After his stunning victory against more than thirty thousand hobgoblins, Vistario Tirisea, Second Prince of Tirisea, had let his war-torn soldiers return to their families, making sure they would spread his heroic tales to all the corners of the Kingdom.
With the health of his royal father rapidly deteriorating, he needed to guarantee the support of the high-ranking nobles of the Kingdom, or his ascension to the throne would only be a far-fetched dream.
In reality, it would be a nightmare as his Eldest brother, Malin, would easily have him executed for some bullshit reason.
If he were to succeed, he would do the same, and they both knew it.
His victory over the hobgoblins was more than the well-orchestrated farse his brother made it sound to be. Even though he raised an army against them, almost purging the east side of the kingdom from these pests, in probably five years, if not sooner, they would have multiplied to such a degree where they would be forced to once again, subjugate them.
Even though they were easy to kill, those buggers reproduced extremely fast, making their extermination a priority.
''My prince?'' a lean young servant with golden hair, thankful for his Master's safe return, asked timidly.
The fighting against the hobgoblins lasted all month under the scorching sun. Even when the tide had turned against the monsters, the purging had carried on, because the beasts had been surrounded. The unrelenting slaughter had finished only when the last hobgoblin they could find was already dead.
His soldiers were covered in gore and blood from head to toe, their horses crimson from the bottoms of their necks all towards their hooves.
Gone were the peasant villages that had been there at sunrise, in their place, the onslaught had left fields of carnage.
The toll on the survivors had been more than physical. More than thirty thousand hobgoblins lay dead across the villages that populated the borders, some of the villagers losing their loved ones as the hobgoblin horde was desperately trying to kill whatever it could.
Most of the peasants had suffered the loss of a loved one before, if they had not, it was certain that they had seen close friends and comrades die. Yet it had been worth it. The hobgoblins had been dealt a heavy blow the likes of which it rarely felt. Its standing horde had been reduced to almost nothing, offering some semblance of peace to the peasants surrounding our borderlands.
Against all the odds, Vistario managed to one-up his brother, quickly responding to the hobgoblin threat and almost eradicating them, earning the recognition of the commonfolk and nobility alike, cementing, even more, his claims to the throne.
What would this bold prince do next?
With the banquet about to start, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous.
The only thing he needed to do was to cross the hall and the celebration would officially begin, marking his first official stance against his older brother.
A moment's pause and Vistario emerged from the hall into the light-filled banquet. The amused nobles raised a rousing cheer. They knew why the prince invited them. Some of his closest friends boomed for all they were worth, and so did those indebted to him.
A Prince who had led his army thousands of miles away from the capital. reached the borders, and plunged themselves into the hobgoblin horde, all so he could save his loyal citizens.
Who could be more suitable as the next king?
Duke Tenkai caught his older brother Plintirio's eye. ''Any idea of what he'll say?'' he whispered.
''Your guess is as good as mine.''
''Let's hope that he gifts us those salt mines east of our lands,'' interjected Boulgaropoul, the oldest of the three siblings. ''I want to make those bastards green with envy'' he scoffed, pointing Towards Duke Zafeirat, and his son, Bill, currently chit-chatting with some of the imperial knights.
For all that his relationship with Boulgaropoul was fractious, Tenkai longed to do that too. If the salt mines east of their dukedom were theirs, they could easily contest with the Zafeirat army, finally claiming a piece of the monopoly Zafeirats had in the salt industry.
Vistario was dressed as if for battle. Over his silver garment, he wore a golden steel cuirass, layered golden chainmail protected his groin and shoulders, and a molten-red helmet with the insignia of the royal eagle covered his head.
He carried a shield, the battle with the hobgoblins freshly painted on it as if wanting to announce to all those present, that he was publicly going after the throne.
Planting his shield aside, he raised his hands.
silence fell at once across the banquet.
'' Has Baron Northmil arrived?'' his voice sparkled, knowing that victory was within his grasp.
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