The Beginning of the End

The noble council sat in stiff silence, their expressions unreadable.

Pyrrhus stood before them, arms crossed, his patience wearing thin.

An elder noble, Leonidas of Dodona, cleared his throat. "Your Majesty… Epirus has suffered much in your absence."

Pyrrhus narrowed his eyes. "And?"

Another noble spoke. "We fear your ambitions have brought ruin upon us."

Pyrrhus laughed bitterly. "Ambitions? You speak of my ambitions? It was my ambition that won you a kingdom!"

Leonidas sighed. "And yet, what do we have now?"

Pyrrhus stepped forward, his voice sharp as a blade. "You have a king who does not kneel."

The council murmured among themselves.

Echecrates watched quietly, concern in his gaze.

Another noble stood. "Rome grows stronger. Macedon watches us. We need stability."

Pyrrhus's fingers tightened into fists.

"They want me gone," he murmured to Echecrates.

Echecrates met his gaze. "They fear you."

Pyrrhus smirked coldly. "Then let them fear."

He turned away.

But in his heart, he knew—

The end was near.