Thalric stared at the reports spread across his desk, then at Duke Raktor sitting stiffly in front of him, and for the first time since the war began, he felt the weight of it pressing against his ribs.

His campaign for the throne… It reminded him of a warhorse that bolts out of the gates, hooves thundering with early confidence, only to lose its breath halfway through, each step turning heavier, slower and harder.

Duke Raktor had warned him once, “Wars are a slow crawl, not a raging charge.”

Thalric had ignored him. Back then, the promise of the throne had been too close, too intoxicating, too blinding. He had pushed forward, convinced that speed meant fast victory. And honestly? He didn’t regret it. Moving fast had helped. They had swallowed nearly all of the western territory before anyone could blink.

If fate hadn’t spat in his face, he would be sitting in the capital by now.

But fate had interfered—again and again.

First came the barbarians. Thalric clenched his jaw just thinking about it. He had dismissed them as savages, leftovers from an old war. The army had crushed them once, so he hadn’t expected trouble. But somehow dozens—no, hundreds—of them had turned into Enforcers, ripping through his captured forts like they were made of straw.

Then Eldric’s forces had suddenly gained power, hitting back with a strength that didn’t make sense. Their siege on Eden City had collapsed so badly that Duke Raktor had been forced to abandon the frontlines and retreat all the way to Kaelgrim, leaving behind only a trickle of their forces.

Thalric curled his fingers around the edge of his desk.

There was only one explanation for this.

Regina.

That scheming witch. He refused to believe Eldric had come up with anything on his own. In Thalric’s eyes, his older brother was good at one thing only—breathing.

On top of it, now the latest reports from Duke Raktor mentioned that some of the cities and forts had already begun to rebel against his soldiers. A part of Thalric almost wanted to order all the rebels killed, but even he knew that another internal war was the last thing he needed when Arzan’s forces were pushing deeper into the western region.

Thinking of everything made him sigh. He dragged his eyes from the scattered reports to Duke Raktor and said, “I’ve already heard all the bad news. But you didn’t mention anything about Palman and his information.”

Duke Raktor shook his head. “I didn’t, because that’s the only piece of good information I have right now. If not for that, I wouldn’t be sitting so calmly.”

Thalric leaned forward. “So, is the information correct?”

Raktor nodded. “Yes. We were able to raid three supply routes. Two along the river and one through the mountains. Enforcers were leading them, but we managed to push them back. They weren’t as strong as we expected and ran away. But we got what mattered—the supplies.”

Thalric’s expression sharpened. “The mana cannons?”

Raktor allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. “And mana guns. And plenty of armour. Even some of those explosive drones—though our Mages are still trying to figure out how to use them. I’m sure Arzan will change his supply routes soon, but Palman’s information was accurate. With what we took, we have enough mana cannons to place all around Fort Kaelgrim.”

Thalric finally smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Good. I bet Arzan is fuming at the loss of supplies.” Then, he paused to think and asked, “And where were the supplies headed anyway?”

Raktor replied without hesitation. “Probably to one of the newly captured forts. Faster by rivers and mountain trails since there are straight tunnels there.”

Hearing that, something flickered across Thalric’s face. He tapped the table for a few seconds. Then, without a word, he stood, strode over to a side table, and snatched up a rolled map. He spread it across the desk between them, the parchment unfurling and taking over the whole table.

The western region of the kingdom lay drawn in ink: hills, rivers, forts, towns—all the major locations marked.

His voice came low and clipped. “Point out the locations where we raided the supplies.”

Raktor leaned forward, thinking back through the reports before placing his finger on the first position… then the second… then the third.

Thalric stared at the marks, the pattern revealing itself so neatly that it almost mocked him.

“Like I thought.”

He dragged his finger across the map and stopped at a small but strategically placed town.

“Here—Bulwark Town. I’m sure they’re trying to get the supplies here. Using rivers and the mountain tunnels to move them as fast as possible. The barbarians managed to capture that town, right?”

Raktor’s eyes widened a fraction, then he nodded. “Yes, a week back.” He paused, then looked down at the map. “According to the scouts, a large army of them is still there. We thought they might be resting due to losses since the forts are able to deal them more damage now that we are prepared for it, but you are saying—”

Thalric cut him off sharply.

“They were there waiting for the supplies to come, so they could head straight here.”

His finger slid across the parchment in a clean, merciless line—Bulwark to Fort Kaelgrim.

