Chapter 25

The centaurs of the Banblood tribe, decorated with rusted armor and the body paints of war, lined up for battle, as they had times before. Magnus's soldiers would come today, as they always did, and once more attempt to lay waste to the rebel forces. The radicals who still believed in the old ways of worshiping ancestors and eradicating demons.

The soldiers of the Baneblood tribe were eager for confrontation. Word of some secret plan, spearheaded by the ambassadors of the Horde, spread quickly. And though many of the centaurs were skeptical that the diplomats could fight to any decent extent, the tantalizing hope of an end to the civil war spurred them on.

---

From the time of his birth, Magnus was heralded as something special, due in part to his size. True, centaurs were naturally creatures of grand stature, but Magnus surpassed any who came before him. His charisma, diplomacy, and intelligence were also sources of awe, but it was his breathtaking dimensions that were immediately noticed.

When imbued with the dark, demonic magic of demon lords, he continued to expand. He now stood at a towering fifteen feet tall and at least seven feet wide. His weapon, if it could be called that, was a Morning Star maul roughly as large as a tauren.

And yet, despite Magnus's size, his throne room dwarfed him. The ceilings rose fifty feet high and had been decorated with images based on legend. At either side of Magnus's throne, two grand wooden pyres burned, kept ablaze with a simple spell by one of his shamans. The throne itself had been custom made to support the great centaur's vast dimension. It was lined with the pelts of the most dangerous creatures in all the lands. Even a tauren or two had offered their hides up.

Indeed, everything in the throne room was made to impress. Magnus knew the value of making a strong impression. Back when it was only him and his loyal subjects, he had gained the support of all the other warring tribes one by one. While some fell by due superior might, others could only be swayed through more diplomatic means. Though some still refused to see the truth, the Baneblood tribe came to mind, the insolent rebels would be taken care of soon enough.

"Guards," said Magnus, and the two sentries that stood at the doorway went into attention.

"Yes sir," they asked in perfect unison. They were good soldiers, loyal soldiers. Magnus was proud to have them.

"Fetch me the prisoner. I would like a few words with her."

Both centaurs nodded obedience, and one left the throne room. His four hooves clanged along the floor. He returned a short time later with a human female in tow. She was placed before the great centaur, the first guard knocked out her knees with his pole arm, forcing her into a bowing position.

"Leave us," Magnus ordered. The two sentries bowed again, before they hurried out of the throne room. He turned his attention back to his captive. "Feel like talking, little one?" he asked kindly.

The human spat a wad of phlegm at his hooves.

"Audacious little thing," Magnus muttered. His forelegs bent, as did his torso, to allow him to reach down and pluck the female up by her collar. He lifted her, higher and higher, up and up, until she was level with his face. "Do you wonder why I haven't killed you?" he asked.

The human spat again, but because she was held at arms length, it fell short of its target. Instead, the wad of venom landed in the fur that covered Magnus's lower body. He sneered as he dropped her to the ground. She managed to avoid injury by rolling along upon impact.

Magnus regained his composure. "I have kept you alive, because I intend to let you live. Once this poor business with the rebels is taken care of, I will need a gift of good faith to the Alliance. You will serve nicely. You see, little one, I'm not such a bad guy. And I believe my people and your people can do nicely together."

The human looked up defiantly at him. "The Alliance will never join with you. You worship demons. You slaughter your own kind because they hold different views and follow different beliefs."

"Really, little one, and your people do not? Besides, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Horde, and the tauren, are a mutual threat to both our great unions."

The human had no response.

"Think about this, little one. Think about what I offer you and yours; an allegiance with me and mine. Sleep on it. Guards!" he called out, and they came in at once. "Take this one back to her cell."

The human was escorted off.