In the stark, simply styled Regent's office in Caelid, Hectov stood before a plain, slightly tarnished half-length mirror, patiently adjusting his gear.
He crossed two short swords behind his waist and thodically filled the leather sheaths along his thighs and ribs with daggers. Finally, he threw a heavy cloak over his steel armor and secured his prized greatsword to the clasp on his back.
Hectov's grip on Caelid for the past three years was not rely a product of the Ofnir family's political shadow. During the Second Liurnia War, he had been a renowned general of the Western Expeditionary Army, praised by his peers as a knight who could "rival a hero."
In the Lands Between, "Hero" is not re flattery; it is a rank of power recognized across all borders. Though Hectov had not yet truly ascended to that legendary echelon, he considered himself peerless among those who walked the path toward it.
"General, the guards are assembled. We are ready to depart," an officer reported, his voice resonant and firm.
Hectov nodded, then paused as a thought crossed his mind. "Has Clavell shown any unusual behavior?"
The officer shook his head decisively. "None. Last night, he canceled all appointnts that required him to leave the city. This morning, he transferred all internal authority to Lord Cezir in less than half an hour without a single objection. He is currently on standby with the army."
"Is that so?" Hectov chuckled, a trace of surprise flickering in his eyes. "It seems I was overthinking it. The man truly is a coward." He adjusted his cloak one last ti. "Opportunities are fleeting. The rebels think they are far enough away—let's show them otherwise. Move out imdiately."
At ten o'clock in the morning, nearly four hundred soldiers marched from the north gate. Hectov and his fifty personal guards ford the iron core of the unit. Command of the city was left to Cezir, a military clerk Hectov had brought from Leyndell and his most trusted confidant.
Watching the army vanish into a cloud of dust from the city walls, Cezir ordered the gates barred. He assigned the remaining soldiers—mostly the old, the sick, and the "leftovers" from the previous administration—to their posts with a cold efficiency. Though the veterans grumbled about missing the chance for glory and loot, they followed the chief of staff's orders.
As the wall cleared, Cezir stood alone, gazing toward the horizon. No one noticed the faint, crimson mist that montarily flashed across his pupils.
"Your Highness," Olvens reported to Lucia. "The Wyvern Warrior in charge of communications has returned. Captain Aegis reports the demi-human alliance has completed their ambush at Sunset Pass. Furthermore, Soreto and Turak have promised their troops three days of unrestricted plundering once Caelid falls."
On the other side of the web, Guilel had sent word that Hectov's "elite" intelligence network—now entirely compromised by Clavell's subtle perfury—was leading the Regent directly into the abyss. Hectov believed he was the hunter; he did not realize he was the fly stepping onto a giant spider's web.
anwhile, Lucia had broken away from the main diplomatic envoy heading to Dectus. Along with Elder Muriel, Olvens, Anastasia, and twenty elite Storm Knights, she occupied the high ground of a hilly area fifty miles from Sunset Pass, waiting for the net to close.
Lucia listened to the report and sighed. "What a pity about Kruger."
The news of the High Priest's death had arrived earlier that morning. It was a tragedy: after decades of service to his people, only a handful of elders truly mourned him. The rest of the coalition viewed his passing with either indifference or secret joy. Kruger had built a nation out of outcasts using only his prestige, but in a few short weeks, that devotion had rotted into bloodlust.
"Olvens," Lucia said, sitting atop a sun-ward boulder. "When this is over, I intend to station you in Caelid as an advisor to Clavell. You will help him maintain order with force, and ensure his loyalty remains... absolute. Are you willing?"
Olvens was taken caught off guard. "Your Highness still does not trust him?"
"Personal affection is one thing; the responsibility of power is another," Lucia replied, looking out over the reddish-brown wasteland of Mt. Gelmir. "We are preparing to kill thousands of souls to place him in that seat. We must ensure the investnt yields a return. If, decades from now, we return to find this land unchanged, then we are just as damned as Hectov."
Olvens stared at the silver-haired figure silhouetted against the golden sun. He bowed with a solemnity that surpassed anything he had shown before. "As you wish, Your Highness."
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