Impending War.
The quiet calm of the night was abruptly shattered by the urgent rapping of knuckles against Alaric's chamber door.
Alaric stirred, the faint glow from the candles casting a warm light over Salviana's sleeping face beside him. Alaric found he had become more of a sleeper than he was before, lying next to his wife was something he found to be really peaceful and it be helps him drift into a world B where thêtre was no issues and all he had to do was hope.
Another knock, this one heavier, more demanding.
Alaric sat up, instinctively reaching for his sword. He knew who it was by the sound of their shoes but he could be cautious.
He walked out of their bedroom, "Enter," he commanded, his voice a low rumble.
Two guards stepped in, their faces grave. "Your Grace, it's Fooleria. They've declared war. We're to meet in the Great Hall to prepare."