"Better to kneel before a just king than stand before King Brandon the Cruel."

  -Gulvian Proverbs

  My P.O.V - The Grand Council Hall of Divina

  After twenty-seven days of relentless marching, we finally had the luxury of a real bath.

  The heat of the water stung against my skin, washing away the grime and dried blood that had clung to me since Elria. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be clean. My muscles ached from the journey, the countless battles, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like an iron shroud. Yet even as the dirt and sweat faded, the burden of what lay ahead remained.

  I lingered only briefly, just enough to scrub away the worst of the filth. The others would take their time, reveling in the rare comfort, but I had never been one for indulgence. I had been raised in battle, accustomed to the harsh realities of war. A quick wash, a change of clothes, and then I donned my armor once more. It was battered and worn, dented from countless clashes, but I did not care. It had protected me through hell. I would not cast it aside now.

  With my sword at my hip, I made my way through the halls of Divina toward the Grand Council Hall.

  The castle was impressive, built from pale stone that gleamed under the flickering torchlight. Servants bustled about, whispering among themselves, their eyes filled with curiosity and caution as they caught sight of me. They were not used to men like me—worn from war, carrying the weight of battle in every step.

  At last, I reached the doors of the council chamber. Two guards stood at attention, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords as they gave me a measured look before pulling the heavy doors open.

  The chamber was grand, as expected of a place where lords and ladies shaped the future of their lands. High-vaulted ceilings loomed above, polished marble floors gleamed under the torchlight, and the banners of House Stiedry hung proudly along the walls. At the center of the room stood a great round table, dividing the space between two factions.

  On the right side sat Duchess Irene and her council. She was composed, her expression unreadable, but I could see the sharp intelligence in her eyes as they tracked my entrance. At her side sat her closest advisors, including Ser Rodirik, the man I had heard much about. He was a knight of great renown, a seasoned commander, and if the way his eyes followed me was any indication, he did not trust me. His hand lingered near the pommel of his sword, a subtle warning.

  On the left side sat Aria, Leo, Queen Dowager Anna, and the rest of our company. Aria offered me a small nod, her usual warmth barely restrained in such a formal setting. Leo, however, looked as if he had swallowed something bitter. He was still stewing over how Irene had greeted his mother before acknowledging him.

  The room fell silent as I entered.

  All eyes were on me.

  I could feel the weight of their judgment, the unspoken disdain.

  To them, I was a stain upon the royal name.

  To them, I was the bastard prince.

  I did not falter. I had walked through fire and blood to stand here. No whispered insult or scornful glance would break me now.

  Without hesitation, I made my way to my seat beside Aria and sat. The silence stretched, thick with tension, until Irene finally exhaled softly and leaned forward, her fingers laced together as she studied me.

  "Now that we are all here," she said smoothly, "let us begin."

  Her voice was calm, controlled, but there was a sharpness to it, a hidden edge beneath the surface. This was a woman who did not take matters lightly.

  Leo was the first to speak, shifting in his seat with a frown. "Before we begin, I must ask—why were we not immediately informed that you intended to welcome us, Duchess? We spent days uncertain of whether we would be turned away at your gates."

  Irene barely spared him a glance before responding. "Because I wished to meet you face to face before making my final decision, Your Grace." Her tone was polite but firm, leaving little room for argument.

  Leo narrowed his eyes. "And have you made your decision?"

  Irene turned her gaze back to me, ignoring Leo entirely. "That depends," she said, "on what Alaric has to say."

  I leaned back slightly, studying her in return. She was young, perhaps around my age, but there was a steel to her, an unwavering resolve that reminded me of a seasoned commander rather than a courtly lady.

  "You already know why we are here," I said evenly. "The crown seeks sanctuary within your lands. We have fought long and hard to reach Divina, and though our numbers have dwindled, we still stand. If you turn us away, you know what will happen."

  Ser Rodirik scoffed. "And if we take you in, we will be inviting war to our doorstep. Your presence alone will bring Duke Eadric’s wrath upon Iza."

  I met his gaze without flinching. "Eadric marches for Divina regardless of our presence. If we were not here, he would still come."

  Irene tapped her fingers against the table, considering my words. "So you believe he has already made his decision?"

  "He has," I said firmly. "And so must you."

  Silence filled the chamber once more as Irene sat back in her chair, eyes locked onto mine.

  She was testing me, measuring my worth, deciding whether I was a man to be trusted or a risk too great to take.

  At last, she spoke.

  "Then tell me, Alaric," she said. "Why should I stand with you?"

  The question hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall.

  And I knew that my answer would determine the fate of this war.

  "We are at war, my lady," I said, my voice steady, unwavering.

