"Tell the men to prepare," Cairon said, his voice low and clear.
He stood at the edge of the crumbling battlements, gazing out over the snow-dusted hills. Blackstone Keep loomed behind him, ancient and half-rotted, its towers like broken teeth against the gray sky. Below, fires had already been lit in the training yard. The Blackcoils stirred like wolves scenting blood.
Garran, his second-in-command and a former knight, grunted and scratched his chin. His beard was streaked with gray, and a jagged scar cut across his cheek. He was a hard man, loyal, and clever when it counted.
"The Blackcoils have a new job," Cairon continued. "We defend the lands of House Vael from the aggression of House Avenlock."
Garran raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the keep with clear disdain. "I did not think Lord Edran Vael had the coin to hire us, considering the state of his walls. Rotten beams. Rusted gates. Barely enough gold to fix a chamber pot."
"We are doing this one for free," Cairon said, lips curling slightly. "A gift to Lord Vael and his lady wife. For their hospitality. For how they treated me under their roof."
Garran laughed. "With all due respect, my lord, that is horse crap. I have served under you long enough to know you do not lift a blade unless silver clinks behind it. You are playing some game here. Something the Vaels are too stupid to see."
"Perhaps," Cairon said. He turned to face his lieutenant fully. "Let us consider some facts. King Alric the Third is dying. The Kingdom of Ellandor is crumbling. What do you think will happen when the old king finally breathes his last?"
Garran did not hesitate. "Civil war. Noblemen turning on each other. Peasants rioting. Border lords grabbing land. The south and east breaking away. Foreign mercenaries flooding in. Chaos."
"Exactly," Cairon nodded. "And in chaos, blood means nothing. Titles mean nothing. The laws written in castle halls and whispered in court vanish like smoke. What matters is simple."
He lifted his gloved hand and made a fist.
"Swords."
Garran grinned. "And we have plenty of those."
"Indeed we do." Cairon smiled, dark satisfaction in his eyes. "But swords need a base. A seat. Somewhere to plant roots before the storm breaks. That is why we help House Vael now. Their gratitude will make them pliable. Once we crush House Avenlock's forces, we can embed ourselves deeper. Collect taxes. Hold command. Control their lands in all but name."
"A soft coup," Garran muttered with admiration. "Slow and silent. The old man fades, the boy is too young to lead, and the lady of the keep is agreeable."
Cairon did not reply, but his expression told the story well enough.
"And after that?" Garran asked. "The Vael lands are poor. These hills are mostly snow and stone."
"That is why we take Redmere from Lord Harl Avenlock," Cairon said. "His only heir died four years ago. In a duel. Killed by Lord Vael's bastard son."
Garran smirked. "A shame that boy is long gone. He would have made a better soldier than the rest of the Vaels."
"Perhaps he would have." Cairon shrugged. "Lord Harl has no true successor. When he falls, Redmere will be vulnerable. If we strike hard and fast, the region will fall under our control. House Vael can claim it. And we will rule it."
"All in the name of your gracious host," Garran chuckled. "Then what? Once Lord Edran dies, we guide the heir?"
"We become the power behind the throne," Cairon said, eyes glinting. "Or perhaps remove the throne altogether. If needed."
"Your ambition never disappoints," Garran said with a grin. "So once we hold the Northreach, we stop being sellswords and become lords."
"Yes. Men like us, born in dirt, called dogs and worse. We rise now. We claim what we never had. When the kingdom falls apart, no one will stop us. The royal bloodlines will burn, and new lords will rise from the ash. And we will be among them."
The wind howled across the hills.
Cairon turned back to the horizon, to the smoke rising along the Halden road. Villages burned in the distance. The war had begun.
"Send the word," Cairon said. "We march within the hour."
Garran nodded and left without another word.
And Cairon stood alone with the wind in his cloak and fire in his heart.
The old world was dying.
And he would be there to carve the new one from its corpse.