In the grand council hall, the flickering light of torches cast long shadows over the stone walls, their glow reflecting off the polished oak of the long table where Lord Gregory sat, his expression a study in mounting frustration. Gregory, now the effective ruler of Obelia, commanded the attention of his council with a stern, unyielding presence.
To Gregory's right, his eldest son, Sir Edrick, sat with a brooding expression, his scarred visage a testament to his battle-hardened experience. His younger brother, Sir Lionel, a sharp strategist , occupied the chair beside him. The council was further composed of influential figures: Lord Borric, a veteran known for his pragmatic wisdom; Lady Celestine, a noblewoman with a sharp intellect and political acumen; and Father Anselm, a cleric revered for his spiritual guidance.
Gregory's patience snapped as he slammed his fist on the table. "Is it true?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Is the prince really in Rotengen? Has he indeed erected a wall of sorcery around the city?"
Lord Borric's face was grim as he responded, "Yes, my lord. Initial rumors have been confirmed by our scouts. Prince Martin, has used his magic to build an wall around Rotengen. The city's defenses are bolstered, and he has reportedly gathered a significant force of refugees."
The weight of the news settled heavily on Gregory's shoulders. "That boy," he muttered, frustration evident in his tone. "I should have acted decisively when I had the chance. Now he's solidifying his power, using this sorcery to rally support. This is a grave miscalculation on my part."
Lady Celestine leaned forward, her gaze sharp. "My lord, we must proceed with caution. The prince's growing popularity is not without merit. If we were to strike prematurely, it might unify the people against us. His perceived role as a savior could lead to widespread dissent."
Father Anselm, his voice calm but firm, added, "The situation requires careful handling. The people view him as a beacon of hope. An overt attack could turn public opinion dramatically against us. We need to consider our approach with prudence."
Gregory's frustration boiled over. "Caution? We've dallied for too long. While we debate, he strengthens his position. We cannot allow him to become a greater threat."
Sir Edrick, ever the practical soldier, interjected. "Father, while I understand your urgency, mobilizing 10,000 troops at this moment would be a considerable strain on our resources. We are approaching winter, and our budget is already tight. The cost of such an endeavor could be prohibitive."
Gregory's eyes flashed with irritation. "Are you suggesting we wait until he's even stronger? We should have acted while we still had the advantage. If we let him consolidate power further, it will only make our task more difficult."
Lady Celestine responded with measured precision. "Perhaps a more strategic approach is warranted. We could deploy spies to gather intelligence and identify any weaknesses within his ranks. This might allow us to undermine his support subtly, making a direct confrontation more manageable."
Father Anselm nodded. "Alternatively, we could consider a diplomatic maneuver. If we engage him in negotiations, we might find a way to neutralize the threat without direct conflict. It's a risk, but it could avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
Sir Lionel, who had been quiet, spoke with thoughtful restraint. "Father, if we act now, we risk not only depleting our resources but also potentially failing in our mission. If we wait until the spring, we could better prepare our forces, ensuring a decisive victory. Yes, it would strain our budget, but it might also secure a more stable outcome."
Gregory's expression was a mixture of frustration and contemplation. "So you suggest a delay, then? We wait until next year, potentially allowing him to become even more formidable?"
Lady Celestine and Father Anselm exchanged a brief glance before nodding in agreement. "It's a difficult decision," Celestine said. "But a sound approach will ultimately serve us better than a hasty action."
Gregory's jaw tightened as he considered their words. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "We will wait, but preparations must begin immediately. Spies will be dispatched, and we'll begin readying our forces. I want a comprehensive plan by the end of the month. We cannot afford to be caught off guard."
As the council members began to rise, Gregory remained seated, deep in thought. He regretted not dealing with Martin sooner. The prince's unexpected resurgence posed a serious threat, one that would require careful handling to neutralize. The coming months would be critical, and Gregory knew he had to navigate this challenge with both caution and resolve.
The room emptied, leaving Gregory alone with his thoughts. He resolved to see this matter resolved decisively, but the path forward would demand both patience and strategic acumen. The threat loomed large, and Gregory was determined not to let it slip through his grasp.
---
Lenny stood in a dimly lit chamber beneath Rotengen, his focus intently fixed on a collection of rough, gray stones scattered across the cold, stone floor. The air around him crackled with magical energy as he worked. The chamber was filled with an assortment of magical tools and arcane manuscripts, their pages fluttering occasionally as if stirred by an unseen breeze.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully arranged the stones into a neat grid. Each stone was roughly the size of a man's fist, unremarkable in appearance but holding the potential for significant impact. Lenny's hands moved with practiced precision as he began the intricate process of imbuing each stone with enchantments.
"The mines are freezing," he muttered to himself, the cold air of the chamber making his breath visible. "These should make a difference."
Lenny raised his hands, his fingers tracing complex symbols in the air. Arcane runes glowed faintly in response, shimmering with an otherworldly light. With a soft chant, he initiated the enchantment. The stones began to hum with a gentle warmth, their surfaces slowly growing warmer under the influence of his magic.
After hours of meticulous work, Lenny stepped back to examine his creations. The stones were now imbued with a steady, moderate warmth. He tested one of the larger stones by holding it in his hands, feeling its comforting heat. He could see the potential—these stones would provide a crucial respite from the relentless cold that plagued the mines.
"Perfect," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Now for the city."
The process of creating the stones for the households was somewhat simpler but required greater quantity. Over the next few days, Lenny worked tirelessly, producing a thousand stones of varying sizes. Each stone was carefully enchanted to provide consistent warmth, suitable for personal use or for warming entire rooms.
As the enchanted stones began to accumulate, Lenny oversaw the distribution process. A group of his trusted aides and soldiers, under his direction, carefully packed the stones and prepared them for transport. The larger stones, destined for the mines, were loaded onto carts with reinforced sides to ensure their safe arrival. The smaller stones, intended for households, were carefully bundled and labeled.
In the heart of the city, Lenny organized a public demonstration to showcase the magical stones. A large open area was cleared, and several of the enchanted stones were placed on display. As the citizens gathered, curious and eager to see what Lenny had been working on, he stood on a raised platform, flanked by some of his aides.
"Citizens of Rotengen," Lenny began, his voice carrying through the crisp air with a magical amplification that allowed every ear to hear. "Today, I present to you a new innovation—Heating Stones. These will provide warmth and comfort in the harshest of our coldest days."
He gestured toward the stones arranged around him, their surfaces emitting a gentle, inviting glow. "These stones have been enchanted to offer a steady, moderate warmth. The larger stones are intended for the mines, to protect our slaves from the biting cold because we are not barbarians!. The smaller stones will be distributed to every household in the city."
A murmur of awe and appreciation swept through the crowd. Lenny's demonstration was met with expressions of wonder as the citizens felt the heat emanating from the stones. Their reactions ranged from relief to excitement, knowing that this simple yet effective invention would greatly improve their daily lives.
As the crowd cheered and the stones were handed out, Lenny observed with a mix of pride and weariness. His magic had provided a practical solution to a pressing problem, and the citizens' gratitude was palpable. He knew, however, that this was just one step in the larger journey of rebuilding and revitalizing Rotengen.
"Let this be a symbol," Lenny said, his voice resonant and filled with determination. "Of our resilience and our commitment to overcoming the challenges that lie ahead. Together, we will thrive despite the cold."
With the stones now in the hands of the people and the mines, they would last for two months. Lenny returned to his quarters, exhausted but satisfied. His body ached from the exertion, but the warmth of the stones and the improved conditions in the city were a testament to his efforts.