying that, he moved his baton towards the hunting forest, his fingertips landing heavily. "Besides here, Duruucci's troops are also active in the forest."

Imrek narrowed his eyes, gazing at the blackened area of ​​the northern peninsula. A mixture of fire and shadow swirled within him; despite his utter loathing, the facts were undeniable, and he had to admit—Druucci's move was indeed incredibly brilliant.

In eastern Ulthuan, the forces had either already sided with the Duruci or had long been occupied by them. As the outer ring was gradually shrouded in darkness, the armies of Charis and Avalon were thus trapped on the northern peninsula. If they wanted to join forces with the troops of Elion and Caledor, they would have to detour through the Kingdom of Nagarris.

"What is the reaction of the Kingdom of Nagarius?" He composed himself, his voice still low, but carrying an oppressive force that seemed to crush the air.

“We’re mobilizing.” Ellisand’s response was brief, yet meaningful.

"What about the Kingdom of Tyrenlock?" Imrek nodded slightly, then continued with the next question.

“They’re mobilizing as well.” Ellisand’s eyes flickered, as if hesitating for a moment, before he continued, “We haven’t received any news of Duruci landing in that area, or… anything else.”

As he said this, he suddenly turned his head and looked at Leandera.

Imrek caught this detail, and his gaze abruptly shifted to Leandra. In that instant, his gaze was sharp as a sword, revealing undisguised doubt and shock.

However, Leander remained calm. Her expression was as still as a lake, without the slightest ripple. She simply met Imrek's gaze, responding calmly and silently.

Imrek knew that everything Leandera said was true.

This being, inextricably linked to his ancestors, remained worthy of his awe and trust. Her silence was not feigned; as for the lack of response, perhaps Duruci's blade was still sheathed, or perhaps they had already made their move, and Caledo had yet to gather any relevant intelligence.

He didn't want to speculate, but that unease, like a cold snake, coiled around his heart.

His gaze slowly shifted to the sand table in front of him, where the small city models and the lines symbolizing rivers and mountains seemed to be shrouded in shadow.

"What kind of Ulthuan is this?"

He questioned himself silently.

In less than a month, the situation deteriorated rapidly, like water bursting through a dam and plunging into a quagmire.

The gates of Lorthorn were wide open, and former enemies and allies crossed paths on the same street; the iron hooves of Duruci trampled across the farmland, the shadows of sails loomed over the bay, and even the wind seemed stained with blood.

Elsin Alvin's cousins ​​also turned to the dark side, betraying their bloodline; while the noble Asur descendants, caught in hardship and division, shifted blame and looked at each other coldly, losing their former glory and unity.

The gods...

A country once hailed as the most brilliant in the world is now like a rotting war drum.

It is still being struck, still being called upon, but only hollow echoes remain in response.

A deep sense of disgust welled up in Imrek's heart.

He hated this decline, hated the incompetent quarrels, and hated the clansmen who refused to take responsibility.

However, he could not escape.

He knew that all the contradictions, all the hopes, and all the future would ultimately converge on him alone.

Like the inextinguishable flames of Caledon, like the fiery and eternal breath of a dragon.

So he straightened up again.

Despite bearing a heavy burden on their shoulders, they still exude composure, elegance, and pride.

He understood that even if it was all just a facade, he had to maintain it, because he was not just Imrek, not just Caledo's son.

He was the last guardian of Ulthuan, the only flame that never died out during the stormy night.

No matter how tired and lonely he felt inside, he couldn't show the slightest weakness.

Moreover, he must find a way to break the deadlock.

Not just for himself, not just for Caledor, but for all of Ulthuan, for the future of Asur. (End of Chapter)