In his study, Roland was busy drafting an intelligence report.
The dark wooden desk before him was ticulously organized. A map was spread across the left side, several parchnts filled with intel notes occupied the right, and a crystal pager sat at the corner. The pen in his hand moved with fluid speed, recording row after row of the Solari troop movents in Sol-Regis that had recently been reported.
He paused for a mont, re-reading his notes, and let out a weary sigh.
It wasn’t enough. There were still too many variables to confirm.
He set his pen down, rose from his chair, and walked to the window. outside, the sky was a dull gray. Clouds drifted lazily. In the distance, factory chimneys continued to belch smoke, a sign that the city was still alive—still functioning, still normal.
Yet, a sense of unease gnawed at his chest.
Roland returned to his desk. His gaze fixed on the crystal pager. The device remained silent. No ringing. No vibration.
He stared at it for a long ti.
Then, the pager suddenly ca to life.
Roland snatched it up instantly. The voice from the other end sounded frantic—a sharp departure from the norm. The Ghost Squad mbers stationed in the south were known for their composure, even in dire ergencies. But this ti, the tone was different.
"Lord Roland, urgent report from Torshavn."
"Speak."
"A massive monster has erged from the dungeon near the city. It’s roughly fifteen tis the height of a man, its entire body encased in ice. Blue veins are pulsing throughout its form. The infantry in Torshavn are being overwheld; standard weapons are proving ineffective. anwhile, the Nightshade units tasked with civilian evacuation are also struggling due to the sheer volu of people and the monster’s surprising speed. They are trying to funnel citizens to safety, but many remain trapped."
Roland’s fist clenched. His fingers gripped the pager so hard his knuckles turned white. "Casualties?"
"Preliminary reports, My Lord. Twenty soldiers fallen. Thirty wounded. Regarding the civilians... we can’t confirm the numbers yet. Several residential sectors have been leveled. The creature is obliterating everything in its path."
Roland closed his eyes for a heartbeat. He took a breath, then exhaled slowly.
"Maintain surveillance. Report every developnt imdiately."
"Understood, My Lord."
Roland deactivated the pager. He stood, grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, and strode out. In the corridor, several servants cleaning the crystal lamps bowed in respect. Roland ignored them. His footsteps were a rapid staccato against the marble floor as he headed toward the central wing of the castle—where Lucian’s office was located.
His leather boots echoed through the silent hallway. He saw nothing but the heavy teak door at the end of the corridor.
He reached the door, paused to catch his breath, and knocked.
"Enter," Lucian’s voice called from within.
Roland pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Lucian was seated behind his desk, engrossed in a thick parchnt scroll. The crystal lamp on his desk cast a dim, warm glow, creating soft shadows across his aged but stern face. His eyes moved rapidly across the lines of text.
He didn’t look up as Roland entered.
"Father," Roland said.
Lucian continued reading. "What is it?"
"A report from the Ghost Squad." Roland stood rigid before the desk. "A massive monster has appeared in Torshavn. The infantry is failing to hold the line. The Nightshade units are struggling with evacuations. Casualties are mounting. Twenty soldiers are confird dead, thirty wounded. Many civilians are still trapped."
Lucian stopped reading. He set the scroll down and leaned back in his chair. His eyes locked onto Roland.
"How large is this creature?"
"Fifteen tis the height of a man. Encased in ice. Standard weaponry is ineffective, according to the report."
Lucian nodded slowly. He didn’t blink. There was no shock, no panic. Only... silence. He looked like a man processing data, fitting it into a grand map known only to him.
"Summon Riven," he said finally.
Roland didn’t move. "Father—"
"Summon Riven."
Roland nodded, turned on his heel, and exited the room.
He didn’t have to look far. In the corridor, he crossed paths with Riven, who was already making his way toward Lucian’s office. His elder brother’s face was calm, his pace unhurried.
"Father summoned ?" Riven asked.
"I just reported in. The monster in Torshavn."
Riven nodded. "I’ve already heard. Let’s go."
The two of them entered the room. Riven stood before Lucian’s desk, with Roland at his side. Following behind Riven was Thorne, the Captain of the Infantry. His face was grim, his eyes sharp and alert.
Lucian looked at Riven. "You’ve heard?"
Riven nodded. "Before Roland arrived, I received a report from Thorne. The Torshavn city garrison contacted him directly."
"And?"
Riven walked over to a map hanging on the wall. His finger pointed south, to the dot marking Torshavn.
"Troops were dispatched last night. Leofric and his tank division are already on the move. They will arrive within a few hours, depending on the terrain. The overland route to Torshavn isn’t as developed as the road to Iron Hearth, but Leofric has chosen the most efficient path."
