Two weeks later after receiving the summoning from the king, we rode towards the capital.
The royal summons had come with no commands of ceremony, no parades or pageantry, just a date and a destination and yet, there was nothing ordinary about our convoy. Not this time, because I want to show anyone that cross my path of how much Wyvrling had grown.
We numbered just over thirty: knights, squires, scouts, and a pair of royal escorts following Elira. She rode near the front with Lyra and Kaelen, the three of them a strange spectacle of elegance, danger, and calculation. Arden rode beside me, his silence heavy with wariness. Caldus remained behind to maintain order in Wyvrland. Armin had been sent ahead to secure lodgings in the capital under a false name, just in case.
The roads to Arador were quieter than I remembered.
No cheering villagers, no angry mobs. Just the whistle of wind through woods, and the rustle of travelers who dared not speak our names aloud. My banners—silver wyvern of my house were recognized by almost everyone who saw us. Tales do spread fast.
The people watched us like they watched a storm on the horizon: not knowing whether to pray or run.
Lyra rode closer one morning as we passed a crumbling chapel,
"Your name's grown teeth," she said.
"Is that a good thing?" I asked.
"That depends on who bleeds." she smirked and slowed downed to match Elira's horse speed.
I hope I am not the one bleeding, I thought to myself.
---
We made camp early that night near a riverban, sheltered by twisted trees and earthworks long abandoned by forgotten wars. Elira sat across the fire from me, her posture straight, her hands wrapped around a steaming tin of broth.
"I've never been to Arador," she said.
"You were raised in Hollowmere," I replied.
"I was raised to be seen and not heard. I wasn't even allowed to say the King's name."
"That's about to change."
She smiled faintly. "He'll expect me to lie. He'll say you took me, you burned Windmere and forced Hollowmere to bend the knee."
"And will you?" I asked as I glanced at her.
"No." she replied with a calm voice.
I studied her, not just as a girl of noble blood, but something else—an edge being sharpened. Not unlike myself, two years ago.
"You understand the stakes?" I asked.
"I understand Ravien," she said, voice quiet but steady. "And I understand how you frighten him."
That was enough for me.
"You should take rest, who move early tomorrow morning. "
"Yes." She replied and walked towards her tent.
I stayed by the bonfire for awhile and went to my tent for the night.
---
We moved early morning and reached Arador at dusk on the twelfth day. It took us more time than the last time because our camp was bigger this time.
The capital reared from the horizon like a living monument—ancient towers and domed temples rising above and walls thick as mountains. It hadn't changed much since my last visit. Bells rang in the distance. The outer city stank of sweat, piss, and ambition.
Just beyond it, the palace of House Virewyn stood as glorious as ever.
The guards at the gates took one look at our banner and waved us through with nervous hands, no disrespect this time. The King had summoned us, and the laws of hospitality still held weight in this not so stable realm.
We were housed in the Copper Ward, an aging manor once gifted to my family generations ago. Half its roof had collapsed under years of disuse, but the inner courtyard still bore our crest. A ghost of legitimacy. I don't know if I should be happy of the respect they give me by letting me stay here or be angry for the run down housing they provided.
I spent the first night roaming the halls.
Arden trained the men, Kaelen oversaw the armor, and Lyra vanished into the city with her shadows. Elira remained silent, her presence alone enough to send whispers through the manor staff.
The next morning, a knight arrived.
"His Majesty King Alric summons Lord Vihan of House Wyvrling to court. Alone."
I was already dressed and ready, I followed the knight as he guided me.
The palace was colder than I remembered.
Long halls of black marble stretched beneath stained glass depictions of the old kings. My boots echoed with each step, guided by silence and the occasional glimpse of hurrying courtiers.
Talen Virewyn awaited me in the antechamber outside the throne room.
"You come to break the silence?" I asked him.
He gave a rare smirk. "I come to see if you survive." he smiled at me.
We stood there for a moment—two men from different worlds bound by one common thread. We both knew the King didn't summon men like me for pleasantries.
Then the great doors opened.
And I entered the lion's den.
---
King Alric sat upon the Onyx Throne, cloaked in deep green, silver circlet resting on his white hair. He looked older than the last time I saw him—leaner, paler, his eyes sunk deep of age and paranoia and yet he seemed rather energetic than the last time I saw him.
His voice still held command.
"Vihan of House Wyvrling," he said. "You've made yourself known."
I bowed, as tradition demanded.
"Only as much as the world allowed, Your Majesty."
His fingers tapped the armrest of the throne. "The Duke of Malkorr calls you an oathbreaker. A butcher. A rogue with delusions of grandeur."
"Then he flatters me," I replied.
Chuckles rippled through the gallery—nobles, clergy, minor lords all gathered like wolves watching a duel. But Alric did not smile.
"You defied him at Windmere," he said. "Without declaration. Without cause."
"I struck a garrison," I said plainly. "There was no slaughter of common people, only soldiers. And only because he had begun arming the border."
"He says otherwise." Alric stared at me.
"Then he lies."
The King leaned forward slightly. "And what do you bring in defense of your name?"
I nodded toward the side doors. They opened. Elira Vael stepped into the throne room by her escort.
A hundred whispers exploded at once.
She bowed. "Your Majesty."
"And you are?"
"Elira Vael of Hollowmere. Niece of Duke Ravien. Political ward to Lord Wyvrling."
The King's eyes sharpened. "You come willingly?"
"I do."
"And your family permitted this?"
"No, Your Majesty," she said, her voice unwavering. "They begged me not to. But I chose it."
The King regarded her for a long moment, as if to glimpse the truth beneath. Then he turned back to me.
"You play a dangerous game," Alric murmured.
"I offer peace, not war," I replied. "The Duke tightens his grip with blood. I offer safety and unity."
He studied me for a long time.
Then: "Leave us. All of you."
The hall emptied. Just me and the King remained.
He waited until the doors shut before speaking again.
"I do not care for heirs of forgotten houses or petty feuds between border lords. I care for one thing, Vihan: that the realm does not break while I still draw breath."
"Then we want the same thing." I replied.
His gaze burned. "No. You want revenge."
I said nothing.
"Ravien is useful to me," the King said slowly. "He keeps the West in check. His cruelty is inconvenient… but effective. But he grows reckless."
"And I grow strong."
"You grow visible," Alric corrected. "And I wonder if it's time to trade one storm for another."
Silence hung heavy in the Hall.
"You've two days in the capital," he said finally. "I'll summon both of you then and I will decide."
I bowed again, deeper this time.
"I will be ready."
As I left the hall, I did not smile.
But something cold settled in my chest.
Not fear. Not doubt.
Just the weight of the endgame… finally beginning.