It was a beautiful day.
The sun was shining, the wind was mild, and everything felt almost suspiciously calm.
Hibisco would not stop talking about his victory. He truly would not stop.
"Que" Quercus Hojaoscura, on the other hand, was quiet. Not disengaged — just quiet. Too quiet.
The Arcane Council requested assistance with the construction of the bridge. Apparently, it would improve the safety of travel.
Hibisco paused to think.
“Fine. We’ll bring the wood. They’ll bring the eggs.”
Anacardo frowned.
“Eggs?”
Que shrugged.
“I heard they help hold the structure together.”
Que y sus amigos were in good hands…
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Everything went according to plan.
The armies met and got to work.
Even without the eggs.
It turned out that roosters do not lay eggs — at least, that was how the general of the Tzeentch army presented it.
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In the end, there was only one thing left to determine: who the bridge would belong to.
It was not the Sylvaneth.