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The Road to Blackhold
The wind carried the scent of burnt cedar and iron as Lord Toran of Blackhold led his bannermen away from the smoldering ruins of Altheria. Behind them, the victorious armies celebrated, their raucous laughter echoing through broken spires. Toran adjusted the small bundle in his arms Prince Kael (3), his breathing shallow from the magic-stripping ritual.
Beside him, his lieutenant Haldor broke the silence. "The men are uneasy,Lord Toran. Sparing the prince won't be forgotten."
Toran exhaled. "He's a child, Haldor. Not a symbol."His grip tightened on the reins. "Remember the Siege of Duskrend? When we took thirty men through the Eagle's Pass?"
Haldor's eyes gleamed. "Aye. You saw what none of us did - that weak spot in their fortifications."
"Because I looked beyond the battlements,"Toran said, glancing at Kael. "This is no different."
Haldor chuckled. "And what will Lady Elyna say?"
"That I'm a sentimental fool," Toran admitted, smiling. "Then she'll wrap him in furs and feed him honey cakes."
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The Hall of the Conquered Palace
In the ruined throne room, King Varek stared at the empty northern road long after Toran had disappeared. The feast raged around him, lords drunk on victory wine.
Lady Ysara approached, her silver braids clinking. "Your wolf has fled the pack, Majesty."Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Shall we hunt him?"
Warlord Draven slammed his tankard down. "I said it before - the boy should've died with his kin!"*
High Priestess Eliana raised a slender hand. "Peace, Draven. Lord Toran's military genius won us this war. His... eccentricities might be tolerated."
Lord Malric swirled his wine, smirking. "Oh, let him play nursemaid. A living prince makes for interesting leverage later."
Varek's fist clenched. "Enough." The hall fell silent. "Toran earned his right to mercy at the Battle of Three Rivers, when his tactics saved ten thousand of your men." His voice softened. "Leave him be."
In the Jade Palace gardens, Princess Aelara (5) giggled as golden butterflies danced above her palms. Master Orvin watched in awe.
"The Elixir of the Eclipse was unstable," he murmured to his apprentice. "Yet she controls it like breathing. Almost as if..." His gaze turned northward, toward Blackhold.
Aelara twirled, the magic responding as naturally as her own heartbeat. *"Watch this!" She shaped the energy into a perfect miniature of Varyndor's towers - an architectural feat no child should comprehend.
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The Iron Dominion
As Toran's party crossed the Bridge of Sorrows, Kael stirred. "Mama...?"he murmured.
Toran pulled his cloak tighter. "No, lad. But you'll have new brothers and sisters soon." Ahead, the Blackhold Mountains stood sentinel. Somewhere beyond them, his children waited - Edric with his wooden swords, Roran with his mischief, Lira with her endless questions.
And Toran, the strategist who'd never lost a battle, wondered if this might be his first true war - not for a kingdom, but for a child's soul.
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