The air in the council room was heavy as the Techie leaders returned to Bethany, their faces set in grim lines. The airships had departed, the battle fought and the plan set into motion, but the weight of what had happened lingered like an oppressive storm cloud.
Enero sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the wood. The map projections on the screens in front of him flickered with images of the Northern Enchanted Forest and the Lesser Life Tree. He could still hear the clash of weapons and the hum of disruptors in his mind. The battle had been harder than anticipated, but it had achieved the desired result. The other factions didn't have control of the Lesser Tree either.
Enero looked at the Techie leadership, making eye contact with each of them.
"Now, we strike again," he said.
Grand Marshal Elroy Jett stood across from him, arms crossed, his face tight with concern. “Your Majesty,” he began, his voice soft but firm, “we’ve already lost too much. To commit to another assault against the Lesser Tree... it risks too much, even for us.”
Enero raised his gaze, his eyes hard as stone. “I’m aware of the risks, Elroy,” he replied, his tone brokering no disagreement. “But this tree—this magic—it’s too dangerous to let stand. We cannot allow our enemies to consolidate their power there.”
“But destroying it?” Elroy's voice was sharp now. “That could provoke them further. The Fey, the Lodi... they would not accept that.”
Director Darius Voss, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward. “We’ve already provoked them, Marshal. And if we don’t act decisively, the next attack might not be one we can recover from. The Lesser Tree’s magic could turn the tide of this entire war. We need to strike before they can fully harness it.”
Enero nodded, feeling the weight of his decision settle on him like an anchor. “We will take the full force of our army. We’ll burn the forest if necessary. Bomb it from the sky. Do what ever you must. The Lesser Life Tree will fall, and with it, the power it threatens to give our enemies.”
The council chamber fell into silence, each leader absorbing the gravity of the king's words. A sense of cold finality filled the room. There was no turning back from this.
“I’ll over see the charge,” Enero added, breaking the stillness. His voice rang with the authority that none of the leaders had expected him to claim.
Grand Marshal Elroy’s brow furrowed. “Your Majesty, you cannot—”
"Cannot?" Enero asked, looking at the Grand Marshal with a raised eye brow.
Silence fell over the room.
"Your Majesty, I only meant to say, that—” Grand Marshal Elroy said while giving a deep submissive bow.
“Your concern for my well being is noble,” Enero said, cutting him off.
Enero stood and turned from them, walking to the large windows that overlooked the city. While looking out over the people he ruled, he continued to speak, “I will be riding an airship myself. I need to see this battle unfold, to witness the destruction firsthand. This is no longer just a matter of strategy. It’s a matter of preserving our future.”
Elroy opened his mouth to protest but found no words. Only a few stuttered sounds escaped him. Enero turned back to look at him. His objections were met with the steely resolve of his king’s gaze. After a long, tense moment, he gave a reluctant nod, his stance betraying his discomfort. The king was not going to be swayed on this point.
The other leaders, silent until now, exchanged glances, but none spoke. They understood the importance of Enero’s decision. He was the king. His word was law. And he was demonstrating that he was, in fact, of Carner's blood line.
Enero sat back down at the table and again looked at each of the leaders seated there.
"I expect that you will gather the army and have them mobilized within 2 weeks," he stated, looking again at the Grand Marshall.
One by one, they began to file out of the room, leaving Enero alone. The sound of their footsteps faded as the door clicked shut behind them. For a long moment, he remained seated at the table, his fingers curling into tight fists.
Through the large glass windows of the council chamber, the sprawling city of Listama stretched out beneath him, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. It was a city of steel and glass, a testament to the power and reach of the Techie Kingdom. And yet, as he gazed out over it, a feeling of unease gnawed at him, deeper than any political calculation.
He was king of the Techie Kingdom—an empire that stretched beyond the borders of this city. And because of this, he had inherited enemies. Not just any enemies, but the ones who would challenge him at every turn: the Fey, the Lodi, and the Mages.
And there was Xania.
His thoughts turned dark as he remembered her, the woman he had once loved, now his sworn adversary. If they ever met again, there would be no recognition, no compassion. They would be obligated to kill each other. It was the law of war, the law of their kind.
Enero let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. The thought of Xania filled him with an unfamiliar weight. They were on opposite sides now. And as much as it pained him to admit it, he knew this conflict would lead to more bloodshed. In the end, only one side would emerge victorious. He could only pray it would be his.
But what would be the cost of that victory?
He turned away from the window, facing the empty room. The walls seemed to close in on him, as if the very air was pressing down. His mind swirled with the responsibilities of leadership, the strategies, the alliances, and the betrayals that had brought him to this point. He wasn’t just fighting for his kingdom. He was fighting for the survival of the Techie people, for the future of Aer.
And yet, in that moment, he felt the unmistakable loss of his own agency. He wasn’t acting out of his own will, his own desires. He was a puppet, bound to the will of his people, his kingdom. His duty to them had become his entire existence.
With a final glance at the city below, Enero stood and walked toward the door. The weight of his crown pressed heavily on his brow. There would be no rest. No reprieve. The war would continue, and he would lead it, no matter the cost.
