The night wrapped around the Sylvan Bastion like a damp cloak, green torches hissing on walls of living logs that pulsed with glowing sap. The hall smelled of bitter resin and churned earth, a scent that clung to the throat. Ardyn slouched in his throne of gnarled branches, drumming a nervous rhythm on the worn armrest. Before him, a crumpled map lay on a splintered table, the enemy's territory lines barely visible under the greenish light. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the crackle of flames and the distant drip of sap.
The door creaked, and Darion Veltharis stormed in, his black armor gleaming with elven runes that whispered in the dimness, road dust still clinging to his boots. Eryndor followed, his tattered cloak dripping mud, his staff trembling in his hand as he stopped by the table, breathing heavily.
"Speak," Ardyn ordered, his voice sharp, eyes fixed on the map. His fingers froze, tightening on the throne.
Darion crossed his arms, metal clanking. "The caravan was repelled," he said curtly, fury simmering. "Two hundred twenty, twenty epics, and they drove us off like dogs. Two women, no negotiation, humiliated us in front of everyone."
Eryndor steadied his staff, his tone cautious. "They weren't ordinary, my lord. Their power… it was like the air itself shattered."
Ardyn's brow furrowed, his face hardening. "Two women? Like the succubus and the elf from the Ash Nest?"
Darion shook his head with a grunt. "No, my lord. These were new. One with silver hair, golden eyes, a light that burns without fire. The other, white armor, voice like thunder. Different, bigger."
"Bigger?" Ardyn straightened, his dry laugh echoing. "And who commands them? The same Lord of the Nest?"
"His name's Renn," Darion replied, his gaze sharpening. "That's what the silver-haired one called him."
"Renn?" Ardyn leapt up, pacing before the throne, boots thudding on the damp wood. "There's no Renn in the regional chat. I read it every night, Darion. No one mentions a Renn." He stopped, spinning toward him. "This is a low-level territory. A new Lord should have nothing, let alone the succubus and elf who stole the Nest from us, and now… what? Two more, even stronger? What's going on?"
Eryndor swallowed hard, clutching his staff. "The power… it's like the Nest, but worse."
Ardyn stepped toward the table, tracing the enemy's territory on the map with restrained fury. "Worse?" His laugh was bitter. "We already had the succubus and elf who humiliated us at the Nest, Eryndor. And now this Renn adds more?" He turned, jabbing at the map. "This is a forgotten corner of the Endless World. It took me a year to get you, Darion, my epic champion, and this… Renn? What does he have? An army of women who crush everything?"
Darion growled, grim. "I don't understand it, my lord. The succubus and elf were already too much. These new ones… they shouldn't be here."
Ardyn turned to the window, staring into the dark forest. "That should be mine," he muttered, thick with envy. "A year killing orcs, crushing trolls, and my best troops are scrawny elves and clumsy kobolds. And him? He's got the succubus, the elf, and now these. How does he do it?"
Darion stepped forward, sharp. "They're not normal, my lord. Their power isn't from this level."
Ardyn sank back into the throne, taking a deep breath to quell the fire burning in his chest. He pulled out his bracer: an elven artifact of carved wood with green runes that glowed faintly under his fingers. "We're going to find out who this Renn is," he said, activating the regional chat with a crisp snap. The holographic interface lit up the hall, projecting messages in the air like dancing specters, words floating in green before his eyes. His fingers trembled slightly as he typed, his mind racing with a mix of rage and curiosity.
[Lord_Ardyn]: "Anyone know a Lord named Renn? Low-level territory, near the sylvan forest. Claims to have strong troops."
The bracer hummed, and replies came fast, their words slicing through the hall's silence.
[Lord_Soren]: "Renn? The loser from school? What a joke. That guy's got no talent, no ambition. If he's still alive, it's pure luck."
[Lord_Torin]: "Renn? Ha, the same old nobody. Probably hiding behind some old praying nuns. Doesn't sound like anything serious."
Ardyn read aloud, his brow creasing until his face tightened. "Loser? Old nuns?" He turned to Darion, incredulous, pointing at the hologram with a shaking finger. "Did you hear that? They say he's a weakling with no brains." He returned to the bracer, typing quickly, nails scraping the wood.
[Lord_Ardyn]: "I'm told he repelled a 200-man caravan with two women. One silver-haired, one a siren. He's already got a succubus and an elf. How strong are these 'nuns'?"
