Inside a tent where the three remaining lords had gathered, an oppressive silence filled the air. Of those who had claimed to be the rightful heirs to Drakenfels, only these three now remained.
Under normal circumstances, they might have toasted to their survival, but this time, there was no cause for celebration.
"What do we do now?"
Gerdt, the host of the meeting, finally broke the silence, his expression grim. The other two lords avoided his gaze, refusing to answer.
Closing his eyes tightly, Gerdt forced himself to say what none of them wanted to admit.
"We no longer have any advantage over the Dragon Slayer. The quality of our soldiers may be superior, but it's meaningless at this point."
"…"
"Those mercenaries are no longer just guarding their strongholds. If they march on us with their full force—"
He stopped short, unable to finish the thought. But there was no one in the room who couldn't guess the rest.