Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"Do not send reinforcements towards the Dragon Gate for the time being."

After a long silence, Imrek finally spoke, his voice deep yet carrying an undeniable authority.

As soon as he finished speaking, the council chamber suddenly became lively.

The dragon princes and dragon mages whispered amongst themselves, their brows furrowed, fingers tapping lightly on the table as they exchanged their opinions. The atmosphere became chaotic yet restrained for a moment—no one stepped forward to question them, no one dared to challenge Imrek's authority.

Because at this moment, Imrek's reputation has reached an unprecedented peak.

Although the process was a bit bumpy, if the dragon mages hadn't been there to help him catch his breath...

The awe-inspiring sight of the dragon soaring through the city, awakened from its slumber, still lingers in everyone's mind. Moreover, before making this decision, they had already deliberated and considered every possibility on numerous occasions, bringing all possibilities to the table.

However, not being questioned does not mean that Imrek does not need to provide an explanation.

After all, those sitting here are not ignorant followers, but sons of Caledon who also possess honor, blood, and reason.

"This time is different from before."

He slowly raised his hand, signaling for silence in the room. The sound vanished instantly, and all eyes returned to him. He picked up his baton, made a gentle stroke, and the baton landed on the sand table, pointing precisely at the Kingdom of Nagarius.

Then, he stopped moving.

There were no superfluous words, no superfluous expressions.

Because it is not necessary.

Everyone standing here is well aware of the past history and its scars, familiar with the family's heritage and glory, and understands the cruelty and rigor of strategic and tactical maneuvers.

He doesn't need to repeat all of this.

Silence itself is a kind of sharpness.

My judgment is...

When the atmosphere in the room quieted down again, Imrek spoke, waving his baton and pointing firmly to the northern peninsula, "This is Duruci's strategic bait."

This time, he didn't wait for everyone to discuss it.

The moment the baton fell, he had already extended his other hand, signaling for silence; the gesture was as firm and unquestionable as iron.

“A peculiar tactic.” He shook his head slightly, a cold smile flashing in his eyes, his tone a mixture of sarcasm and wariness. “No, perhaps it should be called… a strategy?”

The baton moved again, landing in eastern Ausuan.

He circled the territories of the four kingdoms—Itaien, Saffre, Iris, and Kosquie—one by one, and finally, the baton slowly returned to the northern peninsula.

“In the eyes of Duruci and those traitors… we desperately need allies.” His voice carried an undeniable chill. “Political allies, military allies. In fact, their judgment is not wrong at all; we do need allies, both politically and militarily.”

He paused, his eyes blazing as he swept over everyone present.

"Therefore, we need to drive Duruchi from the northern peninsula into the sea, even if it comes at a cost, to establish a connection with the army of the Kingdom of Charis."

As soon as he finished speaking, the baton pointed to the border between Caledo and the Kingdom of Elion.

All eyes were drawn to him, and Imrek took the opportunity to slowly move his baton, the path of which resembled a blade cutting through the earth.

Tal Ariel.

A haven for plunderers.

Finally, it stopped at Yebai River.

"Truucci has gained control of the inland sea."

Imrek's voice fell heavily, like a warhammer striking a stone.

Immediately afterwards, the baton moved once more.

First, it sails towards the long and winding coastline of the Kingdom of Elion, outlining the defensive line on the sand table like a silver snake. Then it points to the equally long coastline of the Kingdom of Caledon, a territory that stretches out like flames, drawing the viewer's attention inch by inch.

Finally, when the air was at its most tense, the baton swept across the crater, over the territory of the Kingdom of Caledo, and finally landed heavily on the vast ocean bordering Caledo.

"If we rashly send reinforcements to the Dragon Gate, what awaits us will be..."

He didn't finish his sentence, yet it sent a chill down everyone's spine. His words were like an unfinished sword, their sharpness lingering in the air, and everyone could sense the potential danger and threat.

