The Vexin capital was a city alive with a new kind of energy. The victory against the mercenaries had filled the streets with defiant cheers, but inside the gilded halls of the palace, the mood was one of cold, calculating tension. The leaders of the Vexin alliance had called a meeting of the great noble houses, a summons that had been met with a mixture of hope, fear, and cautious curiosity.
The hall was filled with the powerful, old families of the kingdom, their faces a collection of cold, stern masks. They were not men of war, but of land and wealth, and they were here to weigh a new risk. Damon, Arion, and Kael stood before them, a study in contrasts. Damon, a warrior of both intelligence and strength, was the face of their calm resolve. Arion, a silent, imposing figure, was the embodiment of their stoic might. And Kael, young and radiating a furious intensity, was the very face of their desperate cause.
An old lord, his face a road map of lines and doubt, spoke first. "We have heard of your victory," he said, his voice a dry, reedy sound. "A great triumph against mercenaries. But the King... the King is not a mercenary. He has his royal legions. He has the power to crush us all. Why should we trade a known tyranny for an unknown war?"
But a younger, more arrogant lord scoffed. "And what of the traitor, Lord Galen?" he sneered, looking directly at Kael. "The King declared his father a traitor. How can we trust a man whose family has proven to be an enemy of the crown?"
Kael, his anger now fully unleashed, took a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "My father was no traitor!" he roared, his voice a raw and powerful sound that silenced the hall. "He was a loyal man, a good man, and the King threw him into a dungeon because he dared to speak the truth! We are not enemies of the crown; we are enemies of the man who wears it! Your silence makes you a coward! Your inaction makes you complicit in his crimes!"
The hall was filled with a low murmur. Kael's fury had struck a chord, but it was not enough. The nobles, who had long tolerated the King's cruelty, now saw a chance for vengeance, or perhaps, for a greater power. But their fear of the King's wrath still held them.
Then, Damon stepped forward. He was not a man of angry words, but his voice was calm and deliberate, a steady sound that cut through the fear and doubt. His eyes swept the room and settled on the old lord.
"You speak of the King's royal legions," Damon began, his voice devoid of anger, "and you are right to fear them. They are a threat. But a threat we have faced many times before. The mercenaries were not our only battle. We have fought countless battles, and we have been outnumbered in nearly all of them. In the Battle of the Whispering Woods, we were a third their number, and we still won. At the Siege of Redstone Creek, we held for a month against a force twice our size. Our main forces have never been defeated."
He turned his gaze to the younger lord, his eyes now hard as steel. "And you speak of traitors. The true traitor is the one who rules through fear and not through justice. Kael's father was not a traitor. He was an honest man, and he paid the price for it. We have a history of winning battles that we were not supposed to win. And we have done it all in the name of a just cause. We are a force that the King cannot simply pay away."
Damon's powerful speech, a combination of tactical reason and emotional appeal, had swayed many of the nobles. "We are not asking you to start a war," he said, his voice now ringing with a new sense of purpose. "We are asking you to finish the one he has already started. The King's tyranny is the war itself."
The hall was filled with a low murmur. Damon's words had landed with a purpose. Some, emboldened by the Vexin victory and Kael's passion, rose to their feet, their faces filled with a new resolve. Others, still cautious, remained seated, their fear of the King's wrath outweighing their desire for freedom.
The meeting ended not with a full, unified rebellion, but with a fragile alliance. The Vexin had won some new allies, but they had also made new enemies. As the newly committed lords departed and the cautious ones slipped away, a chilling silence fell over the great hall.
Damon, Arion, and Kael were left alone, the weight of their partial victory a heavy burden. "They are not all with us," Kael said, his voice low with disappointment. "Some of them are still loyal to the King. Or worse, they are waiting to see which way the wind blows."
Arion, a silent, imposing figure throughout the debate, finally spoke, his voice a cold, unwavering sound. "Then we will make our own wind," he said, his gaze fixed on the empty doorways. "The King's legions are marching. We have new allies, and a promise from the men who still stand on the fence. We must prepare our forces. The time for talking is over. The time for fighting has begun."