King Dorian of Aladrath paced restlessly in the war room, his sharp gaze fixed on the map of the battlefield. The news had come swiftly: King Ardyn of Thaldris would not back down. Instead of seeking his daughter's release, the stubborn ruler had chosen to push forward with the war. Dorian clenched his fists. The audacity of it—to sacrifice his own blood for the sake of conquest.
"How could he?" Dorian muttered to himself, his voice cold with disbelief. His thoughts raced, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of fear. If Ardyn pressed on, Aladrath could not win this war. The kingdom was too young, too small to stand against the might of Thaldris.
"Bring her to me," Dorian snapped, his eyes burning with fury. "Kill her. And bring her head to her father. Let him see what happens when you cross me."
His younger brother, Danaris, stood quietly at the far side of the room, observing.
Deneris has always been the most thought full of the two, a voice of reason in a kingdom ruled by passion and ambition, he stepped forward now, his movements delibrated but his expression remained calm.
"Brother, I understand your anger," Deneris said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "But we cannot let our emotions control us. Yes, Ardyn's decision is... ruthless, but we must think beyond that. We're already on the brink of losing everything if we continue this path recklessly."
Dorian's eyes shot up to meet Deneris, his face hardening. "And what would you have me do? Allow Thaldris to wipe us off the map? To let them tear apart everything we've fought for? The moment they know I'm not willing to go to the ends of the earth to win, they'll have us on our knees." His voice grew louder, filled with frustration. "This is the moment I either conquer or perish, Deneris! We cannot afford weakness."
Deneris took a step closer, his face now only inches away from Dorian's. "And how many men will you sacrifice to prove a point? How many more will fall if we continue without a plan?" His voice softened, almost pleading. "I'm not asking you to back down, but I am asking you to think. We are not alone in this land. There are other kingdoms—strong kingdoms—that would love to see Thaldris fall."
Dorian paused, his fury waning for a moment as he looked at his brother, weighing his words. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting we seek allies," Darian replied, his voice steady, confident. "Not just any ally—one with the power to change the tide of this war. Alvoris. They've always been at odds with Thaldris, and their king has long despised Ardyn. They've built their power in the shadows, waiting for a moment like this. If we can win their support, they could send their armies to assist us."
Dorian leaned against the stone wall, his mind turning. He had heard of Alvoris, a kingdom once considered weak and fragmented but steadily growing in strength. Their king, Ivoran, was known for his ambition and cunning—traits Dorian admired. The thought of an alliance with them, though dangerous, made sense.
"But Alvoris is unpredictable," Dorian said, rubbing his temples as he thought. "They've always been a thorn in Thaldris's side, but they're not so easily bought. I'll need to offer them more than just words."
Deneris nodded. "They will want something substantial. But the key is to frame this as an opportunity. We both know Thaldris is their greatest rival. If we can show them that a weakened Thaldris is in their best interest, they will not hesitate to join us."He stepped back, his eyes filled with a quiet determination. "I'll send emissaries immediately. If we can forge an alliance with Alvoris, it could change everything. And it will give us the leverage we need to deal with Ardyn. The last thing we want is for him to think he can crush us so easily."
Dorian stood silent for a moment, his hands clenched at his sides as the weight of the decision settled over him. He had always prided himself on his ability to make bold choices, but this—this felt different. Ally with Alvoris, a kingdom just as ruthless as Thaldris? It was dangerous, but it might be the only way to survive.
"Do it," Dorian finally said, his voice cold but resolute. "But instead of the emissary i want you to go yourself along with the girl, im sure they wont mind keeping the lions cub," he turned to his brother and place his palm on his shoulder "make sure they understand the stakes. We cannot afford to lose this war, Deneris. Thaldris must not emerge victorious—not now, not ever."
Deneris nodded, a faint smile of agreement playing at the corner of his lips. "I'll make sure they understand."
As Dorian looked at the map once more, his mind raced with plans within plans. If they could pull this off, Alvoris would be the key to turning the tide of the war—and perhaps even securing Aladrath's future. But he knew the cost would be high, and alliances in this game of thrones were fragile.
The war was far from over.