1214-05-11
Adrian Kundra:
I sit up in my tent—a large one compared to the others. The pens for the Waran's and soldiers are nearby, and my small bed, made with wooden stilts, rests in one corner.
A simple stand to my right holds weapons in case of an emergency. Besides that, there isn't much—armor stored outside, bags filled mostly with clothes.
The day is bright, and as it goes on, it feels like any other—routine, uneventful. But the warmth is unusual, a slow shift in the seasons.
After the morning sermon, I stand alone outside my tent. These days feel repetitive. Nothing changes.
A stable hand rushes up to me, bowing deeply—almost exaggeratedly.
"Your Majesty," he says.
I sigh. "What is it?"
"It's the horses," he explains. "The supplies are arriving later than usual, and some are going hungry. We might have to cut back on the troops."
I exhale sharply. "Get Voss. Have him handle the rations. If it comes to it, we'll adjust accordingly."
The stable hand nods and runs back toward the camp.
I lean against the wooden post, lost in thought. Guilt lingers—over what I've done, over what I feel. My mind drifts back to Liora. We're separated by an entire continent, yet the weight of her absence is constant.
A soft tap on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see Lilian. She smiles shyly. She looks tired... maybe even ashamed.
Before I can speak, a voice calls out from the bottom of the hill. Someone pushes past men and children, striding toward us with purpose.
"Lilian!"
Her friend's tone is sharp, laced with frustration.
"You've been spending a lot of time with Adrian lately." They complain.
A brief silence hangs between them before a small argument erupts.
I try to de-escalate. My voice is calm, but firm. "You realize I could have you killed ?"
Lilian flinches, pulling away from me. Without another word, she turns and walks off with her friend.
I watch her go, feeling the weight of yet another thing slipping from my grasp.
The truth is often difficult to accept. Even now, I struggle with it, growing frustrated with myself.
I was upset—I shouldn't have said what I did. And yet, I had.
Back in my tent, I sit in silence, lost in thought. The weight of my words lingers, pressing against my chest.
As the day shifts and the time nears, I prepare my armor.
A sudden burst of wind sweeps through my tent. Rowan barges in, his voice urgent.
"We need you, Your Majesty!"
I follow him through the camp, past the soldiers, through the civilian quarters. Lilian is there—I catch a brief glimpse of her, but she doesn't meet my gaze. A faint smile flickers across my face, fleeting and hollow.
At the gate—the one that has stood closed for months—waits a lone rider atop a weary horse.
A general.
A leader I haven't seen before. He looks thinner than I expected, and my men are tense, their horses restless from standing for so long.
"It's time to switch out the horses," I command. Then, turning to my soldiers, I add, "If I do not return... if I am killed here—burn this city to the ground."
I step forward, approaching the general. He remains silent as I close the distance. His second-in-command blocks my path with a steely glare.
"Have you come to your senses?" I ask, my voice sharp. "This conflict will not end unless you yield. Keep this up, and your people will starve. You have no resources left."
The man remains silent at first. Then, at last, he speaks.
"I want to talk with you, Adrian Kundra—son of Aldric Kundra."
"About peace?"
"About how we proceed."
Without another word, he turns back toward the city.
The gates, long sealed, creak open before me.
The general beckons me forward, and though every fiber of my being tells me not to follow, I comply.
Inside the city, there are no banners. Nothing. The citizens watch me with wary eyes, fear flickering across their faces. Their gazes dart to the sword at my hip. The general keeps pushing me forward like a prisoner, his grip firm.
The soldiers who still stand mock those who are too weak to rise. But I see through them—both groups are exhausted, worn to their last legs. Just like us. I hate the sight of it. I know, as much as they do, that the soldiers and people alike want peace just as badly as I do.
We enter the castle.
The halls twist and turn, eerily familiar—similar to my own capital, yet much smaller.
Finally, we step into a chamber. A bedroom. A man sits on the bed, the general standing rigid beside him.
