"Go on," the Primate said.
"Altura is bottled-up, but with essence running so low it's proving difficult to take the battle to them. If we had more support from the Petryans I'm confident we could establish a stronger front and drive through to Sarostar, but there are rumours that Raj Petrya's patrols in the south are being harried by the desert tribes, which is tying up more of their strength than we think High Lord Haptut Alwar is admitting."
"The desert tribes? What business do they have in Petrya? They're generally too busy fighting each other to be a threat."
"They've always harried the southern trade routes, taking caravans and stealing from villagers, but this is something different. I'm getting reports that they have a new leader, and a new lore."
"A new lore?"
"They're just tales really, told second-hand. Warriors, riding out of sandstorms on those beasts they call horses. That sort of thing."
Melovar snorted, a strange sound coming from his ruined nose. "There's no new lore. And it's barbaric, using animals like that. What of this leader?"
"He is a prince, they say, and with his father, the Kalif, he has united the tribes. They have taken a name, Raj Hazara, and the colour yellow, like the sand of their home. Their raj hada is the symbol of a desert rose. They're a warlike people, and this prince is their leader in war."
"It sounds like you're giving this more credence than I had originally thought," Melovar said.
"The tribes are fierce, and this man must be a strong leader to unite them. They even say these Hazarans are building a city in the desert, but these are all rumours, remember."
"It comes down to the question of their lore. Without their own lore, they cannot call themselves a house. Raj Hazara indeed. I'm sure the Petryans can handle them. What else?" the Primate asked.
"In Halaran the people are getting restless, particularly in Ralanast. I want to go to Halaran and take control of their capital. We've established a camp for the prisoners now, just outside the city, so quelling the Halrana should be no problem, provided the correct methods are applied."
"Good, good."
"But we still need a plan for the conquest of Altura. With the enchanters out of the picture, the resistance in Halaran, Vezna, Loua Louna and Torakon will crumble. We can finally bring about the new order."
"Never fear, High Lord Moragon, I have a plan," Melovar said, gazing out from the mountain top. "I will share it with you in time."
"There is one more thing," Moragon said, licking his lips.
Primate Melovar turned, assessing the tall man with the shaved head and the arm of metal. He hadn't heard the melding use this tone before. "What is it?"
"The elixir," Moragon said carefully. "Have you spoken with Templar Zavros? How much remains?"
The Primate smiled and his lips cracked, blood dripping down his chin. Where the fluid touched his skin he felt it burn as it trickled down. "I understand, my friend. Never fear. Every crisis is an opportunity."
Moragon grinned without mirth. "If you see the opportunity here, Primate, you are more clever than I."
"I was always more clever than you, Moragon," the Primate said. "There has just been an attempt on my life. Supplies of elixir are low, but not exhausted. And why are we running so low? Why, because of the many dependent on us to stave off the pain of withdrawal. Am I correct?"
"Yes…" Moragon said slowly.
"So let them feel the pain. Let them vie with each other to show their loyalty. I will start by purging the Assembly of any who knew this priest, Sabithe. Any templar who even spoke with him, who even knew his name, shall be sent to the prison camps, whether he has the taint or not. Those dependent on the elixir will die, and those without the taint, well, they'll die soon enough anyway. I will then have my templars compete for my favour. After a few days without the elixir, they'll be falling over each other to denounce those whose hearts aren't fully behind our cause. The most loyal, the fiercest fighters, the most influential, we'll let live. The rest will go to the camps to experience the exquisite pain of withdrawal. I will purge the Assembly, Moragon. And, like the honing of a blunt edge, what is left will be stronger, sharper, than ever before."
Moragon bowed his head. "This is why I follow you, Primate. And then?"
"When we are done purging the Assembly, we will move onto the houses. There are those, even in Tingara, who are dependent on the elixir but whose loyalty might be in question. There are those like Tessolar, the former High Lord of Altura, who once we had plans for but now are next to useless. We will purge, Moragon."
Moragon nodded. "It is a good plan."
"And when the time comes," the Primate said. "I will reveal my greater plan. The Evermen have shown me a way, Moragon, a way for us to get more essence, more elixir, and to crush Altura once and for all."
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