– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 219, Season of the Setting Moon, Day 59 –

A sun elf soldier was staring at the horizon while biting his lips. He flinched when he sensed another person stepping up to him.

"What has crawled into your armor?" asked his comrade. She looked him up and down. "Speak freely, Quentin. I value your input."

"I…" The man shook his head.

His comrade followed his gaze and nodded in understanding. "I know it's not the most comfortable location to scout, but the mages are ready in case we have to flee."

"It's not that." Quentin rubbed his eyes. "Don't the funghouls seem different to you?"

She shrugged. "Look as ugly as ever to me."

Quentin grabbed his helmet in frustration and closed his eyes. He breathed until he couldn't take it anymore. "They're ignoring us!" He gestured at the mass of funghouls. He was a scout. He knew exactly how close he could get before it would turn into a risk.

The location they were currently in?

The locations he had scouted earlier?

Way too close. Calling this proximity a risk would be a ridiculous understatement. All the scout's experience screamed at him that being this close was no less than a death sentence.

Any scout worth their armor would know this.

And yet? Nothing.

The funghouls were walking with no concern for the sun elves.

No, not just walking.

Marching.

As a scout, he could recognize the difference.

As a veteran, he knew that funghouls had two sides to them. One inspired fear. The other inspired outright terror.

Every scout learned to detect the signs of purpose behind the movements of funghouls.

Every warrior learned to fear having to face the funghouls possessed by such purpose.

The freshest recruits might have never faced a group of coordinated funghouls, but those older certainly at least remembered the reports of someone they had known.

These reports had gotten rarer in recent history, but this just made the marching funghouls stand out so much more.

Marching in coordination.

Marching close to the elves' own outfit.

And yet? Nothing.

The funghouls were showing their most terrifying side, and yet, they were ignoring the soldiers of the Sun. Marching along the paths their mages had prepared with gates for them.

The scout couldn't take it anymore.

Quentin had been there when the outsiders had ambushed their sacred land. When he had finally managed to break out of his room, he had done what he always did best: scout.

He had been intimidated by the display of power by the outsiders, but more than that, he had been utterly confused at their restraint while using it.

Even until the end, there had been no casualties.

In fact, the only violence had been against their fortifications and then…

Then.

The scout took a deep breath. He had not spoken to his comrades about what he had seen that day. He had not felt it proper to voice his doubts when the Sun was under attack.

But Quentin couldn't take it anymore.

"I saw the ancestors," said Quentin with trepidation. The mushroom-infested elders were an ugly sight, but that really wasn't the problem troubling him. Every child of the Sun was used to seeing the victims of the Wrath.

True, the scout couldn't remember ever seeing anyone plagued to such a degree, but that was because most died before the curse could develop into such a state.

Still, seeing the horrors of the Wrath didn't truly faze the scout.

He became aware of the curious gaze of his comrade, who had grown oddly quiet.

Quentin cleared his throat. "There was a tree in their midst. I don't know how to describe it." He bit his lips. "I'm not old enough to remember our grove. I've never seen a world tree with my own eyes." He shook his head. "But I've seen the drawings in the history books when I was a lad. I remember stories of life's vigor that spreads from it. But the tree I saw in their midst?" He swallowed hard. "That tree was wrong. That didn't feel like life…"

***

"I don't like this," snapped the moon elf elder.

"I'm not surprised," replied Terry without bothering to turn and look at the woman, who had introduced herself as Penelope. "And I don't care."

In fact, if one of you little monsters doesn't like what I'm planning, then all the better.

"Why would you ever want to go to the giants?!" demanded Penelope. "They're beasts!"

Look who's talking.

The giants eat elves. You turn shroomans into ingredients. Screw all of you.

Terry refrained from voicing his retort out loud. He was trying to concentrate, but apparently the elder elf wasn't used to being ignored and would not give him any room until he had explained himself.

