The city's bells tolled a slow, somber rhythm as the sun climbed higher, burning away the last shreds of mist from the fields beyond the wall. Prince Lucien's sword was still sticky with monster blood when he returned to the palace, his Shadow Guard trailing behind him—exhausted, battered, but alive. The city's people lined the streets, some cheering, others staring in silent awe at the men who had held the gate when all seemed lost.
Lucien forced himself to acknowledge their gratitude with a nod, but his mind was elsewhere. He replayed the battle in his head—the discipline of his men, the ferocity of the monsters, the moment when the line nearly broke. He saw the faces of those who had fallen, and the haunted eyes of those who had survived. He felt pride, yes, but also a heavy sense of responsibility. This victory was only a reprieve.
He dismissed his men for food and rest, ordering the wounded to the healers and the rest to their bunks. "You did well," he told them, voice steady. "You earned this day." They saluted him, some with weary smiles, others with the blank stare of men who had seen death and survived.
Lucien made his way to the council chamber, his armor still streaked with gore. The king's advisors were already gathered, their faces pale and drawn. His father, King Aldric, sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.
"Report," the king said.
Lucien stood tall. "The enemy was a coordinated force of gnolls and other monsters. Not a random raid. They were driven by something—or someone. Their tactics were too organized for beasts."
A murmur ran through the council. Chancellor Hadrien, always the skeptic, frowned. "You suggest a mastermind? The Demon King's agents, perhaps?"
Lucien nodded. "Or a rival power seeking to test our defenses. Either way, this was no accident."
The king's eyes narrowed. "How did your company fare?"
"We held the line. Minimal casualties. The men performed beyond expectation." Lucien's voice was calm, but inside he was still shaking from the memory of the fight.
General Voss, a grizzled veteran, leaned forward. "The Shadow Guard has proven its worth. With your permission, Sire, I recommend expanding the company. We'll need more like them if these attacks continue."
Hadrien sniffed. "And what of the other nobles? They'll see this as a threat to their own power."
Lucien met his gaze. "Let them. The realm's survival comes before pride."
The king studied him for a long moment. "You have your mother's stubbornness," he said at last. "Very well. Begin recruiting. But tread carefully, Lucien. The court is watching you."
Lucien bowed. "Thank you, Father."
As the council dispersed, Lucien lingered by the window, staring out over the city. The people below moved with new purpose, repairing walls, tending the wounded, comforting children. He felt the weight of their hope—and their fear—settle on his shoulders.
He spent the afternoon among his men, helping to bind wounds and sharing a simple meal. He listened to their stories, their laughter, their quiet confessions of terror and relief. He praised their courage, but reminded them that this was only the beginning.
That night, Lucien walked the palace corridors, restless. He found Elise in the library, surrounded by books on magic and monster lore. She looked up, her eyes red from lack of sleep.
"I saw you on the wall," she said softly. "You were… different."
Lucien sat beside her. "I had to be. For them. For all of us."
She reached for his hand. "I'm scared, Lucien. What if next time we're not enough?"
He squeezed her fingers gently. "Then we become more. We adapt. We fight smarter. We survive."
She nodded, but her fear lingered. Lucien understood. He felt it too.
As midnight approached, a messenger arrived—breathless, eyes wide with panic. "Your Highness. Scouts have returned. There's movement in the eastern woods. A much larger force. And… they carry banners. Not monsters. Men."
Lucien's heart hammered in his chest. "Whose banners?"
The messenger swallowed. "The Black Wolf. Lord Veyron's host."
Lucien stood, every muscle tense. Lord Veyron—one of the most ambitious nobles in the realm, infamous for his ruthlessness and hunger for power. If he was on the move, it could only mean trouble.
He turned to Elise. "Wake Father. Gather the council. We may have held the monsters, but now we face something worse—our own kind."
As Lucien strode into the night, the city's bells began to toll again—this time, a warning not of monsters, but of civil war.