Ren's new office in the palace of Ropa was still unfamiliar to him. The polished stone walls, rich tapestries, and heavy wooden furniture held a sense of grandeur that felt alien after the ruggedness of Aropia’s southern territories had been with him for over a year.
Across the desk stood Magron, his most trusted ally and the one who had followed him through the darkest of times. Magron’s stance was stiff, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his brow furrowed with frustration.
"You want me to go and stay?" Magron's voice was rough, barely keeping a lid on his frustration. " If I don’t come back, who will watch your back here in Ropa while you deal with the politics of Lucius Antony and all those scheming senators?"
Ren looked up from the papers spread across the desk, his eyes cold and unyielding.
He placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "The raiders need a strong presence to remind them where their loyalties should lie. They were the first to follow me, but now they're questioning my authority. Some of them are looking to replace me, Magron. You know what happens if they succeed."
Magron’s lips twisted in anger. “I know exactly what happens. They know too much and it won’t be good if they turn on you. I understand that , but I should be here, with you, in Ropa.”
“No,” Ren replied, his tone steady and final. “I need you there, not just to stop this mutiny but to maintain order. The south is restless. Even if you crush this rebellion, it won’t be the last if there isn’t someone strong enough to keep them in line. And right now, that person is you.”
A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
Magron's eyes blazed as he stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "I will stop them. I’ll put every last one of those traitors in the dirt if I have to, but I won’t stay. I won’t leave you here alone to deal with these vultures circling above."
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Ren straightened, his voice hardening. “You think I’m alone, Magron? I have Ogren. I have Hazel.”
Magron shot back. His fists clenched. “They weren’t there when we bled in the southern deserts, when we fought with nothing but scraps and desperation. ”
Ren’s gaze darkened, his patience waning. “Will you just fall to command for once!”
“Command?” Magron’s voice cracked like a whip. “ Am I hearing those words right?”
Ren’s temper flared. He slammed his fist down on the desk, the sound echoing in the grand chamber. “Command!” he snapped, his voice shaking with intensity. “I’m the same man who led them out of a wasteland. The same man who turned a ragtag group of raiders into the force that took over the south. And those triumphs were not achieved by you questioning me on every turn.”
Magron's eyes flashed with fury. “ I should be at your side. That’s where I’ve always been, and that’s where I belong.”
“You belong where I need you,” Ren said quietly, the storm in his voice dissipating, replaced by an icy determination. “And right now, that is the south. You can’t come back. You won’t come back.”
Magron’s breath hitched, and for a moment, it looked like he might lash out—might throw the desk aside and do something reckless. His chest heaved as he struggled with himself, every muscle tense. “I fought wars for you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I gave everything. And now you’re asking me to go and never come back?”
“No,” Ren said ,his eyes unwavering. “I’m asking you to go and fight another battle in my name.”
Magron’s shoulders slumped, the anger slowly draining from his face, replaced with a deep, weary sadness. He looked away, his jaw working silently, his hands trembling at his sides. “I never thought we’d come to this,” he murmured.
“I won’t lie by saying I didn’t,” Ren replied . “But that’s the price of power.”
“I’ll do it,” Magron said bitterly.
“Good,” Ren replied.” His posture softened slightly, relief mingling with regret. “Thank you, old friend.”
Magron didn’t respond, turning on his heel and striding out of the room without another word. The heavy doors closed behind him with a final, echoing thud, leaving Ren alone in the echoing silence of the palace—a king to be, and yet somehow more alone than ever.