The spacious tent is taut on heavy wooden poles, a black banner bearing the sigil of the invading family – a raven's head devouring a serpent – hangs from its ceiling. Vagnar sits on a golden chair upholstered in leather, surrounded by his aides. Guards line both sides of the entrance as a knight in a grey cloak enters, his chest raised, his steps confident. It is Ser Andric West.

  SER WEST (bowing slightly):

  "Lord Vagnar, House West greets House Ravager. Furthermore... I am here as a representative of Lord Andrew West, in his capacity as head of a neutral house, to invite you to raise a truce of peace between the two sides.

  Nor do I forget to remind you, my lord, that this land has been a stronghold of House Drakarion for hundreds of years."

  Vagnar straightens in his seat, his eyes gleaming with a clear military coldness, and replies in a hollow voice:

  VAGNAR:

  "I am but a commander carrying out my lord's orders. Lord Ravager sees a clear betrayal in the non-fulfillment of the alliance condition between the two houses… the marriage of his eldest daughter to that callow youth named Trevor Drakarion, after his father's death.

  He saw the breaking of the pact as an insult, and the erasure of this name from history as a necessity."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  SER WEST (calm but sharp tone):

  "And is the matter truly about honor and pacts? Or is it simply an attempt at expansion... if the marriage did not occur, the seat will be seized by force?"

  One of the guards stands up tensely, but Vagnar raises his hand to stop him, smiling with a soulless mouth:

  VAGNAR:

  "You are in my tent, and on my carpet, and you are neutral... that is why I grant you safe passage, but I advise you, noble knight, to watch your tongue."

  SER WEST (bowing again):

  "I meant no offense, my lord commander. My word is the word of truth from a neutral party."

  VAGNAR:

  "Your message, and Lord West's message, have arrived. You may stay... or depart."

  SER WEST:

  "I thank you for your hospitality, Commander Vagnar."

  He turns his back and exits the tent with steady steps, leaving behind a light silence and exchanged glances between the guards.

  The wind howls outside the tent, and the sounds of horses' hooves echo in the distance. Inside the tent, a fire in the hearth illuminates the middle of the large wooden table. Vagnar stands before a large map spread out with stones representing their armies. The commanders sit around him, and worry is evident on their faces.

  VAGNAR (in a tense but steady voice):

  "We must decide our course, and quickly. The option of starvation? Not available... their supplies are enough for two years or more.

  The option of attack? Dangerous... their walls are impregnable, their men are fierce, and the armored ones fight like devils.

  And time... time is not on our side."

  He points with his hand towards one side of the map where symbols representing a moving army are placed.

  VAGNAR:

  "Recent reports speak of a possible return of the Drakarion army... within a month, perhaps less.

  Their numbers? Six thousand men. Armed with everything in our arsenal. Led by Lucas Drakarion... and his uncle, Trevor's younger brother.

  And if they return, they will clamp down on us like a wolf's fangs on bone."

  He pauses for a moment, looking at the commanders sharply.

  VAGNAR:

  "Inside... our spies say that the number of those capable of fighting does not exceed 2,000, and is no less than 1,500.

  If we do not decide now, we will never decide.

  Time is running out, and the sky favors those who strike first... any suggestions?"

  A heavy silence envelops the tent, then the commanders begin to exchange glances... one of them clears his throat, ready to break the silence.