Trinity of Magic

Before the six-day deadline passed, all delegations arrived. Some entered the town openly, strutting through the front gate like conquering heroes. Others slipped in through side entrances, barely noticed. And a few even used more extraordinary means to enter the city.

None of it escaped Zeke’s gaze.

Throughout this time, he remained rooted in place, taking neither food nor rest. He could not afford distraction, not when a single missed detail might prove crucial later. At his current level, going without sleep or food for several days barely affected him anymore.

He had not yet reached the realm of an Archmage, where mana alone could sustain the body, but Zeke could already ignore his physical needs for extended periods. And so, he stayed vigilant the entire time.

The first thing he realized was that he had not been the first to arrive.

Many delegations, upon entering the city, met allies who had been there even longer than he had. In the shadows, a silent struggle had long since begun, with each force probing the others, restraining and testing one another in the dark.

Among all twelve, only Zeke stood apart from this hidden war. Of everyone present, he alone had not sent a single person. He simply watched from above, unseen and yet omnipresent.

That silent vigil ended only on the evening of the sixth day.

The brooch on his chest vibrated once more. “At sundown, the meeting will convene at the old embassy.”

Zeke ignored the message and continued watching.

Finally, as the light began to fade from the city, all sides started to move. The eleven delegations, aside from Zeke, emerged from their dwellings and made their way toward the city center.

Almost at the same time, shapes appeared in the distance. Zeke immediately recognized the Moonlight Crows he had encountered during his visit to the elven heartland. Delegations of varying sizes stood upon their backs. They approached the city with blinding speed. One moment, they were distant smears on the horizon. The next, they were already at the city gates.

There were twelve of them, matching the number of mercenary forces. Clearly, each of the elven factions had sent a representative. Zeke had no doubt that one of those twelve crows carried envoys of his own ally, Matriarch Goldleaf.

Only now, with the meeting imminent, did Zeke finally withdraw from the control room.

It was time to prepare in earnest.

The first question was who he should bring. From what he had observed, none of the other forces bothered with an excessive display of strength. All had sent true powerhouses into the city, yet clearly chose not to reveal their entire hand just yet.

Naturally, with his full force already present, Zeke had no fear of showing too much, regardless of whom he brought. Even so, appearances mattered.

He decided on Zelkara, his most prominent frontline fighter, and David, his publicly known Archmage. After further consideration, he added Irisen as well. He had noticed that every delegation had brought at least one native powerhouse. Whether this was a tacit agreement or coincidence, none had failed to do so.

What they intended by that, Zeke would learn during the meeting.

After gathering the three before him, Zeke spent several minutes weaving a spell. He aimed to enter the city using a spatial channel. Normally, teleportation over such a short distance was simple enough, but this time, it was different. Two of his companions had already reached the Archmage rank. Shrouding them in a protective cocoon of spatial mana was no trivial task. If either resisted even slightly, Zeke would have no chance, even with a full month of effort.

At last, with all preparations complete, the four vanished from the ship and reappeared in a dark alley near the rendezvous point.

“Follow my lead,” Zeke reminded them. “Speak as little as possible. I want to gauge the intentions of our employer before I decide on a stance.”

The three nodded in turn. Only then did Zeke lead them out of the alley.

The entrance to the meeting place lay just ahead, and Zeke saw the last members of another force slip inside before him. Unhurried, he made his way forward. The heavy wooden door swung open at his approach, as if inviting him in.

Zeke did not hesitate. He stepped inside, his three allies following close behind. David to his right, Zelkara to his left, and Irisen at his back. It was a formation well suited to their strengths, allowing Zelkara to block the front at a moment’s notice while still protecting the more vulnerable members without hindering their ability to counterattack.

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Zeke had not given instructions, nor was this a planned formation. At their level, such details were considered instinctively whenever one entered an uncertain space.

It proved unnecessary.

There was no ambush. The door opened into a large, open hall, and aside from a few curious glances, they faced no obstruction.

Of the twelve groups, they were the last to arrive, though only barely. Another delegation had entered moments earlier and was still making its way deeper inside. As they advanced, they kept an eye on the other forces, as well as on Zeke and his group entering behind them.

Zeke spared them only a brief glance. Naturally, he recognized them all. Over the past two days, he had gathered enough information to form a rough understanding of each faction. The others, however, were far less informed about him. From the moment he entered, his small group became the center of attention.

It did not last.

Now that everyone was present, it was time for their hosts to reveal themselves.