At this moment, a cold light flashed in Imrek's eyes, as if he had seen through the truth shrouded in mist.

At this moment, he transformed into a spectator, coldly scrutinizing the entire game.

At this moment, he even had a hint of undisguised smugness.

He saw through it.

He saw through why Truc had arranged things this way.

Duruci's plan was not a simple offensive, but rather to force the army of the Kingdom of Caledo to move. Once Caledo moved, the situation would be completely in Duruci's hands. With their unshakeable control of the inland sea, Duruci could act at will.

Once the situation unfolds, Duruci will have a wide range of options:

They could launch a landing on the way to the Dragon Gate-Night White River defense line, unexpectedly ambushing and throwing Caledo's troops into chaos; or they could adopt a segmented interception strategy, dragging Asur's troops into a quagmire one by one, preventing them from regrouping.

Even more insidious is the possibility of launching a direct landing while Caledon's homeland forces are weakened, forcing reinforcements to withdraw, while simultaneously launching ambush and interception operations along the way. (This is discussed in Chapter 832, so I won't elaborate further.)

It must be admitted that Duruci did indeed have some exceptional people.

Duruci abandoned the old and rigid strategy of the past—no longer fixated on landing on Nagarius, no longer using Semen as the only breakthrough point, but instead flexibly shifted his approach, using movement and containment to tear the enemy apart.

Thinking of this, Imrek felt a surge of anger, his knuckles tightening slightly on his baton as if he wanted to crush that rage.

Finnubar... that damned traitor.

If he hadn't personally opened the gates of Ausuan and let in the enemy who should have been kept out, how could things have turned out this way?
But then, a cold smile crept into Imrek's mind.

Fortunately... he now has a dragon.

The dragon's power will rewrite everything, cracking this deadlock.

However, when he snapped out of his reverie, he keenly sensed something amiss.

The atmosphere in the room was too quiet and subdued; his words and actions did not elicit the enthusiastic response he had imagined.

He raised his head, his brow furrowing slightly, and his gaze quickly swept over the crowd. Then he saw that almost everyone was staring at Rahil, and his gaze followed.

However, before his gaze could fully settle on Rahil, he was drawn to the figure on the other side.

That's Isis.

At this moment, Isis's expression was extremely complicated. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, as if they had been burned by flames, her eyes flashed with suppressed anger, and her expression carried a hint of exasperation.

Imrek paused for a moment, then chuckled softly, a laugh that was not loud, but carried a hint of understanding and irony.

He understood why.

The relationship between the Dragon Princes was never as harmonious as outsiders imagined.

Glory does not equate to pure unity.

On the contrary, competition and undercurrents have always existed and never dissipated. Family interests, the continuation of the lineage, historical grudges, the struggle for merit, and even personality clashes—these things have always placed the Dragon Princes in a delicate and dangerous power struggle.

If Imrek's judgment is correct, the dragon princes had already begun analyzing and speculating about the situation before he returned.

Rahil Movin, son of Mencius, possesses a unique lineage and bloodline, and having studied at the White Tower of Hoss, he is both knowledgeable and strategically astute. He certainly has the potential to be a leader, capable of offering insights similar to Imrek's in this situation.

Isis, on the other hand, should be the one holding the opposing view.

That's why he looks so flustered and almost lost his composure right now.

Isis comes from an ancient branch of the Silyria family in southwestern Caledon, whose bloodline can be traced back to its very origins. Unlike most dragon princes, he has a powerful dragon companion—Kanasilai.

His "Fangs of Glory" dragon prince cavalry was an iron torrent on the battlefield of Caledor, striking fear into the hearts of all enemies wherever they went. His brothers and cousins ​​followed him to the death, fighting to the last man, and none of them ever betrayed him; the bond between them burned as brightly as a flame.

Personally, Imrek prefers Rahil to Isis.

