The meeting began with a recounting of the events of the past weeks. Battles, positions, outcomes, movements. Most of it was already known to Zeke. Not that it mattered. The explanation was clearly not meant for his benefit.
Just as the powerful woman had announced, she never addressed the human forces directly. It was clear that, to her, they were bystanders and nothing more. Neither assets nor subordinates. Instead, she spoke as though the gathered elves themselves had achieved these military feats.
“…Thanks to the strong efforts of the Seventh and Tenth branches, the northwestern defenses were pushed back steadily. This resulted in the reclamation of two towns and control over the lower stretches of the Sibily River.”
Two elves straightened in their seats at those words. They had to be the representatives of the Seventh and Tenth branches. It was almost amusing how they puffed up at the praise, even though they themselves had not done a single thing.
Zeke’s gaze swept over the assembled forces. It did not take him long to identify the associated parties. Their expressions were anything but pleased. Even if claiming credit here would have gained them nothing, having their achievements so blatantly stolen by their employers could not have felt good.
Not that Zeke cared overly much about taking credit.
What mattered far more was determining who was working with whom. Which elven house backed which force. Despite his careful observation over the past days, he had not been able to piece that together. Like himself, none of the others wore their brooches openly.
“…The Sixth Branch, after an impressive first strike, has failed to make any further advances in the western hemisphere, allowing the Legion to divert its attention to other theaters…”
One of the elves, bearing the sigil of an acorn, began to frown. Her baleful gaze shifted toward a group of three humans standing toward the back on the right.
Zeke followed her look. He could tell they were Flesh Mages, with their leader clearly an Archmage, yet their presence felt different from Odyr and his kind. It was a distinct branch of magic. Rather than Druids, they resembled the Flesh Mages who altered faces and forms, lacking the feral edge common to Druids.
“…In the south, the Second Branch has demonstrated resilience and perseverance, holding steady but ultimately failing to advance far.”
Zeke listened carefully, trying to match the faces of the human forces to their respective elven houses. Despite his efforts, the task proved difficult. At times, multiple forces were mentioned together. At others, neither elves nor humans gave anything away during the recounting.
Then he heard something that caught his attention.
“…The Fourth Branch has achieved both merits and demerits in equal measure. Strong battle results, tarnished by the fact that no territory has been held and no ground recovered.”
Zeke frowned inwardly. The Fourth Branch, or Fourth House, of the Matriarchy was House Goldleaf. In other words, his patron.
That meant this evaluation was how they judged his actions.
The realization made him grimace. Or perhaps that was simply to be expected of the elves. As always, they were utterly inflexible in both thought and method.
Holding land. Recapturing cities. These were concepts that might have mattered in a conventional war, but were utterly impractical under the current circumstances. After all, none of the human mercenary forces had brought enough manpower to truly reclaim Rukia. They were elite units, deployed on short notice.
If any of them dug in at a fixed location, they would no longer function as an effective force. More importantly, there was no real point in retaking cities. With most of the population either dead or shipped off to prison camps, what purpose would reclaiming them serve?
Even so, Zeke did not allow his thoughts to show on his face. How the elves evaluated him did not matter. What mattered was using this opportunity to advance his own agenda.
And so, just as the powerful woman finished her assessment of his actions, Zeke stepped forward. In the spacious hall, the sound of his footfall echoed clearly.
All eyes turned to him at once.
Humans and elves alike watched with interest, though their reactions differed. The human delegates showed open curiosity. The elves, by contrast, regarded him with faint irritation—displeased by the interruption, yet wary of what he might do. As he stepped closer to the circle of chairs, a subtle tension crept into their gazes.
Zeke didn't care.
He walked halfway around the circle before stopping behind one of the twelve thrones.
The Fourth House. Goldleaf.
He turned toward his fellow humans, his expression easy, almost amused.
“I am Ezekiel von Hohenheim,” he said, voice calm and unhurried. “Merchant Lord of Tradespire. Head of the Hohenheim Mercenary Company. Representative of the Fourth Branch.” He paused, his smile turning into something faintly mocking. “And the man who has achieved both merit and demerit in equal measure.”
A moment of silence followed as no one seemed quite certain on how to react.
Zeke waited calmly. He had taken the first step, revealing both his origins and allegiance. It was a somewhat risky move to expose so much without any certainty of getting something in return. It was possible that everyone would simply ignore him.
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But Zeke doubted that. Surely, someone would be willing to stir up a little trouble alongside him...
A sudden laugh broke the silence. The giant man, Odyr, stepped forward, his footfalls echoing even louder than Zeke’s. He stopped two seats to the right, behind the second chair. “Odyr of Irroch. Second Branch. Apparently, I have demonstrated resilience and perseverance, but ultimately failed to advance far.”
The announcement was more curt, but it mirrored the format of Zeke’s introduction. He had even included the evaluation the elves had given him, delivered in a similarly mocking tone.
Smirks spread through the hall. A few even chuckled openly. Then, one by one, the humans stepped forward to take their places behind their respective patrons.
“…Lyod Cairnwyc of Valours, House Cairnwyc. Sixth Branch. We failed to make any further advances after a strong first strike.”
“…Edras Vey of the Silent Ledger mercenary company, operating out of Tradespire. Aligned with the Tenth Branch. It seems we performed quite well.”
“…Krazal Bloodletter of Valour. Allied with the Third House of Yggdrasil. Eager to hear how our humble efforts will be evaluated.”
“…Adhira Rakshak of the Red Chain. Ninth Branch. We performed up to standard, or so they say.”
...
One by one, each force took its place behind its respective patron. Though this had all begun with Zeke, the reason the others followed was not simply respect for him.
