Later that night, most of the camp had retired to get what little sleep was afforded to them before tomorrow's battle. It was going to be an early start, no doubt. A few lookouts stayed awake in case of an attack. Archbishop Patrice Starborne stayed up for another reason. She had been buried in books ever since they left Elusis, scouring over the many texts Jahree had given her and those taken from the Illuminant Repository back in Radevic.

They were missing something. Patrice was sure of it. What, she could not even hazard a guess. Not yet anyway. A lot still didn't add up, and she had hoped to find the answers within history books and journals.

The Harpy King's foolish conquest was certainly an explosive and impressive feat. Seizing the power of elementals, drawing unlikely allies to his side, taking Bravost and holding it, capturing countless towns across Sala'vir, and finally setting up his next campaign in Avanesse. But like a sorcerer's spells, they were destructive and brief. Nothing more. When studied under a magnifying glass, keener eyes could see that his war was doomed from the start.

Elementals didn't last very long in the mortal plane, and elemental lords had more control of their vessels than initially believed. Sol Rown, Riley Dryoak, and Riben Crow's loyalty to him were based on selfish wants. Once the war ends, they owe him no more loyalty and would take with them a significant chunk of his armies. In Elusis, brewing discontent was going to lose him his control over the country to Jahree. And Toro Squa was ready to hand Bravost back on a silver platter.

So, what did the Harpy King hope to achieve in all this?

Patrice racked her head over the answer. She slammed Savir Under the Last Grand Sultan shut and threw it across the carriage. The book hit the door, then the ground with a heavy thud. She shoved the stack of ancient and delicate tomes to the floor. Nothing was more frustrating than not knowing the answer to a question.

"Archbishop, are you alright in there?" a worried guard stationed outside asked.

"No! These books tell me nothing! Why do I care if Grand Sultans practice polygamy? This is useless knowledge." Patrice groaned.

Another guard hushed his peer.

Sighing, Patrice picked up the books and arranged them neatly back on the table. She reached for the last one, only to pause at the sight of its title. Felmetal. The versatile alloy used extensively by dwarves of the past, which the Harpy King recently thinned his army across mining settlements to acquire.

"Well, I wonder." Patrice emerged from the carriage to the surprise of her guards.

Too far. Too deep in the Commonwealth camp to see anything. Patrice walked to the edge of camp overlooking the field of fiery tornados sweeping back and forth. The Harpy King and Elirashj's brief battle had conjured them, and it seems they were here to stay.

A dark elf lookout sat nearby on a rock. He must be from Highgreen judging by the tabard. His miserable and bored expression was actually a good sign that danger wasn't coming to the camp.

"You there. Do you have a spyglass on you?" Patrice asked.

"Huh?" The lookout glanced up and quickly rifled through his pockets. He produced an old copper spyglass that had seen plenty of use. The glass was slightly tarnished. She snatched it from his hands, breathed on the frame, and wiped the condensation off.

When Patrice looked through, she was able to see the front part of the Harpy King's camp. The spyglass offered a clear enough view that she made out small details, like soldiers eating, patrolling, and walking away to take a piss.

"Nothing interesting to report, Archbishop. It's been a very quiet night," he said.

"I'm sure." But it was what Patrice didn't see that got her curious.

Amethyst and the rest believed the Harpy King hoarded felmetal to make weapons out of. That wasn't an easy process. If he was doing that, then where were all the pillars of smoke rising into the night? The sky was clear, save for one large column of smoke deeper in the camp. She shifted to the tunnel entrance into Dry Gulch. Forging weapons underground also made no sense.

What were they up to?

Patrice returned the spyglass to the lookout. With purpose in her step, she headed to the prisoners area to confront Toro Squa, passing by Amethyst's tent along the way. The lights were still on. Loud moans erupted from inside followed by the applause of clapping hips. Commonwealth army commander Manabe could be heard talking dirty. Two large eager beastmen, one a minotaur and the other a horseman, drew back the tent flaps to enter. Guards outside were red up to their faces. Just like a succubus to drown herself in sex before battle.

Past them and away from the party, Patrice found Ivory and Red still guarding the cage of Toro Squa, the Scorching Dervish. The two were a few more hours from swapping shifts with Silver.

