Chapter 86 – Eve of Convergence II

Inside the war tent, the atmosphere was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth, parchment, and burning oil from the lanterns that flickered along the canvas walls. At the heart of the space stood an enormous wooden table, its surface etched with the intricate details of the plains of Rohena. Rivers, dense forests, rolling hills, and strategic strongholds were carefully marked, each position represented by small wooden symbols—meticulously placed in preparation for the battles yet to unfold.

Far from the table was a trio of ornate suits of armour, each tailored for its respective king.

King Dawnes’s armour stood on its stand in a dull gold finish, a thin silver-white cloak draped from the shoulders. The matching full, closed helm—etched with faint radial lines around a narrow eye-slit—rested atop the stand, paired with thick, jointed gauntlets reinforced at the knuckles and fitted with dull-gold vambraces. Though muted in shine, the armour still bore the sun sigil at the centre of the chest. In front of the stand lay his long, wide butcher-style sword.

King Hersery’s armour was silver-blue, marked on each side with a clear wave sigil. It’s clean, smooth helm carried the same twin sigils, while the hands were fitted with minimal wrist gauntlets plated only across the knuckles and the back for flexibility. Set before the stand was his spear-sword, long, narrow, and tipped to pierce.

King Vio’s armour held a subtle green-tinted finish, a deep green cloak draped across the back and dark green chain lining its interior. His helm was smooth and rounded, tinted green and topped with a simple crown-like ridge of five short points. The gauntlets were plain, each bearing a single raised line across the hand like the vein of a leaf. Before the stand rested his curved, hatched sword, sturdy and fitting the armour’s restrained design.

The heavy air inside the war tent crackled with urgency, the muted glow of lanterns casting long shadows on the tense faces of the gathered officials. Around the massive wooden table stood the highest-ranking figures of the Eastern region—councilmen of the Tri-Kings, seasoned strategists, landlords, bannermen officials, and hardened generals. Scrolls and maps lay scattered across the table’s surface, some half-unfurled, others marked with hasty annotations. Messengers moved in and out, their hurried steps barely disrupting the heated conversation as they delivered and retrieved reports.

Servants moved discreetly between the officials, placing silver cups filled with steaming hot beverages into their hands. The fragrant steam curled into the air, mingling with the scent of ink, wax, and the damp earth that clung to the heavy canvas tents. Yet, despite the comforts of warm drinks, no one was at ease. The flickering lanterns swayed slightly in the draft that slipped through the open tent flaps, their light dancing over grim, furrowed expressions.

A deep voice cut through the murmuring voices.

“King Azure’s army has not yet arrived at the battlefield—there’s no sign of them at the Plains of Rohena,” a general announced, his tone edged with concern. “Our scouts reported that they lost sight of King Azure’s forces… once they entered the Boreal Forest.”

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the tent. Several men exchanged uneasy glances before a councilman, his voice lined with suspicion, spoke up.

“What do you mean they lost track of an army of that size?” he questioned, his brow furrowing.

Another voice joined in, sharper and laden with scepticism. “How does an entire army just disappear?”

The weight of the revelation settled heavily over the room. Some officials voiced their concerns, while others simply shook their heads, their minds racing to make sense of the situation.

A seasoned strategist, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his sheathed dagger, exhaled sharply. “Without knowledge of the enemy’s movements, we are left blind. How can we strategise a proper countermeasure?”

An older bannerman, his face lined with the scars of countless battles, leaned forward. His calloused fingers gripped the edge of the table as he spoke, his voice gravelly with age and experience. “We all know King Azure is wise. He is not a king who can be defeated with simple tactics. If his army has vanished from our sight, it is not by accident; it may be part of his plan.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “Even if we knew what he’s planning, countering it would not be easy.” His voice carried an unspoken warning.

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in.

A younger officer, his expression anxious, muttered under his breath, “This war is becoming more complicated by the second.”

Another official, his arms crossed, sighed. “If only we had more intelligence on his movements…”

The tent buzzed with discussion, each word carrying the weight of the thousands of lives that now hung in the balance. Every plan, every decision, every piece of information was critical. The fate of the Eastern region teetered on the edge of uncertainty, and with King Azure’s army nowhere to be found, that uncertainty was quickly turning into fear.

The tri-kings stood in solemn contemplation outside the massive white war tent, their eyes fixed on the vast valley below. The final crimson hues of twilight stretched across the horizon, casting elongated shadows over the encampment. Distant fires flickered amidst the sea of tents, their glow barely touching the restless soldiers gathered around them. The scent of burning wood and pine hung in the cool evening air, mingling with the distant clatter of armour and hushed conversations.

Despite the tranquil scenery, an air of unease loomed over them, heavier than the approaching night.

King Dawnes exhaled deeply, his breath misting in the cold. He folded his arms across his chest as he broke the silence. “Any updates on the messenger and the boy?” His voice, deep and steady, carried a weight of expectation. “Where are they? What is their status? Do we have anything?”

King Vio rested one hand beneath his chin, the other supporting his elbow. His lips curled slightly in discontent. “Nothing,” he said, his tone edged with doubt. “Perhaps we were too hasty in entrusting this mission to a stranger… and a mere boy.”

King Hersery, who had been gazing toward the distant treeline, let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable. “Hasty? Perhaps. But what choice did we have?” He turned to the others, his sharp gaze unwavering. “The last confirmed report stated they boarded a ship to Atlantis. Beyond that, our scouts have brought no further news.”

He paused, his brow furrowing. “At the very least, we know Atlantis sent reinforcements to aid our cause. Their arrival was confirmed by the message we received from the Atlantis reinforcement—then the messenger and the boy were escorted by the Princess of Atlantis herself to Prince Zhao’s castle.” His voice darkened as he hesitated. “But after that… nothing. And that was three days ago.”

