Chapter 41 - Back to the Capital
A rider burst into Lorvayne's smoky dawn, his horse lathered, palace livery streaked with road dust, a sealed scroll clutched in his fist. Maltheris was tightening its grip, and the king demanded their return.
They wasted no time heeding to the call of the king. They rode out without a word, Kael tagging along with them, the journey unfolding in silence across salt-crusted plains and winding dust tracks—hooves thudded soft, the wind carried a briny bite, and each kept to their own thoughts—Liam staring ahead, Kael off to one side, the girls steady between—no chatter, just the rhythm of the ride until the capital's gray walls loomed under a bruised dusk sky.
The gates creaked open, revealing the cobblestone courtyard bathed in torchlight—banners drooped lifeless in the still air, guards snapping stiff salutes as the king stepped forward to meet them. He took them in with a slow sweep—pausing on Kael, a spark of recognition lighting his gaze—then extended a hand, his deep voice warm with a rare note of admiration. "Kael, Lorvayne's hero—your fame's reached even here. Welcome to the capital."
Liam's jaw tightened just enough to feel it, the quiet pressing around him as he slid off his horse, boots scuffing stone—Kael's presence already grating.
Kael dismounted smoothly, his armor clinking as he landed, red hair glowing faintly under the torches. He bowed, a short, practiced dip, his green eyes steady and sure. "The honor's mine, Your Grace. Eryndor calls, and my sword's yours to command," he said, his voice smooth as polished steel, clasping the king's hand with a firm grip.
Liam stayed silent, his sword swaying at his hip as he joined them, feeling the weight of the last fight still clinging to him.
The king's gaze flicked over—taking in Liam, then the girls—Lysandra remained cool as always , Selene still had her rash, jumpy attitude, and Erynn's soft green stare—but the chaos of Lorvayne stayed unspoken. "Come inside," he said, turning with a rustle of his robe. "Rest and talk await us." He led the way, guards falling in step behind, the air thick with an unvoiced strain as they followed.
The halls stretched long and echoing, marble floors gleaming under torchlight, old banners stirring faintly above as their boots tapped a steady rhythm.
The king tried to lighten the mood as they walked, his voice taking on a probing edge. "Lorvayne—how did it hold up? Ships and docks must have stories worth hearing," he said, glancing back with a faint smile—testing the waters.
Liam grunted, keeping it brief. "We were able to eliminate the threats, not sure Lorvayne will have any trouble for some time." His tone came out rough, clipped from exhaustion and irritation.
Kael jumped in, a touch of pride lifting his words. "It has been a trying time—trade's limping, but my city's got grit to spare." His green eyes slid toward Liam, a smirk tugging one corner of his mouth.
The king caught the flicker of tension and let the subject drop, his smile fading as they neared the dining hall. The heavy doors swung open, revealing a long oak table set with platters, a fire crackling in the wide hearth, and the rich smell of roast wafting through the warm air.
They settled into their places, chairs scraping wood as they sat—Liam claiming one end, Kael taking the seat across, the girls spreading out between them. Lysandra sat beside Liam, her silver hair spilling loose over her shoulders, her posture rigid. Selene plopped down near Kael, her crimson eyes glinting with a flicker of amusement, tail brushing the floor. Erynn took the middle, her golden curls framing her face, staff propped against her chair—her expression was calm but watchful.
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Five generals joined them, their gray hair and scarred faces marking decades of war—armor clanking as they sat with a heavy, deliberate presence, their stern gazes sweeping the room.
Servants bustled in, platters thudding onto the table—roast boar glistened with fat, crusty bread piled high, and pitchers of red wine sloshed into cups, the liquid catching the firelight. The meat steamed, forks scraped plates, and then the servants slipped out, the doors closing with a soft thud—leaving a silence that turned sour fast.
The mood curdled in the quiet—Liam stared at his plate, pushing a chunk of boar around with his fork, the taste flat against his tongue.
Kael sipped his wine slowly, green eyes hooded—Lysandra cut her meat with precise, silent slices—Selene bit into her pork with ferocity—Erynn ate small bites, glancing between the two men—and the generals watched it all, their faces carved from stone.
The fire popped and hissed, the only sound breaking the thick air. Minutes dragged, the food cooling, the wine untouched by most—until the king cleared his throat, his deep voice slicing through the stillness, pulling every eye to him as he set his cup down with a firm clink.
"You all know why you're here," he began, his tone steady and hard, sweeping the table with a look that demanded attention. "Maltheris isn't just a shadow anymore—it's a blade pressed to our throat. Borders are bleeding out, and Eryndor's spine is starting to crack. We tackle this now, or we lose a fight that has not even started on our end."
The generals nodded, their faces tightening with grim agreement—Liam's fork paused, a piece of meat speared halfway—Kael lifted his eyes, setting his cup aside—Lysandra's silver gaze sharpened—Selene paused from eating—Erynn's green eyes steadied on the king.
The room stirred, the sourness lifting as his words sank in, heavy and undeniable. "Maltheris is attacking towns with a known unknown pattern—and then letting us claim them back afterwards. It is clear he is trying to keep us away from something and we need answers," he pressed, leaning forward, his gray beard shifting with each measured word.
The fire flared brighter, casting long shadows across the table—Maltheris loomed larger than ever, a threat that drowned out the petty rift between Liam and Kael—Eryndor's survival surged to the forefront—the silence broke, replaced by a shared, uneasy resolve.