Why couldn't we pick another group of elders when we made our entrance at the Moon? Just because you were the highest ranking elder present doesn't mean I want you to be my permanent contact with your faction.

Deep down, Terry doubted that another moon elder would have been any more pleasant to deal with. In the end, they were all part of the Moon's leadership. Leaders of a ruthless faction with a strange view on death. Leaders who were used to political struggles and who postured to maintain their own position of power as a permanent primary motivation.

Terry didn't bother to hide the distaste from his face, nor did he think his contact with the Moon particularly cared. Even now, Terry wasn't sure if her incessant quibbling was truly meant for him or for their spectating audience.

Terry didn't have to open his eyes to know his surroundings. He could feel the moon elves.

Is she just posturing for her own faction? Understanding the point but refusing to acknowledge it publicly?

He could feel the other expedition members.

Is she trying to sow discord? To get someone else into the position I am in now?

Terry almost rolled his closed eyes. If even Mercedes had not been able to drive another wedge between him and the expedition, then Penelope might as well talk to a wall.

The entire situation felt weird. Terry didn't even want to be in charge. He just didn't want to let Mercedes roll over his position again and, somehow, this had led to people taking him a lot more seriously than he could take himself.

To Terry's relief, nobody expected him to make decisions unilaterally. Khaled, William, Verecund, and, of course, the two dimensional mages Mia and Yorgos held considerable influence over the expedition team, and, just like Terry's closer companions, they pushed back whenever they disagreed with something.

Even so, whenever there was a lack of agreement or too many options to choose from, the final moments of their meetings, somehow, always had everyone looking at Terry.

Terry had wanted to convince everyone there might be a third option for settling the problem of this cursed realm. He had not expected that his success in doing so would somehow turn him into the person with the final word in all their plans.

Or the person having to deal with the leadership of the local factions.

They had all agreed that the Moon would be more receptive to a more confrontational approach, which led to Terry being the obvious spokesperson, given that no one had antagonized the moon elves and stood their ground as much as he had.

Tiana had killed a few as retaliation for infecting Vess with the Wrath, but only Terry had stood against both the moon elves and the expedition members siding with the Moon. They didn't want to project any kind of doubt to the Moon, so the person who had stood their ground against everyone else was the obvious choice.

The choice was obvious.

Just as obvious, Terry hadn't felt prepared for this. His mind had refused to consider it as an option before the rest of the expedition practically slapped him with it.

Terry hated every second of it.

Especially that there was more to come. Meeting with the giants left, again, an obvious choice.

Any expedition to the giants was doomed without Deekin and unlikely to succeed without an established relationship. That basically left Deekin, Rafael, or Terry as the one to take charge for enlisting the giants into their cause.

Deekin was simply not a suitable candidate. His mind was still too young. Too malleable and susceptible to manipulation. Terry already had concerns about what might become of his disciple after the expedition's departure. He was still thinking about how to best protect the giant closest to becoming a decent being with a modicum of consideration for all sapient beings.

As for Rafael? No sane person would have sent the felan martialist as a spokesperson. Forget brokering a delicate alliance between two mortal enemies. They might earn themselves another war to worry about.

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That left Terry.

A very reluctant and annoyed Terry.

Screw it.

Terry hated playing diplomat with someone he loathed. He decided playing nice with the Moon wasn't worth it. That was not how the Moon worked to begin with.

Terry opened his eyes and turned to Penelope. "I'm very aware of what your faction represents. You've shown what you are willing to do to get what you want when you infected my friend with the curse. You talk of beasts? You ask me why I want to involve the giants? Several reasons…"

Terry lifted a finger. "First of which is that I'd rather ally with two beasts that hate each other than with just one looking to take a bite out of my back. As far as I'm concerned the Moon is a faction of monsters not to be trusted, not unlike you see the giants."

He pointed the finger at Penelope. "The one thing I can trust though is that you hate each other, so you can trust that, whatever monstrous idea might pop into your head, at the end of it the price of betrayal is facing everyone against you."

