Marquis Nicholas Lyns would soon be crowned as King Nicholas the Fourth of Cernlia. He was so close to the crown he could taste it. And yet, he’d never felt closer to despair.

As he stared out at the army ringing the walls of his capital city, he wondered once more where it had all gone wrong. He watched the banners flapping in the breeze, unsurprised that his daughter had not chosen to fly the one of their march. There was a new one he had never seen before, and something told him it was the Hive Queen’s, given the placement close to the center of their army but flying low at an odd angle from the others, as if whoever put it up did not care enough to ensure a good position. It was marginally better than seeing it flown above the others in a place of prominence, but he still felt like the silver stars and crown on a field of black mocked him.

He could trace every one of his decisions, and for each one, he had thought he was making the right choice. Of course, especially lately, that had only been because of a painful dearth of options. If only he had been able to prevent Kiara’s escape … but even then, he should be honest enough to admit that it would not have solved the situation. It was only one step among many, even if it was a step down into an abyss.

Perhaps if she really had been killed falling from that window … a traitorous inner voice whispered. He shook his head. Even if she had, who knows what it would have wrought? The Hive still had June, and Florance with our son in her womb.

Sending Kiara to Esemen, to marry, had been an attempt to get out of this troubling conflict. He’d known she wouldn’t like it, but at least she would be safe and alive, and so would everyone else. But she had escaped, shot by an arrow from the soldiers he placed to watch and prevent such a thing, and gone to the Hive. For her, he imagined it was the obvious choice.

Trying to retrieve her from there had been born of desperation, an attempt to salvage anything from this disaster. A desperate attempt to restore the remnants of his original plan and prevent war. He hadn’t dared to try and rescue Florance before, either, but with the situation so desperate, he had chosen to take the gamble. He hated himself a little for the contingency instructions he had given the assassins — for few had skills such as would be needed for this except Assassin Classes — but he had thought Kiara’s death would be better than letting her freely rebel against him. Marginally better. It was all a mess. Perhaps he should not have done it at all, he should have negotiated and they could still have come to an agreement.

He would have had to name her as his heir, of course, that would have been the least she’d ask. But now …

It was a little galling, looking out over the soldiers following his daughter, proof that she had managed to bring far too many lords to her side. In any other situation, I would be proud of her.

It will not last, he thought, but even in his own head, he could not tell whether he was trying to warn or reassure himself.

The low blast of a horn resounded over the plain around the city, startling him from his thoughts. He winced, then watched carefully. There was movement from the army around the gates.

“Your Majesty!” A runner came up to him, gasping for breath. It was a child of no more than twelve, he recognized after a moment, dressed as a page and with the Class to match.

“Yes?” He asked curtly. “What news?”

“Movement from the northwest, Milord,” the messenger reported. “It appears to be the army the scouts have reported. They are flying several banners, Cernlia’s as well as what we assume to be the Hive. The lord general is asking to ring the palace bells to alert our forces.”

He considered it for a moment. “If they’ve only just come into view, there’s no need to be hasty. Plus, they might have spies hidden in the city. There’s no need to ring any bells, simply pass the order to ready the men. And tell the generals I’ll be there shortly,” he added.

The boy bowed and scurried off. Lyns walked along the walls, grateful for his cousin’s foresight in including a covered walkway that allowed one to look out beyond the walls. If only he’d been as wise in other aspects of his reign. He shook his head and kept walking until he caught sight of the shadow on the horizon that was the approaching army, coming out from the shelter of the hills to the west.

Even without a proper spyglass, it was obvious that the army was moving fast. If his intelligence could be trusted, it was composed of Hive drones and Delvers. Hivekind troops were always able to move more quickly than expected, he knew — something about being able to walk on four legs instead of two, according to what he had heard speculated. Perhaps their inhuman coordination played a part. It might simply be because they were not encumbered by having to carry much in the way of supplies. And the Delvers would all be of decently high levels. At least those that had been sent to accompany the Hive’s army. They would be formidable enemies, he knew.

He still cursed himself for not putting a higher priority on recruiting the Delvers. He could not even guess whether it would have worked if he had put in more of an effort, instead of being distracted by his daughter and other matters while he was fighting his cousin. But he had never expected them to ally with the Hive Queen, especially not so quickly. There were rumors, of course — and the fact the Delvers appeared to have given them some credence, since why else would they work with a nonhuman, had concerning implications.

Right now, he could only hope it meant that even if he lost, his people would not simply be reduced to servants of the newcomers. Surely the Delvers were far too invested in putting humanity first for that to happen?

But considering these things didn’t prepare him for the coming fight, so Lyns quickly turned after he’d confirmed the report and hurried back to his war room. On the short walk through the city, armed bodyguards surrounded him, ensuring there was a clear space around him where none dared approach. The gazes of the common folk were curious, occasionally excited, but also fearful. He did not stop to speak to any of them, but it was enough to notice the tension lying in the air. It was not unfamiliar to him; the tension before the beginning of a battle always felt like this, nerves taut and the threat of violence lurking beneath seeming tranquility.

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What remained of his commanders had gathered to prepare now that they could expect the battle to start soon. Assuming that his enemies decided to act instead of simply continuing to siege the city with no change, of course. To his gall, several of his best commanders were gone, either dead or turned traitor to serve Kiara now, he could not be sure. Those who remained were all veterans of the war, true enough, but their morale did not appear particularly high as he joined them. The war room had been his predecessor’s, close to the palace barracks and the gate to ensure swift action could be taken. It had maps hung on the walls and a few scratches on the heavy table with more maps spread across it. Perhaps it wasn’t the most auspicious choice of location, but he was not going to be chased out of the room by shadows.

