The heavens roared above Tamara as Tamiron surveyed the scene from the back of his loyal taranos, Amagar. Clad in resplendent green and gold armor, the Tamiron Stone pulsed on his chest, a beacon of determination amid the stormy sky.
Despite the city’s current state, it remained a breathtaking sight. His anger simmered, unable to fathom how someone could inflict such harm upon his beloved city. Tamara was home to millions whom he cherished and tended to with unwavering dedication. Now at the mercy of a madman.
The city symbolized the pulsating heart and soul of the entire Empire, an embodiment of unity against all adversities. With a thousand years of history, Tamara stood as the culmination of the unification of the Trasidarkind—a bastion of hope, peace, and triumphant perseverance.
Uniting fourteen kingdoms under one rule was a monumental achievement that took centuries, leading to the prosperity enjoyed until the tragic day his father passed away, signaling the end of an era. An era that embodied the dream of a united Trasidar.
Now, that dream faced an uncertain future, threatened by those who sought its demise. Tamara teetered on the edge, caught between being a symbol of a glorious past and the precarious hubris of an uncertain future. In this moment, he hoped against hope that he could still salvage his beloved city and resurrect the Trasidar Dream.
He stood in the midst of his comrades at arms, preparing for the impending siege upon his cherished city, now in the clutches of a traitor.
“I can hardly believe I’m witness to Tamara’s fabled beauty in such dire circumstances,” remarked Glaivel from atop his steed.
“You can stay after we retake the city,” he replied, his gaze fixed on his sister’s army as they meticulously moved into formation.
“An offer I may not refuse should we come out of this alive, Tamiron,” Glaivel quipped before galloping away.
“When can I advance?” Kaira inquired; her eagerness was palpable.
He assessed her, contemplating. “Can I stop you if I say that you’ll wait for the vanguard to engage?” he asked with genuine concern and wonder.
Kaira responded with a sly grin, prompting a sigh from him as she darted towards the front.
“That woman, no respect for authority,” he chuckled, shaking his head while his companions carried out their respective tasks.
“Shall I follow her now, your Grace?” Graveloth inquired from his left, seated atop his steed.
“Graveloth, you don’t have to address me so formally. We’re comrades,” he said, offering a friendly smile.
Graveloth chuckled, “I’m not taking any chances. The last time I was cheeky with royalty, I ended up in prison.”
Amidst the ensuing laughter, they discerned a serious undertone behind his laughter. Their laughter gradually subsided as he cleared his throat. “Well, Graveloth, along with Kaira and Sevidon, you will be at the forefront,” he instructed. Then, turning to Sevidon, he added, “Perhaps the three of you can advance now.”
Sevidon shook his head in agreement, heading towards the vanguard. “Come, Graveloth. We must ensure Kaira doesn’t inadvertently target our own troops.”
“Ah, I must warn you, this is my first war,” Graveloth confessed, closely following the experienced warriors.
“Will they truly be alright?” Aresa inquired, his concern evident.
“Oh, I’m sure they will,” he assured, then directed his attention to Ravaen and Aderon, both of whom were still hovering above them.
“Both of you will be tasked with securing the walls, along with the winged regiments. Clear?” he reminded them.
“You do not have to remind me, Tamiron,” Aderon replied.
“Don’t mind him; he’s just a bit irked because he has to take orders from you,” Ravaen added with a mischievous grin. Ignoring the banter, Aderon departed, visibly displeased, while Ravaen did the same, but in the opposite direction.
As they awaited the next moves of their enemy, or lack thereof since the adversaries were behind the walls, a logical decision for them not to confront the loyalists. He took a deep breath.
Aresa approached him and questioned, “By the way, where’s Everess?”
He glanced behind, eyes fixed on the command tent where Tamara and Everess held their strategic position.
“She’ll be our trump card. If the tides turn against us, she’ll tip them back in our favor,” he said confidently.
Curiosity sparked in Aresa’s eyes, and she inquired, “Why can’t she just use magic to blow the gates or walls?”
“I don’t need magic for that,” he replied with a smile.
A distant rumble resonated through the air, capturing Aresa’s attention, and leaving him flabbergasted by the unfolding spectacle.
“How…” Aresa could only manage a breathless utterance.
“How indeed,” he replied, as the colossal gates of Tamara began to creak open slowly.
Raising his right arm, he declared, “It is time! Retake the Capital! For Tamara and the Trasidar Empire!”
