The Alliance

Chapter 30: An act of war

A few days ago

The clash of swords and the screams of men had filled the night as King Maises of Eldermere and his entourage rode through the dense woods, their path to Mercia cut off by a surprise ambush from Vynra.

Under the silver glow of the moon, arrows had rained down upon them from the cliffs above. The king’s men barely had time to react before Vynra’s soldiers surged from the shadows, blades gleaming, their faces masked with war paint.

“Protect the king!” Sir Luthor, commander of Eldermere’s royal guard, had bellowed, drawing his sword as he cut down the first enemy to charge.

Queen Elenna, cloaked in dark riding leathers, had drawn a dagger from her belt, prepared to fight alongside her husband. But King Maises had seized her by the waist and thrust her into the arms of a knight.

“Get the queen out of here!” he had commanded.

They had fought valiantly, cutting through enemy ranks, their forces scattering into the trees, but it was clear—the path to Mercia was lost. They had been forced to retreat, abandoning their journey to witness the union between Eldermere and Mercia.

The wedding would have to continue without them.

Days later, the battered forces of Eldermere rode through the gates of their kingdom.

The banners of the golden stag still flew high, but the people of the city sensed the impending storm of war.

Inside the stone fortress of the Great Keep, King Maises gathered his most trusted noblemen, knights, and generals in the war chamber. Maps were spread across the great oak table, candles burning low as the weight of war hung over them all.

Sir Luthor spoke first. “Your Majesty, the attack was not random. Vynra knew our route. They were waiting. If we hadn’t been forced to turn back, I fear they would have made a move against the capital itself.”

King Maises folded his arms, his jaw tight. “Then we were lucky.” His piercing gaze swept over the gathered men. “But we cannot rely on luck. Vynra and the Riverlanders have declared war against us, and we must retaliate before they gather more forces.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

“Have we received word from Mercia?” asked Duke Godric, one of the king’s most trusted advisors.

The king nodded. “I have already sent word to Queen Eleanor. She has promised one hundred thousand Mercia soldiers to aid us—after the wedding.”

“100,000?” Sir Luthor let out a low whistle. “That’s enough to crush both Vynra and the Riverlands.”

The king exhaled heavily. “Not without cost. The Mercians do not fight for free. In exchange for their aid, we must give them land, food supplies, and treasures.” His voice hardened. “A steep price, but one we must pay to ensure Eldermere’s survival.”

The men exchanged glances, but no one protested. They all knew the truth. Without Mercia’s army, Eldermere would be outnumbered.

“Have we received word from Princess Aurora?” the queen asked, her voice steady but laced with worry.

King Maises turned to her. “The wedding was successful. She is on her way with Eldermere’s court. When they arrive with Mercia’s forces, we march.”

Silence fell over the room, heavy and foreboding. This war would decide the fate of Eldermere.

With a final glance around the chamber, King Maises placed his hand over the war map, his fingers pressing into the lands that Vynra sought to steal.

“This ends when we burn them to the ground.”