The council chamber was a room of iron and stone, its walls hung with banners from conquered lands—five of the twelve warring kingdoms, their colors now faded beneath the sigil of Kaelen's house. War maps lined the central table, thick with markers and runes that pulsed softly with stored magic. Men of power and blood surrounded it: warlords, generals, tacticians. And among them sat a boy.
Kaelus stood at his father's right.
Kaelen, clad in a black and crimson tunic, leaned over the table, his calloused fingers tracing a line through the eastern front. His presence commanded silence, but not fear—respect. Hard-earned. Absolute.
Kaelus kept still, eyes scanning the terrain map. Riverways. Supply routes. Fortified cities. Every inch committed to memory.
As the council settled, one of the older generals—broad-shouldered, with graying hair and a rough-hewn face—cleared his throat.
"My lord," he said, directing his voice toward Kaelen. "Forgive the intrusion… but may I speak freely?"
Kaelen didn't look up from the map. "You may, General Routh."
Routh nodded once. "I… mean no disrespect, truly. But the matters we'll discuss today—siege tactics, starvation strategies, high-risk operations involving civilian unrest—these are not tales for bards or pages in a history book. They are bloody truths. Hard decisions. I do not question the young master's talent—he's made it to peak 1-star at just fourteen, something we've not seen in generations—but still… he is a child. And this table is lined with wolves."
There was a pause.
Kaelus felt no sting of insult. If anything, he appreciated the general's tone. It wasn't mocking, nor dismissive—just honest.
Kaelen finally looked up.
His gaze settled not on Routh, but on his son.
"Kaelus," he said calmly. "Do you think you are ready to sit among men who shape nations?"
Kaelus met his father's eyes, unwavering.
"I do," he replied.
"And why?"
"Because I've studied the twelve kingdoms. Their histories. Their wars. I know how the Grain Wars devastated southern trade for two decades. I know why the Wyrmcrag Alliance collapsed under internal debt. I know the patterns of revolt in newly subjugated lands, and how leaders misuse force to breed rebellion instead of submission. More than that… I understand what it means to command men who will die because of your words. I may be young—but I do not step lightly."
A heavy silence followed.
Even General Routh leaned back, considering the boy more carefully now.
Another voice spoke—this one sharp, like drawn steel.
"If he were any older, I'd ask which school of strategy trained him," muttered Lord Elric, the gaunt Minister of War. "But none of us trained him."
Kaelen's lips curled slightly. "No. He trained himself."
Kaelus didn't smile. He didn't need to.
"Let the boy stay," Kaelen declared. "If he cannot stomach what is said here, he'll leave. But I suspect he'll stay longer than most."
With that, discussion resumed.
The topic shifted to the rebellion simmering in the eastern territories. Two of the newly taken kingdoms—Ceredon and Haldenreach—remained volatile. Guerrilla cells raided convoys, poisoned wells, and disappeared into the hills. Advisors debated whether to send more troops, crack down harder, or offer clemency to loyal nobles.
Kaelus listened, then spoke.
"We should not garrison more troops in Haldenreach," he said, eyes on the map. "Their resistance thrives on our presence. Every soldier we post is seen as a foreign invader. Instead, we should empower their own landholders. Offer titles and safety. Make them turn on the rebels themselves. Buy their loyalty."
Routh rubbed his chin.
"And if they take our gold and keep hiding the rebels?"
Kaelus looked at him. "Then they've declared themselves. And we'll crush them without mercy. But it will be their choice."
Kaelen nodded slightly, proud but silent.
For the rest of the council, Kaelus didn't speak unless asked—but when he did, men listened. He didn't posture. He didn't boast. He observed, understood, and struck with words like blades.
When the council ended, and the generals departed in pairs, whispering about the boy who wasn't a boy, Kaelen placed a hand on Kaelus's shoulder.
"You learn quickly," he said.
"I was taught by the best," Kaelus replied.
Kaelen paused. "You're not just listening to these men, are you?"
"No," Kaelus said quietly. "I'm studying them."
Kaelen smiled.
"Good. Because one day, they'll follow you—or oppose you. And I won't be here forever."