As Aric’s laughter died down, he was interrupted by a soldier calling from outside the tent.
"General," the man spoke with slight urgency, his breath visible in the cold night air. "Commander Yrsa has summoned you."
Aric stood, composing himself. "I’ll be there shortly."
Pulling on his cloak over his nightware, he stepped outside into the biting wind.
The moon was rather low in the sky, painting a faint, silver glow over the camp.
Fires flickered in the distance, and the sounds of soldiers resting as they prepared for a long march filled the otherwise quiet night. Aric made his way across the camp, the cold gnawing at his skin, without his armor on, the cold seemed to penetrate far much easier.
Upon reaching Yrsa’s tent, he stood at the entrance for a moment before calling out, "Commander, may I enter?"
A smooth voice answered from within. "Come in, Aric."
He hesitated for a brief second. She had used his name, not his title.
It was an unexpected shift, but he did not let his surprise show. Pushing the flap aside, he stepped into the warmth of the tent. The heat from the withing the tent hit him instantly, a welcomed diffrence to the biting chill that was outside.
His eyes quickly took in the sight before him. Yrsa was reclined in a tub of steaming water, her curvaceous body partially submerged. The water lapped gently around her thighs, and the upper swells of her breasts were visible above the surface. Her violet eyes sparkled with amusement as she caught Aric’s glance.
"We Northrenders often relish the cold," Yrsa remarked casually, her voice laced with a teasing edge. "But sometimes, a hot bath is... interesting." She stretched slightly, her wet skin gleaming in the warm light of the lit lanterns.
Aric cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet her gaze and keep his expression neutral.
Yrsa’s eyes sharpened. "Good. The coward king might finall earn a more respectable title among us"
Aric had said many things to convince the king, but it seemed most of his words were infact truth, the Northrenders had indeed labeled him a coward for thinking he could sit safely in a castle and have them fight his rebellion for him.
"We’ll head toward him soon," Aric continued, tracing a line across the map with his gloved hand. "On our way, we’ll raid every planned garrison and settlement, just as we’ve discussed. When we reach Aszer, we’ll be ready to face the Valerian forces that are sure to come for us."
Yrsa stood, moving to his side to examine the map. Her proximity was close enough for Aric to feel the heat radiating from her still-wet skin.
"And when they come?" Yrsa asked, her eyes gleaming with battle hunger.
"By then," Aric said, "the imperial city will be defenseless. The emperor is holding back his forces, but they can’t delay forever. When they send their troops north, Valeria’s heart will be exposed. That’s when we strike."
A slow smile spread across Yrsa’s lips. "I like it. A bold plan, indeed."
"Bold is the only way forward," Aric replied, his voice calm but resolute.
"When do we march?" she asked, her anticipation clear.
"By morning tomorrow," Aric said, stepping back. "Prepare your men. We’ll be ready."
Yrsa nodded, her gaze lingering on him as he turned to leave. As he stepped back into the cold night, Aric could feel nothing but the satisfaction of his plans coming together.
Yrsa may have questioned his motives momentarily, but she would play her part in the grand scheme. Soon, Byzeth would fall, and the Northrenders would serve their purpose—unknowingly aiding him in his true conquest. Explore more at novelhall.Côm
And when the time came, He would rise from the ashes and blood of what was once the rulers of Byzeth.