In a shadowed hall in the Varennes kingdom, torches sputtered along the walls as cloaked men bent low over a long oak table.
Maps lay spread across it, inked with Eldoria's borders, villages, and supply routes.
"They grow soft," one voice rasped, his accent thick. "The Emperor courts nobles with reforms, the Empress coddles women with promises. Even their fabled General bleeds his strength into his wife's womb...heard she still hasn't given him a heir."
A dry chuckle followed. "Whisper louder, brother."
The first speaker scowled, but the man at the head of the table raised his hand for silence.
"Enough. Arrogance kills more armies than swords. Alaric of Eldoria is no man to underestimate. But he is still a man. And men falter when torn between love and duty."
One of the spies leaned forward. "Our contacts within the merchant houses confirm it. The Princess of Eldoria has been ill for weeks, unseen in society. The whispers say… she carries his heir."
The room stilled.
