Anassa worked at Baalka's curse. Another strand of sorcery plucked at Baalka's soul, tried to get it moving, and was rejected once again. Why did the woman not respond to anything? No matter what Anassa did, it all seemed ineffective.
Did Baalka not want to leave that little prison of hers?
Three months had passed since Elassa had instituted her ancient Great War regimen into Arcadia. Fortia looked at the results of it before her. "Nineteen hundred and fifty report Goddess Fortia!" A pyromancer in a red cloak shouted, he threw up Elassa's classic salute. An open palm raised next to the face. Fortia did the maths in her head, a hundred and fifty teams have arrived. Elassa had not been slacking off whatsoever. When the letter came through that Arcadia was sending troops, Fortia had expected a hundred, maybe two hundred. A thousand had been out of the question. Almost two thousand Fortia didn't even dream of.
