Free Web NovelChapter 57: The Brink
Kingdom of Aldrack
King Valeck had just gotten a message from the general and high general of his army who felt a pressing need to deliver the letter personally to him, a rare break from protocol that immediately told him whatever news they carried was far from ordinary.
Explaining the contents even before the king opened it to read it himself, the head general stepped forward, his boots echoing faintly against the polished stone floor. "One of our spies in the castle has confirmed the Kingdom of Mountel’s intention to go to war with us," he said, his voice steady but weighted, his grim expression deepening the lines on his elderly and weathered face.
It was clear that he had been through quite a lot and experienced more than most men in the kingdom ever would, and the scars visible on his face told enough stories about near-death encounters, ambushes survived, and comrades lost. The man who stood beside him with the badge of a general looked younger, but not by much, his shoulders still strong though burdened by unseen strain.
His eyes were sunken and ringed with fatigue, and it was clear that he hadn’t been sleeping properly for a few days. He stood straight regardless, discipline holding him upright, with both hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the king to read the letter before he could give his own advice, his jaw set as though bracing for what would come next.
The contents were little enough, written in hurried but precise script, and in a few moments the king was done. He leaned back into his throne with a weary expression on his face, the carved wood creaking faintly beneath him as though sharing his exhaustion. There was food scarcity, and worse still, even though they had been able to acquire the new weapons Mountel had been producing in small amounts through traders and spies.
They were yet to remake any of their own to achieve any results that would render them usable. The designs remained half-understood, their blacksmiths frustrated, their scholars divided. Without enough manpower, without preparation, they would be wiped out; that much was painfully clear even to him.
He breathed in again, slow and deliberate, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a brief moment of unrest before opening them and fixing his gaze on the head general, who instantly began to speak, as though he had been waiting for that exact signal. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
"I reached out to the Kingdom of Crytallo; they refused to partake in any kind of war or render aid of any kind," he responded, his tone controlled, though disappointment lingered beneath it, with the king already shaking his head before the sentence was even complete.
"Their position in the west is unfavorable. They keep dealing with short, man-like beasts with daggers who are trying to infiltrate their kingdom. They need peace if they are to protect their people," he said, his voice booming through the hall, echoing off the tall pillars and vaulted ceiling, drawing the attention of even the silent guards lining the walls.
"They will not help," he sighed, running his hands through his whitened hair as he looked around, the gesture more tired than frustrated. He gestured to the guard by his right as he ordered for some wine, needing something to steady his thoughts if nothing else.
It was still pretty early, the sunlight barely filtering through the high windows, but thinking about so many things he had to do as king was giving him a headache that throbbed behind his temples, dull but persistent.
"Without help then we’ll have no choice but to fight, barricading ourselves within our walls would be suicide. We do not have enough food reserves for the citizens," the general finally spoke, his voice lower but firm, as the king slowly tapped his foot against the stone, his mind drifting more toward the wine he had ordered rather than the words he could still hear from the men in front of him.
"It would be a hard war, but if we recruit everyone we can, it would help or at least it would lessen our numbers," the head general said, resisting the urge to draw a circle around his forehead to wash away the cruelty of his own words, even if they were true and necessary.
Dying for one’s country with a final meal was much better than starving to death. It would also slightly fix the food problem, especially since something was clearly wrong across the land in ways no one had yet been able to explain.
The beasts they reared grew diseased without warning, their hides dull and their strength fading before they collapsed, and the crops were dying of a strange ailment no one could identify. Leaves blackened at the edges, roots rotted beneath the soil, and all they kept hearing from priests and wandering clerics was to pray more and be more fervent so that the god of light might cleanse the world of darkness.
Finally, the king’s cup arrived, followed by the wine, which was first poured into a much smaller cup and drunk by the cup bearer, a young man whose hands trembled only slightly, before it was poured again for the king to drink. He didn’t instantly drink, waiting instead to see if the cup bearer dropped dead, a lesson he had picked up from the Kingdom of Mountel, where even commoners could see fit to visit the castle under certain laws.
Seeing that the man was fine, the king began to drink, satisfied by the taste of the wine as it spread warmth through his chest, recalling a new mistress he had recently taken, someone whose presence offered him a temporary escape from the burdens pressing down on him.
Annoyed with the cup still in his hand, he got up to speak, the motion abrupt enough to draw full attention once more. He stared at both the general and the head general, whose duty it was to protect the kingdom even as it teetered on the edge.
"I trust the both of you. Do whatever you can to improve our defenses," he said, his tone final, giving no room for argument before ordering them to leave. He himself did not have a way out of the predicament, no clever strategy or hidden alliance, so all he could do was hope they would figure something out, stepping down from the throne dais and heading out through the tall doors.
Intent on satisfying the itch in his loins and then, perhaps, he would be able to think of a way to save the country, or at least delay its fall. For now, his thoughts were scattered, unfocused, and heavy with the weight of inevitability.
But at that moment he could think of nothing, and to him it seemed like they could all be doomed.
The guards followed closely behind him as he left the hall, their armor clinking softly with each step, but instead of heading back to his quarters where his new pregnant wife Carissa was with a bulging belly waiting for him, hopeful and unaware of the full gravity of their situation, he turned instead. freewёbnoνel.com
He headed to the left wing of the castle, toward the quieter corridors where fewer servants lingered, to the quarters he had set aside for his mistress, a place removed from duty, responsibility, and the crumbling reality of a kingdom on the brink of starvation.