As a dragon prince, Rahil possessed an exceptionally reserved demeanor—or more accurately, a somber and introverted nature—which clashed sharply with the typically unruly and flamboyant personalities of dragon princes. It was precisely for this reason that Imrek saw in him a rare quietness and restraint.

In contrast, Isis is more in line with the typical image of a dragon prince—arrogant, domineering, with eyes as direct as flames and words as sharp as blades.

However, in terms of influence, strength, and background, since Mencius' death, the power that the Silria family can mobilize far exceeds that of the Morven family, and it can even rank among the top in the many branches of Caledon.

“Rahil, what do you think we should do next…” Imrek hesitated for a moment, then finally raised a hand and tentatively handed the topic to Rahil.

Rahil took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slightly. Under the heavy gazes of the entire audience, he slowly reached out and picked up the baton beside him.

However, the baton was not pointed at the Kingdom of Kaledo, nor at the Kingdom of Elion, but firmly at the old capital of the Kingdom of Terenlock, a city long since swallowed by the sea and left only as a legend—Tal Anlock.

He slowly exhaled the deep breath he had taken, as if trying to expel all the gloom and repression in his chest, then took another deep breath. Then, he raised his head, and under the gaze of everyone present, he suddenly swung his baton, pointing straight at the vast ocean, at the unknown land beyond the sand table.

There were no questions, no denials, and no sarcastic remarks. None of those standing here are fools.

Everyone silently pondered Rahil's intentions and stance, which he had emphasized before. Although his command baton pointed beyond the sand table, they all knew perfectly well that Rahil was truly aiming at Anaheim, and even further, at Nagarus.

“Rahil…” Imrek called out Rahil’s name, his voice echoing in the empty hall. He hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, “I agree with your decision, but you have overlooked politics.”

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured on a blazing fire, stirring up countless white mists.

Rahil sighed heavily, his eyes suddenly dimming. He tossed his baton aside, the wooden handle making a dull thud on the stone table, as if drawing a heavy period to a decision. Then, he covered his face with his hands, his knuckles white, rubbing his cheeks incessantly, as if trying to crush countless anxieties and pains into his palms.

Just as Imrek had guessed, the dragon princes had already conducted countless simulations while he was away.

Like Imrek, Rahil saw through Druqi's true intentions. He advocated against sending a large-scale reinforcement to the Kingdom of Elion, but instead suggested diverting some of the Dragon Gate's forces to assist the Kingdom of Elion in its defense, thereby stabilizing the defensive line and preventing Druqi from crossing the Night White River.

However, his arrangement ultimately drew fierce criticism from the dragon princes, led by Isis. Their voices, like sharp blades, pierced from all directions, their words intense and leaving almost no room for negotiation.

They believed that Rahil's arrangements, disregarding the lives of their allies and pushing Elion into danger, were acts of disloyalty and injustice. Isis even questioned him on the spot, stating that the Kingdom of Caledon had sworn an oath of honor and fire since ancient times, how could they stand idly by at this moment? In their view, Caledon should, as it had during the Great Strife, or in countless bloody battles thereafter, unhesitatingly provide its allies with full support.

Even if the garrison at Val's Anvil were completely wiped out, and even if the reinforcements were also lost in the dark tide, the critics still firmly believed that as long as Caledon got serious, as long as they could mobilize the entire power of the kingdom, and with the cooperation of their allies, Caledon could drive the Duruchi on the northern peninsula back into the sea once again.

If this can be achieved, communication with the Kingdom of Charis can be restored, reigniting morale and hope.

What can Rahil say about this?

He remained silent, knowing that he was ultimately himself—he was Rahil, and no one else. He was not his father Mencius, nor was he Imrek.

He knew better than anyone that these accusations stemmed not only from strategic differences but also from a host of hidden and unspeakable emotions. He could clearly feel the glint in the eyes of those dragon princes when they looked at him—jealousy, hostility, doubt, and even a hint of disdain. The flames in their eyes were the resentment born from the fact that he still had dragons by his side.

Yes, he has a dragon companion, while they don't and can only ride horses.

