Enemies New and Old (Volume 3 Start)

The waters on the northwestern edge of Takanova Island were far enough from the night's battle that neither wave nor ripple interrupted the water's slumber, until dawn crept over the gray dome. Just a stone's throw from the inlet that separated the northern half of Takanova from the southern half, several dozen rafts waded through the still water, shrouded in mist.

Their silent voyage toward the walled off island was cut short by a barrage of arrows from further out to sea. All but one of the cloaked men were sunk with the rafts, and before the last could raise a shield in defense, a man stepped onto the back of his raft, and tapped his shoulder plate with the flat end of a long steel mace. The cloaked man shuddered as he turned his head to find a polite smile on a youthful face.

"I know the Shlanks hate the Teutons, but this is just foul play," the man said, relaxing his broad shoulders and brushing his silver-brown bangs out of his eyes. The cloaked man flinched at his broad build, eclipsing his own despite not wearing any armor over his black and gray uniform.

"Black Shlanks…?" he muttered. "Why are you here?"

"We had a feeling the Shlanks would wait for the Teuton-Wolverine war to really heat up, and attack the Wall with full force while the Teutons are spread thin, but this kind of sneak attack is deserving of sanction," the man replied, raising his mace over his head.

The cloaked man's face was nearly unrecognizable by the time he was thrown to the floor of the dimly lit throne room within Takanova's Central Wall. The Black Shlank stepped around him, and offered a short bow to the one sitting on the throne, whose face was hidden underneath a chainmail hood.

"Prince Nova, my name is Shorn Shraunts. I'm the commander of the Black Shlanks' military, and third son to the monarch, Shindra Shraunts."

"What brings you all the way from Shraunts Island, at the break of dawn, Shorn Shraunts?" the Prince asked in a hoarse voice, with a glance at the man lying beaten. "And you've brought me a battered Shlank. Why?"

"It seems the Shlanks were attempting to infiltrate your territory by going around the Central Wall," he replied.

"So they planned to pass through the mountainous zone our border wall doesn't cover?"

"That's right," Shorn replied. "On our way here after capturing this one, we didn't see much presence in that area. Assuming you've sent scouts down the wall toward the south due to the night's battle, it's a good thing we were there. Who knows what tragedy could have befallen?"

Two men of great stature stepped out from either side of the throne, their magnificent green robes fluttering behind them. The taller and broader of the two, nearly shaved bald aside from the blond tuft atop his head and thin, pointed beard, glared with bloodthirsty eyes at Shorn, who looked back with an interested smile.

"They were still guarded," the Prince replied, raising a hand and nodding at the knights. "We invite the Shlanks to trek uphill where a death trap awaits. That goes for anyone else who thinks that area is our weak point."

"Now, I wasn't trying to sound threatening, Prince," Shorn said with a polite smile. In fact, I came to offer friendship."

"An alliance?" The Prince asked. "Why on earth would you propose that now, after watching us war with the Wolverines for fifteen years?"

"Not exactly an alliance," Shorn replied, smiling. "Nothing official. Just an agreement between you and I."

The guards lining the room shifted in their armor as the Prince leaned forward. "What agreement?"

"We'll keep the Shlanks off your backs while you finish this war. Now that they've made a move, it's clear they aren't waiting for the Wolverines to finish you off."

"And what do you ask for in return?" The Prince asked, arms crossed.

"The Red Sword, when it is all over."

The guards clamored, and several advisors cried out, including the shorter of the robed knights, before the Prince raised a hand to silence them. "That's an outrageous request. It is not something I can agree to. Especially without the King's permission."

"Then how about your younger sister, Princess Teutonia?" he asked. "Would you give me her hand in marriage and establish a true alliance between our states?"

Gasps echoed throughout the room, and the Prince's hands trembled. "My answer is the same for that request. Unless you're going to fight the Wolverines alongside us, you need lower expectations."

Shorn chuckled through his nose, smirking. "Fine, in that case, I'll accept the head of the Wolverine Commander in Chief, Shuant. He's my eldest brother, and my father and brothers would be happy to have him return home in death."

"That, I can see to," the Prince replied with a short nod.

"Great. But if that should fail, I'll need you to decide on one of the other two options, okay?" He smirked once more, this time shooting a glance at the robed knights.

"We will be in touch, Shorn Shraunts," the Prince replied. "Thank you for your help overnight. We will repay you for that, at the very least."

The throne room was cast into uproar as the Black Shlanks left, and the Prince moved to the wall's surface, which provided a bird's eye view of the flat lands and marshy inlet that separated Teuton and the Shlank territories. The two knights joined in gazing out on the torchlit flatland.

"Those terms are simply unacceptable," the older of the men cried.

"Yet they could be unavoidable, Graham," the younger of the two replied, smirking. "Which do you think the King would choose, Prince?"

"It doesn't matter," the Prince replied, pulling the chainmail hood back to reveal a long head of blonde hair and a young woman's face. "I'm Prince Nova now, not Teutonia. The people here need me. Besides, I'll never sacrifice the pride of the Teutons by giving myself over as a bargaining tool. Especially to the Black Shlanks."

"What about protecting the Teutons' future?" the younger man asked with a wry grin.

"Brant, I don't care if you're the first-ranked General, you'll mind your tongue around the Prince," the older Graham said sternly, to which Brant chuckled.

"I'll fight to the death first, along with you two," Teutonia said with a smile. "We've fought this long, haven't we? This just goes to show that war within the dome will never end."

"I don't remember my contract for joining the Four Generals mentioning my death," Brant replied, smirking. "Speaking of, the last report I received last night was that General Samuel has been treated, and still no major casualties. In addition…"

"What of the Heir?"

"Seems the new Heir left the island with the Red Sword and a few soldiers."

"So Valblin's plan has been set into motion," Teutonia replied, clenching her fist. "Do we have a name yet?"

"Cedric Cintog, son of the former warrior Gadric."

"Cedric…" Teutonia muttered under her breath, turning away from the men to hide her wide eyes. "You did it."