THE GENERAL
1125 Words
The Capital of Eldoria was always loud at sunrise, but on this day it felt louder than usual. Bells rang from the palace towers, soldiers lined both sides of the main road, and people rushed out of their homes to gather and cheer. Word had spread quickly:
General Aquinious was returning from war.
His army had fought far away in the dry lands of Azararath, where harsh winds carried sand like needles. Many weeks had passed since they marched out of Eldoria, and the people feared the worst. But now the sound of strong hooves filled the air.
General Aquinious rode at the front of his men, tall and proud on a dark war-horse. His armour was still covered in dust from battle, and a long scar cut across his cheek, fresh from the fight. Behind him rode hundreds of soldiers, tired but alive, carrying the banners of Eldoria.
The crowd shouted,
“Victory! Victory for Eldoria!”
and
“Glory to Aquinious!”
Children ran along the road trying to touch the soldiers. Women threw flowers. Men raised their fists in respect. Aquinious kept his eyes forward, but his expression never truly softened. Victory always came with a price.
When he reached the palace gates, he dismounted. His soldiers stayed outside on one knee, waiting for him to enter. Aquinious walked through the high golden doors, his boots echoing through the long hall.
Inside the throne room, King Lucarion sat at the centre, surrounded by council members, maps, and scrolls. He was in the middle of a discussion when Aquinious appeared.
The king looked up sharply. “General.”
Aquinious dropped to one knee and bowed deeply.
“My king. My lords.”
“Rise,” Lucarion said. “Tell us everything.”
Aquinious stood, removed his helmet, and spoke clearly so everyone could hear.
“The kingdom of Azararath has fallen. Their king fought till his last breath. We captured him, and his life ended on the field. Their armies are broken. Their lands belong to Eldoria now.”
A murmur of excitement travelled through the council. One of the older advisors nodded quickly. “Excellent news, General. Excellent.”
But Aquinious continued, his voice heavier.
“We lost many men. Too many. But we held our ground and secured victory.”
The king breathed out slowly, as if releasing weeks of tension. Then he raised his hand and shouted:
“Bring wine! Today we celebrate our warriors!”
Maidens hurried in with trays of cups and large jars of sweet red wine. Servants lit more torches, music started in the background, and the heavy mood turned into joy.
King Lucarion lifted his cup high.
“To Eldoria!”
“To Eldoria!” everyone replied.
Then the king gave a small smile, the kind he used only when he had special news.
“My council… my friends… today is not only a day of victory. Today, I share a blessing given by the Gods of Fertility.”
Everyone quieted.
The king placed a hand on his chest.
“The Queen… is pregnant.”
The room exploded with cheers. Council members rushed to him with congratulations. Wine spilled on the floor. Soldiers laughed and clapped.
“The gods have answered!”
“At last, an heir to the throne!”
“This is a day of miracles!”
But Aquinious… Aquinious only smiled faintly.
Not a real smile.
A mask.
Inside him, anger and grief twisted like a knife. The child everyone celebrated… was his.
Yet he raised his cup anyway.
“Good news indeed, my king.”
Lucarion clapped his shoulder. “Aquinious, my friend, you look troubled. Drink! Rejoice!”
“I am simply tired from battle,” the general lied.
But his eyes said something else.
The celebration lasted long into the evening. Finally, when the king returned to his chambers and the council drifted away, Aquinious slipped out into the eastern part of the palace gardens.
Moonlight covered the paths with silver light. The air smelled of flowers. And there, waiting under a stone arch, stood Queen Nerithia.
Her face softened the moment she saw him. They stepped closer and embraced without a word. The hug was long and full of unspoken pain.
“Thank the gods you returned alive,” she whispered.
“And thank the gods for your good news,” he replied, though his tone was stiff. “A child.”
Nerithia let out a small breath.
“Yes. The people are happy.”
Aquinious stepped back slowly, his jaw tight.
“But I am not.”
The Queen looked at him carefully.
“Aquinious…”
“You will give my child to the King,” he said, voice shaking with anger. “You will let the world believe this baby is his.”
She touched his arm gently. “There is no other way. If the king learns the truth, he will kill us both. You know this.”
Aquinious’s eyes darkened.
“My wife cannot give me children. And now the only child I may ever have will grow up calling another man father.”
Nerithia looked at the ground.
“I am sorry. I truly am.”
His breath grew heavier. He turned away for a moment, fighting with himself. When he finally looked back, his voice was cold.
“I will not tell anyone. You have my word.”
The Queen exhaled in relief, until she heard the rest.
“But when the time is right,” Aquinious said slowly, “I will kill King Lucarion. I will take the throne. I will marry you. And the child will grow under his true father.”
Nerithia did not look shocked.
She did not gasp.
She simply nodded, almost calmly.
Because her heart had long turned cold toward the king.
She still felt betrayed by his affair with Avelora.
She still remembered the humiliation.
The shame.
The nights she lay awake, hidden behind a royal smile.
So she said softly:
“I understand.”
Aquinious stepped closer and cupped her cheek.
“When the moment comes, no one will stop me.”
Nerithia touched his hand gently, her voice low.
“Then let us wait. And when the time arrives… we will act.”
The garden fell silent again, the moonlight cold on the stone floor.
Two dangerous hearts.
One deadly secret.
A child not yet born… but already tied to betrayal, ambition, and the future of Eldoria.
And far away in the East District, a different child, Tharen, son of Avelora, was growing stronger each day, unaware that his life would one day collide with all of this.
The kingdom moved forward.
The gods watched silently.
And fate continued to weave its threads.
- Writer