I glance at the general, taking him in. White hair. Blue eyes. A common look for Wara, but he's massive—a towering figure that looms over me. My mind races. Could this be the Dragon of the West? The one their soldiers fear?
Then, the man removes his helmet. A soft click sounds as it disengages, the mechanism almost mechanical in nature.
Beneath the helmet isn't a man.
It's a woman.
She shakes out her white hair. Her blue eyes are sharp. She glares at me.
I exhale. "You're the Dragon of the West…?" I murmur.
"Yes," she sighs. "Are you surprised?"
"I am."
I sit in a small chair in front of her.
As I sit, a sharp pain suddenly pierces my side.
"So," I say. "Why did you bring me here?"
The air in the chamber is heavy. I stare at her. The so-called Dragon of the West. The one who struck such fear into my father and my men was a woman. She watches me with cold amusement.
"Kima belongs to us," she states. Her voice is calm but firm.
I scoff. "Kima has always belonged to Ahk."
She shakes her head. A smirk playing on her lips. "No, it hasn't. War made it, and war took it. We built this city."
I clench my fists. "The Battle of the Red Rose."
We say it in unison.
I grit my teeth. "My father told me about it many times."
She leans back, crossing her arms. "And did he also tell you the whole truth?"
My eyes narrow. "Why should I believe the enemy over my own father?"
She tilts her head, unfazed. "Believe what you want. It doesn't matter to me. I don't care if you die here."
She taps her fingers against the table. "We're almost done. Though, I would have preferred to keep the city intact."
"As far as I can see, you have no evidence that you built this city."
Her expression doesn't change. "You'll see soon enough."
I exhale sharply. "Even if that were true, it changes nothing. You have no card. Your people are starving. Your soldiers are exhausted. If we invaded now, there's nothing you could do to stop us."
She smirks. "You sound just like your father." Then she leans forward, voice dripping with mockery.
"But we both know you're not him."
I don't take the bait. "If you resist, your civilians will die too."
She laughs, loud and sharp. "And there it is. The cowardly king of Ahk, willing to sacrifice innocents for the sake of a city he doesn't even understand."
I grip the armrest of my chair. "You don't get to lecture me on war."
"No," she says. "But I do get to end it."
The room falls into silence.
I take a breath, steadying myself. "Then what's your offer?"
Her lips curl into a smile. "Simple. We keep Kima. You leave. That way, no more of your people have to die."
I shake my head. "That's not possible."
"Then what do you propose?"
"You return to Wara unharmed; your people will survive."
"That's not possible," she mocks.
"Then this conversation is over."
She nods to her general, who steps toward me, imposing as ever.
"If you kill me now," I warn, "my men will storm this city."
She barely reacts. "And what can they do to stop me?"
Silence. Then, she leans back and exhales. "I'll even tell you when we plan to leave."
I tense. "…When?"
She laughs. "May 25th."
As the general drags me back through the castle, I finally notice it—the distant sound of digging, metal striking stone beneath the city. It's not just a few workers; it's an operation, deliberate and vast. My gut tightens as I step outside, the sun glaring down on my waiting soldiers. Whatever they're searching for in Kima, it's something worth keeping a war going for—and I need to know what it is.
I clench my fists, the thought creeping into my mind—burn the city, leave them nothing to excavate. If Kima is truly theirs, if they've unearthed something powerful, then I should raze it before they can use it against us. But I hesitate.
The Dragon of the West spoke with too much certainty, too much confidence. If she's telling the truth, if they have a trump card hidden beneath the earth, then setting the city ablaze could trigger something far worse.
I can't risk it—not yet.
Then, a shadow passes overhead. I look up.
A dragon soars above the city, its massive wings casting darkness over the walls.
I leave the city. The gates closed behind me. As I step back into my camp, my men rush to greet me
"What's the Dragon of the West like?" one soldier asks.
"Very intimidating," I say with a laugh.