The war room in Adrith was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering torches on the walls and the large map of Brighthold spread out on the central table. The capital city, Solaris, had been ominously crossed out. Around the table stood the key figures of Adrith's war council: Prince Draven, Commander Valen, King Malthus, and the young finance director, Orion.
Prince Draven's voice cut through the silence. "My liege, our spies are already en route to Solaris. The king of Brighthold is absent, and most of the palace guards have been deployed with him. As we speak, our forces will strike the heart of Brighthold. Queen Isolde and Princess Seraphina will be assassinated, ensuring that no heir can take the throne."
King Malthus nodded, his gaze fixed on the map. "Good. This attack must be swift and decisive. If anything goes sideways, we must ensure that nothing traces back to us."
Commander Valen stepped forward, a hint of pride in his voice. "My son, Kael, is leading the team. He's a powerful mage and more than capable of handling this mission."
King Malthus gave a brief, acknowledging nod. "I trust in your son's abilities, Valen. But remember, if this fails, there will be no room for error."
Orion, the young finance director, shifted uneasily. "Sire, I... I think we should reconsider. Perhaps investing in the public, rather than warfare, would yield better long-term results."
King Malthus turned to him with a smirk. "Why the hesitation, Orion? Do you lack the stomach for war?"
Orion hesitated, his youthful face reflecting his inner turmoil. "No, it's just... war is costly, and if we invest in our people, we might gain their loyalty without bloodshed."
Prince Draven scoffed, stepping closer to Orion. "You're young, Orion, and you don't understand. Three centuries ago, Brighthold took our lands. Now, it's our time to reclaim what was stolen and exact our revenge. This war will show the world our strength."
Orion, though still uncertain, nodded in reluctant agreement. "I... I'll support you, sire."
In the dead of night, the halls of Solaris Palace were eerily quiet. Queen Isolde and Princess Seraphina were in their private quarters when the attack began. The first sign was the muffled sound of a body hitting the floor—a maid, lifeless and crumpled. Queen Isolde's eyes narrowed as she sensed the danger. She raised her hands, summoning a torrent of water that coiled around her like a serpent. Seraphina, her sword blazing with fire, stood ready at her side.
The spies moved silently, shadows in the darkness. But Isolde and Seraphina were prepared. The queen's water magic lashed out, engulfing one of the intruders and slamming him against the wall. Seraphina's sword cut through the air, leaving a trail of flame as she struck down another attacker.
The battle was fierce and swift. Isolde created a wall of water that surged forward, sweeping several spies off their feet. Seraphina moved with precision, her fiery blade cutting through their defenses. The air was thick with the scent of burning flesh and the sound of clashing steel.
As the last spy fell, a group of knights burst into the room, quickly dispatching the remaining intruders. The night had been saved, but the toll was heavy. The queen and her daughter stood amidst the carnage, their faces hard with resolve.
Meanwhile, miles away, King Aldric's carriage was moving through the darkened forest, flanked by two decoy carriages that were identical to his own. The 2nd General, Garrick, followed closely, leading a contingent of fifty soldiers. The king's mind was heavy with thoughts of the impending war and the fate of his kingdom.
Commander Valen's son, Kael, watched the approaching carriages from a concealed position. He was puzzled; there were supposed to be only twenty men, not fifty. He shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. "Stick to the plan," he muttered to himself. "We attack swiftly and without hesitation."
Kael had prepared well, digging traps along the route that the king's party would take. As the king's entourage drew near, Kael's men began silently picking off the soldiers at the rear, reducing their numbers. By the time they reached the trap, the king's guard had been reduced to forty men.
The ground beneath the king's carriage exploded with a deafening roar. The blast was so powerful that it lit up the night sky, visible even to those miles away. Commander Varrick, riding several hours behind with Kenshin, Elara, and a few dukes, saw the explosion. Without a word, they spurred their horses into a gallop, racing toward the source of the blast.
Back at the ambush site, Kael emerged from his hiding place. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burnt flesh. His eyes locked onto the king's carriage, now overturned and smoldering. With grim determination, Kael approached the wreckage. He could see the king, wounded but still alive, trying to stand.
Kael reached down and tore the royal necklace from the king's neck, a symbol of his authority. As King Aldric made a final, desperate attempt to strike back, he managed to slash Kael's face, leaving a deep, jagged scar. Kael winced in pain but remained focused.
King Aldric, his strength fading, slumped back against the carriage. His vision blurred as he thought of Brighthold. "I did my best," he whispered, his voice barely audible. With one last breath, the king of Brighthold died.