The Fall of the General
But there was one man who remained steadfast.
As the hall sank into uncomfortable quiet, he did not falter.
That man was Eldric Bennett, the Grand General of the Drake Kingdom—a legend in armor, a man whose name still resounded across countless fields of battle. His bald head reflected the torchlight, shining like polished bronze, and his hard black eyes blazed with both anxiety and determination.
He moved forward, his boots heavy on the marble floor, and his deep voice ringing out through the charged air.
"Your Majesty, we should not be hastening into this battle!"
The room froze once more. Even the air held its breath.
Eldric lifted his head and went on, his voice crisp and authoritative.
First of all, while the Ironforge Kingdom lost two hundred thousand men, they are still stronger than we are. Attacking them now would be sending our troops into a storm without any cover. It is hugely unfavorable for our country."
He stopped, his eyes scanning the other ministers who nodded in agreement in silence.
"Secondly," he continued, "the people of Ironforge stand as one in sorrow and outrage. Their suffering has hardened into flame. If we attack them now, we shall become the target of all their wrath! Their spirits will be buoyed while ours will be broken. This war would not merely be madcap—it would be devastating."
His voice dropped, bearing the gravitas of his years of war.
"Thirdly, our own strength as a nation is not great. We would not be able to withstand the pressure of such a conflict. Even if we win, we will be bled white, and defeat…" His voice took on a harder tone. "…defeat would see our very existence crumble."
Eldric lowered one knee, his fist against his chest in salute.
"For the good of the nation and the people, I humbly beg Your Majesty to retract this order."
The entreagy hung heavy in the hall.
But the Emperor's face clouded.
Lucian Drake shifted back a little on the Imperial Throne, his dark hair ruffling across his shoulder like a shadowed river. His purple eyes flashed with contained rage.
"So," he spoke quietly, nearly to himself, "even my own voice holds no authority now, does it?"
The court hung motionless.
Lucian's face hardened into a bitter sneer. "You all stand against me—and now even my most trusted Grand General opposes me."
He stood up suddenly, the gold thread of his Imperial robe glinting in the light of the torches. His eyes flashed like a knife.
"If that is so, my beloved uncle, then you no longer need be Grand General. Return home… and rest."
Gasps ran through the court.
Eldric paled. "Your Majesty… you—"
But the Emperor did not falter.
The other officials gazed in shock. The hall that a moment before rang with contention was now filled with fear and horror.
He had actually dismissed the Grand General.
Eldric Bennett—one of the twin supports of the Drake Kingdom, the other being Prime Minister Thomas White. A man who had served faithfully in blood and storm, who had marshaled armies to triumph a hundred times over.
Without Eldric, Lucian's throne may never have been won.
And now, he was to be discarded as if his life of service counted for nothing.
Lucian's voice was firm, emotionless.
"Uncle Bennett, you are not the Grand General any more. Give over the military token. Do not make this more complicated than it has to be."
The words fell like a hammer on the heart.
Eldric's eyes went wide, incredulity shattering his tough facade. "Your Majesty. do you really mean to take away my position?"
Lucian looked at him, his expression unwavering. A thin, icy smile twisted his lips.
"A ruler never jokes. Do you believe I am joking?"
For an instant, the world was engulfed in silence.
Eldric shut his eyes. The rigidity in his shoulders seemed to falter. Opening them once more, his eyes brimmed with unshed tears, bloodshot and tired with years of devotion.
"If my lord wishes my death, I have no right to live," he said hoarsely. "If Your Majesty wishes to reclaim the token, then I will obey."
He reached into his robe with trembling hands and drew forth the military token, carved from black steel and heavy with the weight of command.
He bowed low, his voice breaking slightly as he added,
"But I have to say one more thing, Your Majesty. This war is not to be taken lightly. If waged rashly, it can bring the Drake Kingdom to destruction. I implore you… think three times."
Lucian's expression was impossible to read.
"Uncle," he said gently, his voice as cold as winter, "you are no longer the Grand General. You do not have to worry about things of war. Go back home, and rest in your old age."
He leaned forward and removed the token, his fingers brushing Eldric's wrinkled hands for the fleeting moment — youth clasping age, will overpowering wisdom.
Lucian faced the court again, the token held aloft. His purple eyes flashed in the torchlight, fierce and burning with ambition.
This war," he announced, "has to be fought. There is no escaping it! If any of you have the guts and the confidence to command this campaign, step forward and take the glory!"
No one stirred.
The room was hushed, apart from the soft creak of armor and the rustle of silk robes.
All officials gazed at the floor, as if deep in contemplation, although their hearts raced with fear.
To lead such a futile war was to court death. No one wished to be the Emperor's next victim.
Lucian's eyes swept over them, icy and keen. "What? Has terror taken every voice in this hall?"
Just as the air was at its most strained — a voice shouted from the rear.
"Your Majesty!"
A stout figure emerged — young, wide, with a belly that strained his armor and cheeks reddened by eagerness. His ambition shone in his eyes.
"Your humble servant is ready to command the army!" he bellowed. "Permit me to bring honor to Your Majesty and increase the dominion of the Drake Kingdom!"
The whole court gazed at him in disbelief.
Lucian blinked, then offered a slight smirk. "Oh? Few men have courage in their hearts."
He drew nearer, looking at the man who kneeled before him. "And what is your name?"
The chubby-cheeked young general bowed deeply, his cheeks wobbling as he smiled.
"Your Majesty, this poor servant's name is Aries!"
Lucian's eyes sparkled with interest — a slow, deadly smile spreading across his lips.