King Dawnes’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping idly against the hilt of his sword. “So we are blind.” He turned his gaze back to the valley, as though searching for answers in the darkening landscape. “Did they meet with King Azure’s children? Have they fallen in the process? Or have they abandoned their task altogether?”

King Hersery shook his head, his voice lower now, tinged with something between frustration and guilt. “If they’ve failed, then we’re on our own. But I can’t ignore the unease I felt about sending that young boy.”

King Vio’s gaze lingered on the horizon, his expression unreadable. “Let’s not dwell on uncertainty,” he said at last. “If they chose their safety over the mission, so be it…” His voice hardened, a grim weight settling over his words. “…But if they encountered King Azure’s children—and those children decided to stand with their father in this war—then our situation is far more dire than we feared.”

A heavy silence settled between them, while the distant murmurs of the camp drifted toward them like a heated argument. The war tent behind them pulsed with the weight of ongoing strategy discussions, but here, at the cliff’s edge, the tri-kings stood with nothing but speculation.

Finally, King Dawnes straightened, his voice resolute. “Enough. We can waste the night chasing shadows and what-ifs, but it changes nothing. Tomorrow, we go to battle—regardless.”

The commotion inside the tent had swelled to the point where even the Tri-Kings could no longer ignore it. They strode back inside, their heavy boots thudding against the hardened earth. Inside, the flickering glow of lanterns cast restless shadows across the canvas walls, illuminating a scene of barely restrained chaos. A storm of heated voices clashed over the large war table, advisors and commanders arguing with mounting frustration. No one noticed the tri-king’s return—until King Dawnes’s voice cut through the uproar like a blade.

“What is this commotion about?” he demanded, his deep voice carrying the weight of authority.

At once, the tent fell into an uneasy silence. Every man present turned, their expressions shifting from frustration to discipline. As one, they bowed, pressing their hands together in reverence.

King Hersery, sensing the lingering tension in the air, decided to take control of the situation before it could spiral further. His sharp gaze swept over the gathered officials before settling on one of the strategists. “What is the current Report?” he ordered. “Give us the status of our preparations.”

A wiry man with piercing eyes and an air of meticulous calculation rose from his seat. He straightened his robes before addressing the kings.

“Your Majesties, as of this evening, we have finalised the tally of our forces.” He gestured toward the map-laden table, where wooden markers denoted troop positions and strategic points. “The combined strength of the tri-kings’ armies, along with our allied forces, stands at approximately two hundred and fifty thousand.”

He paused, allowing the number to settle over the room. “This includes our trained foot soldiers, cavalry and archers. Additionally, villagers and militias have taken up arms, swelling our ranks. Mercenaries and assassins bolster our forces, and our blacksmiths have worked tirelessly to ensure our armouries are fully stocked and healer mages are preparing quick remedies as we speak.”

A grizzled veteran, his face a web of old battle scars, stepped forward with a grim expression. “However, we do not know the movements of King Azure’s forces.” His voice was laced with frustration. “Our scouts tracked them as far as the Boreal Forest, but beyond that… they vanished.”

A ripple of unease passed through the gathered men. Several exchanged nervous glances, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon them.

Then, a councilman leaned forward, his voice laced with mockery. “Vanished?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “An army of that size doesn’t simply disappear. It’s either nonsense or the result of incompetent scouting. This is nothing more than the failure of weak scouts—whoever sent them clearly chose men unfit for the job.” His words, though indirect, carried a sharp edge, subtly placing blame on another member within the tent.

Tension snapped like a drawn bowstring. Murmurs of frustration ignited across the room, spreading like wildfire. Accusations flew, voices rising as tempers flared. “You insult our scouts, but what of your intelligence reports? Have they been any more useful?”

“Are you implying treachery? Careful with your words,” the councilman replied.

The argument threatened to erupt into chaos—until King Dawnes struck his fist against the war table, “Enough!”. The force of the impact rattled the wooden pieces atop it, and silence fell like a blade severing the discord. His gaze, sharp and unrelenting, swept over the gathered officials. “If we cannot stand together here, then what chance do we have against the enemy?” he declared, his voice a steady, unyielding force.

From the back of the tent, King Vio’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “Enough. Stop this bickering and these pointless accusations. This—this chaos—is exactly what our enemy wants. They want us divided, tearing at each other, weakening ourselves from within. But we are the Tri-King Alliance. We stand as one, or we fall as one. Tomorrow, on the battlefield, we fight together.”

One of the strategists, still tense, dared to voice the concern lingering in everyone’s minds. “Without knowing their numbers, their positions, or their strategy, how can we prepare a proper counteroffensive? What if their forces far exceed ours?”

Then King Hersery finally stepped forward. His sharp gaze flickered between the faces in the tent before he spoke. “This is not a war we can afford to avoid,” he said, his voice cool yet commanding. “The future of the Eastern Region depends on our resolve. Whether we stand against an army twice our size, we do not falter.”

Before any further discussion could take place, a sudden commotion erupted outside the tent. The sharp clatter of boots against the hardened earth, the metallic clink of armour, and the hushed yet frantic murmurs of soldiers sent an uneasy ripple through those gathered inside. The tri-kings and their advisors turned as one toward the entrance.

A guard burst in, his breath ragged from running. His spear, though held upright, trembled slightly in his grip. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his brow as he straightened and saluted.

“Your Majesties…” he panted. “I bring you a report.”

King Vio’s eyes narrowed. His voice was edged with sharp impatience. “Report?”

The guard hesitated, casting a glance over his shoulder as if half-expecting something—or someone—to follow him, but no one was there.

Then King Dawnes shouted at the soldier, “spill it out” with a commanding voice.

The soldier faced straight in fear and swallowed hard before speaking again, “The messengers… from King Azure.”