He moved his finger to another section of the map.
"Kaelen dispatched the Sky-Hunters to the south at dawn. They will arrive first—likely within an hour or two. From the air, they can assess the scale of the damage and the monster’s position. The Ghost Squad has been in position for two days to monitor Solari movents; they are now being redirected to track the monster."
Lucian nodded. "Rianor?"
Riven glanced at Roland briefly before looking back at Lucian. "He was the one who urged to dispatch troops a few days ago. He said it’s better to be ready than to be surprised. It seems he was right."
Roland sighed. "I only just received the Ghost Squad’s report now. They—"
"I’m not blaming you," Riven interjected. His voice was flat, devoid of anger. "Our duties differ. You handle intelligence; I handle the military. It’s natural for you to receive specific field data slower than I receive combat alerts in this instance."
Roland didn’t respond. He simply nodded.
Lucian, who had been silent, finally spoke. "Enough."
Riven and Roland fell silent.
Lucian rose from his chair. He walked to the window overlooking the south. Outside, the gray sky seed to be holding back a storm that wasn’t quite ready to break.
"Kaelen will arrive first," Lucian said without turning around. "He can provide aerial support while Leofric’s tanks are still en route. Attacks from above should slow the monster down until the ground reinforcents arrive. Tell the Ghost Squad to identify the creature’s weak points. Perhaps there is a gap in its icy armor or a section that remains exposed."
He turned to face his sons.
"Riven, ensure the troops move according to schedule. I will tolerate no delays."
"Understood, Father."
"Roland, coordinate the evacuation and maintain communication with Count Eddard. I need real-ti updates from the field. I will not have citizens dying needlessly due to a lack of coordination."
Roland nodded. "Understood, Father."
"I will ensure the lines of communication stay open. The Ghost Squad will provide constant updates on the situation."
Lucian nodded. He was about to speak again when the crystal pager on the desk rang.
All eyes turned to the table.
Lucian walked over and picked it up.
"Duke Lucian Sudrath speaking."
The voice from the other end was tense. Not panicked—Count Eddard Torsen was not a man easily rattled—but strained. Deeply strained.
"Your Grace, this is Count Eddard."
"Report."
"The monster... I have never seen anything like it. It is colossal. Its body is shielded by a layer of ice so thick that every ti we manage to wound it, the ice regenerates in seconds. The Sudrath Spears are bouncing off. The Magitech pikes are snapping. Even the Grimm’s Roar cannons cannot penetrate it."
He paused, his breathing heavy over the line.
"I have already lost many infantryn at the gates. The Nightshade units are trying to get the civilians out, but many are still trapped inside. The monster is fast—impossibly fast for its size. Every sweep of its arm levels houses. Panic is setting in."
Lucian listened calmly, his eyes unblinking.
"Hold the line," he said. "Reinforcents are on the way."
Count Eddard hesitated. "Already, Your Grace?"
"Sky-Hunters will be there in an hour or two. They can strike from the air without facing the ice armor directly. Leofric’s tanks are following close behind. The Ghost Squad is already in position to find a weakness."
Lucian paused for effect.
"Focus on the evacuation. Do not let the panic spread. Command the Nightshade units to funnel the citizens to the safe zones. Ensure no one is left behind in the city."
Count Eddard took a ragged breath. His voice was still tense, but a note of relief had crept in.
"Thank you, Your Grace. We will hold."
Lucian deactivated the pager. He looked at Riven.
"Tell Leofric to push his engines. Every minute counts."
"Understood, Father."
Riven turned and marched out, Thorne trailing behind him.
Lucian looked at Roland. "You’re still here."
"Father, I—"
"No need for explanations." Lucian returned to the window, staring south. "You reported it. That is what matters. Now go. Coordinate the evacuation. Keep the lines with Count Eddard open. I will not lose a single citizen to a failure of information."
Roland nodded. "Yes, Father."
He turned and left, his footsteps echoing through the quiet stone corridor.
Left alone in the room, Lucian stood by the window.
His eyes were fixed toward the south—toward Torshavn, toward the monster, toward the brewing chaos. His face was a mask of calm, but his eyes were dark with thought.
"What are you planning, Alistair?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath.
The wind whistled from outside, carrying the mountain mist. Lucian did not move. He stood there, staring south, calculating the moves to co.
Outside, the gray clouds shifted slowly. It felt like they were holding sothing back—sothing that wasn’t ready to fall. But soon, it inevitably would.
User Comments
0 comments from readers