The wind blew through Kael’s camp, carrying the scent of dried blood and burnt wood. The victory over Aldric was a crucial step, but it was just one piece in the much larger chessboard of war.

  The men were still celebrating, despite their exhaustion and wounds. Campfires illuminated the encampment, casting flickering shadows on the tents and battle-worn faces. Some laughed, drinking the cheap wine stolen from enemy reserves, while others tended to their wounds in resigned silence. But Kael had no time for revelry.

  Inside the command tent, he leaned over a large map spread across the table. Black markings indicated enemy fortresses still standing, while red pieces represented his scattered troops over the conquered territory. He traced his fingers along possible routes, hidden paths, searching for weaknesses in his adversaries’ strategies.

  Darius sat across from him, arms crossed, staring at the map with a thoughtful expression.

  — "Do you think they’ll react quickly?"

  Kael nodded, his gaze cold.

  — "The other lords won’t sit idly by. Aldric was a veteran, but he wasn’t their most powerful leader. There are worse ones out there."

  Lysara, leaning against a wooden pillar, spoke up.

  — "Our scouts spotted movement in the east. It seems Duke Revas is rallying his troops. His vanguard left Ferthun Citadel three days ago."

  Darius clenched his fists.

  — "Revas… He’s a beast on the battlefield. They say he never leaves an enemy alive."

  Kael stroked his chin, deep in thought. Revas was a formidable strategist, but also a ruthless butcher. He never attacked unless he was certain of victory.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  — "Then we need to strike before he’s ready."

  Before he could issue his orders, hurried footsteps sounded outside the tent. A dust-covered messenger entered, breathless, clearly exhausted from riding through the night.

  — "Lord Kael! A letter from the princess!"

  Silence fell. All eyes turned to the sealed scroll the man extended. Kael took it without a word, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment.

  The inked words bore the princess’s elegant signature.

  "Kael, your victory has been noticed. The Imperial Council is debating your actions, and some already want your head. But I have a proposal for you. Come to the capital under my protection, and we can discuss a future that benefits us both. Be wary, though: here, the enemy does not wield a sword—they smile while hiding a dagger."

  Kael read the letter twice.

  Behind him, Lysara whistled.

  — "She wants you to walk into the lion’s den."

  Darius slammed his fist on the table, making the map tremble.

  — "This is madness! We barely escaped a battlefield trap, and now she invites you into a nest of vipers?"

  Kael didn’t answer immediately. He knew the princess. She was ambitious, cunning. She never did anything without reason.

  — "If she were setting a trap, she wouldn’t have bothered to send me this warning."

  Darius grumbled.

  — "Or maybe she just wants to keep you under control."

  Kael smirked slightly.

  — "That’s possible. But she knows I’m not a man to be chained."

  He turned to his officers.

  — "I’m going to the capital."

  Lysara raised an eyebrow.

  — "Alone?"

  Kael shook his head.

  — "No. We’ll go with an escort—large enough to show our strength, but not enough to be seen as a threat."

  Darius tapped his foot, frustrated.

  — "I hope you know what you’re doing, Kael. There, swords are replaced by poisons and lies."

  Kael tucked the letter into his belt and walked toward the exit.

  — "That’s why we need to be even more dangerous."

  He looked up at the night sky. Tomorrow, he would set out on his journey. Tomorrow, he would step onto another battlefield—one where blades were invisible, and a single misplaced word could kill more surely than a sword.

  The capital awaited.