The war had dragged on for three long months.
"Are you okay, Luren?" Velzra asked gently as they arranged supplies inside the manor, preparing to send them to villagers devastated by the border battles.
"Yes, I'm okay," Luren replied with a soft smile, one hand resting on his large belly. "The little ones just moved a bit." At six months pregnant, every kick reminded him of the precious lives growing inside.
"Why don't you sit down for a while? Let us handle this," Clara urged, concern in her voice.
"Come, sit here, Luren," Marian said, rushing to support him toward the sofa. Marian had chosen not to return to the Capital, staying
instead by Luren's side throughout his pregnancy, while Kellen and Kal went
back to lead the mercenary group and gather vital intelligence to aid them.
"Thank you… Mother," Luren whispered, his voice warm and filled with gratitude as he sank into the cushions, feeling truly cared for.
"His Grace sent a letter," Keith said as he stepped into the supply room, his boots scraping against the wooden floor. He handed the folded parchment to Luren, his expression tense.
Luren quickly opened it, scanning the words. "They still haven't found the King," he murmured, his voice heavy with worry. "Craige has managed to subdue some of the rebels in the capital and capture them… they've executed a few traitors, but many escaped into neighboring kingdoms." His hand trembled slightly as he lowered the letter.
Keith clenched his jaw. "Velgarith keeps sending more troops to the border. Our men are being outnumbered… badly."
Venn had taken command of the Northern soldiers in Craige's absence, receiving grim reports from every battlefront.
"Roan spotted several Velgarith soldiers near the outskirts of the Manor," Keith added, his tone laced with unease. "It looks like they're searching for something."
Velzra's face darkened, his fists tightening. "They're hunting for an omega again…" he said, his voice low and filled with anger.
---
Craige and Rolen had been relentlessly searching for King Carl, but there was still no sign of him.
With no time to waste, they returned to the capital to aid Cassian and Cleven in defending the palace from invading soldiers.
"Your Grace!" a soldier burst into the war chamber, breathless and bloodied. "The eastern border has been breached, our men are badly wounded!"
"We need to send reinforcements immediately," Cleven said, his voice tense as everyone gathered around the strategy table.
"I'll ride to the eastern border myself," Craige declared without hesitation.
Just then, Borg entered, saluting. "Reporting, Your Grace. Our reserve forces have arrived, including those under my command and Ione's."
"Good," Craige replied sharply. "Stock up on supplies, we're bringing everything we can to the eastern front."
"Rolen continue searching for King Carl"
"Yes your Grace" Rolen replied
"I'll send some of my men with you," Cassian offered, stepping forward.
Craige shook his head. "No. Take your forces south instead, wipe out every last traitor hiding there. We can't risk them regrouping."
Turning to Cleven, his tone hardened. "Seal every entrance to the palace. No one gets in or out unless it's one of us. We will not let
them take the throne."
Cleven gave a firm nod, determination burning in his eyes.
Without another word, Craige and Cassian mounted up and rode out, the sound of their departure echoing like thunder against the tense silence of the palace.
---
The eastern border was chaos. Smoke curled into the sky, the clash of steel and screams of the wounded filled the air. Craige's heart pounded as he and Borg led their forces through the muddy terrain, the stench of blood and fire choking their lungs.
"Hold the line!" a captain shouted desperately before being struck down by an enemy blade.
Craige drew his sword, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "Seravelle! With me!"
With a roar, their soldiers charged forward, shields locked, spears thrusting. Craige fought at the front, every strike fueled by rage and desperation to protect the kingdom in Carl's absence. Beside him, Borg swung
his axe with feral strength, cutting down enemy after enemy.
A volley of flaming arrows darkened the sky.
"Shields up!" Craige bellowed, raising his own just as the arrows rained down. Screams erupted as some soldiers were struck, but the line held.
"We're being pushed back!" Borg shouted over the clash of weapons.
Craige's eyes scanned the battlefield. Then he saw it, an enemy siege engine rolling closer to the border gates. If it reached the walls, the eastern defence would crumble.
"Borg, take half the men and flank their left!" Craige ordered. "I'll take the rest and burn that siege engine before it gets close!"
Without waiting for an answer, Craige spurred his horse forward, his soldiers rallying behind him. The enemy saw them coming and surged to intercept, but Craige broke through, cutting down foes with brutal
precision.
At the siege engine, Craige leapt from his horse, struck down its defenders, and set the massive weapon ablaze. Flames roared, smoke billowed, and cheers erupted from the Seravelle troops as the tide began to
turn.
But even as victory seemed within reach, a horn sounded from the enemy camp. Reinforcements, twice their number, marched toward the battlefield.
Craige tightened his grip on his sword, sweat and blood streaking his face. "This fight," he growled to his men, "is far from over."
While Craige fought desperately in the east, Cassian led his forces south, hunting down traitors loyal to the deposed Duke Armond.
The traitors were fleeing in chaos, their banners torn and morale shattered. At the center of the convoy, Duke Armond, aged, frail, and clutching his cloak tightly, struggled to keep pace on horseback. Cedric rode
beside him, barking orders as their remaining soldiers tried to shield their
escape.
"After them!" Cassian commanded, his horse thundering forward as his troops clashed with the fleeing army. Steel clanged, cries echoed, and one by one, Armond's men fell.
Spotting the old duke ahead, Cassian narrowed his eyes. "Armond is mine," he growled, breaking through the enemy line with a handful of elite riders.
The duke's terrified eyes widened as Cassian closed in. "Please… mercy!" Armond gasped, his voice trembling with age and fear.
Cassian didn't slow. With a single, merciless strike, he cut down the deposed duke, sending him slumping lifelessly from his saddle. The remaining traitors screamed in panic, scattering into the wilderness.
