Chapter 3: Set in stone

The king's orders were simple: conquer the land and bring its people under his control. They were to be used as slave labour, mining for ores, harvesting crops, or performing any other tasks deemed necessary. The king did not care if the people starved, or if they had shelter. His only concern was the expansion of his empire, and the power he wielded over the common folk.

From his balcony, the king could see his army assembling. The sun glinted off their helmets, and the wind carried the scent of oil and steel. Andrei stood tall, his eyes glinting with pride.

"Today, my army grows stronger, and my power increases. The land will tremble under my feet, and I shall be victorious!" he declared, his voice booming.

As the king gazed at the horizon, a shadow crossed his face.

He reached up to stroke his greying beard. A faint frown furrowed his brow.

"What troubles you, sire?" his advisor, Gaspard, asked, noticing his master's expression. Turning away from the receding soldiers, king Andrei's gaze drifted back toward the balcony's stone rail.

"I don't know," the king sighed, his tone laced with uncertainty.

Within the walls of the grand castle, a large table crafted from Cherrywood stood resolute in the candlelit war room. Papers and scrolls were strewn across it, displaying messages from allies, strategy plans, maps, all askew as if mirroring the turmoil within the kingdom. The room itself was decorated with tapestries depicting heroic battles and ancient legends, casting a hushed ambiance that hung in the air like the heavy fog.

The king leaned over the table as he studied a map, deep in thought. Silver ravens marked the land his army had conquered. He traced their path with his eyes, each one representing a hard-won victory and a step closer to his ultimate goal.

King Andrei had conscripted more men to join his army, to fight in the battles that would expand his kingdom. They came from far and wide, driven by a sense of duty or the lure of wealth and power. They were men of all sizes and shapes, their faces hardened by the trials they had endured. Their loyalty was fierce, and Andrei welcomed their presence, knowing they would aid him in reshaping the fragmented realms of Tarthiel, Elostos, and the tribe of the river.

Var'aak, the jewel of King Andrei's conquests, was not enough to satisfy his ambitions. His yearning to unite the scattered kingdoms burned within him like a raging fire, consuming his every thought. His kingdom would stretch far and wide, reaching the distant corners of the realm, for he wanted to forge a single, powerful nation that would make history tremble.

Nothing, it seemed, would stand in his way. Not even the cries of the innocent, the bloodshed of lives lost in his relentless pursuit of power. His heart, having once shown compassion and kindness, had been tainted by an insatiable desire to rule, to dominate. And as he stared at the map, his eyes gleamed with an unsettling crimson hue. The reflection of his inner turmoil displayed in his gaze, a visual manifestation of the seething desire that consumed him.

Andrei placed another silver raven on the map, its wings arched in eternal flight. Beneath it, the words "Idrae" were etched, holding the promise of a new conquest, a land waiting to be claimed. A rebellion to snuffed out like a flame. The king's fingers trembled with anticipation as he imagined the battles to come, the faces of his enemies twisted in fear as his armies descended upon them.

His voice held a resonance that commanded attention as he addressed his advisors, a motley crew of seasoned warriors and cunning strategists.

The king's advisor, Gaspard, stood nearby, his expression inscrutable. He was an older man, his grey hair and beard neatly trimmed, and his green eyes sharp. He was the most trusted of the king's counselors, and Andrei had known him since he was a boy.

"My lord, do you not think you have spread yourself thin? Our armies are already stretched to their limit, and now you want to send them on yet another campaign. How many more battles will it take until the land is under our control?"

"We must strengthen our kingdom," he proclaimed, his voice carrying an aura of unyielding authority. "Our soldiers fight valiantly on the front lines, defending and conquering what is rightfully ours. This company that marches to join them shall bring us one step closer to victory. I have sent word for Captain Malachi to return to the castle."

"But sire, we are already stretched to the breaking point. We cannot continue to sustain this pace, or we will surely falter."

"Have you lost your faith, my old friend?" King Andrei questioned, his gaze challenging.