As his rousing war cry echoed, their forces surged forward as they began their advance. Simultaneously, the enemy, deceived under Menoich’s influence, poured out in confusion. They were probably confused as to what was going on, as this was clearly something any soldier and commander would do out of the confusion, regardless if they were disciplined or not.
This only further affirmed his hunch; Aragrad, a disgraced Imperial guard with whom he held no fond memories, was not fully in control.
“The shadows are always watching,” he uttered.
From their vantage point, the sounds of a fierce clash resonated from the vanguard. Graveloth wreaked havoc with his tornado, breaking the enemy lines, and clearing the way for the loyalists to advance and capture the city gates.
Aderon and Ravaen were also busy at the walls as they captured the key points, as they rendered the guardian buttes useless.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“We should advance now,” Aresa suggested, seeking his commands. “What are your orders, my Liege?”
Taking a deep breath, he observed the smooth progress as everything was going according to plan. With his shadows successfully infiltrating the city defenses, it seemed only a matter of time before they seized the city and the palace itself, possibly within the day. However, he doesn’t want to be too complacent.
“We can proceed and attempt to capture the inner walls. Something tells me it won’t be as straightforward as this,” he remarked as he advanced, surveying the scene of enemy soldiers collapsing under the relentless pressure of the loyalist forces.
The initial phase of their plan had succeeded.
However, a prudent commander wouldn’t underestimate the current situation, even with the populace on their side. The extent of Menoich’s influence over the city forces remained uncertain. They still couldn’t tell how much of the city forces was under Menoich’s control.
A challenge even his trusted shadows couldn’t decipher. This uncertainty left him with no choice but to be cautious, sparing only those who willingly surrendered their weapons to be taken into custody.
Aware that the soldiers were merely following orders, just as he had, leading to the present circumstances, he and Aresa, accompanied by other generals and their bodyguards, reached the breached front. His taranos strode confidently outside the city gates, overseeing their forces flooding the city. To his surprise, he encountered numerous captured soldiers—men and women alike — all visibly stunned at the unexpected sight of him.
Fear was evident in their eyes, unaware of his survival in the Battle of Melgrace and the fact that he had fallen under enemy control. Halting in front of them, he dismounted from Amagar and positioned himself before the captured troops.
Observing them, he noticed soldiers on the side carrying a large banner intended for placement atop the walls.
“Halt,” he commanded, and they obeyed, moving closer as he addressed them.
“I understand you have no idea what’s happening, but I promise that when this is over, the truth will be revealed. Right now, all I can tell you is that Menoich has deceived you,” he declared, eyeing the bewildered soldiers. “More on that later. What I need to know now is whether I can trust you to be loyal to Crown Princess Tamara Lluch.”
The soldiers exchanged glances, then, one by one, kneeled earnestly. “We will be loyal to the Crown Princess,” they declared in unison.
“Good. Demonstrate your loyalty, the deceived defenders of the Imperial Capital, by hoisting the banner of the Rosy Horns atop the walls. I also expect you to persuade anyone you encounter within the walls to join our cause or face the consequences,” he commanded. The soldiers holding the banner received assistance from their once-captured comrades, and they proceeded to enter the city and ascend the walls.
“Let’s head towards the inner walls,” he directed as he mounted his taranos once more and galloped, closely followed by Aresa and their bodyguards. Some of the generals stayed behind as they took command of those outside.
As they made their way, he saw some of the citizens caught in the aftermath, as he saw their stunned faces as they laid eyes upon him. While some of them began to clean up the streets, some were stunned and frozen where they were.
All in all, everyone had the same expression etched on their faces — fear.
Fear of the unknown, fear of what would transpire after this upheaval. It was an unfamiliar sight for him. It was the opposite. In the past, he had inspired hope; now, he seemed to evoke only the darkest nightmares.
It was an unsettling feeling, especially when you were trying to save them from a tyrant. But it couldn’t be helped—they didn’t know the truth. He couldn’t shake the belief that the truth would emerge after all was said and done.
As they neared the gates of the inner walls, they noticed a gathering of soldiers engaged in a skirmish, impeding their progress. They couldn’t approach the gates themselves.
Gazing up at the towering gates, all he could think was that his shadows hadn’t fully infiltrated this part. Dismounting from Amagar, he walked toward the front. As he drew closer, the faint clanging of swords and various war cries reached his ears. It seemed Menoich had managed to gather some loyal soldiers for himself.
