Inside the war tent, there was a lingering tension, thick it was, mingling with the scent of burning oil from the dimly lit lanterns.
At the center of the room, a map of the northern territories was spread across the dark wooden table, its edges weighed down by daggers, small stones, and empty mugs. Aric stood over it, his eyes tracing the lines of the settlements he had marked, his mask casting a cold shadow over his face.
Across from him stood Yrsa, the Legion commander. Her imposing frame was wrapped in thick furs, her violet eyes gleaming with both curiosity and wariness. The weight of her two-handed axe seemed almost irrelevant against her slender form. Enjoy exclusive content from novelhall.Côm
Behind her, a handful of Northrender warriors stood, each of them radiating quiet, deadly confidence. Their presence brought clear intimidation, but beneath it was a sense of assurance—perhaps more significant than slight—that at any moment, without hesitation, they were more than prepared for battle.
"General," Yrsa’s voice cut through the silence, carrying both suspicion and intrigue. "We’ve seen your effort, and I’m certain you summoned us for more than just a recount of last night’s victory. Speak plainly. What is it you propose?"
Aric’s hand hovered over the map, his finger resting on the northernmost settlement that had just fallen under his command the night before. The ash and blood still lingered in the snow outside, a testament to the ruthlessness of the Northrenders and the efficiency of his own soldiers.
His gaze lifted to Yrsa, the fire of his unspoken ambitions flickering beneath the cold mask on his face.
"The Valerian Empire is fractured," Aric began, his voice smooth and calculated. "Their northern settlements are weak, and their attention is scattered. The Byzeth King and I have plans to exploit this, but..." He trailed off, letting the word linger, knowing it would pique Yrsa’s curiosity.
Yrsa raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "But?"
"The Valerians will not fall without resistance. Their forces are spread thin, yes, but we need to ensure they have no time to regroup. That is where you and your warriors come in."
Aric knew this was coming. He had prepared for it.
"And you won’t. Once the northern territories fall, the Byzeth King will grant you dominion over the northernmost lands—the places where winter reigns for endless days. Is this not soothing to you, Commander? You will have the freedom to rule it as you see fit, and your people, as well as your empire, will possess more land to rule beyond the northern sea.
The Northrend Empire will have more than just respect. You’ll have power and land—something that will surely leave the Draken... confused, annoyed even."
She paused for a long moment, her gaze flickering between Aric and the map. He could see the thoughts hidden behind her violet eyes.
He needed her to believe this was all for the conquest of Valeria, and that Byzeth’s rebellion was the true key to her people’s resurgence. In truth, it was Byzeth’s throne he had his sights on—but Yrsa and her legion didn’t need to know that—not until it was far too late.
Yrsa turned to the warriors behind her. A silent exchange passed between them before she looked back at Aric, her decision clear. "Very well, General. We will strike as you say. The settlements will burn, and the Valerians will bleed."
"Good," Aric said, a dark satisfaction creeping into his voice. "The faster we move, the greater the panic we cause. Once they’re scattered, we’ll have a clear path to their heart. They won’t stand a chance."
As Yrsa and her legionaries left the tent, Aric lingered by the map. His fingers traced over the Byzeth Kingdom, a dark smirk hidden beneath his mask. The Northrenders would now serve his true purpose. An empire of terrifyingly formidable strength would now do his bidding.
The chaos they would sow among the settlements would weaken not only the Valerian defenses but also Byzeth’s, leaving Aszer’s forces vulnerable for the day Aric would strike.
In the end, he could feel the cold touch of that iron throne, and he was now closer than ever. His road to conquering Byzeth was clear, and along it would be a trail of blood—but that was irrelevant.