The drive from the hospital was silent. The black sedan, with tinted windows shielding its occupants, slid through the winding streets of the capital under a sky of steel-gray clouds. Ethan stared out at the passing city, his reflection in the glass a reminder of the weight he now bore. Viktor sat beside him, ever-watchful, his eyes scanning for threats even here in the heart of his own kingdom.
As they neared the palace, the towering spires came into view, their glass and steel a stark contrast to the humble wood and brick structures in the outer districts. Ethan's thoughts drifted back to the hospital—the sterile scent of antiseptics, the soft beep of machines, and the faces of the injured soldiers, etched with pain and quiet resignation.
He remembered Corporal Deighton, who had lost his leg to the ambush. The man's voice had trembled as he gripped Ethan's hand, his eyes filled with questions no king could answer.
"Will my family be provided for, Your Majesty?"
Ethan had squeezed his hand firmly.
"Your service will never be forgotten. I swear to you, they will have everything they need."
But even as the words left his mouth, doubt had crept in. Would promises be enough?
The sedan rolled to a stop at the palace gates. As guards waved them through, Ethan clenched his fists, feeling the resolve hardening within him. It was not enough to react to threats. He had to be proactive, to ensure the security of his people before the next attack could claim more lives.
---
The council chamber buzzed with low murmurs as Ethan entered. The circular table, its polished mahogany surface gleaming under the overhead lights, was already filled with his most trusted advisers. Viktor took his usual position by the door, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Evelyne Althar, her silver-streaked hair neatly pinned back, met Ethan's gaze with a knowing nod.
Ethan took his seat at the head of the table, resting his hands lightly on the smooth wood. The murmurs ceased.
"Reports from the northern outpost confirm the attackers were highly coordinated," he began. "This was not a random assault. These were trained men—well-armed and precise. General Harren, what have our scouts uncovered?"
The grizzled general leaned forward, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his uniform.
"Our scouts identified shell casings and tire tracks leading east, toward the mountains. They also found traces of equipment consistent with military-grade firearms. However, there were no insignias, no identifying marks."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Are we certain this isn't the work of bandits?"
Harren shook his head.
"Bandits don't have access to this kind of weaponry, and they don't operate with this level of precision. This was a strike with a purpose."
Evelyne's voice cut through the room, calm and measured.
"If this was an orchestrated attack, we must consider the possibility of a rogue faction or a rival nation testing our defenses."
The minister of trade, Lord Aldric, adjusted his glasses. "We have trade agreements with every bordering nation. None of them would benefit from open conflict."
"Trade agreements can be broken," Ethan said sharply. "And alliances can shift."
He glanced at Viktor, who remained silent but watchful.
"What do you make of this?"
Viktor's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It smells of subversion. Someone is probing our weaknesses. They want to see how far they can push before we push back."
"Then we must respond decisively," Ethan said, his voice firm. "General, I want additional forces stationed at every northern outpost. Double the patrols. Increase intelligence operations. If anyone so much as steps over the border armed, I want to know about it."
Harren nodded. "It will be done."
Ethan turned his gaze to Evelyne.
"I need a full review of our alliances and trade agreements. Look for vulnerabilities—any potential fractures that could be exploited."
She inclined her head. "I'll have a report on your desk by morning."
The discussion moved on to logistics and resources, the conversation brisk and focused. But as the meeting drew to a close, Ethan remained unsatisfied. Every solution felt reactive, not preventative. He needed more than vigilance. He needed strategy.
---
Later that evening, Ethan found himself on the palace balcony, the city sprawling before him like a living map. The lights of the capital twinkled below, and beyond them, the dark line of the northern mountains loomed against the horizon.
Viktor approached, his steps soundless as always.
"You're restless."
Ethan let out a breath, the cool night air filling his lungs.
"I need to understand why this happened. What drove those men to attack us? Was it power? Revenge? Something else?"
Viktor folded his arms, his gaze steady.
"Motivation matters. But preparedness matters more. We can't always know the mind of the enemy, but we can be ready when they strike."
Ethan nodded slowly. "And yet, we can't defend forever. Sooner or later, we'll have to go on the offensive."
A faint smile tugged at Viktor's lips.
"Then let's start planning."
As the wind whispered through the dark, the seeds of a new strategy began to take root. Ethan knew that strength alone would not be enough. He needed insight, foresight—and trust. Trust in his people, his allies, and in himself. And when the next challenge came, he would be ready.