He flies in the sky, while they can only run on the ground.

He knew perfectly well that this gap was a barrier, a thorn, a deep chasm between him and them that could never be smoothed over.

But he persisted, even amidst the surrounding incomprehension and anger, he gritted his teeth and continued to present his own thoughts.

He believed that the Kingdom of Caledo must undertake a massive mobilization without hesitation. The mobilized forces must be divided in two: a small portion should be deployed on one side of the vast ocean as a strong barrier to defend against a possible landing by Duruci; while the other portion should be deployed along the inland sea to support the main force, which is ready to return at any time.

The main force must be aimed directly at the Inland Sea, thereby launching a powerful offensive against the Kingdom of Itien.

Only with such a strategic arrangement can we be both offensive and defensive.

One side of the vast ocean is mostly treacherous terrain, with rugged coastlines and turbulent waves, making a large-scale landing by Duruci extremely difficult. Even if they were determined to force a landing, the defenders of Caledo could rely on the fortresses and cities along the coast to hold their ground and wait for reinforcements, using the terrain to buy time.

On the inland sea side, the terrain was relatively flat and open, giving Duruci numerous potential landing points. But Rahil firmly believed that if the defenders could hold out for even a short while, until part of their main force returned to defend, they would be able to drive Duruci back into the sea, or even annihilate him completely!
However, the focus of Rahil's strategy was never on defense, but on offense!
His true intention was to seize the initiative; once Lorthorn lost his functional existence, the entire battle would be completely reversed.

Of course, this strategic arrangement is based on the premise that the dragon has failed to be awakened. It is a helpless expedient, the best solution among countless predicaments, and a last resort.

In Rahil's deduction, countless key moments would ultimately converge on Lorthorn. If Caledo could firmly control Lorthorn, the trap would be set, and Caledo would become the master of the battle, holding absolute power. After that, countless paths would open up, and countless methods could be employed to deal with Druucci.

If the dragons are indeed being successfully awakened one after another as they are doing now, and if these dragons, which have been dormant for thousands of years, can once again take flight in groups, then the optimal solution will no longer be Lorthorn, but something much more distant.

The attacks on Anaheim and Nagarus are like the raid that Duruci once launched on the Vaal Anvil; the dragons can cross vast oceans and strike the enemy's rear with their scorching fury.

By launching airstrikes, we can strike their logistical supply and production bases, shatter their sea transport lines, and completely undermine Trucchi's war potential.

If that's the case, there are countless solutions to follow.

The dragons possess the advantage of flight, enabling them to flexibly and maneuverably deal with the Duruchi forces and logistical supplies operating throughout Ulthuan, while simultaneously re-establishing connections with their various allies.

Once Duruci loses its war potential and the foundation for sustained combat, Lorthene will crumble without a fight. Like a skeleton without flesh and blood, it will collapse and become a meaningless burden.

but now……

As Imrek said, he ignored politics.

All the strategic arrangements he had previously proposed were based on a military perspective; they were cold, hard deductions and logic, and the optimal solutions in wargaming simulations.

However, once politics is taken into account, things are no longer simple.

Perhaps at some point in the future, they will launch a decisive attack on Anaheim, or even further away on Nagalus, but before that, they must put down their batons, lower their heads, and gaze at the sand table.

On the sand table, the outline of Lorthorn lay out silently, like a battlefield destined to be soaked in blood.

"Tell me what you know about Lorthorn."

Imrek's voice rang out in the hall, and he turned his gaze to Leandera.

In fact, he was well aware that Rahil's strategic plan was correct, even perfect, but he couldn't simply go along with it. He could sense that all of Ulthuan was holding its breath, waiting for his decision, waiting for his response.

That invisible pressure, like a mountain, weighed on his shoulders, leaving him no way to back down.

He had to step forward and give a response.

And the best place to respond is, without a doubt, Lorthorn.

