Prince Theodore Triesenberg paced the length of his opulent war room, his boots thudding on the polished marble floor. The sound echoed in the cavernous chamber, punctuated only by his labored breathing. Maps and naval reports lay scattered across a wide mahogany table at the room's center.
His gaze was fixed on nothing in particular, yet his mind was consumed by thoughts of the Valorian fleet and the shame that now darkened his name.
The door creaked open behind him, and his aide, Lieutenant Falk, entered quietly, his face pale. Theodore didn't turn, but he felt the weight of Falk's presence.
"Your Highness..." Falk began, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "The Triesenese Naval Fleet has...retreated from their positions near Valorian waters. Admiral Sturbridge complied with their demands."
There was a heartbeat of silence before Theodore spun around, his eyes blazing with fury. "What?" His voice was a roar, shaking the very air in the room.
Falk flinched. "They have...they've withdrawn, Your Highness. The Valorian fleet held their ground, and Sturbridge chose to avoid conflict."
For a moment, Theodore's expression was unreadable, as if he hadn't fully processed the words. Then, with a savage yell, he kicked the table in front of him, sending maps, glasses, and ink bottles crashing to the floor. The sharp sound of shattering glass rang through the chamber as the prince stormed toward the far wall, his fists clenched.
"Retreated? RETREATED?" he bellowed, his voice thick with rage. "How dare they! How dare Sturbridge turn his back on Valoria!"
He grabbed the nearest object—a decanter of fine brandy—and hurled it against the wall. The glass exploded on impact, amber liquid spraying across the stone. Theodore's chest heaved, his breath ragged, as he ripped one of the thick velvet curtains from the window and tore it to shreds with his bare hands.
"You weak, spineless cowards!" he shouted, his voice breaking as he overturned a chair, sending it crashing to the ground. His boots crunched over broken glass as he stormed back to the table, lifting it by its edge and flipping it violently. The heavy wood struck the floor with a deafening thud, splintering at the corners.
Falk stood frozen, his eyes wide as he watched the prince's furious rampage.
The prince's voice cracked, betraying the insecurity that lurked beneath the anger. It wasn't just about the empire; it was personal. Theodore's pride had been wounded, and the sting was unbearable.
"They'll whisper about how the great Prince Theodore couldn't even handle the Valorians at sea. They'll say I'm not fit to lead this empire—"
"No one would dare say that," Falk interrupted, his voice firmer now.
Theodore spun around to face him, eyes blazing. "Is it? Is it really?" He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "Because today, it feels like my authority was questioned. Today, I feel like a prince who had his crown stolen by a foreign power."
Falk swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
Theodore turned away. "This is humiliating...how could I even face my father? I even requested a fleet and look what that fleet has done?"
.net
"They fucking turned around and ran," Theodore seethed, his voice low but trembling with barely contained rage. He raked his hands through his hair, tugging hard at the roots as if the physical pain could somehow drown out the shame burning in his chest. "How am I supposed to look my father in the eye after this?" His tone was raw, filled with bitterness.
Falk remained silent, sensing the storm still brewing within the prince. He had no answer for Theodore, no way to calm the fury that had consumed him.
Theodore, pacing like a caged beast, suddenly stopped and slammed his fist into the nearest wall. "All those years of building an empire, of showing strength! All wasted in one moment because of that coward Sturbridge!" His knuckles were scraped and bleeding now, but he barely noticed the pain. His eyes were wild, darting around the room as if searching for something else to destroy.
"I'll make them pay for this," he muttered, almost to himself.