The Kenwools remained in Cliffland for another week. Long enough to settle in. Long enough to be trusted. They ate at the king's table, drank from the same cups, and spoke like men who had returned home after a misunderstanding.
Nothing in Fabio's voice betrayed him. Nothing in his eyes lingered too long. He laughed when expected. Nodded when needed. Listened more than he spoke. And that made him harder to read.
Drexo relaxed around him. So did the council. Even the cautious ones felt he was a familiar ally. One whose house has been in good relationship with the royal house for over two hundred years.
They smiled and drank because nothing felt forced. Nothing felt wrong. That was the most dangerous part.
One evening, as wine circled once again, Fabio leaned back slightly. "The wedding should happen in six months." His tone was light. But there was weight beneath it. "I do not want too much delay."
Drexo nodded without hesitation. "Of course." He lifted his cup. "The crown will make all necessary preparations."
Their cups met. A soft clink, and they drank. Around them, the hall echoed with approval. Voices rose. Laughter followed. And for a moment, it felt real.
The next morning came quickly. The Kenwools were already prepared to depart. Their ships waited at the shore. Sails tied. The men of Ashford were ready.
Drexo stood at the front, Maria stood beside him. The council gathered behind. The wind carried the scent of salt and something else. Something quieter.
Fabio stepped forward, then bowed. Deep, and measured. "Your Grace…" His voice was steady. "Ashford is at your command."
He paused.
"Our army is at your service once again. We are leaving them behind to your command."
Drexo nodded gratefully. "Thank you, my lord." He stepped closer. "You have saved the throne some panic."
Their hands met. A firm clasp. But Fabio's grip lacked strength. Not a weakness of intent. Just the truth of age. Or perhaps something else. Something held back.
They released each other's hand. And without further delay, the Kenwools turned. One by one, they boarded their ships.
Frida was among the last. She did not look back immediately. But when she did, her eyes found Theon again. That same quiet understanding passed between them.
No words, none was needed. Then she turned, and stepped onto the ship. The ropes were cast. The sails unfurled. The ships began to move.
Drexo and his council stood watching. Their hands were raised, waving, a gestures of farewell. Until the ships grew smaller, and smaller. Then, they became shapes against the horizon.
And then, they faded into nothing. Drexo and his lords turned back toward the castle, smiling. The matter has been settled. Or so they believed..
Theon did not move at once. He remained where he stood. His eyes fixed on the water. On the place where she had last stood. His chest rose slowly, then fell. A breath that did not steady him. At last, he turned, and followed the others back into the stone halls.
The throne room received them again. Drexo took his seat. The weight of the crown settled once more. The council arranged themselves. The air shifted from celebration, to strategy.
Theon stepped forward, and bowed. "Your Grace." Drexo looked at him. "Speak." Theon lifted his head. Now you have your full army back. The words formed carefully. "When do you intend to attack?"
He paused.
"And what kingdom will you strike first?".The question lingered in the air heavily.
Drexo's hands curled against the armrest of the throne. His gaze hardened, not with doubt, but with purpose. "The Kenwools left only half of their army." His voice was steady. "We will make do with that." He leaned forward slightly. "But once the alliance is sealed…"
A breath.
"And the army is complete…" His jaw tightened. "I will reclaim Dragon City."
Silence followed. It was brief, and respectful. "That is my ancestral home." His voice lowered. "A king shouldn't lose his ancestral home."
No one spoke against it. No one questioned it. They all nodded. One after the other. Agreement without hesitation. But beneath the agreement, Something else lingered.
Unseen, and unspoken. The war had not begun yet. And already, something inside it had shifted.
Meanwhile, at Kings' City, the news arrived before the sun had fully settled.
A raven, black wings cutting through the pale sky. It landed with purpose. The guards did not delay. The message passed from hand to hand until it reached the throne room.
Robert sat still as it was read aloud. Every word, every detail.
Ashford had returned. The alliance has been restored. The engagement has been finalized.
The room held its breath as the final line was spoken.
Silence followed. Heavy, and unmoving.
Robert's fingers tapped once against the armrest of his throne, then stopped. His gaze shifted slowly to William. "What do you intend to achieve with this strategy?".His voice was calm, but not relaxed.
William smiled, not broadly, but just enough. "Your Grace…".He stepped forward. Hands behind his back. "We are driving toward two possible directions."
He paused.
He let the words settle. "If Drexo marches on the capital…" Another step. "…we have men inside his army."
Robert's eyes narrowed slightly..William's smile remained. "They will strike from within." He nodded, as if acknowledging himself to be a genius. "On our command."
