Azar was woken early one morning by someone calling for a report. It was Falco, there to deliver an urgent order from the Chieftain. What had happened? Why the rush? Azar hurried to the Council Hall. Before he could even salute, the Chieftain said sorrowfully, "Azar, Zhakun has fallen in battle."
The news left Azar feeling awful, but he knew this wasn't the main point. There had to be a more important task waiting for me. After a brief moment of grief, Azar said solemnly, "Chieftain, my battle blade has been thirsting for blood!."
"Good, my child. I knew you wouldn't let me down. High Sorcerer, tell him what comes next."
"Yes, Chieftain. Azar, here's the situation. We've begun clearing out the scattered tribes around us—or, to put it another way, we're preparing to expand outward. We need laborers, and Feralas is our first step. A few small tribes live there. At first, Zhakun's troops made good progress, but a few days ago, the tribes began joining forces to resist us. Their strength now exceeds ours. We need you to lead the reinforcements and finish the job."
"The Guard Unit has developed well. Our soldiers are better than before, and their training is stricter. We have your Rage Training to thank for that. Practice has proven that it can effectively improve the troops' combat strength. Take 3,000 soldiers with you this time. Do you have confidence that you can win this war?"
"I don't know, but I'll do everything I can. I'd also like to take a small team of Battle Mages. I want to see how they perform in actual combat, so we can use that as a reference for our future research."
"No problem! I have only one requirement: take Feralas!"
"As you wish, Chieftain. I'll go make preparations!"
As soon as Azar left the Council Hall, he saw Falco waiting for him.
"Falco, you know the troops better than I do. Make the arrangements. Send a guard to the base at the Well of Eternity with my written orders. I've already made arrangements there, and they'll know what to do. Oh, and you don't need to come with me this time. Keep things secure back home."
"Yes, sir! Do you have any other orders?"
"No. Go take care of things."
The tribe's war machine began to stir. It opened its bloody maw, vowing to devour every enemy. Their peaceful lives were over.
"What was I planning to do today?" Azar muttered to himself. "Right, I'm a single guy who was supposed to confess his feelings today. How could I forget something so important? There's no time now. I can only send her a Red Leaf Letter."
"Write a love letter to the one you love..."
My dear Azshara:
I hope you won't mind me addressing you this way. From the first time I saw you, I was captivated by you. I couldn't help acting like a fool whenever you were around. Little by little, we grew closer and more comfortable with each other. Everything about you seemed wonderful to me. Your voice was gentle and sweet when you spoke, and you were serious and earnest in everything you did. You're so special. Whenever I'm with you, my heart starts racing without me even realizing it. It feels like it doesn't belong to me anymore. It's run off to you. When you laugh, it laughs. When you're happy, it's happy. If you show even the slightest hint of sadness, it gets nervous. I thought those wonderful days were just beginning, but the next morning, you stopped talking to me and started avoiding me. Why? Was it all just a dream? Was it because of my reward policy? I swear to our ancestors, I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted everyone to work harder, that's all. Do you know that ever since then, nothing in my life has felt right? I don't even know how I've managed to carry on. I'm so sad. So heartbroken.
You know, even though my surname is Zarzan, I've never enjoyed a single day of noble life. My parents died in the Centennial War, and my sister raised me. I entered the military camp when I was only a teenager. I never learned the sweet words or romantic gestures of those young noblemen. The only things I knew growing up were life and death. I don't know how to express my feelings. No one ever taught me. All I know how to say is, "I love you."
I'm going to war. Zhakun has fallen, and I have to take command of his troops. The tribe needs a victory. Take good care of yourself while I'm gone. If I die in battle, I hope you'll come visit my grave. If I return victorious, will you give me a chance?
Yours,
Azar
If you have something on your mind, do it. Maybe you'll succeed. If you don't, you never will. A man has to be tough on himself. If you're a man, take the initiative. Don't spend every day hoping someone else will throw herself at you.
Azar summoned the scout who had returned with the report and asked him about the situation at the front. According to the scout, things were going badly. The troops were surrounded, and the entrance to Desolace had been sealed off. Someone had come up with the idea of having the Quillboar constantly harass the Elves' supply line. They had hit them right where it hurt. For the Elves, the supply line was a little too long. Zhakun's death came down to his arrogance. He'd stuck to the same mindset he'd had at the start of the war and paid no attention to the enemy's diplomatic tactics. He'd meant to win against the odds, but ended up surrounded himself. He died leading the charge during an attempted breakout. The breakout failed, and the enemy won. Yet they had surrounded the remaining troops without attacking them.
"Sir, our brothers are still waiting for reinforcements. We need to hurry and save them."
"Don't rush. I'll avenge our fallen brothers. Come over here and show me. Think carefully—besides the Trolls and Quillboar, were there any other forces?" Azar beckoned him over to the map and asked him to mark the locations of both camps.
"We're here. The enemy is camped here, here, and here. Besides the Quillboar harassing our supply line, there are also Centaurs. They have the bodies of horses and the heads of men, move like the wind, and fight very well."
The enemy had encircled the camp on three sides, apparently leaving one escape route open. But Quillboar blocked the way home, while the troops were worn out from a long campaign and their commander was dead. Wasn't this damn near a textbook case of surrounding a point to lure in reinforcements? They had quite an appetite. Troll savagery really was inborn. You hit me, and I'll make sure you suffer for it. But what was with the Quillboar and Centaurs? Were they going for some kind of three-on-one showdown? No, the Quillboar and Centaurs were intelligent beings, but primitive ones. They had no concept of civilization. What were they after? Maybe they just wanted to grab some spoils? No, that wasn't quite right. At the very least, that didn't explain why they'd appeared when the enemy launched its counterattack.
Why hadn't they shown up when the Elves' forces were winning easily at the start of the war?
"Tell me, before you reached Feralas, did you see any Quillboar or Centaur troops?" Azar suddenly thought of something and asked urgently.
"We did. They sent people to our camp to negotiate. I don't know what they discussed, but they looked furious when they left."
That explained it. They'd tried to shake them down, failed to reach a deal, and retaliated. Zhakun was such an idiot. Why hadn't he placated them first? He could have let them name an outrageous price, then bargained them down. Now he'd gotten himself killed. Military affairs and diplomacy couldn't be handled separately. In this situation, the Elves should first mend their relations with the Quillboar and Centaurs, then focus all their efforts on the Trolls.
The next day, the troops were assembled: a 2,000-strong Warrior battalion, 1,000 Troll Hunters—an early name for convenience, before they were modified and renamed Elf Hunters—and a 12-member team of Mages there to observe, along with a 300-strong Sorcerer Team that served as a logistical medical-support unit and would later be transformed into a priesthood. The entire tribe came out to see them off as they marched out of the city. Azar looked back at the crowd. This time, he finally spotted Azshara among them. "She came to see me off."
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