  Across the grand table, Duchess Irene leaned back in her chair, her piercing gaze locked onto mine. The candlelight flickered in the dimly lit chamber, casting long shadows across the polished stone walls of the council hall. Her councilors sat beside her, their expressions ranging from wary to openly hostile. Aria, seated beside me, kept shifting uneasily, no doubt prepared to intervene should my words push too far.

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  Irene's lips curled slightly, though whether in amusement or irritation, I couldn’t tell. "War, yes. And you speak of oaths, Alaric, as if they are eternal and unbreakable." She tapped a finger against the armrest of her chair. "But tell me—why should I support you, a man who lost at the Battle of Lion’s Crest?"

  Her words cut deep, but I did not flinch.

  "Aye, I lost," I admitted without hesitation. "But I could have surrendered. I could have bent the knee to Eadric and sworn fealty to him." I let my words settle before continuing, "Yet here I stand."

  Ser Rodirik scoffed from Irene’s side, his arms crossed over his chest. "That much is true, my lady," he said. "But it does not mean he is worthy of your aid. A man who leads his soldiers to slaughter and then comes begging for support—what kind of king’s man is that?"

  Aria tensed beside me, but I raised a hand before she could interject. I turned my gaze to Rodirik, meeting his eyes with cold calculation. "You mistake survival for weakness, Ser Rodirik," I said evenly. "If I had led my men to the slaughter, none of us would be standing in this hall. Instead, we are here, weary but unbroken. Can Eadric say the same? He sits atop the ashes of Lion’s Crest, yet his war drags on. And make no mistake, my lady"—I shifted my attention back to Irene—"this war is far from over."

  Rodirik scoffed again. "So, you mean to throw yourself against Eadric once more? With what army?" He glanced toward Leo, who sat fuming on the other side of Aria. "With a king too weak to command, relying on a bastard to speak in his place?"

  Leo's face darkened, and his fists clenched, but still, I did not look at him. My focus remained solely on Irene.

  "Tell me, Duchess," I said, my voice firm, unwavering. "Has House Stiedry forgotten the oaths it swore to King Valero? I thought your house was one of honor. A house that respected its vows."

  Irene’s fingers drummed against the table, her expression unreadable. But I could see the flicker of something—annoyance, hesitation, perhaps even doubt.

  "The oaths you speak of," she said at last, "were sworn by my father, not by me."

  "Then you have the chance now," I countered, leaning forward slightly.

  The chamber was silent, the weight of my words pressing down on everyone present.

  "If you will not swear to King Leo," I continued, "then swear to Princess Aria."

  The room erupted into chaos. Gasps, murmurs, sharp glances darted between the gathered lords and knights.

  Aria stiffened beside me, her eyes wide with shock. "Alaric!" she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Leo, on the other hand, shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the stone floor. His face twisted in fury. "You dare—"

  I ignored him. My attention remained fixed on Irene.

  Her councilors exchanged frantic whispers, some shaking their heads, others looking toward their lady for guidance. Even Rodirik, so full of confidence before, looked momentarily uncertain.

  "You presume much, bastard," Leo spat, his voice laced with venom. "You speak as if you have the authority to decide who sits on the throne!"

  I turned my head slightly, meeting his glare with calm indifference. "I speak as a man who has fought and bled for this throne," I said. "As a man who has seen the cost of weak leadership."

  Leo's hand twitched toward his sword, but before he could do anything, Irene raised a hand.

  "And what of House Mandela and House Marcel?" she asked, cutting through the tension like a blade. "You speak as if I am your only option."

  I nodded. "If House Stiedry values honor and oaths, you have your chance now. If not, we will leave at dawn and march south to seek House Mandela’s aid."

  It wasn’t a threat. It was an offer.

  Irene exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. There was a flicker of something in them—perhaps realization.

  She knew the weight of the decision before her.

  The fate of this war now rested in her hands.

  Duchess Irene P.O.V

  This man... Alaric.

  I had expected arrogance, desperation, or even foolish bravado. A bastard seeking refuge, pleading for my support, knowing he had no other choice. But now, as I sat here listening to him, I realized I had misjudged him entirely.

  He was no beggar. He was not here to grovel.

  He spoke not as a man seeking sanctuary, but as a commander dictating the terms of an alliance. And somehow, without ever raising his voice or making a single demand, he had turned the balance of power in this conversation.

  I had thought they needed me. But now, I felt as if I were the one on trial.

  My fingers tapped lightly against the polished table as my mind raced. I had seen many men in my time—lords, knights, and warriors who wielded their words like weapons. But Alaric... he was something else.

  He had lost at Lion’s Crest, yet he stood before me unbroken. He had no official title, yet men far greater than him followed his command without question. Even Aria—Princess of the realm—looked at him with an unwavering trust. And Ser Gildas, a knight whose honor was spoken of in every court in the kingdom, sat at his side, his presence a silent endorsement.

