CHAPTER 57: A SHOW OF FORCE

The morning of their departure arrived without ceremony, bathed in the pale, azure light of the luminescent crystals far above the cavern vaults. Caius had expected a modest guard—perhaps a dozen Shadowblades to satisfy the summons of the Absolute Moon Palace and ensure he reached the high court without incident.

When he stepped across the threshold of the abode, he froze.

The grand courtyard was a sea of black steel and silent intent. Two hundred elite war-bound dark elves of House Vel'drin stood assembled in flawless rank and file. Their midnight-tinted plate armor absorbed the crystal light like oil on water, heavy broadswords sheared clean at their hips, and towering pavise shields emblazoned with the clan’s crest hung across their backs. Five ancient house Elders stood at the head of the formation, their mere presence warping the local mana and making the ambient air feel heavy enough to choke on.

Behind them stood the Patriarch himself, flanked by ten oversized personal guardians clad in ceremonial gold-trimmed mail.

Old Bones stepped up beside Caius, casting his bloodshot eyes across the glittering ocean of black plate before letting out a low, gravelly grunt. "This is completely unnecessary."

The Patriarch did not turn his head. "No. It is entirely necessary."

Caius looked down the endless lines of armored vanguard. He had assumed he was being escorted to a judicial hearing. Instead, it appeared House Vel'drin was marching to war.

Even the small contingent of Palace Shadowblades sent to oversee the transfer looked visibly unsettled. Positioned near the courtyard archway, their leader took a slow, hesitant step forward, his hand resting nervously on his pommel as he faced two hundred hardened clan veterans.

"We were ordered to escort the human ward to the palace grounds," the envoy announced, his voice tight with unspoken tension.

The Patriarch met his gaze with absolute coldness. "And you will. We are simply accompanying our ward to his appointment."

The envoy offered no reply. The message was unmistakable. This was not an honor guard, nor was it a simple escort. It was a terrifying display of military defiance.

The column began its march. Their cadenced boots struck the granite roads of the Vel'drin territory in rhythmic unison, echoing through the subterranean vaults like low, rolling thunder. Caius walked near the center of the column beside Old Bones and the Patriarch, shielded on all sides by the looming figures of the five Elders.

As the column wound through the outer settlements belonging to House Vel'drin, the visual scale of the rally expanded dramatically.

From the stone dwellings and fortified outposts, local dark elf reservists emerged into the streets. They carried notched swords, heavy spears, and hunting bows, their leather doublets bearing the faded marks of former service. Without receiving a single spoken order, they fell into line behind the main force, their expressions stern and unyielding.

At the next cavern junction, another outpost joined. Then another.

Word had rippled through the subterranean territory far faster than any messenger could run. By the time the procession passed beyond the outer borders of House Vel'drin, the force had swollen to nearly five hundred armed dark elves, stretching through the dark tunnels like a armored serpent.

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Caius watched the swelling host in awe. Old Bones sauntered beside him, his hands tucked loosely into his sleeves, looking as unbothered as if he were taking a morning stroll.

Suddenly, a group of grizzled, elderly dark elves fell into step beside them. Their armor was mismatched and ancient, pitted with the acid scars and blade marks of forgotten subterranean wars, but their eyes burned with lethal sharpness.

One of the battle-scarred veterans raised a calloused hand toward Old Bones.

Old Bones narrowed his eyes, letting out a rough snort. "You old bastards are still breathing?"

The veteran let out a raspy laugh. "Unfortunately for our enemies, yes." His sharp eyes drifted over to Caius, inspecting the young human from head to toe. "So this is the Macrae kid."

"Stop staring before he cuts off your fingers," Old Bones muttered dryly.

The veteran’s grin widened, showing a row of pointed teeth. "We picked up our weapons because word reached the lower wards that you were marching to war."

"We are not going to war," Old Bones replied evenly.

The old soldier glanced back at the column of five hundred heavily armed dark elves marching in dead silence beneath the cavern shadows. "Of course we aren't."

A dark wave of chuckles rippled through the surrounding veterans.

Caius understood the lethal joke completely. House Vel'drin was playing a high-stakes political hand. Sereth had been summoned before the high tribunal of the Absolute Moon. Rather than launching an open rebellion or launching a surprise assault, the clan was escorting their ward with an army at their back—a silent promise of total, devastating war if the tribunal chose to execute Sereth.

In the subterranean depths, political rhetoric was meaningless without blood to enforce it. House Vel'drin was reminding the entire realm exactly how much blood they were willing to spill for one of their own.

The march continued through the deep roads for hours until the cavern walls opened into a gargantuan, high-vaulted subterranean thoroughfare leading into the grand territory of the Absolute Moon Palace.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The roads widened into paved obsidian highways lined with fortified towers and glowing violet runes. Positioned on distant watch balconies, scouts from rival houses watched the colossal Vel'drin war host pass below, sending frantic messenger birds soaring into the darkness above.

Finally, the grand palace gates loomed out of the gloom.

Carved directly into a cliff face of solid black stone, the palace entrance towered fifty feet above the roadway, fortified with heavy iron portcullises and enchanted murder holes. But before the Vel'drin vanguard could approach the threshold, a wall of black steel blocked the avenue.

Two hundred Palace Shadowblades stood in battle formation across the highway.

Their mirror-polished obsidian armor absorbed the light, their black-bladed longswords resting drawn at their sides. They stood in terrifying, unbroken silence, their posture radiating elite discipline.

The Vel'drin column ground to a halt fifty paces away.

For a long, agonizing moment, neither side moved. Atmospheric pressure spiked as mana radiated from both formations, filling the vast cavern with a suffocating, static charge.

Behind the Patriarch, five house Elders stepped forward, their long robes rustling over black plate mail. At his flank stood his ten golden guards, while Old Bones shifted slightly, placing Caius directly behind his shadow. Across the thoroughfare, two hundred palace executioners held the line, their thumbs resting on their crossguards.

The High Commander of the Palace Shadowblades stepped out from the obsidian ranks, his voice amplified by mana to ring off the cavern cliffs.

"Only those officially summoned by the High Council may cross the palace threshold!"

The Patriarch stood tall at the head of five hundred warriors, his face carved of unyielding granite as he looked past the commander toward the massive black gates.

"Then open the way," the Patriarch commanded, his voice deep and absolute.

The Shadowblade Commander shook his head slowly. "The decree permits only Caius Macrae, the Elder, the Patriarch, and the five house Elders of Vel'drin to enter the inner sanctum. The army remains outside."

The five hundred Vel'drin warriors behind the Patriarch remained completely motionless, waiting for the single word that would unleash a bloodbath. No blades were drawn, but every hand rested on a hilt.

Old Bones let out a long, slow sigh, cracking his neck from side to side. "Well," he muttered under his breath, looking toward the sealed iron gates. "This is going to get exceedingly troublesome."