The great hall of Valoria's keep thrummed with tension as Elian Valorian faced Thrain Ironfist, a dwarven envoy whose rune-etched armor glinted under starbloom chandeliers. His braided beard, studded with Aether crystals, spoke of Crystalline Peaks' wealth. Guards lined the hall, their Aether-infused spears gleaming, their eyes fixed on the dwarf. Elian's Aetherforged Blade rested on the throne's armrest, its blue glow a quiet threat.
"King Valorian," Thrain rumbled, his voice like grinding stone, "Ironhold's march endangers us all. The Peaks offer 2,000 warriors, Aether cannons, and crystal shipments—for half your Aether mine yield for ten years."
Elian's jaw clenched. The price was steep, but Valoria's 2,000-strong army couldn't face Ironhold's 5,000 vanguard alone. He glanced at the Faith System interface, invisible to others.
[Current Belief Points (BP): 3,300]
Gold might sway Thrain, but an artifact could seal the deal. "Show me options for 3,300 BP," Elian thought.
[Gold: 330,000 gold coins (1 BP = 100 gold)]
[Aether Crystals: 330 crystals (10 BP = 1 crystal)]
[Rare Diplomatic Seal: 1,000 BP]
The seal could tip negotiations. Elian focused, willing the system to act. "Convert 1,000 BP to Rare Diplomatic Seal." A golden medallion materialized in his palm, its Aether runes pulsing softly.
[Current BP: 2,300]
Veyra, the lean Shadow Rogue, raised an eyebrow from the shadows. "Where'd that come from, sire?" he murmured, his dark eyes narrowing.
Elian slipped the seal into his sleeve, masking the summon with a casual gesture. "A relic of Valoria's vaults," he said smoothly, holding it aloft for Thrain. "This seal binds our pact with Aether's blessing. I offer 200 Aether crystals, 100,000 gold, and a quarter of the mine yield for five years."
Thrain's gaze locked on the seal, its glow softening his stern expression. "A quarter? Bold for a human king. The Forge Council will consider it, but don't expect mercy if you falter."
As Thrain turned to leave, General Korran, his scarred face tense, leaned in. "That seal… never seen it before," he whispered, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
Elian waved him off, his mind on the alliance. He turned to Veyra. "Ensure our scouts are ready at Dawn Pass. Ironhold strikes in two days."
Veyra nodded, his dagger glinting. "No surprises will slip through, sire. But Ravencrest's spies are still a threat."
The hall's stained glass, depicting a warrior sealing a dragon pact, loomed over Elian. The Faith System pulsed, a reminder of his power—and the fragile faith it relied on. Before he could strategize further, a messenger burst in, armor clanking, face pale. "Your Majesty! Ironhold's scouts are at Dawn Pass—early! They're moving fast!"
Elian's blood chilled. The war was closer than expected, and every choice now was a gamble. "Prepare the defenses," he ordered, gripping his blade. Valoria's fate hung in the balance.