The capital was quiet for the first time in weeks. The smoldering remains of Dawnspire had long since turned to ash, and the rumors of rebellion from the east had been quelled—at least for now. But Elias knew the battle for the throne was far from over. The Empire was a vast beast, its head fractured and weakened, but still alive.
In the war room, Elias stood before the large map of the Empire once more, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across his face. The map had changed since their last meeting—new territories marked in blood-red ink, new houses bowing under the weight of his influence.
Selene stood at his side, her gaze cold and calculating. Varek, still covered in the blood of their enemies from the Iron Vale, leaned against the wall, his expression grim but satisfied. Dorin, who had grown quieter with each passing day, sat in a corner, his thoughts distant.
Elias had learned the art of power—of command. His rise was inevitable, and with each victory, he found himself growing more ruthless. But the question lingered in the back of his mind: Was this the price of the throne?
"House Galdris has begun to rally their forces," Selene's voice cut through his thoughts, breaking the silence. "They've already taken control of the northern passes, and their spies have infiltrated several noble courts."
Elias turned his gaze to her, his eyes narrowing. "The northern lords are always troublesome. Galdris is known for their resilience, but they're not invincible."
Varek chuckled, his voice rough. "They'll learn that soon enough."
Selene's expression softened slightly, but only enough to show a flicker of understanding. "But they are not alone. House Galdris has formed an alliance with several lesser houses in the north. They'll be well-defended."
Elias remained still, his mind calculating. He had no intention of letting the northern houses grow bolder. The northern passes were critical for trade, and whoever controlled them would have access to the Empire's wealth.
"We strike fast, before they can gather too much strength. Varek, prepare the army. Selene, I want you to deal with their spies. Find out who's behind this alliance." His tone was cold, detached—the voice of a ruler who had no room for hesitation.
The northern borders were harsh and unforgiving. Snow covered the landscape, and the winds howled like spirits of the dead. But the northern lords had made their choice. They had allied themselves with House Galdris, and now they would face Elias's wrath.
As the army marched, Elias kept his eyes fixed ahead, his thoughts on the future. The Emperor's throne was within his grasp, but so many obstacles remained. The northern lords, though formidable, were just another piece in the game he played. It was the final push for power that would define him—he could not afford failure.
By nightfall, the forces of House Galdris had made camp in the highlands, a narrow pass that was easily defensible. They knew Elias was coming—his spies had informed him of the enemy's movements—but they didn't know the full extent of his plans.
Elias's forces arrived under the cover of darkness, moving like shadows across the snow-covered landscape. The moonlight reflected off their armor as they silently approached the enemy camp. At the front of the line stood Varek, his warhammer in hand, ready to crush the northern lords.
"Tonight, we take their pride," Varek grunted, his voice low and menacing.
Selene, her eyes gleaming in the darkness, nodded in agreement. "We end this before it can grow any larger."
Elias, however, was focused on the larger picture. "No mercy. Leave none alive."
The battle for the northern highlands was swift and brutal. Galdris's forces, though prepared for battle, were caught off guard by the speed and ferocity of Elias's strike. His forces, trained in the art of shadow warfare, infiltrated the camp with surgical precision. House Galdris's soldiers fell before they even had time to react.
At the heart of the battle stood Lord Galdris, a tall and imposing man with a crown of fur and iron. His men fought valiantly, but they were no match for Elias's ruthless army.
Lord Galdris drew his sword, his eyes burning with defiance. "You may have the might of the Empire, Elias, but you will never have the heart of it! This is the end of your dark reign!"
Elias approached him slowly, his eyes cold as the ice beneath their feet. "Your heart was already broken when you chose this path."
With a swift motion, Elias drew his blade. The two men met in a clash of steel, the sound of their swords ringing out in the night air. But Galdris was no match for Elias's speed and precision. The prince's blade cut through his opponent's defenses, and with a final, fatal strike, Elias drove his sword through Lord Galdris's chest.
As Galdris collapsed to the ground, his army faltered. Without their leader, the remaining soldiers were disorganized and defeated. Elias's forces swept through them, leaving no survivors.
By morning, the highlands were silent. The snow was stained red with the blood of those who had dared oppose the shadow prince. Elias stood at the edge of the battlefield, his eyes scanning the carnage. It was a sight he had grown accustomed to, but one that still weighed heavily on him.
Selene approached him, her expression unreadable. "House Galdris is no more. The northern lords will fall in line or face the same fate."
Elias's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "It was never just about the north. The throne is within reach, but there will always be those who resist. I must break them all."
Varek appeared at his side, wiping blood from his hands. "They won't stop, Elias. But neither will you."
Elias turned to face them, his voice steady but filled with resolve. "I didn't come this far to turn back. The Empire will bend to me, or it will burn."
To Be Continued...