[Lord_Soren]: "What? No way. That idiot doesn't have decent troops. If he repelled anything, it was a drunk kobold tripping over itself. Two women? Succubus and elf? Total lies. He's just got old nuns with rosaries."
[Lord_Torin]: "Two women, you say? Ha, probably kobolds in disguise. Renn playing leader is the funniest thing I've heard. Succubus? Elf? No way. Wrinkled human nuns, that's his deal. He's alive because no one bothers to crush him."
Ardyn snorted, but his laugh was tense, almost a growl. "Kobolds in disguise? Old nuns with rosaries?" He looked at Darion, his voice shaking with disbelief. "This doesn't add up. The succubus and elf already stole the Nest from us, Eryndor saw them, fought them. And now a siren and a silver goddess… where are the weak human nuns?"
Darion's brow furrowed, his deep voice cutting the air like a blade. "No kobolds or old women, my lord. I saw it with my own eyes. The succubus and elf from the Nest were real, deadly. These new ones… they're worse."
Eryndor nodded nervously, his fingers gripping the staff until the wood creaked. "At the Nest, my lord, the succubus called me 'bug,' her wings buzzing like a threat. The elf, crimson cloak, swore to burn our forests, her spear dripping blood. These ones today… I'd never seen them before, but the power's the same."
Ardyn leaned toward the bracer, his tone sharp in the message. "So you know nothing about a succubus or an elf? What do you remember about this Renn?"
[Lord_Soren]: "Succubus? Elf? Ha, no. Renn was the guy who fell asleep in class, lost every practice fight. The only thing he'd summon is old human nuns with rosaries. If he's got anything else, he stole it or stumbled into it."
[Lord_Torin]: "Renn's got no brains to lead anything. I saw him fail every test, always leaning on others. Old nuns are his thing, probably cooking him soup. Strong women? Pure lies."
Ardyn shut off the bracer with a sharp smack, the hologram fading in a green flicker. "A loser who slept through class?" he growled, his voice trembling with disbelief. "A talentless weakling who leans on old women with rosaries? What about the succubus and elf who drove you from the Nest, Eryndor? What about the siren and the silver one who humiliated Darion? This makes no sense."
Darion crossed his arms, grim. "They're wrong, my lord. What I saw wasn't luck or nuns cooking soup. Those women are weapons, and Renn wields them well."
Ardyn ran his hands through his hair, mussing it further. "Soren and Torin knew him from school, they say. A nobody, a loser. But what you describe…" He turned to Darion, his gaze hardening. "If it's not the nuns they think, then what is this? A trick? A mistake?"
Eryndor spoke up, cautious. "I don't know, my lord. But at the Nest, those two weren't human. The succubus and elf… their power was real. They crushed us like we were children."
Ardyn sank into the throne, staring at the ceiling of twisted logs. "A new Lord in a low-level territory, with impossible troops. Soren and Torin call him a failure, but he's got what I want: power, strength… women." He leaned forward, his gaze lost in the map. "A year fighting for every crystal, and he shows up with an army that shouldn't exist. I won't accept it."
Darion's voice cut through, hard. "He's bigger than we thought, my lord. This isn't luck."
Ardyn drummed his fingers, calculating. "If he's not the Renn from the chat, he's a cheat. Or someone hiding his game." He straightened, his gaze sharpening. "Prepare stealth scouts, Darion. I want everything: his sanctuary, his troops, his resources."
Darion nodded, brushing his sword. "We could set a trap. Fake another negotiation, strike when they lower their guard."
Ardyn's smile was faint, razor-sharp. "Yes. Let them think we're talking. Then we cut them down." He looked at Eryndor. "You watch the forest. If they move, I'll know before they breathe."
Eryndor bowed his head, nervous. "Yes, my lord."
Ardyn leaned back, murmuring. "A failure doesn't do this. There's something we're not seeing. But I'll find it. And I'll rip it out by the roots."
The night fell thick, torches casting trembling shadows. Ardyn rose, his cloak billowing, and walked to the window. The forest stretched dark, hiding Renn and his warriors. "Whoever you are," he whispered, "don't underestimate me." A dull crack echoed from the mist, and he frowned. "What was that?"
Darion half-drew his sword, tense. "I don't know, my lord. But it doesn't sound good."
Ardyn clenched his teeth, his silhouette framed against the window, a silent challenge to the enemy lurking beyond.