"Archbishop? What are you doing still up?" Ivory asked.

"I have questions that only the prisoner can answer." Patrice walked up to the cage to find Toro sitting upright and awake.

"And what makes you think I am willing to answer anything?" Toro raised a brow.

"How does your freedom sound?" she offered.

"What?!" Both Knights of Colors gasped.

Toro's interest had been piqued. The elf scooted closer to the bars until his features shown clearly under the torch light.

"You have my attention," Toro said.

"Archbishop, you can't be serious. This is one of the bastards that locked me up. He gave you guys a helluva in Bravost, too!" Red exclaimed.

"It will not be immediate. When the Harpy King is well and defeated, I'll have your cage unlocked. Where you go after is up to you. If we are defeated, you are freed either way. You may accept my proposal by answering me this, or don't: what does the Harpy King intend to do with all that felmetal? Because it is most certainly not to make an arsenal of weapons with," Archbishop Patrice explained.

The other two turned to face him.

"So, you have noticed." Toro pressed his fingers together. "I had planned to leverage this information to Queen Kanae tomorrow, when she is pressed for time. Your suspicions are correct. Forging weapons for an army of 10,000 in such a short time is impossible, especially felmetal weaponry. And not to mention, crossing under Avanesse's cursed sun is no simple matter. A large number of Elusis soldiers aren't infused with elementals, and scores would perish taking a step into the border. Thus, he proposed a different plan. To build an altar and seize control of the sun with the help of an elemental lord of fire. Not to suppress the heat, but to raise it. Make it so unbearably hot that Sultan Cerberus would have no choice but to submit."

"Is something like that really possible?" Ivory gulped.

A gale picked up. Elirashj appeared upon the Knight of Red's shoulders.

"Uzazzsa, that piece of charcoal." Elirashj hissed. "We elemental lords are nature's unbridled manifestations. Without speaking to her merit, it is possible. Your sun is merely a giant ball of fire peeking in from my home plane, and the curse, if I'm not mistaken… is elemental in origin."

There!

Patrice's lips creased into a wide smile. Everything fell into place. What made little sense before suddenly became clear.

"The Harpy King is a madman… We have to tell Amethyst!" Ivory turned to leave.

"No!" Patrice blurted out.

Both of them, even Toro, stared at her with their mouths agape.

"Our forces are not fit to do battle. They marched three days straight, and tomorrow will truly push them to their limits," Patrice explained.

"But we have to do something about that felmetal altar, right? If the Harpy King makes it even hotter tomorrow, we're all fucked!" Red growled.

"I will go," she said at last.

"You don't mean…" Ivory trailed off. "Archbishop, at least take a group of soldiers with you. Or us. Let us go in your place!"

Patrice shook her head.

"If any sizable group approaches them, they will take it as an attack. If either of you go, they will not hesitate to fight. It must be me and me alone. Maintain your stations. Do not tell Amethyst. However this night ends, you will aid Amethyst in ending the war tomorrow," the archbishop said.

The Knights of Colors straightened their backs and saluted. Patrice did the same, then fetched a ronoa from the stables before leaving. Coming up to the front of the camp, however, she discovered Camilla Rudeux on lookout duty smoking from a long pipe.

"Heading out?" Camilla asked.

"To the enemy camp. Don't try to stop me, Camilla. Shield Discarded, Sword Unsheathed is still in effect until I say it isn't. You are not beholden to protecting me. I'll also not be needing these." Patrice handed her staff and wand to the Saint Priest.

Camilla expelled the fumes and took the weapons. In exchange, she offered the pipe. Patrice stared at it for a moment and finally relented. One puff brought her to a coughing fit.

"I'll never understand why you like this so much." Patrice spat on the ground and tried to give the pipe back.

"Oh, I got more." Camilla waved a dismissive hand. "That's for you. Live a little. You won't enjoy things to the fullest with your nose buried in books. I'll give you props though, for being willing to get your hands dirty."

