"That represents our optimal scenario," Aurelia interjected, seamlessly continuing the discussion. "However, my lord, should the Cynthians deploy magical countermeasures before your forces breach the gate, we confront a significantly more challenging tactical dilemma. To simplify the arcane mechanics: portal destinations must be locations we have physically visited—or in exceptional circumstances, perhaps areas within our immediate visual perception. Otherwise, the risk of spatial displacement or complete molecular disintegration within interdimensional rifts increases exponentially. Creating a stable portal amidst chaotic battlefield conditions presents formidable difficulties—even Julia's considerable talents would yield success probabilities barely approaching fifty percent."

  "A fifty percent chance, exactly!" Julia corrected, with no small amount of indignation.

  Raveirmom Dear steepled his fingers beneath his chin, contemplating. "Thus, cavalry transport presents comparatively diminished risk factors."

  Aurelia confirmed with a measured nod. "Though perhaps you've neglected to consider an additional hazard category."

  "In that case, I'd prefer death by blade or arrow over molecular disintegration during portal transit," Ash declared bluntly. (Mind-reading—remarkable audacity.) "Each path forward has its own perils, my lord; it is merely a question of degrees. But few would choose a death within a portal's embrace. It is not just the agony of it, but the profound, existential horror of having one's very existence scattered to an unknown, unhallowed void."

  "That particular dread resonates with my understanding..." he acknowledged, momentarily distant. "For immediate strategic purposes, I believe optimal results will emerge from methodological integration: employing portal transportation to compress temporal requirements, followed by cavalry escort to front-line positions. Specific implementation will necessarily adapt to evolving battlefield dynamics."

  "That alignment precisely matches my own strategic assessment." Aurelia concurred. "We should initiate movement toward Cynthia's gate without unnecessary delay. My lord, when does your most efficient supply contingent depart?"

  "I've authorized no logistical convoys. My operational timeline anticipates breaching the Gate of Cynthia before midday—consequently, subsequent deployments will consist exclusively of infantry formations."

  "Then infantry accompaniment becomes our default option. Necessity dictates pragmatism."

  Duke Dear could not entirely conceal his astonishment at this abrupt departure from the coddled and luxurious habits he associated with sorceresses. "You propose advancing with infantry assault units?!"

  "What alternative presents itself?" Aurelia challenged. "Have you conceived superior methodology? Underestimate our capabilities at your peril; our garments' design hardly precludes rapid locomotion when necessary."

  Raveirmom found himself momentarily speechless. "You... continually subvert my expectations, ladies."

  "Sufficient theatrical misdirection," Lostya Huggins remarked, continuing her self-examination without interruption. "We shall utilize equestrian transport."

  "I shall coordinate arrangements appropriate to evolving circumstances. Timing of subsequent infantry deployment depends entirely on cavalry performance metrics. You'll receive formal notification when preparation becomes necessary."

  Aurelia acknowledged this with a silent nod. "An additional inquiry," Ash interjected with characteristic animation, "will your forces deploy our manufactured implements?"

  "Contingent upon necessity," Raveirmom Dear replied, directing his attention toward her. "Should conditions deteriorate sufficiently, implementation will occur."

  "Their operational requirements remain remarkably straightforward," she elaborated. "Comparable to blue-fire torches—actually, significantly more intuitive." The duke considered this momentarily. "Our personnel have received adequate preparation."

  "Their reliability remains absolutely guaranteed, my lord. Your concerns in this regard are entirely unwarranted." She responded directly to his unvoiced thoughts.

  Subsequently, the tent's atmosphere reverted to its previous state: Aurelia immersed in profound contemplation, Ash Davan attempting to reclaim her perpetually fascinating cup, Julia preoccupied with her colleague's mysterious injuries, and Lostya Huggins progressing ever deeper along her path of narcissistic self-appreciation.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  The assembled sorceresses appeared to have collectively dismissed Raveirmom Dear from awareness—this intrusive embodiment of concentrated masculinity. "Do you require additional assistance?" Julia inquired, noticing his continued, seemingly entranced presence. "My lord?"

  "You address me?"

  "Yes, my Lord Duke," Julia replied, sensing a subtle but definite shift in his usual bearing. "Is there some further intelligence you wished to impart? Or perhaps some command you have yet to issue?"

  The man responded with uncharacteristic abruptness: "Ah, no."

