Chapter 3: A Predator’s Baptism
The dig site was a wound carved into the earth and now, finally, the High Elves were stitching it shut.
Magister Veridan Caeleth stood atop a ridge of broken stone, robes fluttering in the rising dawn wind. Below him, teams of Adept Mages and Spellwrights moved with quiet, disciplined efficiency. Each fossil was sealed under reinforced containment wards. Each artifact was cataloged, boxed, and marked for restricted transfer.
Around the perimeter, the Magisters raised stronger wards, shimmering nets of force, woven from sigils older than kingdoms. Designed to contain not just physical threats, but astral and planar breaches as well.
No risk would be tolerated.
Not now.
The researchers, Arcanists and Apprentices alike were escorted back toward the academy in secure carriages under heavy guard. Veridan issued orders without needing to raise his voice.
At his command, a sealed missive was sent to the nearest military outpost, Fort Vael’Zareth, garrison of the High Elves’ southern defense ring.
Fort Vael’Zareth was a standard Type III Outpost. Solid stone walls, defensive wards etched into every brick, a central keep housing the command structure.
Typically, such outposts garrisoned between 500 to 700 soldiers, depending on strategic importance.
Their structure was ruthlessly simple:
Spearlings, raw recruits, barely trained. Shieldbearers, veteran infantry, trained in formation fighting and siege defense. Arcblades, elite close combat units, often trained with light magic enhancements. Aether Archers, mage augmented archery units capable of elemental arrow rains. Battlemages, spellcasters assigned to direct battlefield application. Warmasters, officers commanding companies or coordinating magical firepower. Fort Commanders, the outpost’s supreme commander, answering only to the Magisterium Council.