The Imperial palace of the Empire was tremendous. Far more regal than the Kingdom's. It was bigger, made of better materials, and held far grander items. It was like that even before the Bloody Emperor took power thanks to the Empire's fantastic position for trade between the east and the west. The favorite room of the Emperor was one of the smaller lounges far above the main courtroom. It overlooked his court yard and thus enabled him to look out and see Arwintar's growth. It was often here that he held meetings that would have been far more suitable for the throne room.
"Damn it!" the Emperor exclaimed as he stood up. His Knights who had so far been able to complete his strategy to his great satisfaction were now petitioning him for a change of some sort or another. In the last battle, the spear walls that should have been functioning only to stop the calvary charged had become walls of death. Not because of what happened during the battle but because of what happened after. The feces covered spears caused the knights to get sick immedietly after the battle and due to the extreme shortage of divine magic casters in the Empire, there was simply no way that he could see them all healed. As a result, the majority of the knights that had fought in the front lines, had perished thanks to a mere scratch.
In addition to that the growing popularity of the magic caster Philip Montserrat in both the common folks and the nobility had given them a new measure of hope for completely repelling the Empire. What was once "If we draw them out enough, then we will be able to cause them to collapse" had quickly become "They are fielding a magic caster who has slain hundereds in combat and now whenever we face them in battle we die horribly.". Indeed, at this rate if the Kingdom decided to start forcing the Empire to draw out it's own knights during the mating seasons for monsters, then the shoe might even fall on the other foot if the Empire faced a financial crisis of some sort at the same time.
Jircniv looked over to his court wizard. The hero who had saved the Empire several times over. The man who had essentially raised him and whose advice he considered to be worth more than gold.
"What is your opinion on this Philip Montserrat?" Jircniv asked.
Fluder Paradyne stroked his beard. "Hm. Given this report he has fired almost fifty fireballs. A mere third tier magic caster could perhaps fire thirty some at most, but fifty? Only with truly exceptional gear that would be extremely rare in the Kingdom. We have received no such reports of this gear, and therefor I believe that perhaps he is a forth tier magic caster."
The Emperor was not superised. To destroy half a thousand men was hardly a feat to flick ones nose at. "4th tier is it? How troublesome..." He paused before looking over to the courtiers that surrounded him.
"In a month and a half, send the knights back to the Fortress and send a messenger to the Kingdom. We're going in for a second helping, and this time Fluder will be joining in." Jircniv said with a smile.
"It shall be as you say, your majesty." responded the room.
"This affair with the Kingdom has not been going well." Said the Pontifex.
Indeed, there could be no denying that. Up until this point the Theocracy intended to aid the Empire in it's conquest from the shadows but now? Now it seemed the Empire had gotten it's hand stuck in the mouse trap. Their reports indicated that Philip Montserrat had been responsible for heavy casualties, and the new innovation in the spear wall.
"Shall we have this man assassinated?" Asked the Cardinal Raymond.
"Ah. No. This is an issue that will solve itself. I have just received a report from our spies that the legions are returning to the fortress, and Fluder Paradyne has been directed to join them there." responded the Cardinal of Light.
"In that case, the Empire's fangs will make short work of the Gazef Stronoff and this Philip Montserrat. With that solved, I believe we should deploy the Sunlight Scripture to the Dragon Kingdom, and then we should deploy both the Black Scripture and the Holocaust Scripture to southern front.
Yes that was a reasonable course of action, they thought. This was an era of relative stability for the hedgemony of the Theocracy. If they deployed what they had now, they could finish the elves swiftly after the defeat of the demi-humans.
"Agreed" came the voices in as many words.
The Demihumans of the Abelion hills were barbaric by all means. Some say they only cared about strength and the bloodlust that could be satisfied with that strength. An untrue state of affairs brought on only by a strict and honor bound culture that worshipped the powerful. To the Magelos however intellect and strength were one in the same. Intellect fed their magic abilities which in turn gave them the strength they needed. Otherwise they would be just as helpless as humans and thus would be devoured. The Magelos knew, that since the other tribes hunted glory just as much as any meat, then they would seek it out wherever avalible. If given the opportunities, the best warriors of the hills would surely leave their villages, cross into the neighboring Holy Kingdom, and partake of as much meat and glory as they could leaving behind almost undefended lands in the hills that would be perfect for conquering.
That was why Nasrene Belt Cure had taken her race to the wall. That was why she was looking at a huge human outpost on the wall sounding it's horn and attempting to repel her people. Five thousand Magelos had began summoning thousands upon thousands of powerful summoned elementals and demons to attack the fortress, dying and then being resummoned again as soon as more mana was avaliable. That was why the wall of the Holy Kingdom would fall. Not because she wanted blood or glory. Simply because she desired the golden promise that is opportunity.