Chapter 88 – Eve of Convergence IV

The tent fell into an oppressive silence as the weight of the rules settled over the members of the tent. Many of them exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the final rule sinking in like a death knell. The silence that followed was suffocating. This was not just a battle. This was a war of annihilation.

No quarter and no second chances would be given. Murmurs spread like wildfire. “This is not a warning,” one councilman whispered, his voice laced with dread. “It’s a declaration that he’s already won.”

Yet, amidst the tension, King Vio’s smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “He’s taunting us,” he mused, his voice carrying an amused edge. “Trying to break our morale before the battle has even begun.”

King Dawnes, however, was not as entertained. His sharp gaze flickered toward the kneeling messengers. “No,” King Dawnes murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “He is manipulating us into thinking we’ve already lost.”

King Hersery’s hands clenched around the scroll, his knuckles turning white as his gaze settled upon the kneeling messenger. His voice was low, simmering with barely restrained fury “Where is King Azure’s army?” he demanded. “How many soldiers in his army?”

The messengers did not respond. Instead, they lowered their heads further, their silence an act of either submission or defiance.

King Hersery’s patience finally broke. Fury flashed across his face in a brief and unmistakable burst before his hand struck out with terrifying speed. His fingers clamped around the kneeling messenger’s throat and lifted him clean off the ground in one fluid and merciless motion. Gasps rippled through the tent as the messenger dangled in the air, his feet kicking weakly and his hands clawing at the vice-like grip while his body convulsed, choking on the thin sliver of breath left to him.

“Speak,” King Hersery commanded, his voice like rolling thunder. “Or I will end you here and now.”

A strangled cough escaped the messenger’s lips. His trembling hands clawed weakly at King Hersery’s wrist, but his fate was already sealed.

“I cannot…” he choked out. “Even if I wished to. I am bound by the witches’ spell… I…”

His words died in his throat. Blood trickled from his mouth, his body convulsing violently as if unseen hands crushed him from within. A sharp, guttural gasp escaped him—then nothing. His body fell limp.

King Vio stepped forward, placing a firm hand on King Hersery’s shoulder. “Enough.”

Then King Hersery released his grip, letting the corpse drop unceremoniously to the ground.

A sharp inhale rippled through the war tent. Shock flickered across the faces of the gathered nobles, generals, and advisors. The calm and calculated King Hersery—the most composed of the Tri-Kings—had just executed a man in cold blood. Yet, even in death, the messenger had given them nothing.

The rest of the messengers, still kneeling, did not flinch. They remained motionless, as if the spectacle beside them was of no consequence.

King Hersery’s piercing gaze turned to the rest of the messengers, but they did not lift their heads, nor did they show the slightest sign of fear.

The silence thickened.

King Vio said quietly. “There’s no use. King Azure has ensured that we cannot extract any information from them.”

King Hersery’s jaw tensed, but after a long breath, he released his hold on his anger. Without another word, he turned and walked to the war table, planting both hands on its surface. The wooden map, etched with the outlines of their lands, stretched before him like an unspoken challenge.

Around the room, murmurs of unease spread. The corpse lay in a growing pool of blood, and it was clear to all—King Azure had taken extreme measures to ensure that even his messengers would carry nothing but silence.

At last, King Dawnes broke the quiet.

“Soldiers, clean this mess,” he ordered, his voice gruff. Then, turning to General Ming, he added, “Take the remaining messenger and see them out.”

A ripple of protest stirred among the gathered war council.

“Your Majesty, letting them go is not wise,” one advisor objected. “They may reveal our location.”

King Vio met the council’s wary eyes and replied evenly, “Keeping them here serves no purpose. Besides, King Azure’s declaration made it clear. His entire army will be on the Plains of Rohea tomorrow.”

The murmurs continued, but no one could refute the logic. Moments later, soldiers stepped forward, dragging out the dead body and scrubbing away the blood. Then General Ming signalled a few soldiers with a nod, who led the remaining messengers out of the tent, flanking them like shadows.

The war tent grew quiet once more.

The flickering lanterns cast long, restless shadows over the gathered leaders. The scent of blood still lingered, mixing with the stale air of anxiety. Outside, the night stretched on, but no one inside the tent would find rest as they were discussing strategies over strategies.

King Vio and King Dawnes, observing the council members’ discussion and realising it was going nowhere, stepped aside to speak among themselves away from the table. King Vio said, “This discussion is going nowhere, and we are wasting the night, for one will always counter the other, and no decision will be made.” King Dawnes nodded in agreement. “Yes, if there is any way to counter King Azure’s army, it has to come from him.” Both then turned their gaze toward King Hersery.

Yet King Hersery remained silent, staring at the map before him, lost in thought.

Minutes passed. The hushed murmurs of the councilmen continued, voices clashing in frustration. Some argued for defensive manoeuvres, others for a preemptive strike. But it was clear—the discussions were going nowhere.

