49- Whispers of War

The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows against the stone walls of Velthorn's keep. A cold draft slithered through the cracks, carrying with it the scent of parchment, ink, and a lingering hint of blood from the battlefield outside. The grand war table in the center of the chamber was covered with scattered documents—each one a piece of a puzzle that no one in the room had expected to find.

Aldric Ravensbourne sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled in thought. Across from him, Marquis Gustov Eisenhardt leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a troubled look etched onto his face. Tobias, ever diligent, stood nearby, flipping through a thick ledger, while Mara, Aldric's trusted strategist, studied a map of the kingdom. Red, one of Aldric's most capable warriors, stood near the door, his arms folded, ever watchful.

The weight of what they had uncovered pressed down on them all. The Crown Prince, Hadrian Osric, had been supplying Velthorn's forces. And not just Velthorn—there were signs that he had been arming other noble houses as well. This was not just a localized conflict over territory.

This was preparation for war.

⸻

The room fell into silence as the weight of the situation settled upon them.

"We have three options," Aldric said, his voice steady. "One: We stay out of this entirely and pretend we know nothing."

"That's foolish," Gustov scoffed. "If war comes, it will reach us whether we like it or not."

Aldric nodded. "Then that leaves option two: We intercept the shipment and expose Hadrian's movements."

Tobias frowned. "That would force Hadrian's hand. He might come after us directly."

"Which leads to option three," Aldric continued. "We play both sides—pretend we know nothing while quietly gathering our own forces."

Gustov leaned back. "Buying time?"

"Exactly," Aldric said. "We need to strengthen our position before deciding where to place our allegiance."

Gustov crossed his arms. "And what of Edric Osric? If Hadrian is preparing for war, then his brother must be aware of it."

Tobias adjusted his notes. "The Second Prince has been securing alliances with the merchant guilds and several noble houses—he's strengthening his economic influence rather than focusing on military power."

Aldric smirked. "Then he's either brilliant… or a fool."

Gustov sighed. "It means Hadrian will strike first."

⸻

Tobias adjusted his glasses as he laid another decrypted document before them. "The next scheduled supply shipment is set to be delivered in three weeks—to House Valfort."

Aldric's gaze sharpened. "Duke Roderic Valfort?"

Gustov stiffened at the name. "Damn. If Hadrian is supplying him, then this is beyond mere scheming. Valfort commands one of the strongest private armies in the kingdom."

Aldric exhaled slowly. "This confirms it. Hadrian Osric is building an army. And Valfort is his warhammer."

Red grunted. "And we just disrupted one of his key supply chains. That won't go unnoticed."

Aldric tapped his fingers against the table. "Hadrian will find out soon. He'll send scouts, informants—maybe even assassins."

Red smirked. "Let him try. I've been itching for a real fight."

Gustov sighed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

⸻

Aldric turned to Tobias. "We need more information. Send spies to Valfort's territory. I want to know how many troops he has, their formations, their movements."

Tobias nodded. "I'll see to it."

Then, Aldric turned to Gustov. "You need to reinforce your borders. If war does come, Eisenhardt lands will be the first line of defense."

Gustov scowled. "Damn it, Aldric, I was hoping to drink my wine in peace."

Aldric chuckled. "War waits for no man, my friend."

Mara, who had been quiet until now, leaned over the table. "What about our own forces? We have trained men, but if war breaks out, we'll need more."

Aldric nodded. "That's why we continue training the captured knights from Velthorn's ranks."

Gustov raised an eyebrow. "You really think they'll stay loyal?"

Aldric's gaze was cold. "If they want a future, they will."

Mara smirked. "I like the sound of that."

⸻

Gustov leaned forward. "And what do we do when Hadrian's faction comes knocking?"

Aldric exhaled, thinking. "We will need to appeal to Hadrian. Make it clear that we are not working against him, and that this was merely a long-standing feud between Velthorn and Eisenhardt."

Tobias nodded. "If we present it as a local matter, Hadrian will have no reason to act against us."

Aldric continued, "We play neutral. We assure him that we have no intention of interfering in his affairs."

Red narrowed his eyes. "And you think he'll believe that?"

Aldric smirked. "Hadrian may be ruthless, but he is not foolish. He cannot afford to send too many resources here just to take Velthorn back. His focus is on his larger war preparations. More than likely, he will decide that Velthorn is not worth the effort."

Gustov rubbed his chin. "So you're betting on the fact that he won't waste time on us?"

Aldric nodded. "Yes. And that means we buy time—time to fortify our defenses, train our forces, and prepare for the inevitable civil war."

Tobias sighed. "A dangerous gamble, but one that might work."

Mara smirked. "And if Hadrian doesn't buy it?"

Aldric's expression darkened. "Then we make sure that if he wants to take Velthorn, it will cost him dearly."

——-

The halls of Velthorn's keep were eerily quiet. A tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as if the very stones of the castle knew that the world beyond its walls was on the brink of war.

Aldric Ravensbourne sat at the head of the long wooden table in the war room, his fingers tapping against the grain as he waited. Across from him, Gustov Eisenhardt, ever the gruff warrior, scowled as he downed a cup of wine. Mara stood beside Aldric, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Tobias, ever meticulous, was reviewing the latest reports. Red stood by the door, his presence a silent but looming threat to anyone who might enter with ill intent.

Word had come ahead of them.

The Crown Prince's envoys were on their way.

