Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- Know Thy Enemy -

Surrounded by the white serenity of the Imperial Palace's security room, Vackzilian poured over dozens of floating screens. Line by line, he combed through the Imperial archives, determined to locate every piece of information he could concerning Merinia.

Silence rang in his ears and he leaned back as he finished reading the last entry.

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles, he thought to himself, recalling the quote by the ancient strategist Sun Tzu. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

Yes, even today that saying still rang true, the Emperor thought as he close his hand and dispelled the holographic screens.

Vackzilian had lived for several hundred years, so he fancied he knew himself quite well. However, his knowledge of the ancient island, formerly known as Madagascar, was limited. Of course, attacking the kingdom of Merinia this soon had not been part of his original plans.

Suddenly, movement from the main screen drew his attention as his perimeter spells around Montipora—the coral mining city at the easternmost tip of Alfireá—notified him his spies had returned.

His underlings, just like the kingdom of Merinia, were also unknown factors. In truth, they were more like rabid dogs on tight leashes than well-studied, predictable elements—a fact that irritated Vackzilian to no end.

Closing his eyes, the Emperor reasserted his consciousness into his hologram thousands of miles away.

Like water being pulled through a long, narrow straw, Vackzilian's consciousness left the white walls of the palace far behind and reappeared in the city hall of Montipora. He frowned as the eclectic colors of the epoxied-coral floor assaulted his eyes, along with the floor-to-ceiling ocean mural made from broken shells. The citizens of Montipora were fanatic coral miners and it certainly showed in their artistry.

The sound of heavy, booted footsteps sounded on the coral floor as The Fallen One pushed away from the back wall and strolled over to a pile of dirt sitting in the middle of the great hall. "It's about time," he muttered, touching his foot to the pile of dusty clay. With a hiss, the dirt reshaped itself into a topographically correct map of the kingdom of Merinia.

Vackzilian eyed the map while heavy grunts echoed outside as his spies landed on the steps of the City Hall. Marching through the open double doors fashioned from driftwood, they ripped off their earthen disguises and tossed them to the side.

"Report," Vackzilian commanded, looking up from the earthen construct The Fallen One had formed.

The two spies snapped to attention. Their black armor glinted in the yellow light of the moon at their backs and the light from the conch-shaped lamps overhead.

Thudding his fist against his armored chest, the blood oath sporting a red bandanna on his arm for some reason or another, responded. "The Merinians, as you said, have no real army to speak of, and what little they do have are preoccupied with trying to provide relief for a hurricane that just swept their shores."

"Ah yes," Vackzilian replied, thinking of the disruptions in the weather patterns his meteor had caused. "A nice little side effect of the destruction of Glandledale. And the guardians? What information were you able to verify?"

"It is as you said," the second blood oath scout replied. "There are five of them: one for each corresponding element. Though from what we've heard, some of them can use more than one."