The war room was carved into the heart of a colossal coral citadel, its walls alive with bioluminescent polyps casting a faint blue glow. Azarios stood before an immense, enchanted map, its shifting lights depicting the vast expanse of the ocean kingdom and its neighboring realms. Every pulse of golden light marked a fortified post along the kingdom's borders, while faint, sporadic glimmers in distant territories represented his spies' reports filtering in from foreign lands.
Around him, a half-circle of lieutenants awaited orders, their faces illuminated by the glowing map. Each bore the signs of battle-hardened lives: jagged scars, dulling scales, and eyes that rarely blinked. They were his trusted few, commanders of the platoons now scattered across the vast waters of the dragon kingdom.
Azarios leaned on the edge of the table, his golden antlers catching the dim light. His voice was measured, clipped, and cold. "Report."
One of the lieutenants, a dragonkin named Ikaris, stepped forward, his crimson scales shimmering faintly. "Border Post Kivar reports increased sightings of deep-sea wyrms near the Rift Valley. They seem agitated, but no incursions yet."
Azarios nodded, his gaze fixed on the section of the map that corresponded to the Rift Valley. "Send a detachment to observe and document. I want to know if their behavior deviates further."
Another lieutenant, Yrelle, a merfolk with silver scales and piercing black eyes, stepped up next. "Oceanic City Virath has reported unusual migratory patterns of abyssal creatures. Their queen requests an envoy to investigate."
"Send a diplomatic party," Azarios said immediately. "Make it clear their cooperation is paramount. If these patterns align with the prince's cry, we need their resources."
Yrelle saluted, and another figure entered the room—a scout, water dripping from his armor as he clutched a satchel of scrolls. Azarios turned to him, the air in the room sharpening with expectation. "Speak."
"Intelligence from the human kingdoms, your highness." The scout's voice was shaky, no doubt affected by the intimidating presence of Azarios. "Two human fleets have been sighted amassing near the western edge of the Coral Shoals. Spies report they've been fortifying their ships with dragonsteel."
Azarios's jaw tightened. "Dragonsteel? That's no accident. They suspect the Shadowborne's stirrings as well." He turned to one of his lieutenants. "Ikaris, send three of your fastest to the shoals. They are to observe, not engage."
"And if the humans make a move?" Ikaris asked.
Azarios's golden eyes hardened. "Then remind them why this ocean belongs to us."
The room fell silent, tension thick in the water as Azarios surveyed the map. His gaze moved to the edges of the kingdom where distant territories shimmered faintly. Reports from distant oceanic kingdoms had been sporadic, and he felt the weight of what wasn't being said as much as what had.
"Scouts from the Deep Trenches," another voice interjected, breaking his thoughts. It was Calen, his intelligence officer, holding a translucent scroll. "The last report before their silence indicates increasing seismic activity near the Abyssal Crevasse. The Shadowborne might not be the only threat stirring."
Azarios sighed, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. The ocean was endless, and its dangers were legion. "Send a small team to verify the activity. If it's unrelated, we move on. If not…" He let the words hang, their implication clear.
"Your highness." Another scout approached, this one bearing a scroll marked with the sigil of an allied underwater kingdom. "The Aquinean Principality sends troubling news. Their crystalline wards have flickered twice in the last moon cycle. They believe the Shadowborne may be probing their defenses."
Azarios took the scroll, scanning its contents. "my brother's cry may have drawn their attention outward," he mused. "If the Shadowborne are stirring in other territories, we need allies prepared to hold their ground." He turned to Yrelle. "Draft a message to the Principality. Offer resources in exchange for immediate intelligence sharing."
As his lieutenants dispersed to carry out his orders, Azarios remained by the map, staring at its faint, shifting lights. Each flicker represented lives, each absence a threat. He had no illusions about his role. This wasn't a mission of glory; it was a game of shadows and whispers. He would remain in the depths of strategy, sending others to fight and die while he pulled the strings.
Behind him, his adjutant approached, speaking softly. "Commander, you haven't rested in days."
Azarios waved him off. "Rest comes when the borders are secure, and the Shadowborne are confirmed or silenced."
He turned to the map one last time, his gaze lingering on the faint, dark spot representing the Abyss. Theros was already there, scouting the unknown. Azarios would not join him, but he would ensure the prince's back was guarded. It was his duty to protect not just his brother but the kingdom they called home.
The ocean was vast, and its secrets infinite. But as long as Azarios commanded the borders, no enemy would pass unnoticed—or unchallenged.