The morning sun cast long, amber rays through the tall windows of the solar, catching the dust motes that danced in the quiet air. It was a deceptive peace. Outside, the rhythmic clanging of hammers and the distant shouting of drills signaled that the Order was already at work.
Alaric sat behind his heavy oak desk, his small frame, now seven years of age, seeming far too young for the weight of the silver circlet he wore. Yet, his gaze was that of a man who had seen empires fall. Across from him stood Sir Kaelen Tidestride. The Knight-Commander was clad in his new dwarven plate, the blue-tinted steel humming with a low, resonant energy that vibrated against the stone floor.
"You cannot go alone, Kaelen," Alaric said, his voice quiet but unyielding.
"I have a banner now, My Prince," Kaelen countered, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. "I have the leverage I bled for. Every hour my sister remains in that noble's cellar is an hour of her life I can never return to her. I leave at noon."
"And if you are intercepted by a Valerius raiding party? Or if the southern lords see a lone knight with imperial steel and decide to bury you in the marshes to claim the armor?" Alaric stood, walking to the narrow window to look out over the training grounds. "You are not a freelancer anymore. You are the face of Starfall. If you fall, this order dies in its cradle."
Kaelen's jaw tightened, the metal of his gauntlets creaking as he clenched his fists. "Then give me the knights. Let us march as an army."
Alaric turned, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the man he had just elevated. "I have fifty knights and a handful of militia. If I send them all south, I leave the Wizard's Tower, and my mother, defenseless against the Ebon Hand. I will not trade my home for your sister, Kaelen. I cannot."
The silence in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the distant calls of the drill sergeants. Kaelen looked away, the raw desperation of a brother warring with the duty of a commander.
"I am not asking you to choose," Alaric said, his tone softening as he moved back to the desk. "I am telling you how we win."
Alaric moved to the map table, beckoning Kaelen forward to look at the charcoal-sketched terrain.
"We will split our strength. It is a risk, but it is a calculated one," Alaric explained, pointing to the southern roads that wound through the marshes. "You will take fifty of the one hundred Starfall Militia. They are hardy men, but they need the field experience. To bolster them, you will take the Anvils and the Vanguard. Sir Marik Ironwood and Thodin Thunderforge will accompany you with their full squads."
Kaelen's eyes brightened, a spark of hope returning to his weary face. "Thodin's heavy plate and Marik's discipline, it is more than I hoped for."
"Marik will ensure the militia doesn't break under pressure, and Thodin will ensure no gate remains closed to you," Alaric confirmed. "But this leaves us thin at home. Sir Elyndor Faelith and Sir Garran Holt will remain here. Their squads, along with the remaining fifty militia, will hold the walls and the tower."
"And Valeraine?" Kaelen asked, glancing toward the door where the silver-haired woman usually lingered.
"Valeraine Brionac does not do defense," Alaric said with a grim smile. "While you are playing the liberator in the south, she and her Unseen, along with our new squadron of Knights Theurge, will be hunting. I want every shadow cast by House Valerius investigated. I want their smuggling routes burned and their contacts turned. If they intended to kill us in the night, they will find that the day is no safer."
Kaelen exhaled a long breath, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He struck his fist against his breastplate in a salute that echoed off the stone walls.
"I will bring her back, My Prince. And I will bring the heads of those who took her if you require them."
"I require your return, Sir Kaelen," Alaric replied, his voice firm. "The armor is dwarven, try not to scratch it."
As Kaelen turned to leave, his cape swirling behind him, Alaric looked back out at the horizon. The pieces were moving. He was sending half his strength into the unknown, trusting in the training of a veteran and the stubbornness of a dwarf to see his Commander through.
The first campaign of Starfall had begun, not with a grand declaration of war, but with a brother's need and a prince's gamble.