He wanted his allies to see his resolve, his traitors to see his anger, and his enemies to see his strength.

Only in this way can a chain of political changes be triggered.

If the Eternal Queen could step forward and publicly express her support for him...

He also knew that such a choice would come at a price. Attacking Lorthorn would inevitably make those already wavering kingdoms and nobles even more determined to side with Duruci.

However, he had no choice. Politics is another battlefield besides blood and fire, and he had to make those who betrayed him understand that the price of betrayal is never just empty words.

After a moment of silence, under the watchful eyes of everyone, Leander slowly began to recount the information she knew: heavy ballistae, red dragons, and other defensive arrangements.

"Heavy ballistae? Like the ones from the War of Revenge?"

"Red Dragon?"

As her words fell, a cacophony of voices erupted in the council hall. Laughter, whispers, and even sarcastic remarks swirled among the crowd. The dragon princes wore mocking smiles; they didn't consider these things a real threat. In their eyes, once a dragon spread its wings and appeared in the skies of Lorthen, Lorthen's fate would be sealed—destruction!
However, amidst the noise, a sudden sound broke through the clamor.

"Why are you here?" Harald's voice was questioning and sharp.

At that moment, the entire venue seemed to be paused by an invisible hand; the noisy atmosphere came to an abrupt halt, and the air froze.

"What do you mean? Do you have a bad memory? Are you...?"

Leander immediately retaliated, her tone sharp and her eyes flashing with unwavering determination. However, before she could finish speaking, Harald raised his hand, making a simple yet forceful gesture, signaling her to stop.

The meeting room fell into a deathly silence once again.

Leander slowly fell silent, narrowed her eyes, and stared at Harald with eyes as sharp as a knife.

“That’s not what I meant. I just feel…something is strange.” Harald spoke slowly, his voice carrying a hint of barely suppressed coldness.

He had an excellent memory, one could even say he could remember everything he saw. He recalled the scene when he first met Leandera in the cave, and the brief but sharp confrontation between them.

I didn't really want to come, but in the end, I came anyway. I made a bet with Darkus. He bet that this scene would eventually happen, he bet that you—even knowing what the future held, would still choose to stand by Imrek's side. And I… lost.

He couldn't forget Leandera's words, which basically meant that Leandera had lost her gamble and decided to side with Caledo, preparing to awaken the dragon.

But at that moment, Harald felt that something was not right.

Despite his fiery temper and impulsive nature, after Imrek sang the Dragon Song, the restlessness in his heart seemed to be suppressed and gradually transformed into a calm contemplation.

Therefore, amidst the numerous debates, he was among the first to side with Rahil. In his view, while Rahil's proposed solution was radical, it was also the safest option under the current circumstances.

But why do I still feel uneasy?
Is Leandera a spy?
Harald saw it differently.

He even felt that the guess was too simplistic, and even blasphemous towards her.

Rather... rather, there is another reason.

But he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was; that vague intuition felt like a stone weighing on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

“What are you trying to say?” Imrek stepped forward, his voice steady and cold, like a sharp blade cleaving through the stalemate. His words offered Harald a way out, but also forced him to give an answer.

“This…” Harald frowned, picking up the baton, his fingers unconsciously clenching it until his knuckles turned white. His gaze darted back and forth across the sand table, first pointing to the northern peninsula, then abruptly shifting to Lorthen. His lips parted, but he couldn't utter a coherent word, “I…”

"You mean, Duluqi did this on purpose? When we think we've seen through Duluqi's intentions, we'll unconsciously focus all our attention on Lortherne? And that's exactly what Duluqi wants!"
Were they waiting for us in Lorthorn, setting a trap? Was everything she said actually something Duruci deliberately showed her to mislead us? Was even her appearance a deliberate arrangement by Duruci? Was the so-called bet just a pretext to conceal their scheming and manipulative nature?

Despite Harald's stammering, Rahil calmly dissected Harald's meaning from a strategic perspective, revealing the truth in a single sentence.

