Written by: Chris Chret © 2026
King Kael Vashkar of Ashkar, the Desert King, stood at the head of the stone table in the council hall.
Around him were gathered all who mattered to the kingdom:
Azran Al-Raqem.
Baruk Al-Qasir.
Iskra Azhara.
Varyn Thornevald.
And dozens of other lords and knights.
Kael raised his voice.
— I have gathered you for the greatest battle this kingdom has ever seen.
The hall fell silent.
— We will not attack the northern kingdom of Skeldor.
— We will attack Dravion.
Murmurs. Anger. Fists clenched.
— They killed your king.
— My father.
His voice trembled, but he did not stop.
— As long as they breathe, this land will have no peace.
— And my father will not rest.
The hall exploded.
— BRAVO!
— REVENGE!
— WE WILL RAZE IT TO THE WATER!
Azran Al-Raqem stepped forward.
— And the ships?
Kael did not even turn.
— Varyn Thornevald has already taken care of that.
— At dawn, we march to Dustmere.
— The same day — we sail.
— Long live the Desert King Kael of Ashkar! — the people roared.
But that evening, something unexpected happened.
Silence.
And then — fire.
King Kaelric Frostborne of Skeldor attacked without warning.
Personally.
At his side — his daughter, Astrid Frostborne.
The удар was brutal.
Kael stepped out among the first.
— MY KING! — Iskra Azhara shouted, grabbing his shoulder. — This is not a battle you can win alone against the King of Skeldor!
— Step aside. — Kael replied. — This is my war.
And he entered the fight.
He led Ashkar forward until Kaelric Frostborne stood before him.
Collision.
Spear against sword and chain with kunai on both ends.
Kaelric spun the chain like an extension of his body — releasing it, pulling it back, binding the space itself.
Kael learned in motion.
Dodged.
Adapted.
No one had ever adapted so quickly… — thought King Kaelric.
He learns too fast…
This young king does not fight to win — he fights so he does not fall.
And such men… do not know when to die.
In a single moment — the chain wrapped around Kael's spear.
A pull.
The spear flew from his hands.
Kael was left empty-handed.
He drew his short sword.
Then Iskra stepped beside him.
Shoulder to shoulder.
She intercepted Kaelric's strike, and Kael attacked from the side.
They moved as one.
Attack — defense — step back — attack again.
But it was not enough.
Varyn Thornevald emerged from the side and stabbed the King of Skeldor in the back.
Kaelric dropped to his knees.
In the same instant — he drove his sword into Varyn's stomach.
With the chain, he lashed toward Kael.
Iskra leapt in front of him.
The kunai struck her shoulder.
Kael felt something inside him crack — not from fear, but from guilt that she stood there instead of him.
He caught her before she fell.
At that moment, the warriors of Ashkar rushed to kill the King of Skeldor.
— STOP!
Arrows.
One. Two. Three.
Men fell.
Astrid Frostborne.
She lifted her father and retreated.
That night, Kaelric did not lose the battle —
he postponed it.
Ashkar won.
But it bled.
Skeldor withdrew.
With a wounded king.
With dead and wounded soldiers.
Both kingdoms paid for the night in blood.
In Serpentis, the circle had already formed.
Alaric Thornewood stood opposite
Bromek Virell, Lord of Serpentis.
The difference was clear.
Bromek — massive, heavy, raw strength.
Alaric — faster, but weaker.
The swords collided.
Bromek swung without pause.
Alaric defended and evaded.
He had no right to arrows.
No knives.
If a sword fell — the fight ended.
In one moment, Alaric struck the muscle of Bromek's arm with his fist.
CRACK.
The sword fell.
Alaric placed his blade against Bromek's throat.
— VICTOR! — the people shouted.
— NO! — Bromek roared. — To the death!
The King of Serpentis rose.
— Not to the death.
— But if you want more… bare hands.
Alaric threw his sword aside.
And then he realized — it was not over.
Bromek charged and slammed into him with full force.
Alaric flew.
Fists.
Heavy. Merciless.
The air escaped his chest as if his insides had shattered.
Blood flowed from his nose, warm, sticky, and the world narrowed into dark edges.
A step back.
Another.
And then — it was no longer Serpentis.
Ravenrock.
Ash beneath his feet.
Screams in the distance.
Stone streets he ran through without turning back.
He heard his own breathing — just like now.
Broken. Panicked.
He remembered how he fled.
How he left them behind.
This time…
I will not run.
His vision cleared.
He shoved Bromek away.
Alaric stepped aside for a moment — just to catch his breath.
His chest burned.
But Bromek attacked again.
He charged toward him.
No shout. No threat.
Only mass and force advancing.
Alaric reacted instinctively.
With his entire body — he struck the ground.
CRACK.
The ground exploded beneath the impact.
Dust and stones burst upward.
Bromek flinched.
Not because he wanted to — but reflexively.
He did not stop.
Momentum carried him forward.
In that instant, Alaric shifted aside.
Low. Fast.
A sweep.
The lord's body lifted from the ground and slammed into the tree before him.
His head struck first.
A dull sound.
No one breathed.
Bromek rose.
Slowly. Unsteadily.
Blood began to flow from his head.
Down his forehead, over his nose,
covering his eyes.
He grabbed his head.
Looked at his fingers.
Red.
For a moment — he did not seem to understand.
Then he took a step.
Another.
Toward Alaric.
And there — the strength finally left him.
Bromek Virell fell.
At his feet.
No one moved.
Alaric stood. Dazed.
Dravion.
Not as a goal.
As something that had to fall.
The silence that followed was louder than any applause.
Whispers.
— He defeated him twice…
— As if he never even had to strain…
— As if he fought only as much as necessary…
— He does not break strength.
— He breaks certainty.
— ALARIC!
— SHIELD OF THE KINGDOM!
Serpentis gained a guide.
And two kingdoms — a reason for a war that would soon set the world ablaze.
End of Chapter 22