Chapter 92: Whispers of the Fallen
The silence in the throne room was suffocating.
Prince Caledon stood at the center, surrounded by the very council that had once trusted his every word. Now, their eyes pierced through him like daggers, their patience worn thin by indecision. Murmurs of discontent echoed along the walls, whispered accusations that cut deeper than any blade.
"Prince Caledon," Lord Ferros began, his voice cold and unyielding, "the council has waited long enough. We demand action. Liora must answer for her betrayal, or we risk further dissent."
Caledon clenched his jaw. He had come here seeking answers, but all he found were the relentless demands for vengeance. The council had turned the tide against Liora, condemning her without proof. To them, her disappearance was as good as an admission of guilt.
"Do any of you even care about the truth?" Caledon snapped, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Or are you so desperate to place blame that you no longer care who falls beneath your sword?"
The room went quiet. All eyes were on him now.
Lord Ferros narrowed his gaze. "We are not fools, Your Highness. We care about the survival of this kingdom, which is more than I can say for some."
The accusation hung heavy in the air. Caledon could feel the weight of the room pressing in on him, but he refused to bend. He would not condemn Liora without knowing the truth. Not while there was still hope.
"Enough." Queen Elara's voice rang out, silencing the murmurs. She had remained quiet for most of the meeting, observing with eyes that missed nothing. Now, she rose from her throne, her presence commanding the attention of every council member.
Caledon met her gaze, hoping for support. But her expression remained unreadable.
"Prince Caledon has made his stance clear," Queen Elara continued. "He seeks the truth, as do we all. But we cannot afford to let this uncertainty linger. The northern armies are on the move. If we are to survive what is to come, we must resolve this matter quickly."
Caledon's heart sank. Even the queen, who had always been a voice of reason, seemed to doubt him. The weight of his responsibility pressed down harder than ever before.
But before anyone could speak further, the doors to the throne room burst open with a deafening crash. A messenger stumbled inside, his face pale and his breath ragged. The room turned toward him, tension rising as they awaited his news.
"Your Highness!" the messenger gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "The northern armies—they've crossed the border. They're advancing toward the capital as we speak."
A wave of shock rippled through the council. Whispers of panic filled the room as the reality of their situation settled in. War was no longer a distant threat; it had arrived at their doorstep.
Caledon's mind raced. The northern armies had always been a looming danger, but this sudden attack felt too calculated, too perfectly timed with the kingdom's internal strife. Could this all be connected to Liora's disappearance? Was there a deeper conspiracy at play?
"We must mobilize the army immediately," Lord Ferros barked, his voice tinged with fear. "If the northern forces reach the capital, we'll be overrun!"
"Enough!" Caledon's voice cut through the chaos. He stepped forward, standing tall amidst the panic. "We will not fall into despair. The capital will not be taken under my watch."
The room fell silent once more, all eyes now on the prince. His words carried a certainty that had been missing earlier, a sense of resolve that rekindled hope.
Caledon turned to the messenger. "How far are the northern forces from the capital?"
"Two days, at most," the messenger replied. "They're moving quickly."
"Then we move faster." Caledon's voice was steady, his decision made. "Mobilize the troops. Send word to the southern provinces for reinforcements. We will meet them at the River Thorne and stop their advance there."
The council seemed stunned by his sudden shift in command, but no one dared challenge him. There was no time for doubt now. War had come, and the kingdom's fate rested on his shoulders.
As the council dispersed to carry out his orders, Caledon remained in the throne room, his mind turning back to Liora. She had vanished at the exact moment the northern armies began their march. It couldn't be a coincidence.
He would lead his troops into battle, but he would not stop searching for the truth. There was more at stake than just the kingdom's survival. Liora's fate—and perhaps the fate of all the realms—depended on what he uncovered next.
As the doors closed behind the last council member, Caledon's gaze hardened. The time for doubt was over.
War had begun.