Lord of Deception

The blood-red dawn rose over Frostveil as the once-impenetrable fortress lay in ruins. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying the stench of steel, blood, and betrayal. What was supposed to be a stronghold of defiance had crumbled before its defenders even realized they had lost.

Kael stood at the center of the main hall, where the remnants of Lord Alric's rebellion knelt before him, their wrists bound in iron chains. The marble floors were slick with the blood of those who had resisted. The empire had reclaimed its lost province in a single night.

Lord Alric, once a proud warlord, knelt before Kael, his face bruised, his fine garments torn. The confidence he once carried had evaporated, replaced by grim acceptance.

Kael observed him for a long moment, his golden eyes betraying no emotion. "You built this fortress to defy the empire," he said slowly. "Did you truly believe you could stand against me?"

Alric gritted his teeth. "Frostveil was meant to be a sanctuary. A place where men were free from the empire's tyranny."

Kael tilted his head slightly. "And yet, your first act of rebellion was to raid imperial supply lines, butcher merchants, and burn villages that did not align with your cause. Tell me, Alric, how different is your so-called freedom from tyranny?"

The fallen warlord said nothing.

Kael sighed and gestured toward Lady Saria, who stood beside him with an amused expression. "How many casualties did we suffer?"

Saria smirked. "Minimal. Your plan was flawless, as expected."

Kael nodded. "And the prisoners?"

"We captured over a thousand. Most of them are soldiers who surrendered after realizing the fortress had fallen."

Kael turned back to Alric. "You see, I am not a merciless butcher. I do not spill blood without purpose. Your men will be given a choice—serve the empire, or be executed for treason."

Alric's fists clenched, but he knew there was no alternative. His people had already lost.

Kael stepped forward, his presence casting a shadow over the fallen warlord. "But you, Lord Alric, do not have that luxury. You knew what you were doing when you defied the empire. You made your choice."

Alric lifted his head, defiance flickering in his eyes. "Then finish it."

Kael regarded him for a moment before drawing his sword. It was not a quick execution.

As Alric's head rolled to the ground, silence settled over the hall. The message was clear—defying Kael Rathen came at a cost.

Later that evening, Kael stood on the balcony of the captured fortress, looking down at the banners of Frostveil being burned and replaced with the sigil of the empire. His mind, however, was already moving toward the next step.

Saria approached him, her cloak billowing in the cold mountain wind. "You were ruthless today," she observed. "Efficient. But ruthless."

Kael did not look at her. "A ruler cannot afford hesitation. Mercy is only a tool if wielded correctly. Otherwise, it is weakness."

Saria chuckled. "And yet, you spared most of their soldiers."

Kael's golden eyes glowed under the moonlight. "Because they were never the enemy. They were only pawns in a larger game."

Saria studied him for a long moment before smirking. "I wonder if your enemies even realize they've already lost before they raise their swords against you."

Kael didn't answer. He was already thinking of his next move.

Because Frostveil was only the beginning.

To be continued....