Cedric, already wounded, spurred his horse harder, fleeing toward Velgarith. Cassian moved to give chase, but Velgarith troops emerged from the border woods, forming a protective wall. Arrows rained down, forcing
Cassian's men to halt.
"Hold!" Cassian ordered, frustration darkening his face as he watched Cedric, bleeding heavily, vanish into Velgarith territory under foreign protection.
A captain approached cautiously. "My lord… shall we pursue?"
Cassian shook his head, sheathing his bloodstained sword. "No. Armond is dead. That's one snake severed from the nest. But Cedric…" His voice dropped to a cold promise. "He'll answer for his treachery soon enough."
Night descended over the southern plains, the fires of battle flickering like dying stars as Cassian's troops regrouped, their victory
bittersweet.
Back at the capital, Cleven stood atop the palace walls, his armor gleaming under the scorching sun. Below, soldiers rushed to fortify gates and barricades, knowing traitors still lurked in the city's shadows, waiting
for a chance to seize control.
"Double the guards at every entrance!" Cleven barked, his voice carrying authority. "No one enters or leaves unless I give the word!"
"Yes, Commander!" the captains echoed, spreading the order.
Inside the palace grounds, Gab and Karin worked tirelessly in the courtyards, overseeing the preparation of wagons stacked high with medical supplies, food, and weaponry.
"Hurry, load those crates, Craige's men need every bandage and ration we can spare!" Gab shouted, sweat dripping from his brow as he lifted sacks onto a cart.
Karin tied down barrels of water and checked each wagon. "Once these reach the eastern border, they'll hold longer against the
invaders," he said, glancing at the exhausted workers. "We can't let them fall."
Suddenly, an alarm bell rang out from the palace's northern gate.
Cleven's head snapped toward the sound. A soldier rushed to his side, pale-faced. "Commander! A group of armed men tried to breach the gate, they bear no banners!"
"Traitors," Cleven hissed, drawing his sword. "Send word to Gab and Karin, keep the supply lines moving no matter what. I'll handle this."
As Cleven marched with his guard toward the northern gate, the clash of steel soon erupted in the palace courtyards. Shadows of battle danced against the torchlit walls, while Gab and Karin, refusing to stop their
work, loaded the last wagons under the tense roar of combat.
"We ride at first light," Karin muttered, tightening the reins of the lead wagon. "For Craige, for Cassian… for the King."
Gab nodded grimly. "And for every soldier bleeding out there."
---
"How is the situation at the border?" Luren asked, concern evident in his voice.
"The southern border is already under control since King Mor'Vekar sent his soldiers," Keith replied. "I'll be heading north to deliver supplies and lead some of our men to assist there."
"I'll go with you," Clara quickly offered.
"You'll be safer here," Keith said firmly.
Clara shook her head, determination flashing in her eyes. "I can protect myself, and I won't be anywhere near the battlefield. I'm coming."
Keith let out a resigned sigh and nodded.
Just then, Butler Serio entered the room. "Duchess, a soldier from the eastern border of the Northern domain is requesting an
audience."
"Let him in," Luren instructed.
The soldier entered, clearly exhausted and covered in dust from travel. He bowed slightly before speaking. "Greetings, Your Grace. Captain Hale sent me… we're desperately in need of reinforcements. Velgarith has dispatched more troops than we can handle. Our men are exhausted from constant battle, and still… no reinforcements have arrived." His voice trembled with
urgency.
"Do we still have any soldiers left to dispatch?" Luren asked Roan urgently, worry evident in his trembling voice.
"Borg took some of our men, they're fighting at the eastern border with the Duke leading them in the front lines," Roan replied hesitantly.
Luren's heart skipped a beat, shock flashing across his face. He had no idea Craige was out there, risking his life on the battlefield.
"Dispatch the soldiers under your command immediately, Roan! And why didn't you tell me that Craige was fighting? What's happening with the search for the King?" he demanded, his voice rising with fear and frustration.
"I'm sorry, Duchess," Roan said with a bow of his head. "His Grace specifically ordered us not to tell you… and Rolen is still out there, continuing the search for the King. But if I send my men now, who will protect the Manor?"
"If the eastern border is breached, the Manor will fall regardless!" Luren shot back, his hands trembling. "We must secure the border first and protect the people in the nearby villages, otherwise, none of us will
be safe!"
"Roan, go to the east. Leave Mara here to protect us," Luren commanded firmly.
"But, His Grace ordered me to stay by your side and keep you safe," Roan protested, his voice filled with conflict.
"Our people need you more," Luren replied with calm determination, his eyes unwavering. "I won't be selfish and keep the youngest General as my personal guard when you can turn the tide of battle. Mara can protect me, and Ione will be returning soon."
Roan knelt, his heart heavy but resolute. "At your command, Duchess."
Clara stepped closer, worry etched on her face. "Are you certain you'll be alright?" she asked softly as the departure preparations
neared completion.
"I'll be fine," Luren assured her with a gentle, reassuring smile. "Mara and Ione will keep us safe."
"Take this with you," Velzra said softly, pressing a few bottles of concoction into Clara's hands. "It's the last batch I've managed to make… it should help the soldiers regain their strength." Her voice trembled slightly, knowing how dire the situation was.
Keith approached the butler, speaking with urgency. "We're leaving now. Please, take good care of the Manor, Butler Serio. If anything urgent happens, send word through Habek," he instructed before leaning closer to whisper, "And if danger reaches you… take Luren through the escape route to
the Gravehallow Woods."
Butler Serio bowed his head solemnly. "Understood."
With a final glance at Luren, Roan led his army eastward toward the embattled border, while Keith marched north with reinforcements. Even villagers who could fight joined their ranks, their faces set with
determination to defend their homeland.