Terry could feel some moon elves tensing up and scowling. Even though some nodded in understanding and agreement, none were happy at hearing his words.

Before Penelope could respond, Terry lifted a second finger. "Less personal, and perhaps more importantly, I want the giants involved, because this isn't some petty squabble among locals. This is a fight for your realm! Get that through your heads! You might see this as just an opportunity to weaken the Sun, but believe me, if we lose, your realm is truly lost. This isn't just an elven fight. This is a fight that involves this entire realm, and that includes the giants, no matter what you think of them."

Terry could feel many moon elves tensing up again, but this time, their facial expressions were pensive and solemn rather than angry.

Terry lifted another finger. "The third reason is simple: We need them. The cult hidden inside the Sun is wielding those infected by the Wrath. Imagine the Deadlands. Now imagine all of the Deadlands fighting under a unified order that coordinates all of them! All while the Sun and a bunch of otherworldly avatars are flanking you from the side!"

He didn't mention that none of it mattered unless they managed to eradicate the channeling anchors, but in order to do that, they needed time. Time they would have to hold back the image he had just painted.

"Now if you'll excuse me." Terry glared at her while gesturing at the assembled moon elves. "I'd like to finish the shielding of this batch before Mia comes back to take us to the giants."

Penelope held Terry's gaze with a trained and expressionless face that involuntarily gave way to curiosity. "Why are you even doing this?"

"Doing what?" Terry frowned.

"The shielding," prompted Penelope. She had seen the mage in front of her compress his mana to unimaginable intensity. She had seen him shape the intense mana into complex tiling and crystal patterns and practically burn the mana shields into the equipment of the Moon's soldiers.

They were no strangers to mana-crafting, but this was unheard of. Their crafters used tools to stamp the shielding into a piece of equipment. Their crafters didn't shield entire batches of complete equipment at once without even using their hands.

Perhaps even more stunningly, this mage in front of her shielded even non-magic items. Mana shielding was primarily used to protect the magic in items. Even though mana shielding could also serve as a barrier against mana-based attacks, it was generally considered a waste of a crafter's mana.

Yet here the mage was. Shielding the non-magic equipment of soldiers of a faction he had just compared to beasts and monsters not worth trusting.

Penelope watched the mage's face contort like she had just asked the stupidest and most pointless question imaginable.

"I just told you. This is a fight for the entire realm. Not just for the present, either, but for the future. My realm remembers the terror of being ruled by the False Gods. You think the curse is bad? The Wrath threatens your lives but at least it leaves you your freedom. The False Gods are so much worse. This fight is a chance to avert one catastrophe and lift another. I am helping out for the same reason we will go to the giants. Your realm is lost until we can reclaim it and, frankly, I'm not certain we can. I do this because I don't know how else to help."

Terry glared at Penelope. "You and everyone involved in infecting my friend or hunting the shroomans can go die for all I care, but perhaps there's someone somewhere in this faction that's worth a damn. If not here, then somewhere. If not now, then perhaps in the future. Helping you fight means helping them get a chance to live their own lives. If you have to die, then you'll die after paying as much as possible to buy that chance."

Terry was already too busy concentrating on his shielding work to notice the shift in posture among the many gathered moon elves.

The change in all the elven gazes resting on him.

It wasn't just the reminder of how serious this fight really was.

It wasn't just the unexpected resolve and commitment demonstrated by an outsider.

Unbeknownst to Terry himself, his abrasive honesty had painted the Moon a picture of the kind of death the Moon worshipped.

A death to protect a life worth living.

***

"Are you sure about this?" asked Patricia. "We could all come with you."

"Thanks, but yes, I'm sure," said Terry. "I think a smaller group will work better."

"Just leave the hag." Patricia inclined her head to point at Penelope, who was waiting next to Mia.