The room tightened. Even the air felt thinner. Robert leaned forward..His elbows resting against his knees. "That is ruthless."
Not praise, not condemnation, just a fact. William inclined his head slightly. Then Robert spoke again. "What if he doesn't?"
William did not hesitate. "Then we kill him and his family." His voice did not change. "When he travels to Ashford for the wedding."
The silence that followed was different. Sharper, and colder. Robert did not move at first. He simply stared at him. "You will murder a man…" His voice lowered. "at a wedding?"
William nodded once. Slow, and deliberate. "I hope it sounds dishonorable." A faint shrug. "But this is the game of kings." His eyes held steady. "And it is played ruthlessly."
Robert's jaw tightened. He leaned back, then shook his head. "No." The word came out firm, and flat. "That is not our way." His hand gripped the armrest of the throne. "I cannot allow that."
William's expression shifted slightly. Enough to show resistance. "You would rather watch thousands of soldiers slaughter each other in a battle…" He stepped closer. "…than end this war with just one strike?"
Robert's fist clenched. The veins along his arm rose. "Murdering him is easier." He did not deny it. "It will save me men, it will save my gold." His voice hardened. "But in a wedding…" He paused, his gaze lifted. "No. Weddings are sacred."
The word carried weight. "Blessed by the gods." He shook his head again. "I will not dishonor them." His grip tightened further. "If I descend to that level…"
A breath.
"What makes me different from my uncle?" The name hung there without being spoken. But it did not need to be.
William stepped closer. Close enough now that his voice dropped. "Derion burned the innocent."
A beat.
"He tortured allies." His tone sharpened. "You will be killing your enemies." Robert's eyes flashed. "No." The word came quicker this time. "Hear me." His voice rose slightly. "Weddings are feasts of the gods."
A pause.
"And I will not stain them with blood of harmless men."
William opened his mouth. "But—"
"That is enough." The command cut through the room. Sharp, and final. "We will not dishonor the gods."
Robert rose from the throne. The movement was sudden, and decisive. "We will meet them in battle."
A breath.
"And we will take the glory."
Silence returned. This time, it was heavier than before. William stood still, then bowed slowly. "Battle swings both ways." His voice was low now. And at the same time, Measured. "It may favor you…"
He paused, and gazed at the king's eyes. "Or it may not." He shook his head. "But this plan is certain."
He turned, already moving away. "You need not raise your blade." The words lingered long after he left. Robert remained standing, but alone now.
The hall felt larger, too large. His thoughts pressed in. Winning without loss, without risk.
It sat there, tempting, and dangerous. Then another thought followed. A different one, a darker one. A king remembered not for victory, but for murder.
A wedding soaked in blood. A story retold for generations. He shook his head. "No."
The word came under his breath this time. "They will spit on my name.".He turned away from the throne, and walked slowly across the hall.
Each step was heavy, and measured. Then he stopped, and straightened like a man who had chosen his path. "I will not be that king."
That night came quietly, too quietly. The castle slept. But Robert did not. He lay still, eyes closed. His mind was restless.
Then, darkness shifted. The dream came. Not gently, but not slowly. It dropped him into it. The battlefield stretched before him.
Smoke rising, men screaming, steel clashing. Fire everywhere.
Then he saw a dragon. Massive, and terrifying. Its wings tore through the sky. Its roar shook the ground. And on its back, was Drexo.
Unyielding, and untouched. Fire poured from the beast's mouth. It swallowed men whole. Burned lines through armies.
Robert tried to move, but his feet would not answer. He stood there, watching helplessly as the dragon turned. Its eyes found him.
Drexo followed, their gaze locked..Then, darkness again. Sudden, and violent. He was on the ground. Cold stone beneath him.
His chest was heavy. He tried to breathe, but pain answered. He looked down. Blood spreads endlessly.
Then a shadow fell over him. Drexo was standing above him with his sword raised.
The blade glinted. The world behind him roared. Voices, loud, and unified. "All hail King Drexo Dragaria!"
The chant thundered. Again, again, and again.
The sword came down, Robert's eyes snapped open. He jerked upright, breathing hard, too fast. His chest was heaved. His heart slammed against his ribs.
The room was dark, and silent..But the dream clung to him, refusing to fade..He dragged in air, again, and again. His hands trembled slightly. "If I give him the chance…".The words slipped out, barely sound. "…he will kill me."
The thought settled. Heavy, and unavoidable. He swallowed hard. His jaw tightened.
Then slowly, something inside him shifted. Fear turning into desperation. "I have to kill him first before his dragons grow." The words came clearer this time.
Not a question, but as a decision. And in the silence of that room, It felt like something irreversible had just begun.