A few dozen elves entered through a doorway leading deeper into the building. Their arrival immediately put everyone on edge. These were not weak individuals; each was at least at the level of a Grand Mage. They marched in neat rows, took positions along the walls, then stopped in perfect unison, standing as still as stone.

It appeared ceremonial, but neither Zeke nor the others failed to realize that they had been effectively surrounded. Even so, no one reacted strongly. None of those present were easy opponents, and most were confident they could break out of such an encirclement if it came to that.

That confidence wavered when, after the ceremonial guards, a full contingent of Archmages entered.

Twelve in total. One for each faction.

They advanced at an unhurried pace, gathering at the center of the hall and studying the assembled forces with open curiosity.

Lastly, a single figure entered. From her, Zeke felt a pressure he had not often felt. She was still an Archmage in rank, but not an ordinary one. Her power felt as vast and deep as an ocean. Despite appearing in her prime years, in terms of Mana, she was already comparable to his late mentor, Maximillian.

Her steps were brisk. She didn’t look around, didn’t dally, didn’t waste time. She approached the very center of the room, then stopped. With every eye gathered on her, the woman tapped the floor once with her foot, lightly.

In the next moment, twelve marvelous seats rose in a ring around her. They had grown straight from the floor, made of the same wood. Each of them seemed more like a throne than an ordinary seat, and each of them carried an engraved pattern on the top of its backrest.

A tree, a bird, a leaf...

Zeke immediately recognized them as the symbols of the twelve ruling houses of Yggdrasil. The Golden branch that signified Lady Goldleaf’s house was also among them.

Without a word, the twelve elven Archmages that had just entered took a seat on their respective chairs.

Zeke’s brows furrowed at the sight. He was not alone. None of the delegations looked pleased.

“…What is the meaning of this?” someone demanded openly. “Are we expected to squat on the floor like beggars while you fine lords sit in comfort?”

The voice was loud and unrestrained. It belonged to the leader of one of the twelve forces, someone Zeke recognized at once. They had met in person before.

All eyes turned toward the speaker.

He towered over everyone else in the hall. His shoulders were as broad as a barn door, muscles straining beneath coarse robes. Shaggy dark hair framed an even more unruly beard. Yet his eyes were razor sharp, and the mana radiating from him unmistakably marked him as an Archmage.

Odyr, from the jungles of Irroch. Someone Zeke had encountered during his visit to the Bloodsword estate.

At the challenge, the elven Archmage who had conjured the seating regarded him without the slightest change in expression.

“I have been sent to coordinate the next phase of the war with our twelve esteemed families. You, on the other hand, have been invited to observe, not to interfere. Tell me, brute, why would you require a place to sit?”

Odyr did not grow angry. He merely grinned. “Coordinate? What exactly are you planning to coordinate? I might not have been here long, but I have seen enough. And what I can say for certain is that you lot have not sent a single stinking soldier to this land.”

He gestured toward the twelve mercenary forces around him. “Only we have.”

As the pressure in the hall mounted, the twelve drew closer together, seeking strength in numbers. If those present truly fought as one, the elves would not be able to match them. After all, Zeke alone had brought two Archmages.

“Or could it be,” Odyr continued, “that the forces you intend to ‘coordinate’ are us?”

The Archmage frowned slightly and did not respond at once. She studied the twelve forces glaring at her, clearly recognizing that these were anything but weak. Her tone softened, just a little.

“You misunderstand,” she said. “I have no intention of ordering you, nor is it within my authority. I hold no command over any of you.” She then gestured toward the twelve elves seated on the thrones around her. “The ones I intend to command are them.”

“…And through them, us,” Odyr finished for her.

The woman shook her head. “However they choose to convince you has nothing to do with me. You are free to refuse or leave at any time.”

With that, the breath everyone seemed to be holding was released at once. The human forces, which moments earlier had stood in rigid unity, began to drift apart naturally.

Now that the situation was clear, there was no need to maintain such a hard stance. Though the elves had come here with a display of force, it seemed to have been meant to intimidate them, but not to force them into submission.

That was enough.

As long as their core interests remained untouched, it was an arrangement everyone could accept.

Whatever plans the elven faction leaders proposed during this meeting would be negotiable, provided the compensation was sufficient. And if any proposal called for one of their forces to be sacrificed or destroyed, they would simply refuse to participate.

“Now...” the powerful woman said, her voice carrying through the chamber, “in the presence of the twelve branches of Yggdrasil and their chosen representatives, I officially announce the start of the strategy meeting for the next phase of the war against the Empire.”