The gates stood firm despite their battered appearance, scarred heavily during the lengthy siege. The army had been sent to claim this city a month ago.

The commanders of both sides were exhausted, the attackers disheartened by their lack of progress, the supposed assault had been a chance to prove themselves, after all. The defenders were even more morose, they knew it was only a matter of time until the supreme commander of the army outside their walls came, and when he and his reinforcements arrived, he feared the battle wouldn’t take much longer.

A messenger hurried through the siege camp, reaching the main pavilion and kneeling down, holding a cross-the-chest salute. “Commander, one of Overlord del Mort’s generals is here to speak with you.”

The man stood up abruptly, his heart quickening. It could mean many things, his lordship might have grown tired and angry with their lack of progress, and if so, was this a reinforcement or a replacement? “Show him in.” The commander said quickly and not a moment too soon as the elf who had arrived entered anyway.

“I must say, Reno, we had thought you’d have made it farther in by now, even if you were still fighting to capture every district, but to find you still working on the gates. Still, never mind that. I come with glad tidings. I have arrived to break their gates for you.” He said, smirking arrogantly as he removed his hands from his pockets. Golden chains rattled whenever he moved, excessively ornamented as part of the egotistical trip he’d been on ever since del Mort had risen to power.

“Ah, Ayden the Glorious.” The commander said, chopping off that title would often mean rousing the elf’s anger, but keeping it pristine and spoken with a tone of reverence would conversely stroke his ego enough that he would be more lenient. “With you here we can definitely claim the city. Does this mean…?”

“Yes, our great master has finished his works elsewhere. Rasten is chasing other leads, or he would have come himself. Master del Mort will be here with those who aren’t otherwise occupied soon. Let’s have this city ready for him by then.” The elf said, he reached out a hand to shake the commander’s. He’d not come as a judge or executioner, merely to speed it all along.



The army had been rallied, prepared for one more attempt at the assault. But their mission was to come after Ayden had done his part. The lone elf swaggered ahead of his troops, walking on a direct path for the gate. A warning shot flew from the ramparts striking several inches from him, but he didn’t even flinch, only stopping to shout.

“Those of you defending the wall, lay down and surrender. The less of you we have to kill the better this will be for the world.” Ayden shouted out, magic carrying his voice so that it was heard by all of the watchers.

They answered with a trio of arrows sent for him. All three projectiles burst into purple flame ten feet away from where he stood, the metal heads falling free from their shafts and missing their target. Another volley of more arrows fired out to the same effect, though one of the arrowheads was on the right line to drop toward the elf. Instead it merely deflected at the last instant as if striking an invisible shield.

“I tried.” He said simply, before his upper body took on a glow of gold and red. He drew his sword gently, pointing it ahead of himself while yet more arrows flew to no effect, and then he made a thrusting motion. The gold-red radiance spilled from his shoulders and down the blade, shooting out as a twined thread of light to strike the gate.

It cracked immediately, the coloured lance tracing every line and illuminating every crack it had sustained during the siege. Seconds later the entire door exploded, raining sharp splinters on those stationed on the other side. The city’s mages had taken to the ramparts, concocting their own sorcery to throw upon the elf who was now strolling forward calmly, yet arrogantly. His chest was puffed out as behind him the army burst into a song sung through taverns the world over. A ballad describing the untouched might of the legendary hero, Ayden the Glorious.

He had been a noteworthy sorcerer and expert with the blade before he joined the armies of del Mort. However, the new Overlord had graced him with further strength and he was keen to show it to the world.

The bolts of magic struck from on high. Ice, flame, lightning, all cascading towards him, and he danced a slow step, in time to the song, spinning his sword in the air and severing the spellcraft with his own arcane mastery.

The army at his back was symbolic for the moment, they would surge in and seize the city. But the lone elf would take down the entire defending garrison first, as all bore witness to his great deeds. To think, had the city fallen as quickly as they hoped he’d have lost his chance to add to his legend.