To the empire

The grand hall had emptied after hours of intense discussion. Lords and their retainers filed out. Aragon had concluded his speech with a confident promise:

"I will contact each of you soon. Prepare your forces and stand ready."

The lords nodded in agreement, their loyalty evident in their eyes, and one by one, they departed to their respective lands. With their departure, the hall grew silent, save for the gentle crackle of torches along the stone walls.

Freja stood by the doorway, her cloak drawn tightly around her against the chilling wind. She gestured for Aragon to follow.

"It's time," she said simply, her voice calm yet firm.

Aragon gave the hall one last glance, his mind already shifting to the task ahead. The next step was clear: they would journey to Wreles, a port fief under the stewardship of Freja's distant relatives.

There, the foundations of his conquest would be laid.