Erengard Royal Palace
"Your Highness, we have reports that the Wyndham knights are moving along the capital's border," one aide announced, voice tight with worry.
Dietrich doesn't look up from the map spread across the table. The candles threw long shadows over his hands, and his jaw worked as if chewing on the words. He felt the room tilt around him, the safe, tidy world he had controlled started to collapse at the edges.
"We cannot pull most of the troops to the south," another advisor argued.
He paced, palms spreading white with the strain of the decision. "If we send them, the capital will be nearly undefended. We cannot leave Serathis empty, Your Highness. The palace, the treasury, the council, everything must be protected."
Dietrich's eyes finally rose to meet the man's. His voice is low, sharp as flint. "I want to burn the South to the ground," he said. The words left him like a verdict, cold and absolute.