At last, King Dawnes and King Vio stepped forward.

“King Hersery,” King Dawnes said, his voice quieter than before. “It is unfortunate we gained nothing from the messengers. But we need your mind now.” He gestured towards the rest of the war tent, where the arguing continued. “Their bickering won’t lead us anywhere. Our survival depends on a proper strategy.”

King Vio crossed his arms. “We have less than a night to prepare. If we cannot predict King Azure’s tactics, we must at least ensure we have a plan flexible enough to counter whatever he throws at us.”

For the first time in several minutes, King Hersery moved.

He straightened and turned toward the table, his expression unreadable. “Gather everyone,” he commanded. “Listen carefully and follow my words.”

The arguing stopped. One by one, the advisors, strategists and council members stepped forward, crowding around the table. All eyes were fixed on his hands. The tension inside the tent slowly shifted from uncertainty to focused determination.

King Hersery exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing over the carved map. Then, with deliberate precision, he moved the wooden markers, adjusting formations, shifting pieces, constructing something unseen but methodical “Since we lack intelligence on King Azure’s forces, our best option is to create a flexible strategy—one that allows us to adapt even at the last moment.”

His voice was firm, carrying the weight of certainty. The others leaned in, watching as the board transformed before them. Understanding dawned.

“This…” one strategist murmured. “This might actually work.”

Another nodded, his expression grim but determined. “Yes… It’s possible. And easy to adjust as needed.”

“We will divide our forces into three primary formations,” King Hersery declared, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “The Vanguard, the Core Army, and the Shadow Wings.”

Murmurs rippled through the gathered war council, but no one dared to interrupt him. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows across the war table, their dim light reflecting in the hardened gazes of the assembled council members. The other two kings leaned in, absorbing every word.

“The Vanguard,” King Hersery continued, his fingers tracing the forward line of their formation, “will consist of our strongest, most heavily armored soldiers. They will form the front lines and make first contact with King Azure’s forces. Their purpose is not to charge recklessly, but to assess—observe their formations and their numbers.”

King Dawnes nodded, his jaw set in grim determination. “A test of their strength before committing our full forces.”

“Exactly,” King Hersery affirmed. “The Vanguard must hold steady. If they break too soon, we lose our ability to adjust.”

He shifted his attention to the centre of the battlefield map. “The Core Army will remain positioned at a distance, acting as the backbone of this strategy. Their movements will depend on what the Vanguard uncovers. If King Azure’s forces are overwhelming, the Core will reposition to reinforce weak points. If King Azure’s army is disorganised or weaker at any point, we will push forward aggressively and seize control of the battlefield.”

King Vio folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. “And the Shadow Wings?”

A slow, calculating smile crept onto King Hersery’s face. “Our hidden dagger.”

He tapped two points on the map—one on each flank. “The Shadow Wings will be composed of cavalry, assassins, and our most mobile units. They will remain concealed within the terrain, unseen until the moment strikes. Their task is twofold: first, to flank the enemy and crush them from the sides or rear when the opportunity arises.”

A few of the councilmen exchanged glances, nodding in approval. The strategy was sound—adaptable, fluid, and unpredictable.

“A formation that allows us to shift our tactics at any moment,” one strategist murmured. “It gives us a chance, even against an unknown force.”

King Dawnes exhaled slowly. “Given the circumstances, this is the best we can do.”

King Vio, ever the sceptic, let out a quiet scoff. “It still depends on how well we execute it. The best plans mean nothing if they fall apart in the heat of battle.”

“Two things are required for this to work,” King Hersery said, “first and foremost, the contents of the scroll should never leave this tent, as it will break the morale of our army.” Members of the tent nodded, and King Vio said, “Agreed, what about the second thing?”

“The second thing to make this a flexible, solid-proof strategy,” King Hersery said, his voice carrying a quiet finality with a heavy tone, “Which is why we, the Tri-Kings, need to lead each party from the front.”

Silence settled over the tent after hearing King Hersery’s plan for a long moment before someone raised concern. King Hersery straightened, his expression hardened with resolve. “Make the necessary preparations. Send orders to all commanders—we march at dawn.”

The war tent erupted into motion. General Ming and other members hurriedly began issuing orders, their voices sharp and decisive. Messengers darted in and out of the tent, carrying the battle strategy to the divisions awaiting instruction. The once chaotic uncertainty that had hung over them was now replaced with hardened determination.

As the night stretched on, the Tri-Kings stood together, gazing at the battlefield map one last time. King Hersery broke the silence, “Sorry that I didn’t ask whether you want to fight in the frontlines or not, but depending on the circumstance, there is no other way.”

King Vio, “Given this plan, there was no other alternative.”

King Dawnes, “Being on the frontlines will keep morale high for our army.”

After some time, no words passed between them—none were needed. The moment of battle was upon them. As the final preparation has begun outside the camp.