Izan sat in his chambers, leaning back in his chair, maps and papers spread before him, his fingers tracing the contours of the strategy he and Dillion had been planning for years.
The room was dim, with only the soft crackling of the fire filling the silence. His mind was racing as he thought about the next steps in his plan.
Dillion stood beside him, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on the door as if he was awaiting for someone's arrival.
Izan's mind raced with thoughts of Lord Cedric, a man who had long been a thorn in his side, someone who had lurked in the shadows of his life. But now, Cedric had crossed a line he shouldn't have, and Izan's desire to take him down has become more than personal.
"When will Martin arrive?" Izan asked, his voice steady but laced with impatience.
Dillion's eyes flickered to the door again, before answering. "Any moment now, Your Highness."
Izan's gaze hardened. "Lord Cedric will be our next target."
