"Could be worse. The healers say I'll live, though I doubt I'll be swinging a sword anytime soon."
Alaric nodded, his jaw tightening. "You've already given more than enough. Let others take the front line for now."
"I'll hold you to that," Richard said, though his tone was teasing. "And you, my lord? Are you actually resting, or is that a foreign concept to you?"
Alaric smirked again, but his voice softened. "I'll rest when this war is done."
They shared a brief, understanding silence before Alaric rose. He placed a hand on Richard's shoulder, careful not to disturb his injuries.
"Stay alive," Alaric said, his voice low but filled with meaning.
"I plan to," Richard replied, his tone equally sincere. "Take care of yourself, Alaric. And the lady."
Alaric inclined his head and moved on, greeting the other knights and warriors as he walked through the sanctuary.
He stopped by each bed, exchanging a few words, offering thanks, and even cracking a joke or two when the mood allowed.
One young knight, barely more than a boy, looked up at him with wide, awestruck eyes. "Your grace… you've honored us by coming here."
Alaric shook his head. "It is I who am honored by your sacrifice. Rest and recover. That's an order."
The boy nodded quickly, and Alaric smiled faintly before continuing on.
By the time he reached the exit, a faint murmur of gratitude followed him—a quiet testament to the respect and admiration he had earned from those who served under him.
As he stepped back into the cool morning air, Alaric paused, glancing up at the sky.
The war was far from over, but for now, there was a small measure of peace.
He pulled his cloak tighter around him and began the walk back to his chambers, where he knew Salviana would be waiting.
But then he paused as his name was called, "Ypur grace!" The guard ran to him.
"Yes?"
The guard is short and in tight uniform, "Head Councilman Aldric he said to tell you he will be waiting,"
The head councilman is cryptic as ever and it made Alaric shake his head. "Thank you," Alaric said to the guard who bowed and left.
Now there's a change in his days plan he is going to see the head councilman.
The morning air was cool as Alaric stepped out of the royal sanctuary, the faint scent of rain lingering from the previous night's storm.
His black cloak billowed behind him as he made his way to the waiting carriage. Manni, the coachman, tipped his hat with a grin as Alaric approached.
"Good morning, your grace," Manni greeted warmly, his weathered face crinkling in a smile.
"Manni," Alaric acknowledged with a nod. He paused, his dark eyes studying the older man for a moment. "I heard you've been kind to Salviana in my absence. She mentioned you."
Manni chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Lady Salviana's a gem, your grace. She makes it easy to be kind. Though, truth be told, I just make sure her purchase are safe and her rides smooth."
Alaric gave a rare, faint smile. "You have my thanks for that."
With that, Alaric climbed into the carriage, settling into the cushioned seat as Manni closed the door behind him.
The ride was smooth, the sound of hooves against cobblestone filling the silence as the carriage made its way to the head councilman's residence.
Manni pulled the carriage to a stop outside a modest yet well-kept estate.
Alaric stepped out, his boots landing on the gravel path, and turned back to Manni.
"Wait here," he instructed.
"Of course, your grace," Manni replied, adjusting his reins as Alaric strode toward the door.
A servant opened it before he could knock, bowing deeply as Alaric entered. The air inside was warm and smelled faintly of baked bread and herbs.
Aldric, the head councilman, greeted him in the parlor, rising from a worn armchair.
"Alaric," Aldric said, his face lighting up with a smile. His graying hair and lined face betrayed his age, but his posture was still upright and dignified. "You've returned. Come, sit."
Alaric nodded and took a seat across from him. Aldric's wife, a rosy-cheeked woman with kind eyes, entered the room briefly to offer tea and biscuits.
"I trust you've been well?" Aldric began after they were settled.
"As well as a man can be, given the circumstances," Alaric replied, taking a sip of tea.
"And your wife? Salviana, was it?" Aldric asked, his tone curious yet gentle.
"She is well, though I've likely been a poor husband, leaving her alone so soon after our marriage," Alaric admitted, a shadow crossing his face.
Aldric waved his hand dismissively. "You're a prince, and your duties demand much of you. But—" he leaned forward, his expression growing serious, "—you're not a bachelor anymore, Alaric. A wife changes things. Or at least, she should."
Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm aware of my responsibilities, Aldric. To both my wife and the kingdom."
Aldric sighed, setting his cup down with a soft clink. "That's what worries me. You lead every war, every charge. You throw yourself into battle like you have nothing to lose. But now you do, Alaric. You have her."
Alaric didn't reply immediately, his jaw tightening. Aldric gave him a moment before continuing.
"We may not have the luxury of such boldness anymore," Aldric said. "The Tackeros are a real threat. They've swept through kingdoms like wildfire, conquering everything in their path. I fear Wyfn-Garde may be next."
Alaric leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp. "I've heard of their tactics. They have numbers, yes, but numbers alone don't win wars."
"They have more than numbers, Alaric," Aldric countered. "They have resources, alliances, and a brutality that doesn't waver. We need to consider other options."
"Such as?"
"A truce." Aldric's voice was firm. "We approach them with a peace treaty before it's too late. If we wait for them to come to us, we'll be negotiating from a position of weakness. But if we extend a hand now, perhaps we can avoid bloodshed altogether."