"Sire. Iffir is dead. The empire's golems are inoperational. Shall we take advantage of the opportunity we have been presented with?"

"You disappoint me."

"...My apologies. But may I ask why?"

"Our goals have been achieved. Why throw away the win."

"Sire?"

"Who cares about a few dungeons and some rocks. The dwarves have as much claim to that accursed land as we do. Let them keep it. One less headache to worry about."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Very well. I shall inform the others of your decision."

"Hmm? Do I detect a hint of disapproval from you? You can always be honest with me, remember?"

"You are projecting weakness, sire. Even if the Elven Confederacy has shown their support, we can overpower them both."

"Weakness? All are welcome to prove that. But you fail to see beyond the obvious. There have been a few too many coincidences as of late. You still have no answers for me?"

"No."

"Try to change that. As a small hint on how to accomplish what I've asked of you, our records concerning Councilor Alcia are... lacking. Find everything you can about her and, more importantly, everyone around her."

"As you command."

"One more thing."

"Yes, sire?"

"Act as if you are being constantly observed. Full precautions. Is that understood?"

"Of course."

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