With the pipe clenched between her teeth, Archbishop Patrice rode out. The ronoa sped through the field. They were frighteningly fast when not pulling carriages or wagons. Giant tornados of fire roared past them. The heat was unbearable, and the smoke even more so. She covered her nose with her sleeve, but her eyes still stung.

Finally, after crossing the hellscape, the Harpy King's war camp was within reach. As expected, a group of harpies rose into the sky and some footsoldiers gathered.

"Halt!" a harpy shouted.

"I am unarmed and seek an audience with the Harpy King." Patrice dismounted and lifted both arms in a show of surrender.

They exchanged uneasy looks between each other, trying to discern if this was a trap or not. A few harpies came forward to pat her down for weapons but found nothing. Another slapped chains around her wrists before leading her inside, while a second flew off presumably to inform the Harpy King.

The front of the camp was a mess. Tents and debris were strewn all over. Soldiers worked tirelessly to dump rubble onto carts to move elsewhere. Unsurprising, seeing as Elirashj sent them a violent welcome gift earlier in the day.

Patrice also noticed that the camp was divided into two parts that wasn't immediately obvious at first. Where she had entered from, many tents were small and cramped. Soldiers were stuffed into poorly-made barracks, sleeping shoulder to shoulder. Campfires were small and pathetic. Farther in, harpies resided in larger and more spacious shelters.

They brought Patrice not to some large lavish tent, but to a clearing in which a throne had been built onto a wagon. The seat was empty. Tiki torches staked into the ground ignited suddenly. It became exceedingly bright. Heat nipped at her skin as a harpy descended from the sky onto the throne seat. His mechanical felmetal wings moved unnaturally behind him before settling on his back. He wielded a staff made of the same metal, ending in a carved symbol of the sun.

A sneering elemental with dark red skin and jet black lips clung to the Harpy King's shoulder. Whipping hair danced like the flames of a bonfire. Her very existence was so hot, some of the soldiers that brought Patrice here backed away from the heat.

"You came from the direction of Queen Kanae's camp. Tell me why I should not execute you where you stand," the Harpy King said.

"I am Archbishop Patrice Starborne of Radevic. I come as an academic. What you plan to do with me at the end of our conversation matters little. I am here to sate my own thirst. But first, could I trouble you to remove these shackles? It is awfully difficult to speak." Patrice shifted Camilla's pipe from one side to the other and rattled her chains.

The Harpy King motioned for them to do so, and they did. The shackles clattered to the ground. Patrice rubbed her wrists, then plucked the pipe from her mouth. However, her reprieve didn't last long. The tyrant of Elusis rose from his throne and leveled a hand raging with fireball at her.

"If the next words to leave your mouth are uninteresting, I will add you to the coals of my firepit," The Harpy King threatened.

"I have figured you out. What you intend to achieve. Why this war. You seek to spark yourself onto the path of Deification," Patrice said.

Whispers abound from the nearby soldiers and guards. The spell in the Harpy King's hand fizzled out. One corner of his mouth curved up to a smirk.

"And how did you come to this conclusion, Archbishop?" The Harpy King asked.

"It would be my pleasure to grant you a lesson." Thrill swelled up in Patrice's chest. "No one truly knows how one enables Deification. We can study past candidates, contenders, and current deified individuals. Sometimes it is passed down, as is the case with the line of Grand Eyes; People worship the status, and not the person. Demon Lord Charron achieved it through sheer strength. Others, like the succubus Queen-Mother Zariah, cultivate their followers through subjugation. Another succubus entered the path by creating a cult that has grown into a religion."

"And have I done something similar?" he tested her.

She continued while pacing back and forth, "No. You sought a different way. See, you never intended to hold Bravost. You only wanted to strike hard and fast, spread your name like a wildfire in a forest after a dry spell. You hope that once you have shrouded Avanesse under your shadow and ash, the fear of millions of Savirans will elevate you onto the path of Deification. I couldn't have known this had Toro not told me of your plans with felmetal."

The Harpy King applauded. He applauded so loudly that it stung Patrice's ears.

"I commend you. I've only told a handful of my closest, yet you deduced it all so succinctly. Yes, I intend to ascend exactly as you had put it. But Toro informed you of my plans? Surely, without the finer details. Perhaps, you would like to see it with your own eyes," The Harpy King offered.

