The sun had barely cleared the jagged peaks to the east when the heavy gates of the Starfall encampment groaned open. Alaric stood upon the stone landing of the tower, his mother, Asimi, a silent and regal presence at his shoulder. Below them, the first true movements of a fledgling power were taking place.
Sir Kaelen Tidestride looked every bit the Knight-Commander in his blue-tinted dwarven plate as he led a column of fifty militia and the squads of Marik and Thodin. The rhythmic clatter of boots and the low rumble of supply wagons filled the morning air. To the west, Valeraine and her Unseen had already vanished into the treeline like mountain mist, their departure far more subtle as they began their hunt for the House of Valerius.
Alaric watched them go with a tightness in his chest. He was sending away his finest steel, leaving himself with a skeleton crew of defenders.
The peace of the morning was shattered an hour later by the blare of trumpets that did not belong to Starfall. A grand procession wound its way up the mountain path, marked by the crimson and gold banners of the Imperial household.
Crown Prince Julios Valencia Ecthellion rode at the head, his armor polished to a mirror sheen that seemed intended more for a ballroom than a battlefield. Beside him, Prince Kendrick Leene Ecthellion looked on with a familiar, sneering boredom.
As the two elder princes dismounted in the central courtyard, the atmosphere grew suffocating. Alaric descended the stairs to meet them, his face a mask of calm, though he could feel the pulse of his own blood in his ears. Beside him stood Dawn, the daughter of Duke Valerius and a high-born lady of the court. Despite her father's potential ties to the Ebon Hand, she stood firmly by Alaric, her posture radiating a grace that matched her royal blood.
"So, the rumors are true," Julios said, his voice dripping with a condescending sweetness. He didn't look at the tower or the fortifications, but instead looked down at Alaric as if he were a particularly interesting insect. "Our little brother has built a sandbox in the ruins. How adorable."
Kendrick laughed, a sharp, grating sound. "A sandbox filled with mud and peasants, Julios. Look at this place. It smells of wet dog and desperation."
Asimi stepped forward, her silver hair catching the light. "Julios. Kendrick. You were not expected."
Julios offered a shallow, performative bow. "Stepmother. We heard Alaric was playing at being a warlord and felt it was our fraternal duty to see the circus for ourselves." He turned his gaze back to Alaric, his eyes hardening. "Tell me, little brother, do you actually think these gutter-rats you've knighted will stand when a real army arrives? Or did you just want to see them kneel before you die?"
"They are knights of the realm now, Julios," Alaric said, his voice steady despite the heat rising in his chest. "They have earned their place through blood, which is more than can be said for your entourage."
The insult hit home. Kendrick stepped forward, closing the distance until he was towering over the seven year old prince. "Careful, brat. You might have found a few shiny rocks in the dirt, but you are still the third-choice spare. You're a curiosity, Alaric. A mistake that Asmora hasn't quite swallowed yet."
He reached out, shoving Alaric's shoulder with enough force to make the boy stumble back.
Dawn moved instantly. She did not strike, but she stepped into the space between them, her chin tilted high. As a Duke's daughter and a partial royal, her presence carried a weight that even Kendrick could not entirely ignore. "Prince Kendrick," she said, her voice cool and perfectly modulated, "you forget that you are a guest in this territory. Physicality does not make a king, it only makes a ruffian."
Julios let out a mocking gasp, his eyes lingering on Dawn with a predatory gleam. "Oh, the little Duke's daughter is playing protectress. How touching. Tell me, Lady Dawn, does my brother pay you in copper or in the delusion that he'll actually survive the year?"
Gina, Alaric's actual attendant, stood a few paces back, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists as she watched the display, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
"Enough," Asimi commanded, her voice like a sheet of ice shattering.
Julios didn't back down. He leaned in close to Alaric, ignoring his mother's warning. "Enjoy your little fort while it lasts, Alaric. The Emperor is amused for now, but even a father's patience has limits. When the winter comes and your peasants start to starve, don't look to the capital for bread. We'll be too busy laughing."
He reached out and flicked the silver circlet on Alaric's brow, a gesture of ultimate disrespect that made the gathered Starfall militia grow silent with suppressed rage.
"Come, Kendrick," Julios said, turning on his heel. "I've seen enough mud for one lifetime. Let's find somewhere that doesn't smell of failure."
As they strode away toward the guest quarters they had already claimed, Alaric stood perfectly still. His shoulder ached where Kendrick had shoved him, and the sting of the public humiliation burned. He felt Dawn's hand slip into his, her touch warm and grounding amidst the cold fury of the encounter.
"My Prince," she whispered, her violet eyes searching his. "You should not have to endure that, especially not from them."
Alaric looked at the retreating backs of his brothers, then at the sturdy, honest stone of the tower behind him. He thought of Kaelen, Marik, and the dwarven forge hidden below.
"Let them laugh, Dawn," Alaric said, his voice sounding much older than his seven years. "It's easier to sharpen a blade when your enemy thinks you're only holding a toy."