The night settled over the capital, blanketing the city in a thick, oppressive silence. The streets, once lively even after sunset, now carried an air of unease. Soldiers patrolled in pairs, their armor glinting under the lantern light, but their presence did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The kingdom was shifting, and everyone could feel it.
From his vantage point atop an abandoned bell tower, Kale observed the movements below. The heightened patrols, the cautious glances of the guards, the subtle shifts in noble activity—it was all connected. The capital was restless, and for good reason. Reports of increasing tension at the border had begun circulating within the court, but the royal family had yet to officially acknowledge them.
Serene, standing beside him, spoke softly. "Master, the nobles are growing uneasy. Some are already making preparations, gathering their own forces."
Kale's eyes narrowed slightly. That wasn't unexpected. The moment instability crept in, the nobility's first instinct would always be self-preservation. But there was something else. The way the court had been maneuvering lately, the political games that had grown more desperate—it all suggested a power struggle beyond mere preparation for war.
"Any word on how the royal faction is responding?" he asked.
Serene nodded. "King Aldric is consolidating his authority, but there are opposing voices. Some of the nobles believe now is the time to act—to take more power while the throne is weakened."
Kale exhaled slowly. That, too, was predictable. The moment a kingdom faltered, vultures would gather. The only question was who would strike first.
Below, a carriage rolled through the streets, moving toward the palace. It bore the crest of Duke Marcian, one of the most vocal noble lords in recent days. That meant another meeting was taking place tonight.
Kale rose from his crouch. "We're moving."
Serene followed without hesitation as they disappeared into the night.
—
Inside a lavish chamber within the palace, Duke Marcian sat at a long table, surrounded by a select few. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, distorting the faces of those gathered.
"The king grows weaker by the day," one of the nobles muttered. "His Majesty hesitates while the enemy moves. If we wait any longer, we risk being dragged into war unprepared."
Another noble scoffed. "War? You think this is war? The border skirmishes are nothing more than a test. A probe to see how we respond. And so far, we've done nothing."
Marcian steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. "You underestimate the enemy. They are watching us, waiting for an opportunity. If we do not act soon, the choice will be taken from us."
Silence fell over the room as the weight of his words settled in.
"What are you suggesting?" someone finally asked.
Marcian leaned forward. "If His Majesty refuses to take action, then we must take matters into our own hands. We secure the borders ourselves. Mobilize forces under our banners, ensure that we do not stand defenseless."
A murmur spread through the chamber. Such a move would be bold—dangerous, even. It was a direct challenge to the throne's authority.
"And if the king opposes us?" a cautious voice questioned.
Marcian smiled faintly. "Then he will have to prove he is still fit to rule."
—
From a hidden alcove within the palace, Kale listened.
His expression remained impassive, but inwardly, he was already piecing together the implications of what he had just heard. The nobles weren't just preparing for war. Some of them were preparing for something far more ambitious.
A shift in power. A potential coup.
He cast a glance at Serene, who met his gaze with understanding.
They had work to do.
---