The dim light of candles barely illuminated the dark room with its high vaulted ceiling and roughly hewn stone walls. The air was thick with tobacco smoke, lazily curling over the massive round oak table. Maps, scrolls, and half-burned papers stamped with seals lay scattered across the table. Guards stood silently along the walls—grim, armed, and ready. Anyone entering this room underwent strict scrutiny: matters discussed here could alter the fate of the entire world.


    Among those gathered at the table were representatives of all the major races. Hulking goblins, stern dwarves, elven commanders, and a dark elf sat with expressions of deep concentration. At the center of attention was one of the most imposing figures present—Thaurin the Vengeful, an orc general. His massive, scarred body stood out even among the other warriors. Clad in heavy armor, his enormous two-handed sword lay nearby, ready for use.


    His voice, rough and powerful, cut through the silence like a hammer striking stone:


    ''''So, we’re here to discuss how to save those wretches in the lands of men? It’s simple: we take an army, march there, and wipe them out. Those pathetic creatures have no place on this earth. They’re weak, vile, and deserve to be erased from the world. Why should we stoop so low as to save those who dug their own graves?''''


    The silence that followed his words was oppressive. For several seconds, no one uttered a sound until Matius, the dwarven representative, broke the silence. Short, stocky, with deep-set eyes and a thick beard, he looked like a seasoned warrior. A crossbow hung at his back, and a short sword rested at his belt. He lit his pipe and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke before speaking:


    ''''Thaurin, the days of the Great War are long gone. We no longer destroy each other. Now we are allies. If you don’t understand that, we’ll have problems. We must help the humans, not kill them.''''


    Thaurin snorted, baring his tusks.


    ''''If you’re so eager to help those worms, go ahead and do it yourself. Just don’t drag the orcs into it. We have more important matters than dealing with their problems.''''


    Matius, remaining calm, released another ring of smoke and continued:


    ''''We are in a united alliance, General. That means we act together. Either you accept that, or return to your mountains and forget about the support of the rest.''''


    Thaurin roared, slamming his fist on the table with such force that papers and maps jumped. The goblins in the corners tensed, and the room filled with tension.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ''''Shut your mouth, dwarf! One more word, and you and your halfling runt will regret it.''''


    Matius calmly took a drag from his pipe and blew a stream of smoke directly at the orc:


    ''''Don’t forget who gave you that scar on your left shoulder. I’ll gladly add a couple more if needed.''''


    The silence was shattered by the sharp voice of a goblin sitting to Matius’s right. His face twisted into a smirk:


    ''''Matius, you’re overconfident if you think you can survive this fight.''''


    But before he could finish, Thaurin barked:


    ''''Sit down, disgrace to your kind. At the Battle of Atmer, your cowardly soldiers fled the field, leaving my warriors to die. I lost fifty fighters because of your treacherous blood. I can’t stand allies like you.''''


    The goblin hissed angrily but obeyed. Matius laughed loudly, shaking his head.


    <hr>


    The tension was diffused only by Lucius, the elven commander of the Council. His gleaming armor shone in the candlelight, and his face remained cold and focused. His voice was firm but devoid of emotion:


    ''''Enough. We are here to discuss business, not measure our strength.''''


    He turned to Thaurin, his gaze turning icy:


    ''''You must understand, General. I, like you, hate these humans. If it were possible, I would gladly gut a few more families for their ''past deeds.''''''


    His voice took on a manic edge, causing even Thaurin to tense. Matius closed his eyes, as if trying to hide his unease. Lucius continued:


    ''''But this is not about revenge. These creatures—shapeshifters, the fruit of human folly—pose a threat to us all. If we don’t stop them, they will come to our lands. We must isolate them, and if that means protecting the humans, so be it.''''


    Thaurin exhaled and leaned back. His face showed clear displeasure, but he said nothing.


    Lucius continued:


    ''''Each kingdom will provide four hundred warriors. In two weeks, they will march to Limus. This is only the beginning. Further orders will follow.''''


    <hr>


    The silence was broken by a young halfling sitting next to Matius. His gaze was serious, and he spoke calmly:


    ''''Lucius, what will happen when these monsters are gone? What will become of the humans’ lands? Clearly, they won’t be able to hold their territories.''''


    A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone exchanged glances, as if silently dividing the lands among themselves. The goblins whispered among themselves, their faces lit with sly smiles. The elves sat motionless, but their eyes grew wary. Thaurin gave a slight nod, his expression stony, while Matius stared intently at the halfling, thinking, This fool risks starting a new slaughter.


    Lucius calmly replied, defusing the tension:


    ''''You’re looking too far ahead, Janian. These questions require time. Right now, we must focus on the first phase of the operation.''''


    He paused, then spoke:


    ''''The first phase is simple: we fortify Limus and prepare for a reconnaissance mission. Further instructions will follow.''''


    The tension eased slightly, but a hidden threat still lingered in the air. No one asked any more questions. The candles continued to flicker, casting long shadows on the walls, while the smoke from Matius’s pipe lazily curled over the table.