A straight path. A perfect path.

The realization settled between them like a shadow.

“Although there are hills in the way,” Thalric added, “it’s a pretty straight line.”

At that, Duke Raktor’s brows pulled together. He leaned closer to the map, as if hoping a different angle would show him a safer way through this disaster. “I thought they would be busy conquering more cities,” he muttered. “But it seems like they’re confident they can take down Fort Kaelgrim.”

Thalric didn’t look surprised at all. If anything, his expression tightened, like someone who had expected the punch long before it landed. “Yes,” he said. “But I’m not surprised. With the rebels growing, Arzan probably thinks he can crush me quickly, just like he did with Aldrin.” His jaw clenched. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the one stirring the rebels in the cities.”

Duke Raktor gave a stiff nod, eyes drifting across the map once again. “Fort Kaelgrim is prepared for a siege,” he said.

Thalric exhaled, rubbing his forehead with two fingers. “It’s not about being prepared,” he replied. “Arzan is unpredictable. Wild. Even now, when we have our hands on his mana cannons, I’m still not convinced this will be easy.”

Raktor lifted his head. “Palman hasn’t been wrong yet. He said Arzan is injured, that he won’t be at full strength.”

“Maybe,” Thalric said quietly. “Maybe it’s the case.” But then his eyes narrowed, the doubt returning like a shadow creeping back across a lit floor. “But I still think things with Palman are very convenient. He arrived the moment we needed information the most.”

Raktor blinked. “What do you mean, Your Majesty?”

Thalric tapped a finger on the wooden table, irritated. “I mean I hate not having something to control Palman. A man who has something to lose thinks twice before lying. But you still haven’t found his family.”

Raktor shook his head, shrinking back a little. “Not yet, but we’re trying. And as I said before, King Thalric—my men in Arzan’s army have already confirmed everything Palman told me about why he betrayed Arzan.”

“I know,” Thalric said, though his voice lacked conviction. “Maybe you’re right.”

Still, the uneasy feeling twisting in his chest didn’t fade. It sat there like a stone.

He pushed the feeling aside and straightened his back. “Either way,” he said, eyes fixed on the path that led straight to Fort Kaelgrim, “we have a siege incoming. And we need to prepare for it.”

***

Kai had lost track of the days.

But as they passed, he kept returning to the same thing—the wand. His wand. The Elder Wand as he now called it. The name had come to him naturally, almost stubbornly, because the more he studied it, the more he was convinced the amplification wasn’t from anything he had carved, but from the Elder Tree stump itself. The wood felt… alive. Not in the literal sense, but in the way it reacted to mana. Every seal he carved onto it seemed to hum stronger than it should. Every spell he pushed through it came out sharper, fiercer, heavier.

If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought it was some divine artifact.

And yet the wand remained stable.

He wanted to test it more—fight bigger beasts, push higher-circle spells into it, learn its limits—but he needed it to stay hidden.

So he trained quietly.

He cultivated every night, the fourth circle in his core sharpening, compressing, growing denser. He could feel the borders of the fifth circle approaching, thin as glass and waiting for him to shatter it. He also circulated mana through the wand all the time to keep it active and adjusted to him. He meditated with it on his lap, letting it attune fully to his mana signature.

And when he wasn’t cultivating, he read reports.

All of them.

From Gareth. From the Sorcerer’s tower. From Duke Blackwood. From Viscount Redmont . From the rest of the Watchers.

It was the Watchers whose reports surprised him the most.

The rebellion in the western region had started only as a whisper, a few groups Kai expected to cause trouble here and there, but the speed at which it grew made him pause. Entire blocks of cities stopped listening to Thalric’s soldiers. Taverns became meeting halls. Markets became rumor fountains. Even forts began reporting “civil unrest” that looked suspiciously coordinated.

Watcher Arel, especially, exceeded expectations. Whiterun had fallen entirely to the locals because of him. Kai had read the report twice, wondering if he misread it. But no, Arel actually managed to turn an entire conscripted population into a self-driven revolt.

Impressive, Kai thought reading it.

He didn’t plan to drag these rebels into his army—untrained people were more of a burden than help, but that wasn’t the point. The Watchers were steadily gaining him more and more support. If the population adored him more than Thalric? If they believed he was the rightful leader? If they welcomed his army instead of fighting them?

Then the road to the throne wasn’t uphill anymore.

It was a straight path.

