The war room of Verdwryn exuded an air of grim determination. High-ranking councilors, their faces weathered by the brutal realities of war, filled the long, oak table. The only sounds were the faint rustling of papers and the occasional crackling of the candle flames, casting shadows that seemed to dance like specters across the stone walls. Each person present carried the weight of countless battles in their eyes, their postures stiff, betraying the weight of decisions that would shape the kingdom's fate.
Lady Seryn, standing at the front of the room, addressed the council with her usual sharpness. "I know you all have better things to do than listen to another round of reports," she began, her voice cutting through the air with the precision of a blade. "But this time, it's different. We've received information—vital information—and it changes everything."
The councilors grumbled, exchanging glances, but the tension in the room was palpable. While they might have been annoyed at the interruption to their routine, there was no denying that the air had shifted. Even the King's presence seemed to hang like an unspoken weight in the room.
Beside Lady Seryn stood General Orhan, his brow furrowed in thought, and Strategist Arwin Falric, the sharpest mind in Verdwryn, whose intellect had guided many of the kingdom's strategies. Their eyes met occasionally, both silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
The discussion began in earnest, quickly escalating into a heated argument. Voices rose in alarm as the details of Lady Seryn's intelligence spread through the room. The air was thick with accusations, questions, and disbelief. It wasn't just an ordinary briefing. The revelation that Count Varrik might be working with the Zeranthians was too much to digest for many in the room. Whispers of treason, of betrayal within their own ranks, cut through the chaos.
But amidst the uproar, two figures remained calm: King Eldon, the ruler of Verdwryn, and Arwin Falric, the strategist. Both watched, silently, their expressions unreadable. The King's gaze swept over the room, cool and calculating. His power was a palpable thing, a force that seemed to hold the entire room in a delicate balance.
Finally, King Eldon spoke, his voice low but commanding. "Silence!"
And the room fell into immediate quiet.
His gaze moved from one councilor to the next, before landing on Lady Seryn. "Bring the boy in."
A ripple of uncertainty moved through the room. Michael had been mentioned only in passing, a shadow in the background of this affair, and now the King himself wanted him present. Garren, ever the protector, tried to move alongside Michael, but the guards swiftly blocked his path.
"You weren't summoned," one of the guards said curtly.
Michael felt the weight of their gazes upon him as he entered the room. The tension in the air was suffocating. He kept his head high, his movements deliberate and calculated, but inwardly, he was choking. The sheer presence of the people in the room, particularly the King, made it almost impossible to breathe. Mana, an invisible but potent force, seemed to swirl in the air around him. It pressed against his chest, threatening to suffocate him.
He had never felt anything like it before.
As his eyes scanned the room, they landed first on the generals, then on Strategist Arwin, whose calm demeanor only seemed to sharpen the edges of the room's intensity. And then, he locked eyes with the King.
Michael's heart skipped a beat. The King was an ocean of power. The mana rolling off him was like a tidal wave, too vast, too deep. It felt as though the King could kill him with a single glance, his overwhelming presence pressing down on him, suffocating him from every direction. He fought to steady his breath, his legs trembling as he fought the urge to collapse.
He knelt before the King, his body barely holding steady. His voice was strong, though his heart pounded in his chest. "Long live His Majesty," he said, his words carrying the weight of respect, even if he didn't know all the formalities of the court. His common sense guided him here—the King had to be addressed with reverence, no matter what.
The room was still, the only sound the soft creak of leather and the occasional exhale from the gathered councilors.
For a long moment, no one moved. Then the King's gaze softened, just slightly, and the air seemed to relax, if only a fraction. He spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of centuries of leadership. "Rise, Michael."
Michael stood, his knees protesting, but he straightened with effort, his eyes never leaving the King. He could feel the sharpness of every gaze on him—each person in the room measuring him, judging him, waiting for his next words.
King Eldon's voice was quiet but resolute. "Tell us what you know."
Michael's throat felt dry, but he swallowed and nodded. "I have information regarding Count Varrik's betrayal," he began, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. "He's working with the Zeranthians. I have proof of his dealings. His actions threaten the kingdom's very survival."
The room was still again, this time in shock. The murmurs started low but quickly spread, each person absorbing the magnitude of what Michael had said. Arwin's sharp eyes never left Michael, his mind clearly turning over the implications.
Michael's eyes shifted briefly as he recollected how he had come to learn of Count Varrik's treasonous dealings. It hadn't been easy. His knowledge wasn't simply gathered from a scroll or intercepted letter. No, it had been earned in blood and risk.
Michael stood in the middle of the room, listening as each plan was discussed, each possibility weighed. His presence was an anchor amid the rising chaos. But even as the others argued, Michael couldn't ignore the weight of King Eldon's gaze. The monarch watched him with a calculating eye, as if observing not just his words, but his very essence. Every shift of the room, every subtle change in the air seemed to intensify under the King's scrutiny.
Michael could feel the King's power pressing against him like an invisible hand, making his breath shallow, his skin tight with tension. He had never encountered a force like this before. It was as if Eldon could read his thoughts, see every detail of his past, his weaknesses, his fears. The King was a living, breathing storm of mana, and Michael was but a single thread in that storm.
Despite the tension, Michael remained composed. He couldn't afford to falter now.
Arwin's voice cut through the room, sharp and focused. "We must act quickly. The longer Varrik remains in power, the more he will weaken the kingdom from within."
General Orhan nodded, his rough features set in determination. "We'll need a strike force to take him down before his plans can bear fruit."
Michael felt the weight of their eyes again, all turning to him, waiting for him to speak. The King remained silent, but his presence loomed over the room, a constant reminder of the stakes.
King Eldon's voice finally broke the silence. "This is treason. We cannot let this go unpunished."
Michael nodded. He had spoken the truth, and now it was time for the kingdom to deal with the consequences.
Arwin, ever the strategist, leaned forward. "The traitor must be removed quietly, swiftly—before he can do any more damage."
The council nodded in agreement, but Michael knew that this would be no simple task. Treason was never so easily undone.
The King's eyes returned to Michael, and the weight of that gaze seemed to relax, if only slightly. "You've done well, Michael," he said quietly. "You will be rewarded for this. But know this—there will be no quarter for traitors in this kingdom."
Michael's heart clenched, but he bowed his head in respect. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
The council session wasn't over, but Michael had spoken the truth, and now the pieces were moving. The King's will was ironclad. The betrayal would be dealt with, and the kingdom would be one step closer to surviving the threat within its walls.
As Michael stood at the edge of the room, Garren caught his eye. The captain gave him a brief, approving nod. Michael didn't know what would come next, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he had a place in the fight for Verdwryn's future.
The war room may have been a place of tension, but Michael knew that today, the kingdom's fate had shifted—thanks to the truth he had brought to light.