The throne room of Lorridian buzzed with heated discussion, the voices of nobles and advisors filling the grand chamber. King Erend Lorridian sat atop his gilded throne, his gaze cold and piercing as he surveyed the gathered court. Sunlight from the stained-glass windows bathed the marble floor in fractured hues of red and gold, adding an ominous glow to the tense proceedings.
Lord Varnis Hale’s voice carried above the others. “The treasury is nearly drained, and the provinces are restless. This failure to secure the Molvari supplies—”
Before he could continue, the heavy doors groaned open. The room fell silent as a young noble entered, his once-pristine armor battered and stained with blood. Supported by two guards, he limped toward the throne, bowing low despite his injuries.
“Your Majesty,” he began, his voice trembling. “I… I have returned.”
The king leaned forward slightly, his cold eyes narrowing. “Speak.”
The noble swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously to his father, Lord Veradin, who stood among the court, his expression unreadable. “The mission… it failed. The knights of the 7th Brigade—they turned against us. Sir Drennor and his men betrayed the crown.”
Outrage rippled through the court, the murmurs rising into a roar. “Betrayal?” one noble exclaimed. “How could the knights abandon their oaths?”
“They were sworn to the king!” another shouted.
King Erend’s gaze darkened as the young noble continued, his voice faltering. “We… we tried to maintain order, but their defection gave the villagers strength. Soon they will be calling for rebellion in the outer provinces.”
The murmurs swelled into a cacophony. “Treasonous knights? And villages supporting them?” one noble cried. “It’s an insult to the throne!”
The king’s expression hardened. “Explain yourself. How did this happen?”
The noble’s voice broke as he stammered, “They fortified themselves, and with the knights on their side... they became impossible to control. On our return, we faced... other difficulties. A monster. But it was the betrayal that doomed the mission.”
The court erupted into chaos once more, voices clashing in confusion and fury. Lord Veradin stepped forward, his face severe. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly before turning to his son. “It seems my son has failed not only your throne but our family name.”
“Father, please—” the young noble stammered.
“You were sent to uphold the king’s will and bring these villages to heel,” Veradin said coldly. “Instead, you return with nothing but failure.”
“I tried!” the young man pleaded, dropping to his knees. “Sir Drennor turned without warning. The villagers—they followed him—”
“Enough,” Veradin snapped, his voice hard. He turned to the king. “Your Majesty, may I address this disgrace?”
The king nodded once. “Do as you see fit.”
Veradin turned back to his son, his expression severe. “You are no longer a Veradin. Your title, your inheritance, your place within this family—all of it is forfeit. Guards, remove him.”
The young noble’s eyes widened in shock. “Father, no! Please, I—”
Two guards stepped forward, gripping him by the arms and dragging him from the hall. His pleas echoed as the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.
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The throne room fell into heavy silence as the court processed the news. The king’s fingers tapped on the armrest of his throne, his expression unreadable.
“This betrayal cannot stand,” King Erend said finally, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “The knights of the 7th Brigade have chosen treason over duty. They will answer for it.”
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Lord Varnis stepped forward, his tone measured. “Your Majesty, if we do not act swiftly, their defiance will inspire others. These villagers see the knights as their strength. If we crush them now, we send a clear message.”
“Prepare a force,” the king commanded. “The deserters will be destroyed, and their leaders made an example. I want the villagers subdued before they can spread their poison further.”
“And the monster?” another noble asked hesitantly.
“If it interferes, it will be dealt with,” the king replied dismissively. “But the traitors are the priority.”
Varnis bowed, a faint smirk on his lips. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
The court murmured in agreement as the king rose from his throne, his presence silencing any further debate. “Make the preparations. I expect swift results.”
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The cool, damp air of the cave provided a welcome reprieve from the oppressive forest, but the tension within the group lingered like a heavy fog. The villagers settled in small clusters along the walls of the chamber, their weary faces lit faintly by the glowing minerals embedded in the rock. Some shared quiet conversations, others simply sat in silence, clutching what little they had managed to bring with them.