His fists clenched as he pressed forward, realizing his comrades were busy securing the outer ring. The responsibility to break the stalemate fell on him.
Advancing to the front, he spotted Aragrad as he stood in the way of justice, not only for what had befallen him but also for his father.
A surge of pent-up anger enveloped him. “Aragrad!” he called out.
Aragrad responded with a despicable grin and said, “Ah, the Red Prince.”
Hearing the title again, his ears rang. He contemplated holding back to demonstrate the restoration of his humanity.
“I’m offering you one last chance to redeem yourself, Aragrad. Stand down, along with your men, and let us through, or face the consequences,” he declared, delivering his final ultimatum.
“Do you honestly believe I would sheath my weapon on the orders of a traitorous prince? You are more delusional than we thought,” Aragrad retorted, preparing to launch a strike.
“I should’ve left you in the prison mines,” he growled, and Aragrad spat in response.
“That was your biggest mistake,” Aragrad declared, charging towards him. Swiftly, he dodged the strike, seizing an opening. In a split second, he held the sword by the blade, breaking it in half, and grabbed Aragrad by the neck.
He sighed at the thought of spilling more Trasidian blood by his hands. “You’ll regret this, Aragrad. Stand down now, and I might spare you,” he pleaded one final time as Aragrad struggled to break free from his stranglehold.
“Go on, kill me. Stain those hands with more blood,” Aragrad spat blood, laughed defiantly.
“That would be too easy for you. I’ll make you suffer first,” he declared. Believing he could make an exemption for Aragrad’s blood, his gauntlets enlarged, and he seized Aragrad’s arms. Aragrad struggled, but he couldn’t break free.
He looked at Aragrad with disgust. “Such a waste. You chose to put your allegiance to a traitor.” Gradually, he crushed both of Aragrad’s arms, who screamed in horror. He threw him to the ground as blood dripped from his broken arms.
“See what your master has turned me into,” he stated, then proceeded to crush both of Aragrad’s legs. Aragrad emitted another growl, expressing terror, anger, and pain. His voice was drowned in the background of the ongoing battle until it faded completely. “I’ll live every waking day in this nightmare you’ve put me in. I’ll remember this lesson your master taught me. No matter how diligently you care for your people, some will still wish you dead,” he proclaimed, tossing Aragrad to the ground as he emitted a voiceless scream.
He then turned to the enemy soldiers who had ceased fighting, their gazes fixed on him as they surrounded him.
At that moment, he had had enough.
“If you truly serve the Empire and not some lunatic posing as king, I suggest you lower your weapons and halt this madness before I decide your fates, much like I did for your commander,” he bellowed, giving them a stare filled with anger.
Despite his warning, the soldiers ignored his threat and two rogue soldiers attacked him. Swiftly, he held one by the arm and tore it from the soldier. Effortlessly, he crushed the second soldier’s legs in front of their comrades.
“For those who persist in fighting against us, I recommend you take your own life now to spare yourself from my rage!” he added sternly. The soldiers, frozen in fear, stood unbearably motionless. “I am still your Prince, and I command you to stand down. This is my final warning!”
In an instant, the remaining soldiers laid down their weapons, facing the ground as they trembled in fear—the fear evident in their eyes.
Respect through fear, he thought, a feeling far from satisfying.
He walked toward the gates; the soldiers began to kneel and place their hands behind their heads. He looked at the towering gates, devoid of any sign of opening. Sighing, he enlarged his gauntlets.
Observing them emanate a green hue, he took a deep breath, leaping backward, propelled farther than normal by the power of the Tamiron Stone. He then leaped toward the gate, punching his way through and demolishing it in one strike.
Landing on the opposite side, most of the soldiers surrendered upon witnessing his raw power. Returning his gauntlets to normal, he watched as his loyalist forces flooded in, arresting those who had surrendered.
His gaze locked onto the Cors’Viridetauros Palace as he closed in on the traitor who had ignited this conflict. Justice awaited atop the palace, and he was determined to obtain it, by any means necessary.
It was merely a question of time until he could attain it. Each step he took toward closing in on Menoich represented a stride toward justice for the heinous atrocities committed and the death of his father.
He vowed to unleash everything within him, fueled by the lingering anger that still burned intensely. There would be no holding back; every ounce of fury and determination surged through him as a relentless force driving him onward.
End of Chapter XXXV