“Yes!” Harald nodded emphatically, his expression becoming resolute, as if he had finally found an outlet for his doubts.

However, what responded to him was a sudden burst of laughter from the table. The laughter carried a hint of disdain, mixed with arrogant contempt.

"You think too much."

"so what?"

These barbed taunts made Harald blush, his chest heaving like a suppressed volcano, almost bursting with humiliation. He slammed his hand on his sword hilt, ready to draw it and duel the laughing dragon prince on the spot. A tense atmosphere instantly filled the air, but thankfully, Lamelain reacted quickly, grabbing Harald's shoulder and barely managing to stabilize the situation.

Leandera didn't smile; her expression was grave, a deep shadow falling between her brows. She began to recall her journey, the seemingly logical clues, the seemingly inevitable encounters.

But once these fragments are pieced together, there are many parts that don't match.

The suspicion in her heart, like a venomous snake that had been lurking for a long time, was now slowly raising its head. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt, as if an invisible hand was manipulating everything from behind. (Chapter 307 contains a hint)

In the past, Imrek might have just chuckled and dismissed it.

But now it's different.

His experience of singing the dragon's song and awakening the dragon changed him, making him stop regarding all possibilities as a joke.

So he began to seriously consider Rahil's words, calmly and meticulously conducting his deductions.

When his gaze fell on Lorthern on the sand table again, a vague intuition made his heart tighten; Rahil seemed to be right.

"Has any magical reconnaissance been conducted against Lorthene before this?" After a long silence, he turned his gaze to Lamelaan.

“There is a powerful being there…” Lamelaan first nodded solemnly. But then he shook his head and sighed.

This is extremely dangerous; if discovered...

In another timeline, how did Liver die?

She was killed by Archaon. Liv used a method similar to astral projection, placing her physical body in Asloren while her soul appeared in Middenheim, in the secret chamber where the Old Ones' devices were kept. As a result, her soul was discovered by Archaon, or rather, seen by the eye on Archaon's helmet. (This is discussed in Chapter 319.)
Arelani summoned Fenrir back, employing a similar method when Elsin Alvin was adrift, including when Fenrir, still at the White Tower of Hoth, detected Manfred's presence across the vast ocean. (This is discussed in Chapter 792.)
When Nagash was resurrected, Malekith and Tegris, who were active in Ulthuan, noticed the anomaly. They then left their bodies to witness Nagash's resurrection. Just before Nagash noticed them, they ran away. Even though they were powerful beings, in this situation, not running meant certain death; there was no other outcome.

"The archmages of the White Tower of Hoss refuse to contact us."

A moment later, Lamerlan added another sentence, as if to break the oppressive atmosphere, but it only made the heaviness even more intense.

Imrek simply nodded, his expression stern, but a barely perceptible hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes. Then, his gaze slowly shifted to Elisander, whose eyes met his, and his cousin shook his head in silence.

He nodded again, the movement very light, yet carrying a coldness that was hard to the point of being cruel.

Whether Rahil's guess was right or wrong, whether what awaited them in Lortheon was a trap or a bluff, he had no choice. Having stepped into this quagmire churned up by politics and scheming, he could only go all the way to the end.

Escaping is not the path of a king, and he has been placed in a position that no one can replace.

He knew very well that this battle was not only about the rise and fall of military forces, but also about the fate of the entire Ausuan.

Lorthorn is the gate, the core, and the vortex where allies and enemies intertwine.

No matter the cost, he had to launch the attack and win this historic first battle.

Thinking this, he took a deep breath, his chest heaving, as if to swallow all his hesitation, weakness, and even loneliness into his lungs and then burn them away with fire. The next moment, he suddenly raised his arm, his baton slicing through the air, and with heavy determination, pointed it heavily at Lorthern on the sand table.

"I've decided!"

His voice boomed like thunder, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone in the hall.

"Attack Lorthene! The first battle will be the decisive one!" (End of Chapter)