A makeshift meal was prepared, simple rations passed around to the villagers as they tried to regain their strength. Elira moved among them, offering soft words of comfort and ensuring that everyone had something to eat. Felix stood near the entrance, his shield leaning against the wall, while Sir Drennor paced slowly, his face shadowed with unspoken grief.
Near the back of the chamber, Eric’s body lay on one of the wagons, covered with a heavy cloth. A few villagers gathered nearby, murmuring quietly, their gazes filled with sadness. Drennor approached, stopping beside the wagon and placing a hand on the edge. His knuckles tightened as he stared down at the still form beneath the cloth.
Kael joined him, his katana resting at his side. “We’ll give him the honor he deserves,” Kael said quietly. “When we reach the Molvari sanctum, we’ll bury him properly.”
Drennor nodded slowly. “He saved them. Without him, the others wouldn’t have made it.” His voice was steady, but there was a raw edge to it. “I thought… I thought we’d have more time. To talk. To rebuild what we lost.”
Kael rested a hand on Drennor’s shoulder, his tone firm. “You still can, Drennor. For them. For all of us.”
Drennor didn’t reply immediately, but he gave a small nod, his hand briefly tightening on the wagon before he stepped away.
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The chamber grew quieter as the villagers settled, their exhaustion catching up to them. Kael moved to the center, his gaze sweeping over the tunnels that branched off from the chamber. Each one yawned into darkness, their depths unknowable.
Berry approached, his expression tense. “Kael.”
Kael turned, immediately catching the edge in Berry’s voice. “What is it?”
“There’s something… moving,” Berry said, his voice low. “From the tunnels. It’s faint, but it’s getting closer.”
Kael’s grip on his katana tightened as he turned toward the tunnels. “Do you know what it is?”
Berry shook his head. “No, but it’s coming fast. Whatever it is, it won’t be friendly.”
Kael’s voice cut through the chamber, steady and commanding. “Everyone, listen! We’re under threat. Stay close and be ready to move.”
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Kael’s gaze swept over the three dark tunnels branching off from the chamber, each one a potential entry point for the threat closing in. The faint sounds of movement echoed through the stone corridors, growing louder with every moment. He turned to Felix, Drennor, and Elira, his voice calm but firm.
“We need to hold all three entrances,” Kael said. “If anything gets past us, the villagers are as good as lost.”
Felix hefted his shield, his expression resolute. “Which one?”
Kael gestured to the rightmost tunnel. “Take position there. Form up with whoever’s ready to fight and hold it.”
Felix nodded sharply. “Understood.” He moved quickly, calling for others to join him as he took up his post at the entrance, organizing a defensive line.
Kael turned to Drennor, meeting the knight’s steady gaze. “You take the left tunnel. Rally whoever you can. Keep your formation tight and don’t give them an inch.”
Drennor’s jaw tightened, his grip firm on his greatsword. “Leave it to me,” he said, striding toward the left entrance, already barking orders to those nearby as they moved into position.
Kael’s eyes shifted to Elira. “Elira, you’re in charge of the villagers. If this goes badly, they’ll need to be ready to move further into the caves. Make sure they’re organized.”
Elira’s expression was grave, but she nodded. “I’ll get them ready,” she said, turning toward the center of the chamber where the villagers had gathered.
Kael stepped toward the middle tunnel, his katana gleaming faintly in the dim light. The passage loomed before him, narrow and dark, its depths disappearing into shadow. “I’ll take this one.”
Felix hesitated for a moment. “Alone?”
Kael’s voice was steady. “This tunnel leads deeper into the Molvari sanctum,” Kael said, his grip tightening on his katana. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Don’t worry—I haven’t really shown you what I can do with a katana yet.”
Felix glanced toward the villagers, then back at Kael. His grip on his shield tightened. “We’ll hold the line.”
Kael gave a brief nod, stepping forward. “Make sure you do,” he said over his shoulder, his tone quiet but resolute.
As the groups moved into their positions, the sound of clicking mandibles grew louder, reverberating through the chamber.