“I see.” His voice was calm, like a serene lake void of any ripples. His eyes, facial expression, and posture were all relaxed.
Then he rose to his feet and stood before the window, his hands clasped behind him as he set his eyes on the snowy stronghold.
“So… His Highness has made the first move. I feel like we’re playing a game of chess and I’m losing.”
Kelvin rose up. “My Lord, His Highness would not dare treat Lady Mary badly, not when he wants the north standing behind him.”
Asher shot a sidelong glance at Kelvin, his eyes narrowing. “I am not giving out my sister for noble politics! Now, if any noble house within my land has something else to say, they should come to me.”
Kelvin trembled, his eyes fixed on the distant figure of Asher. The truth was, Kelvin and the northern lords didn’t view this development as entirely negative.
Besides, would it be prudent to wage war against His Highness, especially when they had other enemies lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
Kelvin had read about several Ashbourne females and even some males wedded off to other families to build strong ties.
“Do not send a reply yet. We shall first commence with the feast for my men and then, I shall send a reply to His Highness after asking Mary what she desires.”
Kelvin lowered his body.
“Now, make sure no one goes to convince her otherwise or I shall feed them to Sirius.”
Kelvin’s eyes widened.
Kelvin strode purposefully across the grand hallway, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
He flung open the door to the main hall, his pace unwavering as he scanned the bustling room.
His eyes settled on a nearby servant, and he beckoned the young man over with a curt gesture.
“Deliver these letters to the Messenger corps,” Kelvin instructed, his voice firm and authoritative.
“Inform them that these letters are to be distributed to all the lords. The duke’s displeasure must be conveyed.”
The servant’s eyes widened at the mention of the duke’s displeasure, and he scurried off with alacrity.
Moments later, a flurry of falcons burst into the sky, their sleek forms silhouetted against the clouds as they bore their precious cargo – the sealed letters attached to tiny containers on their backs – to distant lands.
____
Katarina stood atop the snow-encrusted mountain, the city guards stationed at a respectful distance, their dark silhouettes stark against the endless expanse of white.
From this lofty vantage point, she gazed out upon a winter wonderland, the landscape transformed into a serene and untouched realm of snow.
The final month of winter had arrived, yet the snowfall showed no signs of abating, instead descending from the grey skies in thick, heavy flakes that shrouded the world in a deep, unbroken silence.
Katarina’s gray woolen coat clung to her slender figure, its thick fabric a bulwark against the biting wind that whipped across the mountaintop.
As she blinked, her eyelashes fluttered against the chill air, and her breath escaped her lips in tiny, misty puffs that dissipated quickly in the frosty atmosphere.
The cold air stung her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled with a quiet intensity as she gazed out at the snow-shrouded landscape.
The familiar creaks of the lift echoed through the crisp mountain air, and Katarina’s gaze snapped towards the sound.
Her eyes lit up as Adam emerged from the lift, his imposing figure clad in thick black armor. The two large spikes protruding from his pauldrons gave him a formidable appearance, while his shoulder-blade-length hair whipped about his face in the wind.
He stepped heavily onto the wooden platform, his helmet tucked under his arm, and surveyed the surroundings before fixing Katarina with a surprised gaze.
“Lady Katarina,” he said, his deep voice tinged with curiosity. “What brings you to these walls?”
The wooden structure, built atop the mountain like a sentry’s perch, creaked and groaned in the wind, its wooden slats weathered to a soft silver.
The platform offered a commanding view of the surrounding landscape, with ballistae and drums at the ready to alert the city below to any potential threats.
“I wanted some of this mountain air.” Katarina replied with a smile.
Adam chuckled, “It is the best,” he said as he approached her, stopped by her side and looked at the snowy landscape.
Adam’s expression turned grave, his voice low and measured. “While the duke was away, forging alliances and securing our future, we agreed to the betrothal of his last remaining family member, the only one bound to him by blood, to His Highness.”
The weight of Adam’s words settled heavily upon Katarina, her heart sinking with a sense of foreboding. Adam’s tone dropped even further, his next words barely above a whisper. “What do you think will happen when the duke returns and discovers what we’ve done?”
Katarina’s hand fluttered to her chest, as if seeking to still the turmoil brewing within.
