The capital city greeted Ethan's return with the cold efficiency of a machine running on endless gears. As the black SUV wound its way through broad avenues lined with towering glass-fronted buildings, Ethan stared out the window. Neon lights reflected off the rain-slicked streets, the glow of advertisements and traffic signals flashing in vibrant reds and blues.
He leaned back against the leather seat, watching the city unfold with a newfound awareness. The buildings no longer seemed like monuments of triumph; instead, they loomed like hollow sentinels—symbols of power that had grown distant from the lives of the people beneath their shadows. His mind was still in Albrose, where farmers tilled fields with calloused hands and children ran barefoot across dirt paths.
The SUV passed through iron gates that opened with mechanical precision, the royal crest emblazoned on their surface. Armed guards flanked the entrance, their eyes sharp and unblinking as they saluted. The vehicle came to a smooth stop in the courtyard of the royal palace, its marble walls glowing under the bright floodlights.
Viktor exited first, his sharp eyes scanning the courtyard. A subtle nod signaled that the area was secure.
"Clear," he murmured.
Ethan stepped out, the cool night air biting his skin. His polished black shoes clicked against the cobblestone as he straightened his shoulders. Before he could take more than a step, a voice rang out.
"Your Majesty!"
Lord Aldric, the Minister of Trade, cut through the gathering of courtiers like a blade through water. His sharp suit, crimson tie, and wire-rimmed glasses lent him the appearance of a hawk ready to swoop on prey. His breath came quick as he offered a hasty bow.
"Urgent matters demand your attention," he began without preamble. "Trade talks with Caladon have collapsed entirely. There are rumors of tariffs, potential embargos—"
Ethan raised a hand, his expression as calm as it was immovable. "Lord Aldric, I will hear your briefing tomorrow. Tonight, I need time."
Aldric blinked, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "But—"
"Tomorrow," Ethan repeated, firmer.
The tension crackled in the air as Aldric inclined his head stiffly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
The knot of advisers surrounding the entryway murmured among themselves as Ethan passed, Viktor a silent shadow at his side. The palace halls stretched long and cold, their grandeur suffocating rather than inspiring. Tapestries depicting centuries of triumph and sacrifice hung like relics of a bygone era.
"They descend like wolves the moment I return," Ethan muttered.
"They smell blood in the water," Viktor replied dryly.
"Whose blood?"
"Yours, if you aren't careful."
Inside the private study, Ethan let out a sigh as the heavy door clicked shut behind him. The room was spacious but dark, its walls lined with shelves of leather-bound tomes and a map of the kingdom pinned above a broad oak desk. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting shadows that danced like restless phantoms.
He sank into the chair by the window, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed out at the city below. The lights shimmered like stars brought down to earth, a constellation of human ambition and hope. His eyes, however, saw only the unseen—the lives beyond the glass, where struggles went unnoticed by the corridors of power.
The knock came just as he closed his eyes.
"Come in."
The door opened to reveal Evelyne Althar, her tailored suit as precise as her movements. She was older now, silver threading through her dark hair, but her sharp eyes had lost none of their keenness.
"You look tired," she observed as she approached.
"I am," Ethan admitted.
She stood by the fire, her hands outstretched toward its warmth. "Did your time in Albrose teach you anything?"
He nodded slowly. "That ruling isn't just about policies. It's about connection. They don't need a king locked away in a palace. They need someone who understands their struggles, their hopes."
A flicker of approval passed across her face. "And what will you do with that understanding?"
"Turn it into action."
Before she could respond, the door opened again, and Viktor stepped inside, his face grim.
"Your Majesty, there's been an attack near the northern border."
Ethan straightened. "Casualties?"
"Three dead, five wounded. The survivors reported a coordinated assault—organized tactics, precise strikes. No banners or insignias."
"Bandits?"
"Too disciplined for common raiders."
The weight of responsibility settled over Ethan like iron chains. "Summon the council. We meet at dawn."
Viktor gave a curt nod and disappeared.
"Trouble comes swiftly," Evelyne said quietly.
"It always does," Ethan murmured.
---
The circular table in the council chamber had been carved from ancient oak, its surface polished smooth by centuries of debate and decision-making. Around it sat the kingdom's most powerful figures, their faces etched with varying degrees of concern and calculation.
When Ethan entered, the room fell silent. He took his seat, Viktor standing behind him like a living sentinel.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "we have a serious threat on our hands."
General Harren, a weathered man with a scar tracing his jawline, leaned forward. "The northern border has always been vulnerable. If these attackers are as organized as reported, we could be dealing with mercenaries—or worse."
"What do you recommend?"
"Reinforce the garrisons. Double patrols along the trade routes. And send scouts—discreetly. We need to know who they are before we strike."
Lord Aldric cleared his throat. "And diplomacy? If another nation is behind this—"
"Diplomacy comes after we have facts," Ethan snapped. "Our priority is securing the border and protecting our people."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, but Evelyne's calm voice cut through. "Perception is a dangerous game, Your Majesty. Some in court believe you are distracted. That your visit to Albrose was more indulgence than duty."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Let them talk. I'll show them results."
"Talk has power. Your enemies will use it against you if you give them the chance."
He met her gaze, understanding her warning. Leadership was as much about perception as action.
---
That night, Ethan stood on the balcony outside his chambers. The city stretched before him, a sea of lights and shadows. Below, the hum of life continued—markets closing, laughter spilling from taverns, lovers strolling under flickering streetlamps.
"Thinking about the outpost?" Viktor's voice came from the shadows.
"Thinking about everything," Ethan said. "Every decision feels like walking a razor's edge. One wrong step…"
"You won't fall," Viktor said. "Not while I stand beside you."
Ethan turned, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "I'll hold you to that."