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Chapter 7 - Chapter 7: The Road North and The First Clash

Chapter 7: The Road North and The First Clash

I. The Political Earthquake

The news of Minister Garrick's death hit the capital like a well-aimed cannon shot, instantly halting the Queen's "Sacrifice Strategy." Evan was already ten hours north when the palace erupted.

The assassination was a masterpiece of political communication. By strategically placing the ledgers on Garrick's desk, Evan ensured the official narrative was one of treason and swift justice—not secret murder.

Theron was furious. His Whisper Spies confirmed the assassin had moved like a ghost, exhibiting a discipline far beyond the meek Prince Evan. Theron's deduction was immediate: Kaelen was not just teaching Evan to stand; he was teaching him to kill. Theron now knew his brother was not just a politician, but a dangerous, unpredictable force. His surveillance instantly shifted from proving Evan was weak to figuring out how Evan achieved the strike and what his next move would be.

Queen Alessa understood the truth instantly. Her martyrdom plot was ruined, yet Garrick's death had inadvertently achieved the exact outcome she needed: a swift, clean exposure of treason that restored public faith in the Crown, all without spilling civil blood. The Queen now saw Evan not as a sacrificial lamb, but as a dangerous, high-value player. She gave the Northern mission her full public support, aware that she needed Evan alive now more than dead.

II. The Journey's Weight

Evan's journey north was a grueling test of endurance. He rode hard, pushing his body to the limits of Kaelen's training. The intense, internal pain of the Sacrificial Magic was gone, replaced by a cold, alarming sense of emptiness where the pressure had been. He had purchased another week of life, but the cost—the chilling knowledge of the murder he was capable of—sat heavily on his soul.

He felt the constant, invisible threat of Theron's spies, forcing him to remain constantly alert. He chose small, remote taverns and rode across rough terrain, avoiding major roads to evade easy surveillance. He reviewed the political papers he carried, drafting potential opening statements for the mobs, weaving a narrative of unity and strength.

III. The Burning Watchtower

Evan and his small, hastily assembled retinue reached the outskirts of the Northern Provinces two days later. The political theory of the capital instantly dissolved into brutal reality.

The first sign of the Vidroh (Rebellion) was a column of black smoke rising against the cold mountain peaks. It came from a remote border watchtower that guarded a crucial pass.

Evan ordered his guards to wait and rode forward alone to assess the situation. He found the tower engulfed in flames. Near the base, a fierce, desperate skirmish was underway: a handful of disorganized, poorly armed commoners—the rioters—were being systematically cut down by two distinct groups of fighters.

One group was clearly Volkar-aligned. They wore practical, heavy leather armor and moved with cold, professional precision—advanced scouts exploiting the chaos. The second group was a small contingent of Mecklace local militia, pinned down and fighting a losing battle to protect the pass. Leading the local militia was a lone, towering figure.

IV. The First Sighting of William

This figure fought with a raw, almost shocking physical power. He wielded a huge, scarred longsword, using it not with the calculated elegance of the Royal Guard, but with sheer, devastating force. Every block was a hammer blow; every swing cleared a wide arc. This man was a fortress, single-handedly preventing the Volkar scouts from overrunning the remaining militiamen.

This was William.

Evan, observing from the shadows, was instantly impressed. William was ignoring the panicked shouting of the militia, focused purely on the fight. His technique was imperfect—lacking finesse—but his Stand was unshakable. He had the pure, unyielding strength and focus Evan needed. William was failing the political test of command, but excelling at the warrior's ultimate test: survival against overwhelming odds.

Evan knew he couldn't let William fall. Not only was the man a potential key to his political survival, but the pass also needed to be held. He quickly recognized the flaw in William's defense: the sheer size of the longsword made him vulnerable to fast, low strikes.

Evan drew his own sword—the simple, sturdy practice blade Kaelen had given him—and charged forward, not to fight, but to interrupt the flow.

V. The Intervention

Evan moved low, using the rapid footwork Kaelen had drilled into him. He struck the ground hard with his boot near the line of the Volkar scouts, diverting their attention just enough to buy William a critical second.

Evan (shouting, using his commanding Silver Tongue): "Hold your positions! This is Prince Evan, Third of Mecklace! You are protected by the Crown! Attack the invaders, not your own people!"

The unexpected appearance of a Prince—backed by the sheer authority of his voice—confused both the rioters and the remaining militia. For a moment, the battlefield froze.

William seized the opportunity. With a roar, he brought his longsword down in a ferocious arc, smashing through the Volkar line. He turned, his gaze locking onto Evan with a mix of fury and disbelief at the interruption.

William (roaring over the clash): "Who are you, you reckless idiot? Get back!"

Evan ignored him, moving past William with a swift, elegant step. He struck an armored Volkar scout not with power, but with Kaelen's precision, forcing the scout to stumble and expose his line of attack to William. The teamwork was accidental, but immediate.

The unexpected arrival of the Prince, the shock of William's overwhelming force, and the confusion among the rioters shifted the momentum. For the first time, Evan fought not in training, but in true, deadly combat, relying on the discipline and Stand Kaelen had brutally forged. The stage was set for the real test of strength and the beginning of a dangerous alliance.

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