The tension between them was heavy, the heat of the nearby fire doing little to warm the cold that hung in the air. Aszer's face shifted, his proud smirk faltering as he noticed the weight in Yrsa's gaze.
"Could there be a problem?" Aszer asked, his voice laced with unease, though he tried to mask it behind his usual arrogance.
Yrsa's eyes didn't leave him, the reflection of the fire flickering in their cold depths. "I have received word from the north," she began, her tone cutting. "Your soldiers, the soldiers of Byzeth, have been harassing and robbing our people. Our trade with you has been a scam—a mockery of the agreements we made."
Aszer blinked, his mouth opening in protest. "I know nothing of this," he said, his voice a touch too quick. "Surely if we sit down and talk—"
Yrsa cut him off mid-sentence, her voice sharp, unwavering. "You are the king of Byzeth. It was your job to know. Such disrespect, such an attack on my people, is a sin punishable only by death."
For a moment, Aszer stiffened. His lips pressed together, his bravado visibly cracking.
"What... what are you saying?" His voice trembled, though he fought to maintain composure.
A sigh escaped Aric, the sound barely audible over the murmurs of the soldiers gathered around them. He stepped forward, slowly, with the quiet authority of someone who understood the weight of the moment.
The soldiers, around four hundred men now, turned their eyes to him, watching with uncertainty as the prince approached the center of the gathering. Aric stopped, his hand rising to his face as he slowly removed his bloodied mask.
The wind was cold on his skin, the chill biting at the fresh wounds that had yet to heal. His gaze swept over the soldiers—men who had fought, bled, and lost, all under the banner of Byzeth.
Chapter Stay:
"Soldiers of Byzeth," he began, his voice steady yet laced with a deep sorrow. "Some of you may know me, and some of you perhaps not... but today, now, I speak to you not as your general, but as the prince of the very empire you have been raised to rebel against."
The men shifted uncomfortably, their eyes locked on Aric as he continued.
"You have been dwindled to below half the men you were when we first marched out of Byzeth. Most of you have lost someone—comrades, friends, brothers, and even sons." Aric's voice tightened. "And for what? Only to take settlements outside kingdoms? But such is war. Victory is never certain, but death... that is assured."
A bitter chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head, his eyes hardening as he looked at the faces before him.
The soldiers were silent, their faces pale, the weight of Aric's words sinking in like a dagger to the chest.
"The imperial squad arrives soon," Aric continued, his voice steady now, a cold resolve taking over. "And I am certain they need no introduction. The moment they come, we all die. And there is no glory or honor in that. So instead, I offer you the chance to fight for victory another day."
Aric's gaze swept across the men, his voice firm.
"Denounce this rebellion. Denounce your foolish king who has led you to it. Accept me as your ruler, and I will lead you back to your families, so you may fight another day—a day when you actually stand a chance of victory. For that is the only way to honor and glory."
Suddenly, Aszer rushed forward, fury blazing in his eyes.
"You dare betray me?"
Before he could reach Aric, Yrsa stepped between them, her movements swift as a shadow. She blocked Aszer's path, her hand resting calmly on the handle of her axe.
Aric didn't flinch, his eyes never leaving the soldiers.
"Byzeth army, what say you? Would you rather die today, or live to fight again?"
There was a moment of stillness, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. Aszer's eyes darted around, panic creeping into his expression as he realized the gravity of the situation.
Aric raised his voice, the intensity in his tone demanding an answer.
"What say you?!"
One by one, the soldiers dropped to a knee, their armor clinking softly as they bowed their heads.
"We shall follow the prince," one voice called out, breaking the silence.
Then, another voice echoed it. "We shall follow the prince."
And soon, all four hundred men had knelt, their loyalty shifting in that moment, from a broken king to the one man who spoke the truth.