As for the Lombards, they were taking over more and more stretches of land, especially once the other forces led by Leopold arrived to reinforce them. Fort after fort, town after town, the western region was slipping out of Thalric’s hands like sand through open fingers. And all of it was happening exactly the way Kai had planned.

If he was honest, he had expected Thalric to sense the trap. To grow suspicious. To hesitate. But it seemed like Duke Blackwood had been perfectly right about the man. “Thalric is sharp with a sword, but hopeless with a war,” he’d said.

He had told him before—the prince was the kind of person who never followed his intuition until things were going in his favour. He had been raised as royalty, surrounded by people who fixed his mistakes before he even noticed them. And worse, Thalric believed in his own destiny so completely that he simply assumed the world would shift to match it.

The funny thing was, even if Thalric suspected the supply lines were a trap, it wouldn’t have helped him. The mana cannons and mana guns he’d “captured” were the same as any other cannons. The same material. The same shape and design. No blacksmith or Mage in the kingdom could find anything wrong with them.

Everything was in motion now. The Watchers had ignited revolts in cities and forts, forcing Thalric to divide his troops. The Lombards had swept through the western roads and forests like a sandstorm. And Palman’s fake information had lured Thalric and Duke Raktor into tightening their defenses exactly the way he wanted.

Kai didn’t want to wait any longer after this.

He already knew Thalric was inside Fort Kaelgrim. And from the most recent reports, the prince had pulled back a large number of soldiers and Mages from the siege of Eden City, gathering everyone he could to hold the fort.

So with the final pieces lined up, Kai didn’t hesitate.

He ordered the Lombards, the Enforcers, the Mages, the entire force that was there in this part of the region to march straight towards Fort Kaelgrim.

He didn’t want to give away the plan too early, so before leaving Matilla he even forced a bit of pallor into his face with a mana trick. It made him look tired, drained—exactly how he wanted Thalric’s spies to describe him. A few nobles riding with him gave him uneasy glances, whispering behind their hands, but none of them dared to comment out loud. Viscountess Vaessa’s silent presence alone kept every tongue still.

Leopold, however, was a different story.

The man had decided that the best time to talk was during a march to kill a prince. He rode beside Kai almost the entire way, filling the cold morning air with questions and nonsense that felt painfully out of place during a war.

They were crossing a shallow hill when Leopold suddenly asked, as casually as if he were asking about breakfast, “Have you ever thought of starting a family?”

Kai turned his head slowly, one eyebrow lifting. Their horses trudged through mud, breath fogging the air, and Leopold wanted to ask about family, knowing full well he had killed his own brother.

“Family? What do you mean? Marriage?” Kai asked.

“Yes, marriage,” Leopold said, nodding as if this made perfect sense. “I believe you should think about it now.”

Kai blinked. “We are in a war. Why would I be thinking of marriage?”

Leopold only curled his lips in a warm and hopelessly earnest smile. “For the future.”

Kai let out a breath, half sigh, half disbelief. “I believe my future is good without marriage. I have too many responsibilities. Marriage isn’t on my mind right now and won’t be for a few years.”

Leopold looked almost disappointed. His shoulders drooped before he brightened again, as persistent as ever. “What about an engagement?”

Kai stared ahead for a moment, then said, “You do know most engagements in this kingdom last six months. That’s just… marrying someone after a delay.”

Leopold nodded eagerly. “You can always set a new precedent once you are a king. So, how about it?”

This time Kai slowed his horse, genuinely studying Leopold’s blank, serious expression. Why was Leopold talking about marriage? Why now? The man usually wasn’t the type to talk nonsense until it was about his next conquest in bed.

He didn’t look sick. He didn’t look cursed. He didn’t look possessed. He looked… normal. Annoyingly normal.

“Are you okay?” Kai finally asked. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my marriage?”

Leopold sniffed dramatically. “Why can’t I be interested in your marriage?”

Kai stared at him. “Because it’s strange.”

Leopold laughed lightly, brushing hair from his face. “Nothing is strange. I’m simply saddened that although you’re marching to be king, there’s no queen beside you.”

Kai frowned. “Why the sudden interest in that?”

Leopold grinned, unbothered. “In life, there are a lot of sudden things. My worry about your marital status is just one of them.”

Kai had no answer for that.

He simply tightened the reins and urged his horse forward, putting distance between them.

Marriage was the last thing he needed on his mind, not when a prince was waiting for him behind Kaelgrim’s walls.

***

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