The days following the battle were a blur of grim work and burgeoning hope. Elder Rhea and her healing mages, with their gentle, golden magic, worked tirelessly, stemming the tide of pain and infection among our thirteen hundred wounded. Their arrival, a tangible show of Solaran solidarity, had done wonders for the morale of my loyalists. We had buried our seven hundred fallen with what dignity we could muster, their names whispered with reverence, their sacrifices fueling our resolve.
My victory speech to the villagers had resonated. More Zunians, drawn by the incredible news of Valerius's defeat in an open field, began to trickle into our camp. Farmers with makeshift weapons, disillusioned former conscripts, even some merchants whose livelihoods had been crushed by Eldorian taxes. We were growing, not just in numbers, but in spirit.
"My King," Advisor Kaelan approached me one crisp morning. "The time is ripe. The news of your victory spreads like wildfire, not just among our people, but beyond our borders. Duke Valerius of Valenor Duchy, whose daughter you rescued, will have heard by now. It is time to formalize our alliance."
I agreed. A political alliance was as crucial as a military victory. It was a statement to the world, and a direct challenge to Valerius's assumed legitimacy. "Kaelan, you and Captain Lyraen will be my envoys. Your wisdom and her strategic insight will serve us well. Go to Valenor Duchy. Remind Duke Valerius of his daughter's life, of the tyranny we fight. Present him with the detailed account of our victory, of the Eldorian elite we shattered. Secure his formal allegiance to Zuna's rightful crown."
Kaelan nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. "We shall not fail you, My King. The Duke is a man who values honor and pragmatism. You gave him both."
Captain Lyraen, her battle scars fresh but her demeanor resolute, gave a sharp salute. "We will show them the strength of Zuna reborn, My King."
As they prepared for their journey, I dispatched another message to Queen Elara in Solara, informing her of our diplomatic mission and subtly requesting her assistance in facilitating the talks. She had always been a shrewd ruler, and her influence would be invaluable in forging this critical alliance. I knew Arion and Seraphina would be eager for news, perhaps even frustrated they couldn't join me.
Days later, the magnificent spires of Solara's capital rose into the sky, a beacon of order and peace. Within its grand council chambers, the air hummed with diplomatic tension and cautious optimism. Queen Elara, seated on her throne, exuded quiet authority. Beside her stood a now fully recovered Lady Lyraia, her vibrant emerald eyes alight with gratitude and a newfound respect for the Zunian Prince who had saved her. Facing them were the stern, regal figures of Duke Valerius himself, surrounded by his own advisors and most trusted captains.
I was not physically present, having chosen to remain with my loyalists, but my message, delivered by Kaelan and Lyraen, was clear and powerful. Kaelan spoke first, detailing the battle with a seasoned diplomat's precision, painting a vivid picture of Eldorian arrogance shattered by Zunian fury. Lyraen then presented captured Eldorian standards, still scorched from Aether's breath, and spoke of the terror in the eyes of their defeated elite. Lady Lyraia, her voice clear and strong, corroborated every word, her personal testimony of Kael's heroism and the Eldorian brutality leaving no room for doubt.
Duke Valerius listened, his expression unreadable, but I knew his mind would be calculating. He was a practical man. His daughter's life, his duchy's security, and the rising threat of Valerius's tyrannical expansion would weigh heavily. The political landscape was shifting.
Finally, the Duke rose. "Queen Elara, Prince Kaelan, Captain Lyraen. The debt my house owes Prince Kael Theron for the rescue of my daughter, Lyraia, is immeasurable. His valor and skill are undeniable. And the threat posed by the usurper Valerius is a shadow that stretches across all our borders." He looked at his daughter, then back at Kaelan. "Valerius has overstepped. His cruelty in Zuna is a stain upon the region. My Duchy cannot stand idly by while such tyranny festers."
The Duke's voice boomed with conviction. "The Duchy of Valenor hereby formally recognizes Kael Theron as the rightful King of Zuna. We pledge our full diplomatic support to his cause, and we offer a pact of mutual defense against the aggression of Valerius. Our resources, our strategic trade routes, and our influence will be placed at the disposal of King Kael, for the reclamation of his rightful throne and the restoration of balance to these lands."