"No, my lord," Gaspard replied, his tone respectful. "But I fear the consequences if we push ourselves too hard. We cannot fight on all fronts at the same time."

"The only consequence will be defeat. And that is a fate I will not allow," the king's voice grew cold, his words sharp and unyielding. "My will is the law. My vision shall guide us to glory."

The advisor could not argue with the king's reasoning, nor would he dare defy his orders. But in his heart, he knew the dangers of spreading their forces too thin, the risk of losing everything they had fought so hard to achieve.

Before they could discuss the war further, the doors to his chamber swung open, revealing queen Asteria. Her presence brought a calmness to the room, a softness that juxtaposed the harshness that filled Andrei's heart.

At the sight of his queen, Andrei dismissed his company, their forms fading away into the distance like ghosts dancing within the shadows. They shuffled through an extensive set of double doors, skillfully engraved with a scene of birds dancing across the wooden frame. The intricate details, masterfully etched, spoke of the craftsmen's dedication to detail.

Once inside the king's chamber, Asteria released a soft sigh of satisfaction. Her eyes locked with the silver ravens on the map, as if she could see the future they represented. A gentle smile graced her lips as she walked towards the king, her gown flowing like a river of red silk around her.

"So, this is your plan," the queen murmured, her fingers tracing the outlines of the map. "You truly believe we will win?"

"Of course," the king replied, his voice confident. "The odds are stacked against us, but we are the ones with the power to change the tide. We have the advantage, and we will use it."

Asteria gazed into the eyes of her husband, and for a moment, she thought she could see the reflection of her own.

"Andrei," the queen uttered, her voice barely a whisper, "we are losing control."

The king's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"You have grown distant," she stated, her words piercing his heart like a knife.

The king turned to his queen, the intensity in his eyes softened by her presence.

"My Asteria," he murmured, his voice wavering with a hint of regret. "sometimes I wonder if my ambition has blinded me to the suffering I leave in my wake."

Asteria placed a delicate hand on the king's cheek, her touch gentle and understanding.

"You are a king, my love," she said. "And kings make sacrifices for the greater good."

Andrei took a deep breath, his gaze drifting back to the map. The silver ravens glinted in the candlelight, a reminder of the path he had taken and the path he would continue to pursue. With Asteria's words echoing in his mind. 

"I have no choice. I must keep moving forward," he said. "We cannot afford to lose. If we are defeated, then all will be lost. This is the only way."

His gaze drifted to his queen's face. She gazed back at him, her eyes filled with sadness and understanding.

"You do what you have to do, Andrei. For the sake of our kingdom. For the sake of all who rely on us."

With those words, Asteria pressed a tender kiss to her husband's lips, and the queen's heart ached.

For she knew that with each passing day, the man she loved was slowly slipping away from her.

***

Weary soldiers filed out of the castle, marching in unison through the streets of Var'aak. The mist, like a loyal companion, clung to their armour and spears, accompanying them as they made their way towards the distant battlefield. The citizens of the city, their faces etched with a mixture of hope and fear, lined the streets. Some waved flags, their patriotic fervour undeniable, while others held loved ones tight, whispering prayers for their safe return.

The road stretched ahead of them, winding through the hills and valleys of Var'aak, carrying their heavy feet along its path. They marched with the confidence and bravery befitting their station, their hearts filled with a determination to see their mission through. Each soldier was promised to be paid handsomely for their service.

As the days passed, the weather turned. Snow fell upon the ground, and a cold wind blew. The soldiers shivered and wrapped themselves in their cloaks, the furs lining their armour was not enough to keep out the chill. But they pressed on.

On the seventh day of their journey, they reached the borders of their kingdom. Beyond the snow-capped peaks and the vast expanse of the white plains, the lands of the river tribe awaited.

And as the mist clung to their backs, the King's army marched into the valley.

On the horizon, the enemy could be seen. The sound of their boots crunching the snow echoed across the land, a steady drumbeat that foretold the violence to come.