The Hidden War Begins

The royal palace of Celeste stood untouched by time—its golden towers reaching toward the heavens, its marble streets bustling with nobles and merchants alike. But beneath the beauty of its architecture, the foundations of the kingdom were beginning to crack.

Something had happened.

Something that even King Vlad Tenebris had not foreseen.

King Vlad sat on his obsidian throne, his gaze distant as he listened to the voices echoing around the council chamber.

"Emberfall Village is gone," Count Clovus announced, his voice tinged with mock sorrow. "Burned to the ground by an unknown force. A tragedy, truly."

The nobles murmured among themselves. Some expressed shock, others curiosity. But beneath the surface, there was something else.

An undertone of fear.

Vlad's fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne. Slow. Thoughtful. "And what," he said at last, "do you know of this tragedy, Count Clovus?"

Clovus bowed his head, pressing his thick fingers together. "Nothing, my liege. Only that the village is no more."

Liar.

Vlad had ruled long enough to recognize the careful game of political deceit.

He had not ordered the destruction of Emberfall. Which meant someone else had.

"Strange," the king mused, voice calm but cold. "I did not receive word of a rebellion in Emberfall. No reports of bandit raids. No reason for a village to be reduced to ash. And yet… it has been."

Clovus spread his hands. "Fire is an unpredictable thing, my king. Perhaps it was an accident—"

"Do not insult me."

The words were quiet. Dangerous.

The chamber fell silent.

Vlad rose from his throne, his golden eyes locking onto Clovus like a predator sizing up its prey. "A village does not simply vanish without cause."

Clovus did not flinch. Instead, he sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Your Majesty, I understand your frustration. But it is not the destruction of Emberfall that concerns me most—it is what was hidden there."

Vlad's gaze sharpened.

"The altar."

A ripple of unease spread through the room. Even the older nobles, the ones who remembered the old stories, shifted uncomfortably.

The ancient altar of Emberfall—a relic from an era where yokai and humans had once walked side by side.

Vlad had never placed faith in legends.

But he was not a fool.

"Are you suggesting," he said slowly, "that the altar is responsible for this?"

Clovus shrugged. "I merely state that it has always been a place of dangerous myths. And now, with its destruction, the people whisper… They claim that something was released."

Vlad studied him.

A careful lie, woven with half-truths.

Clovus had ordered the destruction of Emberfall. That much was clear. But why? Was he trying to stir fear? Manipulate the court into shifting power in his favor?

Or was there something else?

Something hidden beneath the smoke and ruin?

Vlad's voice was quiet, but it cut through the chamber like a blade.

"And tell me, Count Clovus," he murmured, "if something was released, then what do you suggest we do about it?"

Clovus smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

"My king, I only wish to serve our great kingdom. If there is any threat, we must be prepared. I would suggest—humbly, of course—that we tighten control over the provinces. More patrols. More… authority."

The trap was set.

Vlad said nothing. But he saw the game unfolding before him.

Clovus was not afraid of yokai.

Clovus was afraid of something else.

And that meant…

He knew more than he was

As the council dismissed, Vlad remained seated, his thoughts tangled like a web of half-truths and deception.

Something was happening.

Something was moving in the dark.

And if he did not act soon, he would no longer be king of Avarice.

Outside the chamber, Count Clovus walked alone, his expression shifting the moment the grand doors shut behind him. The sorrowful mask fell away, replaced by a smirk.

The fool king still suspected nothing.

The whispers in the streets, the fear spreading through the nobles— all of it was his doing.

And soon, when the time was right, he would strike.

A king who feared the past could not rule the future.

And Vlad Tenebris was already losing control.

The night was unusually cold for the capital city of Celeste. A thin mist coiled through the cobbled streets, muffling the distant hum of merchants closing their shops and nobles retreating to their lavish estates.

In the heart of the city, beneath the towering spires of the Royal Palace, a lone figure stood at the threshold of the King's private chambers.

Lady Veyna.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of a single lantern casting long shadows against the polished stone walls. King Vlad Tenebris sat behind a darkwood desk, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the surface. His golden eyes were sharp, but not with anger. With thought. Calculation.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?" Veyna's voice was smooth, measured.

The king gestured toward a sealed letter on the table. "I need you to go to Emberfall."

Veyna's expression remained unreadable, but her mind sharpened like a blade.

So, the rumors had finally reached his ears.

Vlad leaned forward slightly, his fingers interlocking. "Something happened there—something not of this world. The nobles murmur of myths, Clovus stirs fear, and I sit upon my throne half-blind." His voice darkened. "I do not like being blind."

Veyna picked up the letter, breaking the wax seal with a delicate flick of her nail. Inside was a writ of unrestricted authority, granting her command over any royal guard and full freedom to act in the king's name.

Vlad was giving her power. Because he did not trust Clovus.

A small smirk curled at the edge of her lips. "Do you suspect the count's hand in this?"

The king exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "I know Clovus had a part in it. But I do not know why."

Veyna tucked the writ inside her cloak. "Then I will find out."

Vlad nodded. "One more thing."

His gaze flickered toward the white owl perched on the open window. It did not blink, did not stir, but Veyna could feel its unnatural presence.

"If anything—anything—strikes you as unnatural," Vlad said, his voice barely above a whisper, "do not dismiss it. I fear we are walking blindfolded toward something far worse than rebellion."

Veyna tilted her head, watching her king carefully. For the first time in years, she saw something in his expression that almost resembled concern.

It intrigued her.

"Understood, my king."

Then, without another word, she turned and vanished into the shadows.