The Lord of Blades paced his chambers in Sharn, letting out a roar of anger. This was not good, not good at all.

His diviners had reported that Quarrian, his agent at Arythawn Keep, had been slain, and the bridge destroyed. Vol’s army would have a much harder time crossing out of the Mournland now. And if Quarrian was no longer guarding Vol’s amulet, Lucan’s forces too might slip out of his grasp. All because of this group of humans. I wished I could just rip their beating hearts out, as I did with Boranel, he thought.

He reached the end the room and turned to pace again.

Everything seemed to be coming apart. The expedition to Xen’drik was waylaid and destroyed before the ancient technology could be recovered. Vol was reporting delays in her arcane breeding programs—something about the glowing chasm’s energies being “too unpredictable,” pah—and the alliance with Droaam was as shaky as ever. But we have to march soon, he thought. Every day we delay, Thrane and Karrnath gather their strength. Every delay means more allies for them. We have to strike now!

No. Impatience would only bring about ruin.

But these humans. This strike team—famed throughout the human lands. Even among my own ranks, there are whispers of fear. “They destroyed Falchion,” they say. “I hear they’re headed into the Mournland to try for Vol next,” say others.

Unacceptable. Something must be done about them. And soon, before they destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to build. A group that powerful could turn the tide in any battle, and we can’t afford to lose the ones coming up.

With a inward smile, the Lord paused his pacing. Yes… she will do perfectly. They thought Quarrian was a fun creation? Wait until they’ve seen this one… “Dagger!” he called out.

“Yes, Lord?” replied a rather diminuitive warforged, appearing almost instantly in the doorway.

“Bring me Vol’s latest… delivery. I have a task for her that I think she will find to her liking.”

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