Chapter 7: The Message Received
The crippled Tidorian scout crawled for a day and a night through the treacherous trails bordering Shadowfen Pass. His mind was a shattered kaleidoscope of terror: the blinding flash of lightning, the silent charge of Black Horned Lions, and most vividly, Don Adraels' eyes, burning with a dark, absolute power that had stripped him bare. He reached Emberstone Fortress, not with a coherent report, but with a primal, animalistic scream that echoed through its volcanic halls.
His fractured tale, pieced together by frantic Tidorian mages, spoke not of defeat by an army, but of an encounter with a force of nature. It painted a picture of two figures, one wreathed in white lightning, the other a silent, dark flame, commanding beasts of nightmare. The details were garbled, horrifying. It spoke of **Onyx** and **Blizzard**, of Adraels banners that were not seen, yet undeniably felt.
Earl Ekarvel Tidor, a man whose ambition burned as fiercely as the molten rivers around his fortress, listened to the mage's report. His face, usually a mask of cold cunning, contorted in a silent snarl of fury. Valerius Tidor, his envoy, had arrived just hours before, his own humiliation still raw, reinforcing the scout's hysterical claims.
"A single survivor," Ekarvel growled, his voice low and dangerous. "And he returns a broken shell. This is no mere skirmish. This is a deliberate, calculated humiliation." He slammed a gauntleted fist onto his obsidian war table, making the pieces jump. "Don Adraels. That boy. He dares to defy me so utterly."
His son, Vaers Tidor, a younger, more volatile version of his father, stepped forward. "Father, we must retaliate! Send a legion to Adraels Keep. Burn it to the ground."
Ekarvel merely raised a hand, silencing him. "Impulsive. What did this fool say of the power? 'Black flame,' 'white lightning'? And the beasts?" He looked at his mages. "Is this the ancient power of Adraels legends? The one buried beneath the Mire?"
The lead mage, a gaunt man named Korvan, trembled slightly. "My lord, the descriptions… they match the old texts. The power of the First Flamebearer. And the Lady Caria Thornf's storm magic is amplified beyond anything we have recorded. The bond… it is a true joining."
Ekarvel's eyes glittered with a dangerous new understanding. "A joining. So, the pup has found his lioness. And they think they can play at war with me." A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. "They have awakened something, yes. But they do not yet control it. This is merely a taste. They want to scare me. I will show them true fear."
"Send an envoy to the Crown," Ekarvel commanded. "Not an accusation, not a demand. A polite warning. Inform King Medveick that House Adraels, under the influence of its newly awakened, *unstable* powers, has engaged in unprovoked aggression against my forces on a neutral road. Frame it as a dangerous escalation, a threat to the Crown's peace. And hint at ancient, forgotten magic stirring once more in the south."
"And for Adraels?" Vaers asked, eager for action.
"For Adraels," Ekarvel said, his voice dripping with venom, "we send a gift. Not blades. Not armies. Something far more insidious. Something that will force them to question the very power they think they control. Something that will remind them of the rot beneath their own lands."
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Meanwhile, back at Adraels Keep, the victory celebrations were muted, overshadowed by the grim reality of the war room discussions. Don and Caria were the center of attention, their actions in Shadowfen Pass inspiring a mixture of awe and apprehension among the lesser lords and courtiers. Their synchronized power, and the terrifying display of Don's nascent control over the Black Flame, had unnerved as much as it had impressed.
Earl Dunnel, however, understood the gravity of the situation. He summoned Don, Caria, Lady Lyanna, and Asdrin to his private study.
"The message was received, son," Dunnel began, gesturing to a fresh raven message from Thornshell, confirming Tidor's fury. "Jhesarwan reports Tidorian patrols are now harassing all Thornf borders. The war has begun, officially."
"And the Crown's reaction?" Asdrin asked, ever focused on the larger political board.
"A royal raven arrived less than an hour ago," Lady Lyanna said, her face unreadable. "A polite, carefully worded query from King Medveick himself, requesting a full account of the 'incident' at Shadowfen Pass. Tidor has already begun his whispers to the Crown."
Don leaned back, a cold calculation in his eyes. "He frames us as the aggressors, the unstable ones. He tries to use our power against us, playing on the Crown's fear of ancient, untamed magic."
"Precisely," Dunnel affirmed. "King Medveick fears any power he does not command. And your Black Flame… it is beyond his comprehension."
"Then we must clarify its purpose," Caria interjected, her voice firm. "We respond to the King, not with excuses, but with a stark warning. We describe the Tidorian aggression, the death of the Thornf guards. We admit to the use of powerful magic, but frame it as a necessary defense against a dangerous, unknown force that Tidor is consorting with, one that threatens the very balance of the realm."
Don looked at her, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You would tell the King of an unknown force so soon?"
"It shifts the narrative," Caria explained. "It turns Tidor from an aggrieved party into a reckless warmonger, consorting with dangers no man should invite. It forces the Crown to acknowledge a threat beyond its political squabbles, a threat that defies their authority, not just ours."
"Bold," Asdrin conceded, a rare hint of approval in his voice. "It puts the burden of proof, and the risk, on Tidor. And it paints the Black Flame as a shield, not a weapon of conquest."
Lady Lyanna nodded slowly. "A worthy gamble. The King's fear of the unknown can be a powerful lever."
Earl Dunnel looked at Don, then at Caria, a profound understanding passing between them. The balance of power in his own house had shifted. His youngest son and his fierce new bride were not merely reacting to events; they were shaping them, twisting the Crown's fear and Tidor's aggression into a weapon of their own.
"Very well," Dunnel said, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "Draft the reply. And prepare the Keep. Tidor's 'gift' will arrive soon enough."
Don's gaze met Caria's. The war was no longer a distant rumbling. It was a tangible, pressing reality, and they were ready to meet it, blade for blade, strategy for strategy, and power for power. The Obsidian Court had sent its first message, and the kingdom of Warsenbrenn was about to discover its meaning.