  "Then your continued presence suggests—" Aurelia swiftly intercepted her companion's impending discourtesy. "I believe a perimeter exploration would prove beneficial, sisters. Since our arrival yesterday evening, we've neglected proper reconnaissance of the encampment surroundings."

  Julia directed an irritated glare at her. "Your observation proves timely, Aurelia," Ash contributed enthusiastically. "I intended to inspect the training grounds last evening."

  "Julia, you'll accompany our expedition. Regarding our distinguished Miss Huggins... she may continue her self-appreciative pursuits undisturbed."

  Only at this juncture did Julia comprehend Aurelia's intentions through telepathic perception, though she exhibited minimal enthusiasm. "What destination do you propose?" Lostya inquired, belatedly registering her companions' movement. "We're undertaking a brief exploratory circuit."

  "Oh... then perhaps I should—"

  "No, your presence remains here."

  Lostya appeared momentarily incredulous. "For what conceivable reason must I—" Ash, demonstrating characteristic agility, had already slipped through the tent flap, followed immediately by Aurelia, arms folded in studied nonchalance. "Julia!" Lostya's attempt to retain her final potential ally proved unsuccessful; Julia departed with a resigned sigh, vanishing beyond the tent's threshold. The sorceress cast a peripheral glance toward Raveirmom Dear before deliberately averting her gaze, lips contracting in unmistakable displeasure.

  "Your companions demonstrate remarkable... situational adaptability." He immediately recognized his phraseological misstep. "Forgive me. I intended to acknowledge their interpersonal perceptiveness."

  "Their perceptiveness extends exclusively to your requirements, not mine," Lostya Huggins maintained her characteristically imperious tone. "More precisely, they employ telepathic intrusion. Their awareness extends even to your most mundane physiological imperatives—including precise moments when bladder relief becomes necessary."

  "I doubt such trivialities would captivate their interest."

  "Such certainty proves premature. Relevance depends entirely upon specific compositional elements." The words escaped before she could suppress them, triggering immediate self-consciousness. "What specific requirement brings you here, esteemed Duke Dear?" She turned her increasingly flushed features away. "I suspect your presence isn't motivated solely by desire for aesthetic feminine companionship. Though such motivation would hardly prove incomprehensible..."

  "...What precisely occurred?"

  "Clarify your inquiry," she responded, failing to comprehend his meaning.

  "Those injuries you bear."

  This provoked Lostya Huggins's third vocal outburst of the morning. Upon Aurelia's departure, the concealment enchantment had been completely neutralized. Her wounds now appeared not merely aesthetically disturbing but completely exposed to scrutiny. "That malevolent hag!"

  "You must provide a comprehensive explanation." His increasing proximity triggered proportional withdrawal on her part. "Your correspondence from Crivi contained no reference to injuries of this magnitude."

  Having retreated until the bed's edge prevented further evasion, she resolved to confront the situation directly. "These represent merely a fraction." She removed her protective hand from her right breast, simultaneously elevating her skirt to reveal her inner left thigh. "My collection of wounds encompasses considerable variety." She had anticipated this display would compel Raveirmom Dear to avert his gaze or redirect the conversation, but neither expectation materialized.

  "Arrow penetration? And... those appear to be predatory claw lacerations?"

  "Indeed. Your assessment proves entirely accurate." Her defiance collapsed completely.

  The duke positioned himself at the bed's edge. "I require full disclosure, Lostya. Without omission."

  "...I find this topic profoundly uncomfortable."

  "Explain."

  She recognized in Raveirmom Dear's expression the unmistakable command presence—a directive that permitted no refusal. "These injuries were sustained during my journey to Crividsylvan. While traveling alongside courier personnel."

  "Why does Ivan Northes's official documentation contain no reference to these incidents?"

  "Because Ivan Northes demonstrates consistent compliance with my directives."

  "...Did you encounter difficulties during Aethelwing transformation procedures?"

  "Such facetious suggestions are inappropriate. Lostya's metamorphic capabilities achieve nothing less than absolute perfection. The causation lies elsewhere."

  "Your correspondence mentioned lupine and chiropteran assaults during your journey. Your assessment attributed these to magical influence. If my interpretation remains accurate, you suspect Cynthian arcane practitioners orchestrated these events."

  The sorceress responded with a negative headshake.