“Thank you for the prompt response,” he said, a bit stiffly, but he was aware the courtesies were important in times like these. “What do we know of our enemy?”

“The reinforcing army appears to be headed to join up with Princess Kiara’s host, Milord,” Lord Sainjis, one of his generals, said, before he winced slightly, apparently realizing belatedly how he had referred to the army that should have been theirs.

“I see,” he responded, giving no other reaction. “Do we have a better estimate of their numbers?”

“They appear to be accompanied by a force of flying drones several thousand strong, Milord. Our best estimate is between two and three thousand, much less than what we have seen before. Their ground troops are at least ten times that number. We can only guess there are several hundred Delvers, although finding an exact number has proven impossible. I apologize for my failure.”

Lyns shook his head. “We are significantly outnumbered, but we still have the advantage of the city walls,” he said, trying to sound reassuring and confident despite the dryness of his throat.

Unfortunately, he could tell it did not work very well to reassure his men. Or perhaps fortunately, he did not want his commanders to be fools, after all.

“Milord,” Thamesin, the leader of his mages, spoke up hesitantly. At times like this, he felt the loss of Zephyr, who he was certain would have offered his service to him by now. Last he had heard, the Thaumaturge was still rotting in a prison of the Hive, who had not managed to get any further information on that ritual they were so interested in. This man was not even the original court mage, who had died in the war as well.

“Yes, what is it?” he snapped. “All of you are to speak freely.”

“Perhaps it is not too late for diplomacy?” Thamesin offered cautiously. “We should ask for parley. Surely it cannot do any harm?”

Lyns frowned heavily. He understood the sense in what his mage was saying and didn’t rebuke him for it, but he found the prospect of asking for terms rather disagreeable. “I think we all know what they would demand.”

“All due respect, Milord,” Sir Benard spoke up. “But if you abdicated the crown, at least you would keep your life.”

He glared at the knight, gritting his teeth and biting down on the urge to order him punished for impudence. Benard would never have dared to speak like this if he wasn’t one of Lyns’ oldest and most loyal knights. He knew his words were most likely born from genuine concern.

Several of the men in this room were likely thinking something similar, but more concerned with keeping their own lives.

“We have not yet lost,” Lyns stated after a long moment of hesitation, drawing himself up and armoring himself in royal composure. “I have faith that my allies in Esemen will come through for us. Our enemies are a loose coalition of momentary shared interest, who have not faced us before. We have some of the best walls in the world and our stores are ready for winter. There is no cause to despair just yet.”

“Well said, Milord,” Sainjis agreed, then turned to ask a question about the scouting report.

Lyns leaned back in his chair and listened to his commanders argue, occasionally settling a minor debate. He was uncomfortably aware that he was lacking in seasoned, competent strategists, even if his commanders all had experience commanding men. He had also been forced to choose who to name to important posts by proven loyalty, but at least he was confident these men were loyal to him.

At the moment, there were no major decisions to be made, he realized quickly. They had anticipated the arrival of the Hive for some time, and the siege was progressing as expected. For now, they could only ready themselves to deal with it and prepare for a time when, and if, Kiara, or whoever was pulling her strings, decided to attempt to storm the city. He was confident their supplies would only last her forces a few months at most, so they would have to either withdraw or attempt to force the walls in due time. Not before the army coming as reinforcements had properly arrived, however. They would need to learn to fight together, which he suspected would pose challenges.

Lyns ended the meeting after all relevant details were clarified, then left the room as one of the first. The others made way for him.

He itched to return to the walls and make another round, looking at the opposing army, but he knew his time would be more productively spent elsewhere. Still, he could not resist the urge to take a detour through the barracks housing the palace’s garrison. They had been recently expanded, serving as one of the strong points to fight back against further raids by the Hivekind. Their usage of flying drones required certain adjustments to traditional strategies.

It was while returning from his quick tour, a few hundred steps from the entrance to the royal palace proper, that he heard it. He froze, questioning his hearing for a moment, before his legs took off as if by themselves. A bell was ringing, the signal calling his men to arms.

The signal that they were under attack. Now he could hear it repeated, the calls of horns joining in.

“Milord!” Sir Renard met him at the doors, while several of his men shoved them open. “The Hive is gathering another large group of flying drones, they have started moving over the city. And we have reports from several outposts close to the walls as well as in the inner city saying that they are under attack. Smoke has been reported from others, we’re still getting confirmation but several have burned.”

Lyns closed his eyes for a moment, biting down on the urge to swear. So, they are not waiting after all. “They attacked just when they knew we would be settling in for a long siege,” he muttered. “Are there enemy soldiers in the city?”

His knight hesitated, causing his stomach to drop. “Perhaps, Milord. We cannot be sure. We are trying our best, but …”

“How could they have come in?” he interrupted. “The walls are still holding strong! We have not even had the alarm raised until just now!”

“Tunneling, perhaps?” Sir Renard offered uncertainly.

This time, he did swear. He should have remembered. The Hive was known for its use of tunnels. The foundations of the new city walls were supposed to be deep and strong, but perhaps not strong enough.

Then, he faintly heard another sound of horns — then joined by a low, steady thrumming, the beat of war drums.

“Lady Kiara is mustering her forces as well,” Renard said unnecessarily. “They might attempt to storm the walls soon, while the Hive’s fliers sabotage our efforts in the city.”

Lyns nodded slowly. He didn’t voice the thought that they could only hope this would be all of what they would have to deal with.