"I wish for nothing more before I meet my maker!" Patrice exclaimed.

"And I am gracious enough to grant you that wish. Come." He beckoned to her.

They walked past the clearing and drew ever closer to the border that would finally be considered Avanessi domain. The many tents grew sparse and gave way to an altar still under construction.

Three totems made of felmetal were erected up to twenty feet in height. The center totem and highest one possessed a crescent cradle holding a large and round glass pane. Laborers carted in ingots of felmetal. Fire elementals melted the bars onto totems, earth elementals etched runes into them, and water elementals on the verge of evaporating splashed water to cool it down. Shamans and mystics were busy drawing a ritual circle in the sand, and others chanted power words to activate the totemic runes.

"Demigod Glentir's pilgrimages to Buhar were simple pilgrimages. He studied, he learned, and built the chamber to commune with the elements— and later buried it. My shamans replicated what he achieved but used felmetal to amplify the magic involved," The Harpy King explained.

"Fascinating. Glentir deserved his godly status. I'm impressed." Patrice breathed deeply of this momentous undertaking.

"Indeed. Tomorrow, the sun will rise to herald the next step of my ascension. All of Savir will utter my name in terror. Deification. To become a living deity." He walked up to the stone altar beneath the tallest totem and spread his metal wings out.

Patrice smiled alongside him. She knew something he did not. That Kanae Toyomi was a candidate for Deification. Tragedy must befall Elusis, Bravost, and Avanesse for the Harpy King to rise to the status of a contender, but his defeat had all been spelled out from the very start.

Tomorrow, the sun was going to rise. But the Harpy King would fall, so that Kanae could finally achieve Deification. The archbishop repeated this to herself like a mantra, but guilt bit at the depths of her chest. She calmed her nerves by taking another drag of Camilla's pipe. Unfortunately, the herbs inside had all but burned out. A pleasant high seized hold of her mind and soothed it.

Live a little, the Saint Priest's words echoed.

"We've talked enough." The Harpy King cut through like a knife. "I've shown you too much. You cannot be allowed to live. Though, it seemed you were prepared for this from the very start."

"I am. However, I can't help but notice that one of your shamans inscribed a rune incorrectly. It bothers me so much that I may return as a wraith in death," Patrice said, coming up behind a beastman shaman.

"Which rune?" he asked.

Patrice pointed to it with her pipe, then spun around and flung the ashes in the Harpy King's face. He recoiled and covered his eyes. Meanwhile, she threw a haymaker at the shaman, snatched his staff, and plugged a mana potion into her mouth.

"Stop her, you fools!" The Harpy King cried.

"Holy Armament: Suit of Armor and Big Fucking Hammer!" Archbishop Patrice bellowed. Clad in golden plate, a gargantuan mallet materialized in her hand, she lifted into the air as lesser elementals tried to stop her. She swatted them away with the unwieldy weapon, but her true aim was the totem and glass.

The giant hammer came down hard, shattering the glass pane first and nailed the totem flat into the earth. Snaking flames grabbed hold of Patrice, dragging her down and ripping pieces of Holy Armament's armor off. The fires burned her skin and clothes, yet she couldn't contain her laughter.

"You tricked me!" The Harpy King screamed.

"Not at first…" Patrice sneered. "But I've studied tyrants like yourself and know you can't help but gloat. And gloat, you did. To the point of showing me your precious altar! Haha! How stupid can you be? I understand now how the term 'bird-brained' was coined! You don't deserve Deification. It would tarnish those who are deified."

His anger subsided when Uzazzsa whispered into his ear. "No matter. Your sacrifice has been for nothing. All you have done is delay the inevitable. I will defeat that succubus' army and take all the time I need to rebuild the altar. As for you… your suffering has only just begun. I want you alive just enough to see how futile your sacrifice is."

Uzazzsa breathed the fires of the sun into the Harpy King's hand. Amethyst was going to achieve Deification one way or another. She didn't need Patrice to expedite that process. She also wouldn't appreciate the deaths of untold thousands to make that happen. The archbishop closed her eyes, feeling at peace with herself as the flames enveloped her.