The battle was over, but the taste of blood and ash still lingered in the air. The battlefield, once a simple rocky valley, was now a macabre charnel ground. The bodies of enemy soldiers littered the ground—some dismembered, others still agonizing in pools of dark blood. The stench of iron, burnt leather, and decaying flesh permeated the atmosphere, making every breath heavy and nauseating.

  Kael stood atop a small promontory, his bloodstained sword resting in his hand. His gaze swept over the survivors of his army. Many were wounded, exhausted, but a fire burned in their eyes—the fire of hard-earned victory.

  Darius approached, his axe resting on his shoulder. He was covered in blood, but his predatory grin betrayed the satisfaction of a warrior after a well-fought battle.

  — "A fine victory, chief. Even if it came at a great cost."

  Kael nodded, his eyes falling on the bodies of his own men, laid aside, waiting to be buried. Each loss weighed on his shoulders like another stone on a crumbling monument.

  — "Too great," he murmured.

  Lysara appeared next, her expression grave.

  — "There are survivors among the enemy prisoners. Some are begging to be spared."

  Kael turned to her, his face unreadable.

  — "Are they of any value?"

  She shrugged.

  — "A few experienced soldiers. The rest, mere recruits who had never held a sword before today."

  Kael pondered for a moment. His army needed fresh blood, but he couldn't afford to take in potential enemies without precautions.

  — "Execute those who refuse to swear loyalty," he finally declared. "The others will be integrated into our forces—under strict watch."

  Lysara nodded without emotion and left to give the orders.

  Kael sighed, running a hand over his weary face. This battle was only a taste of the trials yet to come.

  The convoy of warriors moved slowly across the plains. The gray sky foretold an impending rain, and the wind howled with an oppressive melancholy.

  When Kael and his men reached the fortified camp, they were met with cheers. Those who had stayed behind—women, children, and elders—rushed toward the warriors. Some wept with relief, while others desperately searched for faces that would never return.

  A ten-year-old boy ran toward Darius, his eyes filled with hope.

  — "Father!"

  But the giant warrior looked away, his expression dark.

  Kael watched as the boy scanned the crowd, searching for a man who would never return. A woman approached, placing a trembling hand on the child's shoulder.

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  — "He’s dead, isn’t he?" she whispered.

  Darius closed his eyes briefly before nodding slowly.

  The boy clenched his fists, holding back his tears, then declared in a trembling voice:

  — "Then I will fight in his place."

  Kael knelt before him, his gaze serious.

  — "One day, perhaps. But not yet."

  The child nodded, and his mother led him away, her silent sobs echoing like a painful lament.

  Darius let out a rough sigh.

  — "Every victory leaves scars."

  Kael nodded in silent agreement.

  Late at night, Kael was awakened by Lysara, who entered his tent unannounced.

  — "There’s a problem," she announced urgently.

  He immediately sat up, alert.

  — "Speak."

  She stepped forward and placed a sealed parchment on his table.

  — "A messenger arrived. From a noble we believed to be neutral until now."

  Kael broke the seal and read the letter by the flickering lantern light.

  His expression hardened.

  — "He wants to meet me."

  — "An invitation to an alliance… or a trap," Lysara suggested.

  Kael tossed the letter onto the table, his gaze cold.

  — "We’re going to find out."

  Darius entered as well, likely having overheard the conversation.

  — "If it’s a trap, we need to be prepared."

  Kael smirked, a cold, calculating smile.

  — "I will meet this noble… but not alone."

  Two days later, Kael stood in a grand banquet hall, adorned with luxurious tapestries and illuminated by golden chandeliers. Seated across from him was an elegant man with a sly smile, dressed in a tunic embroidered with silver thread.

  — "Lord Kael," the man began in a honeyed tone. "You’ve made quite an impression as of late."

  Kael remained impassive.

  — "I prefer to get straight to the point. What do you want?"

  The noble chuckled.

  — "You are a pragmatic man—I like that. Here is my proposal: an alliance."

  Kael crossed his arms.

  — "And in exchange?"

  The noble’s smile widened.

  — "I want a place in your future kingdom."

  Kael studied him in silence.

  — "A future kingdom… You speak as if it’s already assured."

  The noble tilted his head.

  — "With your talent and my support… it’s only a matter of time."

  Kael sensed the trap in those words. This man wasn’t seeking an alliance. He was looking to climb to power using Kael’s victories.

  Kael offered a cold smile.

  — "You have great ambition… but I do not share your vision just yet."

  The noble raised an eyebrow.

  — "Really? Without my support, your enemies will take great pleasure in crushing you."

  Kael slowly rested a hand on his sword.

  — "I am used to threats."

  Silence fell over the room.

  Then, the noble burst into laughter.

  — "Oh, I like your audacity, Kael! Very well, think it over some more."

  He gestured to a servant, who brought forward a chest filled with gold coins.

  — "A gift—to aid you in your wars."

  Kael did not touch the gold.

  — "I will take your money. But that does not mean I trust you."

  The noble’s grin widened.

  — "We shall see."

  As Kael exited the palace, Lysara, who had been waiting outside, asked:

  — "Well?"

  Kael sighed.

  — "That man is a snake. But he is rich… and we need gold."

  Lysara narrowed her eyes.

  — "Do you really want to ally with him?"

  Kael gazed at the starry sky.

  — "Not forever. Just long enough to grow stronger."

  A new game had begun.

  And he fully intended to win.