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2412, Crescin 6, Kindreth; Jered Kilemna
Rhys slammed his hands on the table. The sound was muffled by the ice, making it sound like a fish slapped the surface. Tch. He couldn't even get the satisfaction of expressing his anger successfully. He blew a breath, braced his hands on his hips, and paced.
"Stop it. Look, you've already burned the ice with your soles," Cyrdel said.
Rhys looked to his feet then frowned. The brownie heir snorted and took a sip from his steaming cup of tea. It's confusing how the brownie could be so calm especially after what happened earlier. How in Umazure was Cyrdel there, sipping tea like there's nothing going wrong above them?
Rhys resumed his pacing, his mind already buzzing with ideas on how to turn the tide around. This was a bad day possibly because of the holiday. It's Jered Kilemna. The Day of Death. Perhaps, it would have been better if they had forgone the attack today as Rhys had suggested.
Sadly, the Grand Marshal was so eager to drive the enemies out of the Capital she ordered a frontal attack on the main flank. Not only that the platoon they sent failed miserably, the secret of the last resort was out.
The Grand Marshal, apparently, had been monitoring the camp and planned to blow up the earth underneath them. It was a genius plan and would certainly ensure the survival of the Capital and the perishing of the enemies. If it worked.
Nobody counted on how good Kymalin Iaro was at torture, almost as good as Eldan. In less than an hour, she had wrung out every answer she wanted as well as the sanity of the soldiers their enemies had captured.
Rhys's blood burned when he saw the state of the ice sprites dropped at the Capital's west entrance. They were bloodied and could barely talk in complete sentences. Nyxis was still in the healing hall doing his best to restore the ice sprites back to health.
Then, as if the enemy was not finished, the Cardovic unit decided to launch a full-platoon attack on the upper levels. The ice sprites held out at first but it became clear that with limited resources on their countermeasures against the different synnavaimis, they weren't going to last long.
It's Cyrdel's job to oversee the production and to offer his expertise. What was he doing on the one-hundred and fiftieth floor, drinking tea?
Cyrdel raised an eyebrow and took another sip from his cup. "Why are you looking at me like you're angry?" he asked.
"Probably because he is," Ravalee interjected, her tone clipped. It's like she sensed that there's something that's going to happen and that she's trying her best to contain it.
Cyrdel whirled to his girlfriend and snorted. "Him? Angry? What for?"
"Shouldn't you have anything better to do other than drink tea?" Rhys stalked to where Cyrdel sat on a mattress.
"Whoa, chill," Cyrdel spread his hands as he stared up at Rhys. "I'm just resting. I'm going back to the crafters in a moment. What better way to rest than spending it with your loved one?"