"They'll be here within the hour," Tobias announced, setting down a parchment. "Three riders, bearing Hadrian Osric's standard."

Gustov scoffed. "Three? That's insultingly low."

Aldric smirked. "It means he doesn't see us as a threat. Yet."

Mara leaned forward. "How do you want to play this?"

Aldric exhaled, his mind already calculating the possibilities.

Hadrian would want answers. The Prince would have received word of Velthorn's fall by now, and more importantly, he would have noticed the missing shipment of arms and supplies. This was a delicate game, one that required both caution and deception.

"We stick to the plan," Aldric said. "We let them know this was a personal matter—bad blood between Velthorn and Eisenhardt. Nothing more."

Tobias adjusted his spectacles. "And if they press further?"

"We feign neutrality," Aldric continued. "We make it clear that we have no interest in the larger conflict and that we will not interfere in the Crown Prince's affairs."

Gustov snorted. "Neutrality won't save us if Hadrian wants us dead."

Aldric met his gaze. "Hadrian is preparing for war. He cannot afford to waste resources reclaiming Velthorn. He will let this go, as long as we give him a reason not to waste his strength on us."

Aldric stated. "Given the current era's information network, logistics, and governmental structure, it will take at least a year or two before Hadrian can launch a full-scale war. Armies must be raised, supply lines secured, alliances solidified." He tapped the map in front of him. "This means we have time. Plenty of it."

Red cracked his knuckles. "And if they're here to threaten us?"

Aldric's expression darkened. "Then we make it clear that if they move against us, it will cost them."

The room fell silent, the weight of their decision settling over them.

Aldric straightened in his chair. "We're prepared, then?"

Royce smirked. "Always."

⸻

The gates of Velthorn's keep opened to reveal three riders draped in the colors of House Osric. Their armor gleamed in the fading afternoon sun, their black-and-gold banners fluttering behind them.

Aldric stood at the top of the stone steps, flanked by Gustov, Mara, and Tobias, while Red and a handful of armed men stood just behind them.

The lead rider dismounted first—a tall man with a sharp face and cold, calculating eyes. His gaze swept across the keep before settling on Aldric.

"I am Sir Varian Dorne, emissary of His Highness, Crown Prince Hadrian Osric." His voice was smooth, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words. "We bring word from the Prince."

Aldric inclined his head. "You've traveled far, Sir Varian. Come, let's speak inside."

Varian's gaze flickered to the soldiers behind Aldric before he nodded. "Very well."

⸻

The war room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of the hearth casting shadows across the table as the Crown Prince's envoys took their seats.

Sir Varian folded his hands before him. "Prince Hadrian was most surprised to hear of Lord Velthorn's fall."

Aldric kept his expression neutral. "Velthorn was reckless. He made an enemy of House Eisenhardt, and he paid the price."

Varian's lips curved slightly. "That much is clear. But it does raise… concerns."

Gustov spoke calmly, "Concerns?"

Varian's gaze sharpened. "The Prince was supplying Velthorn. His shipments have gone missing."

Aldric met his gaze. "An unfortunate consequence of Velthorn's failure. His lands are now in my hands."

Varian leaned forward. "Then the Crown Prince would expect those shipments returned."

A long silence stretched across the room.

Gustov was the first to break it, chuckling darkly. "And why would we do that?"

Varian's smile didn't fade. "Because His Highness is feeling generous. He understands that this was an old feud, not an act of treason. If you return what belongs to him, he is willing to let this matter be forgotten."

Aldric studied him carefully. Hadrian wanted the supplies. That meant he couldn't afford to send another shipment elsewhere—not without weakening himself elsewhere.

This was leverage.

Aldric leaned back in his chair. "And if we refuse?"

Varian's smile thinned. "Then His Highness may reconsider his generosity."

A quiet tension settled over the room.

Aldric exhaled through his nose. This was the test. Hadrian wanted to see if they would submit or stand their ground.

"I understand the Prince's position," Aldric said. "But House Eisenhardt fought and bled for these lands. That battle is settled." His gaze was unwavering. "Velthorn's resources now belong to us."

Varian's jaw tightened. "You would steal from the Crown Prince?"

Aldric's voice remained calm. "I would call it spoils of war."

The room fell deathly silent.

Aldric spoke again, "We have no intention of opposing His Highness. House Eisenhardt and Velthorn had their conflict, and it is resolved. We have no stake in the larger war to come."

Gustov smiled faintly. "If His Highness is willing to leave us be, we will return the courtesy."

Varian studied them carefully. Judging. Calculating.

Finally, he exhaled and stood. "Very well. I will relay your response to the Prince." His gaze flickered to Aldric. "But I must warn you—wars do not spare the neutral."

Aldric met his eyes. "Then we will be ready."

⸻

Once the envoys were gone, the war room remained silent for a long while.

Gustov exhaled. "So that's it, then? We hold our ground?"

Aldric nodded. "Hadrian won't waste his forces attacking us yet. Not when he has bigger threats to worry about."

Mara smirked. "Then we use this time to prepare."

Tobias rolled out the map. "Our spies in Valfort's territory have sent word. The Duke is preparing for full-scale war. Hadrian's forces are gathering."

Red grinned. "Then we better make sure we're ready when the storm comes."

Aldric looked over the map. His expression was calm, but his mind was already ten steps ahead.

Hadrian Osric had sent his warning.