Chapter 119: List of Allies
The hallway leading to Alaric’s study was quiet except for the scuff of their boots on the floor. The torches along the stone walls burned steadily. Aveloria walked between Galen and Theron, her posture straight and her gaze fixed on the heavy oak door at the far end. No guards stood outside it. The summons had come suddenly, and that alone meant something serious.
Theron opened the door, stepping aside to let her enter first. They saw Trovald’s figure when they stepped inside the study. He was beside Alaric’s desk, holding a stack of scrolls against his chest. Alaric sat behind his large desk, his posture rigid. Too rigid. He held his shoulders square and his back straight, but Aveloria saw the slight tremor in the hands resting on the arm of his chair. He looked at her with a calm expression, but she knew him too well. He was masking his pain. She wanted to say something to scold him for leaving the temple too soon, but she kept quiet. This was meant to be a meeting.
"You called for us, father," Aveloria said.
Alaric inclined his head. "Yes. Sit."
Aveloria took a seat. Galen and Theron sat on either side of her.
He exhaled slowly before speaking. "I will not waste time. I can feel it."
Theron’s brow furrowed slightly. "Feel what, Your Majesty?"
"War is coming." The word settled heavily in the room with a flat finality. "I do not know when it will begin. Months. A year. Perhaps less." He paused, then looked at each of them. He continued, his voice steady. "But the Wanderers are coming. I am certain of it. And they will try to attack us. When they come, they will not come in small numbers. They will come to end our kind. If Lycanthria is their target, then we must be ready to fight with everything we have. Not half measures. Not delayed responses. Everything."
Aveloria felt her stomach tighten. She had known this was a possibility since Emberspire fell. But hearing it stated as a certainty by her father, the king made it real in a new and terrible way.
Alaric went on. "The destruction of Emberspire was not an act of chaos. It was deliberate."
Aveloria nodded once. "Then we prepare."
Alaric turned his attention to her. His eyes softened briefly when he met her gaze. "There is more. Caelina, the High Priestess, spoke to me. She said you need to master your magical skills. Your powers will be needed to protect this kingdom. And she has called upon an old friend to help train you."
Aveloria straightened slightly. "I am willing. If training is required, then I will train." There was no hint of hesitation in her voice. She continued. "I will do everything possible to protect our kingdom and its people."
Alaric gave a slow nod, a flicker of something, relief perhaps crossing his face before it settled back into a mask of authority. "That is what I expected from you." He leaned back slightly. "It is time to send messages to our distant allies. We have no idea what the wanderers will do next. And we cannot assume they will give us time to prepare."
Trovald stepped forward and placed the stack of scrolls on the desk.
Theron spoke up. "We have already put countermeasures in place. We have sent out riders to the Alphas across the regions. They have been ordered to secure their borders, strengthen patrols, and report any unusual movement."
Alaric looked at him and gave a short nod of approval. "Good. Very good. I am glad you are by our side at a time like this, Theron."
Alaric gestured to a scroll. Trovald picked it up and handed it to Aveloria. She broke the seal and unrolled it. The parchment was covered with her father’s tight, precise handwriting. The list was long.
Alaric spoke as she read. "That is a list I have compiled. These are allies of Lycanthria that we can call upon. Some are bound by debt. Some by loyalty. Others by history."
Aveloria’s eyes moved down the parchment as he listed them.
"The House of the Dragon. The Direwolves. The Elves. The Fox Clan. The House of Lord Stregor. The Dwarves. The Vampires. The Protectors of the Seven Kingdoms. The Lord of the East. The Lord of the Mid-West. The Lord of the South-South. Khal Razek of Kingdom Vareethy is the human king. And many more."
She lifted her head. "This is a long list." It was a testament to her father’s decades of diplomacy and her mother’s influence. She handed the scroll to Theron.
Galen leaned forward. "Having a list is one thing. Getting them to support us during a war fully is another. How do we ensure they commit troops and resources?"
Alaric’s expression grew serious again. "We cannot assume all of them will come willingly."
Theron glanced at the names as he read.
"Some of the people on that list will not be easy to bring to our side. They are not indebted to Lycanthria. They will weigh their own interests before offering support." He paused briefly before adding, "The Vampire King is the most cunning among them. He may sit on the fence until he sees which way the wind blows before committing."
Galen frowned. "And the human king?"
Alaric’s gaze softened slightly at the memory. "I am certain of the human king, Khal Rasek. When Lyra was alive, she gave him fifteen thousand of our armies to help him reclaim his throne from his uncle. He has not forgotten that. I am confident he will stand with us."
Aveloria’s grip tightened slightly at the mention of her mother, but she remained silent.
Alaric continued. "The Direwolves are our brothers. They will support us fully. However, they will demand sacrifices to their gods before they march. It is their way."
Theron nodded once. "That is expected."
Alaric added. "The Elves are already inclined to help. Their Queen owes Lyra a debt that cannot be repaid with gold."
He opened his mouth to continue, but Theron spoke first.
"The Protectors of the Seven Kingdoms, I know their Lord personally."
Aveloria turned to him. "You do?"
Theron met her gaze. "Yes."
Alaric raised a brow. "And how do you propose we gain his favor?"
Theron shrugged lightly. "Simple. To win his favor, I need to participate in his tournament and win. That will be enough."
Aveloria blinked. "What tournament?"
"A Game of Tourney. It’s a tradition among the protectors. It is more political than it sounds. The lord values strength and skill above all else. He will only help someone he considers a worthy opponent."
She narrowed her eyes. "And you think that is something I should not worry about?"
He gave a small, reassuring look. "Do not worry too much about it. It’s something I can handle."
Aveloria looked unconvinced but did not press further. Instead, she turned back to Alaric. "If necessary, I can travel and meet these allies personally. A direct appeal might strengthen their commitment."
Alaric shook his head immediately. "No." The firmness in his tone made her frown. "You will not leave the kingdom. Not now. Your training at the temple is a priority."
"Maybe that can wait. Diplomacy cannot. Gaining the trust of our allies is more important." Aveloria argued.
Trovald finally spoke. His voice was calm but firm. "Your Grace, with respect, it cannot wait."
She turned to him.
"If your powers are as vital as the High Priestess claims, then placing yourself in danger by traveling across territories during a rising threat would be reckless. You are not only a diplomat. You are a strategic asset to this kingdom. The wanderers have eyes everywhere. If they learned you were traveling, they would attempt to capture or kill you."
Aveloria’s jaw tightened. "I can protect myself."
Trovald went on, "If anything happens to you during travel, the morale of the kingdom would suffer. The enemies would see it as a weakness. So your survival is paramount. Moreover, your training cannot be delayed. Magic within you is growing, whether you come from it or not. If you do not learn to master it, it will master you. And if that happens, you will be a danger to yourself and everyone around you. So training within the temple is the safest and most logical course of action."
The room was quiet for a moment. His words were logical and practical. She had no counterargument that held any weight.