"She has to come," stressed Terry. "For the same reason I'm taking Shroomling and Bugsby. This is a fight for the entire realm. We need to get the hostility with the Moon sorted out for the upcoming battle."

Terry could already see Patricia's gaze moving towards the rest of his chosen entourage. "They already know Rafael and I'd rather have more people whom Deekin trusts. Jorg comes as another reminder how ill-conceived the giants' view on physical size is. If Deekin punching up doesn't knock their brains loose into thinking properly, then perhaps having a mana-cultivating dwarf will do the trick."

Patricia raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the continuation of Terry's reasoning.

"Tiana…" Terry shrugged and smiled wryly. "Is great to have around in general, and her demonic mana signature might spark more interest from the giant ancestors. Plus…" He was a little embarrassed at voicing his complete reasoning. "Aside from Deekin, Tiana is the closest to a giant we have to offer." He held his nape sheepishly.

Patricia snorted, but there was still something in her gaze. Something unspoken.

Terry's eyes widened the slightest bit when he finally realized what this was really about. He couldn't say if he understood it from her voice or expressions or her soul flickers, but he was pretty sure he had the right idea. "You're a shadow specialist. We need you in the shadows instead of out in the open. I feel safer with you watching our backs and keeping an eye on both Vess and the other shroomans. I trust you, Patricia, which is why I asked you to stay behind. Even aside from the moon elves, there are plenty of people around whom I can't trust within our expedition."

Terry sighed and clicked his tongue. "If it was about trust, I would leave Penelope behind. Heck perhaps even Mia, but…" He shrugged.

"Yeah, no need to explain that one." Patricia snickered, visibly more at ease with herself than before. "I don't think you'll find any better muscle around than Mia."

William, perhaps.

Terry recalled his own clash with the elven Guildhead.

But I guess my own experience doesn't apply here. The giants don't have the advantage of oscillating mana to negate most common space-aspected spells. They don't even have structured spellwork to put up a fight.

Yeah, Mia is the best muscle around for this.

"Gotta go," said Terry. He could feel the gate anchoring in place.

***

Razkiel moved his cold gaze over his 'guests'. His gaze lingered a moment longer on the talented runt. A gaze full of hunger and ambition.

Terry noted the giant's gaze and vowed to himself that he would not let whatever plans the ancestor might have in place for Deekin go unchallenged.

Not the time.

Terry held back his thoughts. Even if his honest face might betray them anyway, he didn't want to voice his thoughts out loud. This was not the time to pick a fight with the influential giant. At least not beyond the political posturing he could already feel simmering underneath their entire conversation.

"And why would this involve us?" demanded Razkiel. "Let the elves kill each other. Why would I agree to involve our tribes?"

"Aside from it being the right thing to do?" hissed Penelope.

Terry rolled his eyes. These words out of this mouth rang as hollow and empty as an unprotected bowl of pudding growing up with his siblings.

"Yes, aside from that," replied Razkiel coldly.

Terry glanced over his companions. Just like many other members of the expedition, they had all shared their opinion on how to best deal with the giants.

Terry himself thought the most persuasive approach was already covered by presenting Deekin. By now, Jorg and Tiana had surely already added their own weight to the scale in the giant ancestor's mind.

Terry didn't think Razkiel was the type to outright accept a bribe. He figured the ancestor with the cunning eyes was more pleased with believing himself in the position to take something for himself. The type to get suspicious when something was offered openly.

Terry pushed the worries for his disciple aside. He and the others would come up with a solution for the giants' possible plots later. For now, he simply assured himself that his own position was bolstered by the ancestor's aspirations.

That left three more points to cover.

"The False Gods don't draw lines in a realm," said Terry calmly. "Once they descend, they will expand and they won't stop until they've subjugated every sapient being to their faith and servitude."

Terry could see that Razkiel didn't think much of this argument.

Probably can't see the difference between that and the elven factions.

