Outside the carriage window, Magron approached on horseback, his tall frame casting a shadow against the morning light. His horse slowed to match the carriage’s steady pace, hooves hitting the ground with a rhythmic, almost ominous thud.
Ren looked up as Magron drew alongside, his face marked with the rough, hardened expression of a seasoned warrior.
“We’re about to cross the river Ropa,” Magron reported, his voice firm but wary. “Once we’re past it, we’ll be within the municipal borders of the capital.”
The words tightened the air inside the carriage.
Hazel’s fingers clenched in her lap as memories of that river surfaced—a cold, desperate night when she had tried to let its dark waters consume her. The frigid bite of the current, the feeling of sinking… She glanced away from the window, the memory flooding her mind.
If not for Ogren, she would have found her end in those depths. She resolved, then and there, to repay him in full when Ren claimed the throne and her role as queen was secured.
“That’s good news,” Ren responded to Magron, though his tone carried an edge. “But what of Lucius Antony? Has he readied his forces to meet me?”
“No… King,” Magron answered, catching himself and switching to Ren’s new title. “The road remains unobstructed. Yet the city gates are shut tight. We don’t know what’s happening on the other side.”
Ren’s jaw tensed, his gaze growing sharper as he considered their predicament. Every muscle in his body seemed to coil with the tension of the approaching confrontation.
They lacked the numbers for a true siege; he knew he’d need the king’s allies within to succeed if a battle broke out. But the closed gates symbolized the city’s resistance, like a wall that might force them into a brutal clash. The air around him grew thick with the weight of looming battle.
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“If we must,” he murmured, his voice low but resolute, “we’ll force our way through and trust that those loyal to us find the courage to rally when they see us.”
Outside, the river Ropa appeared on the horizon, glistening in the light like a silver thread, cold and foreboding. Each step they took toward the capital felt like another stone thrown into an already turbulent lake, sending ripples out into an uncertain future.
Magron’s face hardened as he inclined his head. “One more thing,” he began carefully, his eyes scanning the road as if unwilling to meet Ren’s gaze. “We’re starting to have… trouble with the southern raiders.”
Ren’s brow lifted, a flicker of tension crossing his face. “Trouble?”
Magron hesitated, then spoke in a low, steady tone. “Some of the high-ranking members are growing restless. They’re calling your decision to march on Ropa an abandonment—some even whisper betrayal.”
A slow anger simmered beneath Ren’s outward calm. His eyes narrowed, and his voice held a sharp edge. “And how long have these murmurs been spreading, Magron? You should have informed me the moment you heard of this.”
Magron clenched his jaw, swallowing his own frustration with himself. “It’s only been two days, my lord. A small faction at most, and if you wish, I can have them silenced before the sun sets,” he offered, the weight of his failure pressing down on him.
Ren leaned back, his gaze distant yet calculating. "Upstarts," he muttered, almost to himself. "Always eager to seize an opening when it presents itself, no matter how small." He felt a sudden itch to return to the south, to remind his raiders of the authority they dared question. But now—now he was on the cusp of something greater, and he couldn’t afford distractions.
“No,” he said firmly. “At least, not yet. I’ll send a warning. Deliver a letter to remind them where their loyalty must lie, and of what happens when they stray.” His voice dropped, a quiet but resolute threat lingering in the air. “After Ropa, you’ll return south and deal with them yourself. Until then, our focus is here, on Lucius Antony and this city.”
Magron nodded, though his jaw remained clenched, his eyes dark with self-reproach. With a sharp nod, he jerked the reins, urging his horse into a gallop that sent clumps of dirt flying in his wake.
Ren watched him pull ahead, a silent specter riding toward the river and the ominous walls of Ropa beyond.
The carriage continued its journey, the weight of new uncertainties heavy in the air.