Chapter 4: Father-Son Private Talk

The thick silence of Duke Orlan's study was broken only by the crackling of the hearth fire. Adric stood before his father, his form framed by the warm glow, his white armor caked with the blood of countless demons, a testament to his relentless battle. The scars and bruises that marred his body were as much a part of him now as the sword at his side. His father, Duke Orlan, sat at his desk, his fingers steepled, his brow furrowed in quiet contemplation.

For the first time in years, there was an unsettling weight between them. Orlan had always admired his son's strength, his determination, his willingness to fight to the bitter end—but today, he saw something different in Adric's eyes. A quiet fire, perhaps even more dangerous than the raging infernos of war, burned in those eyes. His son's resolve had hardened like steel, but it was a steel forged in the crucible of something far more dangerous than any battlefield.

"You've always had a fire in you, Adric," Orlan said, his voice low, steady, but tinged with concern. "But now... this feels different. You speak of ten years, of building an army, of facing a new kind of enemy. What weighs on your mind, son?"

Adric didn't immediately respond. Instead, he turned to the side, unfastening his gauntlets with slow, deliberate motions. As each piece of armor came off, it revealed more than just the physical toll of battle—it revealed the depth of his burden, the weight of his destiny. His father could see the fresh claw marks, the gashes along his torso, the bruises that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

Orlan's gaze softened, but only for a moment. He had been through the fires of battle himself, but seeing his son like this stirred a deep, primal worry within him. "Adric," he said, his voice a little rougher now, "you're not just carrying the weight of this army on your shoulders. You're carrying the weight of an entire empire."

"I know," Adric said, his voice surprisingly calm for one so young. "I've been to the edge of the abyss, Father. I've fought on the frontlines, faced death time and time again. But we're not fighting for survival anymore. The demons, they're evolving. They're becoming more intelligent, more ruthless. We need an army that can adapt, an army that will fight not just with strength, but with strategy. I need your support in this, and I need time."

Orlan's fingers tightened against the armrests of his chair. His son was no longer the boy who had once trained under his tutelage in the quiet halls of their home. Adric had become something more—a leader, a warrior, a man who was seeing the world through a lens of harsh realities.

Before Orlan could speak, the door creaked open. Rowena, Adric's mother, stepped into the room. She had always been a calm presence, one who could soothe even the fiercest storm with a simple glance or word. She had a quiet strength that complemented her husband's boldness. Her auburn hair, neatly pulled back, framed her gentle features. She wore a long gown, rich in color but simple in design, a symbol of her noble status without the need for ostentation.

She glanced at her son, then her husband, her eyes taking in the scene. "Adric," she said softly, her voice carrying both concern and affection. "I've heard the news. You've come back… weary."

Adric turned his head to meet her gaze. "Weary, yes. But alive. I came back, Mother." His voice softened as he spoke her name, but the weight of his words lingered in the air like a storm cloud. He looked down at the scars on his arms and the bloodstains still clinging to his armor. "I've seen what's coming. And I've seen what it takes to fight it."

Rowena's eyes flickered with a mix of sorrow and understanding. "Adric, you've always been strong, but you don't have to fight alone. You're not invincible. I… I want you to promise me something." Her gaze softened as she approached him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Promise me you won't sacrifice yourself for this war. You're more than just a soldier, more than just a leader of men. You are my son. And I need you to come back to me—whole."

Adric hesitated. His mother's words were a balm to the raw edges of his soul, but there was something in him that refused to make such promises. He was not a man who made promises he couldn't keep. Instead, he nodded solemnly, meeting her eyes with an intensity that spoke volumes.

"I'll return," he said quietly. "But not as I am now. I will be stronger. I need this time to prepare. The White Demons will grow. I will build an army to rival any force that threatens us."

Rowena's expression faltered for a moment, and she glanced at Orlan, who stood silently, watching their exchange. She knew her son too well to think that he would listen to her plea. The fire in him was far too strong, and his vision for the future was already set in stone.

"You will come back, Adric," she said, her voice low but filled with a quiet certainty. "And I will be waiting for you. We all will be."

Orlan nodded, stepping forward to stand beside his wife. "We'll prepare, Adric. We won't let you face this alone." His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now, a quiet resolve. He could see the depth of his son's commitment, and he knew this war would not be won by strength alone. It would take something far greater—strategy, resilience, and unity.

"Ten million strong," Orlan muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "We'll begin the preparations immediately."

Adric met his father's gaze, a quiet pride swelling within him. "Thank you, Father."

Rowena placed a hand on Adric's chest, her eyes still filled with that quiet concern. "We will see this through, together. But you must promise me that you will not let this war consume you. You are our son, Adric. You have a future beyond this battle."

Adric's lips quirked into a faint smile, the weight of his journey still clear in his eyes. "I promise, Mother. But for now, the world has no future unless we act. And I will make sure we are ready."

As Rowena and Orlan stood there, side by side, their son's determination unwavering before them, they knew the path ahead would not be easy. Adric's fight was no longer just his own—it was a battle for the future of the Empire of Varythar, for the survival of their world. And as a family, they would stand together, even if the darkness of war threatened to swallow them whole.