"And while they might not distinguish between the types of folks serving them, their initial conquest is bound to be led by those who first joined their cause," added Terry. "The Sun will be led by them. They will favor the sun elves until they see reason to abandon them."

Terry hadn't thought this line would work with the giants, but he still thought it necessary as a baseline of framing the conflict in a way that put this realm against the invaders instead of local factions against each other.

"I remember our talk about the Wrath," said Terry. "You think the sun elves are of bigger concern to your tribes than the curse, but what if it was one and the same?" He paused to let the furrows on the giant's brow deepen. "The Deadlands are crawling with giants that didn't die to the Wrath. Crawling with giants hunted by the Sun. Corpses of giants desecrated by the cultists hidden within the Sun and sent out to the Deadlands. Giant collectibles to add to their cursed army until the time is right for the realm traitors to conquer this realm.

"Don't pretend the fact that some shorty elves are turning your own giant brothers and sisters against you doesn't get to you. The fact some otherrealm outsiders are refusing the giants their rightful freedom, even in death." Terry could read the simmering rage and indignation in the giant's face and soul. "I'm sure the idea of allying with an enemy seems distasteful, but the only alternative is being conquered by another enemy. By an enemy who has slain your comrades and now sends their defiled corpses to conquer you. Do you find that alternative preferable?"

Terry didn't give the giant a chance to answer his rhetorical question. "And if that's not enough, let me be clear. As far as I'm concerned, you and her are the same." He pointed with a thumb at Penelope. He ignored the feeling from her face contorting into a snarl under the observation of his mana touch. "So far, I've only found one worthy giant and it's not you."

Terry paused to allow room for the reminder of Deekin being his disciple. The reminder that it was Terry and Rafael, who had raised the giant from a runt to one of the tribe's top fighters in an intriguingly short time-frame.

"You gave me valuable information before, so I'm here to give you a chance to pleasantly surprise me, but with this realm on the line, I'm willing to look further than you if I have to." A threatening edge entered Terry's tone while he pointedly moved his eyes between Razkiel and Mia and back.

Razkiel glowered at the little human. He hated to admit it, but he was afraid. Not of the human, but of the elf he had brought. Elves were always magic, sure, but not like this one.

This one had invaded his secret chamber.

This one had easily blocked his most powerful guards.

This one had split his mountain chamber in half with a magic Razkiel couldn't even see.

Throughout his long life, Razkiel had rushed into the midst of countless elven spells. He had shrugged their flimsy magic off with nothing but his body, fury, and the magic well inside of him.

But this one?

Razkiel didn't see himself surviving this kind of magic.

"I know you all like to eat elves," continued Terry in a menacing voice. "I know you consider those shorter than you as inherently less valuable and other folks as practically worthless, so allow me to treat you in kind. Morally, your life is worth less than nothing to me. Your only practical worth to hold against that is in what you can do for this realm."

Terry stepped closer. "Perhaps, somewhere in your tribes, there is someone else that's worthy. If not now, then perhaps in the future. Just like the moon elves. I'm offering you all a chance to pause your petty squabbles and fight to earn your realm."

Terry's eyes held the giant's gaze. "That is my offer." He pointed a hand at Mia. "She has asked me to share her alternative offer as well. If we can't work with you, then she'll go through each giant giving orders until we find someone with enough brains to keep their head on their shoulders and choose a fight worth fighting over a pointless death."

Terry's eyes didn't hold a single shred of mercy. It had indeed been Mia's suggestions, but he wouldn't have said it if he wasn't willing to follow through. He meant what he had said. He knew he was working with monsters and he would treat them as such.

Even so, Terry hoped the giant would bite onto the escape he had woven into his speech. Bite onto the chance to present his surrender to the dimensional mage as a proud fight for freedom in this realm of giants.

If not, however, Terry wouldn't mind seeing Mia cut off the old snake's head before it could try to trouble his disciple.

***

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