They had long wanted to make it clear to the elves that they would not simply dance to their tune. Zeke had merely provided a safe outlet to do so. He had simply been the first to stick his neck out and test the waters.
Naturally, he had not exactly endeared himself to the elves by prompting his fellow mercenaries into this quiet act of defiance, but Zeke could not have cared less. After all, it would not be they who would have to stand shoulder to shoulder with these unruly fellows. It would be him.
Zeke did not miss a single word as the others introduced themselves, and Akasha was even more diligent. With every name and title spoken, she expanded the information panels hovering beside their faces. Before long, a detailed profile accompanied each individual.
Eventually, only a single patron remained without a force standing behind them. It was the representative of the First Branch of Yggdrasil. The faction of the Treemother herself.
Almost as one, every gaze turned to the last group that had yet to move. Their leader was a woman with dark hair and a notably dull complexion. Beneath the weight of so many stares, she let out a quiet sigh.
Then, instead of walking, she and her followers vanished, reappearing directly behind the seat of the First Branch.
Zeke’s eyes narrowed slightly at the casual use of Space Magic. This was not the work of a self-taught mercenary. It went beyond what even he could accomplish.
“Stella Eventide,” she said, offering no further details, not even her affiliation.
Even so, the mere act of teleporting prompted quiet glances to be exchanged throughout the hall.
It was no wonder.
The only nation that specialized in Space magic was Cosmoa. They were the foremost experts, responsible for maintaining the entire network that connected all major cities and states across the continent.
Needless to say, they were a neutral power. Even more so than Tradespire. With control over access to nearly every land and city, they depended on trust more than any other faction. To date, there had never been an incident in which Cosmoa officially took sides in a conflict or allowed its teleportation network to be abused.
Had that ever happened, they would never have been permitted to retain their position.
Of course, the chance of betrayal was never zero. But Cosmoa could only afford such a move once. After that, they would never again be trusted by any power, not even by those they might have aided.
This reality was precisely why Cosmoa took its impartiality so seriously. It was not merely an official stance. Even individual Cosmoan nationals were rarely seen participating in armed conflicts.
In fact, Zeke had never heard of a mercenary company hailing from Cosmoa at all.
Thinking about it more carefully, that might have been the very reason Stella had not given her origin in the first place.
Whatever the case, now that the final representatives had taken their places, the affiliations of each faction were finally clear.
Zeke swept his gaze across the hall, studying the panel hovering beside each person in turn.
1st Branch: Stella Eventide — Unknown.
2nd Branch: Archdruid Odyr — Irroch.
3rd Branch: Krazal Bloodletter — Valour.
4th Branch: Ezekiel von Hohenheim.
5th Branch: Kernt Ossyrian — Valour.
6th Branch: Loyd Cairnwyc — Valour.
7th Branch: Karas Skarn — Invocatia.
8th Branch: Marek Volst — Tradespire.
9th Branch: Adhira Rakshak — Korrovan.
10th Branch: Silas Dorn — Tradespire.
11th Branch: Ryn Greymarch — Rukia.
12th Branch: Vajran Kothari — Korrovan.
It was quite the gathering.
Aside from himself, two other groups hailed from Tradespire, both well-known mercenary companies backed by Merchant Lords. Each was led by an Archmage: Marek Volst and Silas Dorn. Both men appeared seasoned and calculating, veterans of many wars.
Akasha’s information confirmed as much.
In addition, three Houses of Valour were present. House Cairnwyc, specialists in Flesh Magic. House Ossyrian, the Bone Mages. And, of course, House Bloodletter, his own paternal lineage.
When Zeke’s gaze passed over them, Krazal Bloodletter offered him an eerie smile. The man looked young, but as an Archmage, Zeke could not be sure of his true age.
Next were the two factions from Korrovan: Vajran Kothari and Adhira Rakshak. Both were Archmages leading a mercenary company, and eachwas accompanied by Chimeroi slaves. The dark collars were worn openly, without shame or pretense.
Even at a glance, Zeke could tell these Chimeroi were elite fighters, likely no weaker than Ash or Gravitas. Just one step away from the peak.
Zelkara, however, was of a different caliber. After entering the hall, the Pureblood had glanced at them once and then never again. The Slaves, on the other hand, kept casting wary looks in her direction. Clearly, they could feel the Bloodline Suppression of one who stood at the pinnacle of their kind.
That left three groups that stood apart from the rest.
The first was Odyr. Irroch lacked any formal system of governance, and little was known about who truly held power within the jungle. Even so, it was obvious that the Archdruid was a force to be reckoned with. Zeke was not yet certain how trustworthy he was, but having met him before, Odyr was among those he was willing to trust the most.
The next group was led by Ryn Greymarch. Strangely enough, he and his company were natives of Rukia. Before the war, they had been one of the strongest mercenary companies in the region, often tasked with suppressing monsters.
From what Akasha had gathered, it seemed they had been away on assignment when their homeland was overrun, and had simply intended to stay away until the storm passed, if not for the elven offer. Zeke could not fault them for that. Had they returned earlier, they would have walked straight into death.
Lastly, there was Stella Eventide.
Neither Zeke nor Akasha had any information on her. That alone was neither good nor bad. But her earlier, effortless use of Space magic allowed some educated guesses. Even if she was not from Cosmoa, she was almost certainly connected to them in some way.
After giving everyone a moment to inspect one another, Zeke broke the silence.
He faced the woman at the center of the room, now standing much closer, and said, “Apologies for the interruption. Could you please repeat what you were saying about the performance of the ‘Fourth Branch’? I am quite curious to hear how ‘they’ performed in your eyes.”
The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable. This was an open challenge. Zeke wanted to see whether this so-called coordinator had the nerve to continue her casual evaluation now that she had to address the forces involved directly, rather than speaking through proxies.