Morning dawned crisp and cold, the sunlight casting long shadows across the bustling courtyard of the royal palace. Alaric stood at the balcony once more, but today was different. Below him, a small procession was being prepared. The envoy he had ordered was ready to set off for Valtoria.
The group was modest but symbolic—diplomats, a few guards, and a representative bearing the royal sigil of Arathen. Leading them was Sir Duncan, a seasoned knight and trusted emissary who had served the crown for decades. His calm demeanor and sharp wit made him an excellent choice for this delicate mission.
"Are you certain about this envoy?" a voice interrupted his thoughts. Alaric turned to see his younger sister, Liliana, approaching. Though younger by a few years, Liliana carried herself with the same regal confidence as their mother, Queen Elara.
"I am," Alaric replied, though his tone betrayed his uncertainty. "If there's even a chance we can avoid war, we must take it."
Liliana raised an eyebrow, her piercing green eyes studying him. "And if the envoy fails? If Valtoria uses this as an opportunity to exploit our perceived weakness?"
Alaric sighed, leaning against the railing. "Then we'll face them with everything we have. But I won't start a war unless there's no other choice."
Liliana stepped closer, her voice softening. "I trust you, Alaric. But remember, being a ruler isn't just about making the right decision. It's about convincing others that your decision is right."
Her words lingered in the air as she left, leaving Alaric alone with his thoughts.
---
The envoy's departure was a solemn affair. A small crowd had gathered to watch as Sir Duncan and his group mounted their horses and prepared to leave the city gates. Alaric stood at the front of the assembly, flanked by his father and Roran.
"Remember," King Theon said to Duncan, his tone grave. "Your mission is to seek clarity. If Valtoria truly desires peace, we must know their terms. If not, return with haste."
Duncan nodded, his expression firm. "I understand, Your Majesty. I will not fail."
As the procession began its march, the sound of hooves echoed against the cobblestone streets. The crowd parted, and Alaric felt a pang of unease watching them disappear into the horizon. The envoy was his idea, and its success—or failure—would fall squarely on his shoulders.
Roran nudged him gently. "Cheer up, Alaric. You've done the right thing."
"I hope so," Alaric replied, his voice low. "But hope doesn't win wars."
---
Back in the palace, the council convened once more. Maps and documents cluttered the long table, and the air was thick with tension. Alaric took his seat next to his father, his mind already racing with contingency plans.
"We've sent the envoy," Alaric began, addressing the council. "But we must prepare for the possibility that Valtoria rejects our terms. What is the state of our defenses?"
Commander Lothar stood, his heavy armor gleaming in the firelight. "The border fortresses are well-manned and supplied, but Valtoria has the advantage in numbers. If they decide to invade, we'll need reinforcements from the central garrisons."
Lady Elira added, "We should also consider the potential allies we can call upon. The eastern tribes owe us a debt from the last conflict. If we reach out to them, they might provide additional troops."
The room buzzed with discussion as the advisors debated strategies. Alaric listened intently, taking note of every suggestion. Despite his youth, he commanded respect—earned not just by his royal blood but by his ability to listen and lead.
As the meeting continued, a courier entered the room, bowing deeply. "Your Majesties, I bring news from the northern front. A Valtorian scouting party was spotted near our borders. They retreated when confronted, but it's clear they're testing our defenses."
The room fell silent, the weight of the news settling over everyone. Alaric exchanged a glance with his father, who nodded grimly.
"Strengthen the patrols along the border," King Theon ordered. "We cannot let them gain the upper hand."
Alaric leaned forward, his mind racing. "If they're scouting our defenses, it means they're planning something. We need to stay one step ahead. Commander Lothar, double the watch at the border fortresses. And Lady Elira, begin drafting letters to our potential allies."
The council dispersed with renewed urgency, leaving Alaric alone with his father. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the kingdom resting heavily on both their shoulders.
"You're handling this well," King Theon said finally, his voice filled with quiet pride.
"I'm trying," Alaric admitted. "But every decision feels like a gamble."
"That's what leadership is," Theon replied. "It's not about knowing what will happen—it's about making the best choice with the information you have."
Alaric nodded, his resolve hardening. "Then I'll make sure my choices count."
---
As the day turned to night, Alaric found himself in the palace gardens. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant flowers. It was a rare moment of peace, and he intended to make the most of it.
He was joined by Roran, who carried two goblets of wine. "Thought you could use a break," Roran said, handing one to Alaric.
"Thanks," Alaric replied, taking a sip. The wine was rich and smooth, a small comfort