Her voice was laced with a mix of anxiety and desperation. “We agreed to the betrothal, but we didn’t send word to His Highness, hoping that we could still undo our decision if needed. But… we both know that rejection would be a declaration of war. And if our enemies were to seize this opportunity, our defenses would crumble, leaving us vulnerable to destruction.”
After a moment of silence, she continued.
“I would have done the same if I were to be in her position.”
Adam’s sigh was heavy with empathy, his eyes clouding over with understanding. “Lord Asher has given us everything,” he said, his voice low and solemn.
“He’s given us a new life, a land to call our own, and now you’re asking him to surrender the one thing that truly matters to him? The one person who shares his blood.”
“I do not.” Katarina stared into Adam’s eyes. “You also agreed that the only way for peace is to agree to his request but no one said we shall only stick to it.” His voice rose, filled with devotion and conviction. “If our lord chooses differently, then I shall stand unwavering behind him.”
Just then, a man clad in black woolen coat emerged from the creaking lift, his pace measured as he approached them.
Perched on his shoulder, a majestic falcon gazed out at Katarina and Adam with piercing eyes.
“Lady Katarina, Lord Adam. Word from the regent.”
____
Katarina’s eyes scanned the letter, her face growing increasingly somber. Her pupils dilated, and her gaze seemed to tremble under the weight of the words. Adam’s frown deepened as he watched her reaction.
“What is it?” he pressed, his voice laced with concern. Katarina’s voice was barely above a whisper. “The regent wrote this… The duke is displeased with our decisions, and he has summoned you and the entire Frontline Legion to Nineveh.”
Adam’s eyes widened in shock, his face pale.
“What?”
Even now he still had to control his voice so as not to destroy everything before him with his talent.
____
A plump man with slightly bulging abdomen and two muscular arms by his sides stood on the balcony of a magnificent manor, one that no manor built by a lesser noble could match despite him being a lesser noble.
Though a baron, Claude Flameheart was the richest man in the Dukedom of Ashbourne. He leaned on the balustrade, overlooking the city’s vista.
The bustling city within his view had over a hundred and twenty thousand people, soldiers included. As one of the most populated cities in the Dukedom with vast lands beyond Goshen as his territory, Claude yearned for a higher title to suit the land he owned.
The title of a Viscount would be great. He knew Asher watched over them, awaiting feats that would be commensurate to receiving an honourable reward such as a higher title.
Behind him was his ever trustworthy bodyguard. Nicolas, the oldest and currently strongest knight in Goshen.
After he joined the Ashbourne army, Asher’s rampant upgrades boosted him from gold-rank to the full fledged diamond-ranked knight.
Knights were men under a lord, capable of wielding a weapon proficiency and riding a horse. These were the basics.
Nobles depended on knights but their classifications mattered more. Gold ranked knights were rookie knights, despite their age. Although a rookie knight could defeat someone higher due to advantages in talent and experience, it still didn’t change their rank.
Diamond ranked knights on the other hand were veterans or full fledged knights, the main combatants on a battlefield.
They were the pride of a lord and the Dukedom of Asher had over 10,000 full fledged knights!
Sacred-ranked knights had no name as this rank wasn’t a milestone as the saint rank!
In this rank, a knight could be called a grand knight, champions in battlefields, those that could kill hundreds before falling.
Currently, Goshen had no champion knight, in fact the entire Dukedom of Ashbourne had no champion knight until Alec became a half man, half dragon.
He was the first and after him came the two new troops, Gray Knights and Scarlett Templar Knights. Men that could mow down three times their numbers!
If they were facing an average troop. It could fluctuate when against a troop trained to be special like them.
As Claude pondered his ambitions, a servant approached, bowing low. “My Lord, a fresh batch of evergreen olive oil has arrived. Should it be sent to the market?” Nicolas stepped aside, allowing the servant to approach Claude.
Claude nodded curtly. “Go ahead.”
The servant bowed and departed, passing a man clad in a black woolen coat who was approaching the balcony.
The man bowed respectfully, his tone calm and measured. “My Lord, word from the regent.” He presented a rolled-up letter bearing the seal of Lord Salvatore. Claude’s eyebrows arched, and he shot the man a sidelong glance, intrigued by the sudden arrival of a message from the regent.
___
A/N: Sorry for the excuse but my eyes hurt so I had to settle for one chapter even when it wasn’t my intention.