A wave of relief and triumph swept through the Solaran court. Queen Elara smiled, a rare, genuine expression of satisfaction. The first major external alliance was forged, built on personal debt, shared threat, and Kael's decisive action. Valerius, when he heard this, would undoubtedly rage.
Meanwhile, in the opulent yet oppressive halls of Eldoria's capital, the air was thick with a different kind of tension. Hushed whispers slithered through the corridors, carrying fragmented, terrifying truths. Messengers, pale and trembling, arrived daily from Zuna, bearing dispatches of a growing rebellion, of an impossible defeat.
The news had been held from him for as long as possible, but like a festering wound, it could not be contained. The full report finally reached King Valerius on a day bathed in what should have been glorious, golden sunlight. He was in his private study, a room adorned with stolen Zunian tapestries and relics, a testament to his ill-gotten gains. He sat at a grand, carved desk, reviewing reports of new taxes levied, new mines opened, new conscripts drafted.
A young, nervous aide, trembling violently, delivered the parchment. "Your Majesty… urgent dispatch from General Zarthus's command in Zuna."
Valerius snatched it, his large hand tearing the seal. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, scanned the ornate script. His face, already prone to a cruel sneer, slowly began to contort. The lines around his mouth deepened. His eyes narrowed, then widened, a dark flush creeping up his neck.
The aide took an involuntary step back as Valerius's grip tightened on the parchment, crumpling it into a ball. His breath hitched, a guttural growl forming in his throat.
"Defeated?" he snarled, his voice low, deadly, barely above a whisper, yet it vibrated through the room. "Zarthus was defeated? By a ragtag peasant rebellion?"
He pushed himself away from the desk, his chair scraping loudly across the polished marble floor. His eyes fell upon a heavy, ornate Eldorian ceremonial helmet resting on a pedestal. With a sudden, explosive roar, Valerius lashed out, his armored boot connecting with the pedestal. The helmet, solid metal, flew across the room, slamming into a priceless Zunian vase, which exploded into a thousand glittering shards.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Valerius bellowed, his voice raw with pure, unadulterated fury. He began to pace, his heavy footsteps thudding against the floor. "Zarthus had ten thousand men! Fifteen hundred Eldorian elite! How could they be routed by a mere six thousand Zunian rabble?!"
His gaze fell upon a side table, laden with crystal goblets and decanters. With a swipe of his arm, he sent them crashing to the floor, glass shattering, wine spreading like blood across the polished wood. He was breathing heavily, his face purple with rage.
"And this 'King Kael'! The boy-prince! The heir of that fool Theron! He lives?! He leads them?!" Valerius snarled, kicking a fallen chair across the room. "He should have died with his traitor father! He was dead! I ensured it!"
His rage was a terrifying, physical presence, radiating outward, making the very air crackle. He had dismissed the notion of Kael's survival for years, believing him merely a rumor, a ghost haunting the Zunian mountains. To know he not only lived, but had returned, had defeated his most trusted commander, and had stirred such a rebellion… it was a personal affront, a blow to his absolute power, a direct challenge to his carefully constructed dominion.
"And now... Valenor Duchy?" Valerius hissed, his voice dropping again, more dangerous now. "They ally with him? They spit in my face?!" He grabbed a heavy bronze statue from a nearby shelf, its weight considerable, and with a primal scream of frustration, hurled it across the room, embedding it deep into the stone wall with a resounding thud.
"Find him!" Valerius roared, spinning to face his trembling aide, his eyes blazing with murderous intent. "Find him and bring him to me! Alive! I will break him myself! And send word to Commander Kaelen in the North. His legions are to move south immediately. We will crush this rebellion! Every last Zunian dog will learn the price of defiance!"
His voice echoed through the shattered room, a chilling promise of retribution. Kael's victory, meant to be a spark of hope for Zuna, had also ignited an inferno of rage in the heart of its tyrant. The war for Zuna had truly begun.