  And yet, despite the steel in his words, despite the fire in his gaze, he was asking me to swear fealty to a man like Leo.

  Leo, who had not spoken a word until he was provoked.

  Leo, who let his bastard brother fight his battles for him.

  Leo, who had done nothing to earn my loyalty.

  No.

  I would not bend the knee to a weak prince who could not even defend himself in his own war council.

  But then what choice did I have?

  I had no love for Eadric, nor did I share his ambitions, but he was a force to be reckoned with. He had the numbers, the strategy, and the momentum. If I refused Alaric and his cause, I would stand alone when Eadric's army reached my borders.

  Could I afford to throw my people into this brutal rebellion?

  No... but could I afford to refuse?

  I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening around the armrest of my chair. Alaric watched me with quiet patience, his expression unreadable. He was waiting for my answer, but he already knew what it would be.

  Because this man... this bastard...

  Had just backed me into a corner.

  My P.O.V

  "Let’s adjourn the council for now," Irene finally said, her voice composed, but the tension in her posture betrayed her unease. "I need to speak with my ministers before I make a final decision."

  "Thank you, Duchess Irene," Aria said, dipping her head in respect.

  "Thank you, Duchess," I echoed, my gaze lingering on her. She only nodded stiffly before turning away, her expression unreadable.

  The moment we stepped out of the council chamber, Aria grabbed my arm with surprising strength and all but dragged me down the corridor. Ser Gildas followed, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor.

  Once we were far enough away from prying ears, Aria whirled on me, eyes blazing with fury.

  "What the hell was that, Alaric?!" she snapped. "Why did you force Irene into swearing an oath to me?! Why didn’t you consult me first?!"

  I met her glare without flinching. "Because I want you on the throne."

  Silence fell between us. Aria's expression shifted from anger to shock, then back to anger again.

  "You can’t just decide that for me!" she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "I have no ambition for the throne!"

  "And Leo does," I countered. "That’s exactly why he shouldn’t have it."

  Ser Gildas let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. "You realize what you’ve done, Alaric? You’ve just painted a target on her back."

  "Leo will never allow this," Aria added, shaking her head. "And my mother—she will see this as treason!"

  Before I could respond, a smooth voice echoed from the shadows.

  "The Queen wouldn’t dare harm her own blood, even for the throne," said Varus as he emerged from the darkness, his ever-present smirk in place. His eyes, however, were serious. "Still, Alaric, I must say… you have a talent for making enemies."

  Aria turned to him, exasperation clear on her face. "Oh, great. And you agree with him?"

  Varus chuckled. "I agree that Leo is a fool. If it weren’t for Alaric, he would have lost this war already." He studied me for a moment. "But tell me, Alaric… why her? Why not take the throne yourself?"

  I narrowed my eyes. "Because I don’t want it."

  Varus tilted his head, clearly amused. "That may be true, but let’s be honest—what you do want is control."

  "I want a ruler who will listen to me," I corrected. "Leo listens now because he has no choice. But once he becomes too powerful, he won’t. He’ll surround himself with flatterers and fools. Ser Midryn will be leading his armies instead of me. And when that happens, we will lose."

  Varus nodded slowly. "That is true." He glanced at Aria. "And you? Are you prepared for this?"

  Aria crossed her arms, frustration etched across her face. "I never wanted the throne. And I still don’t. But…" she trailed off, glancing at me.

  I could see the war in her eyes. She didn’t want power. She didn’t want to be part of this game. But she knew—just as I did—that Leo was not fit to rule.

  Varus smiled knowingly. "You’re considering it."

  Aria scowled. "I *hate* that you both think you know me so well."

  "It’s because we do," Varus said, winking. Then his expression darkened. "But Alaric, you need to be careful. Leo won’t take this lying down. You’ve just made him your enemy in ways he wasn’t before. And his mother… well, Queen Dowager Anna has never needed a reason to want you dead. Now you’ve given her a perfect one."

  Ser Gildas, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Varus is right. The Queen won’t move against Aria—she’s her own flesh and blood. But you?" He looked at me grimly. "You need to watch your back. And be careful of Ser Daudalus—he is more than just the Queen’s sworn sword. He is an assassin."

  Aria ran a hand through her hair, clearly exasperated. "This is reckless, Alaric. I know Leo isn’t fit to rule, but what makes you think *I* am?"

  "Because you listen," I said simply. "Because you understand people. And because, despite what you think, you were born for this."

  She shook her head but said nothing.

  Varus chuckled under his breath. "Well, things just got interesting."

  Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared back into the shadows, leaving us standing there, the weight of our choices pressing down on us.

  "A kingdom ruled by fear is a kingdom ruled by whispers."

  -Gulvian Proverbs