In those days, the Chain was in service to Lady Sariel.

They met in a graveyard.

“I have given you arrows of liannar,” the woman said. “The bloodmetal. Made by father. Forged in the same fire and of the same steel as the Teeth of the Dragon. Use them.”

“You’ll have to get close,” the nobleman next to her said. “The range on those things is short.”

The Commander shook his head, openly skeptical. “We need…you said you’d give us the tools we need and we get this? Aren’t you some kind of…? Mortum’s got so many wards, his wards have wards.”

“Look to your chronicle,” the ethereal woman said. “The bloodmetal pierces all such defenses.”

“Commander?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Yeah?”

“Mandrake’s sword is made of bloodmetal.”

“Is that right? Ok, well…. If one sword could kill Vitae, maybe five arrows will do the trick.”

“Baz-kor. Korz rogesh. Bezdin tok,” the half-orc baron barked.

“What did your half-orc say?”

The noble shifted in his armor. “He said five arrows is a waste of four arrows.

“Because you’ll only get one shot.”