The tent table, polished smooth by years of anxious deliberation, reflected the flickering candlelight, making long, dancing shadows across the faces of the three of them. Maps, marked with troop movents, strategic locations, and the borders of caldris, were spread across its surface.
Kaelen, his brow furrowed in concentration, studied the details, his fingers tracing the lines of the encroaching enemy territory.
"So, Commander Lyra," he said, his voice sharp, his gaze fixed on the map, "give a clear picture of Caldris's... military capabilities. And don't sugarcoat it."
Lyra cleared her throat, her expression grim.
"Aside from the Silent Guard, Your Highness, it's... practically non-existent." She gestured towards a section of the map, where the province surrounding Vernal Keep was marked. "Vernal's Keep has its own city guard, of course, loyal to the crown, but their numbers are few, and their training is... basic, at best. More a glorified police force than trained warriors."
"And the other provinces?" Kaelen asked, his gaze sweeping across the map, taking in the nas of the seven provinces that made up Caldris: Alderanth, Eldoria, Silverstream, Oakhaven, Sunstone, Whisperwind, and, of course, Vernal Keep.
"They have their own local militias, Your Highness," Lyra replied, her tone carefully neutral. "But they answer to their respective provincial lords, not to the crown. Their loyalty is... fluid, shall we say." She paused, her gaze eting Kaelen's. "So might answer the crowns summons, and they do not make such actions lightly, but most will not."
"Fluid indeed," Garron muttered, his eyes narrowing. "More like nonexistent. When was the last ti anyone outside Vernal answered to the crown's call? We barely managed to get soldiers from Oakhaven when those geyser fields blew topside."
"Which brings us," Lyra continued, ignoring Garron's comnt, "to the... Crimson Hand." She pointed to three provinces on the map: Silverstream, Sunstone, and Whisperwind.
"Who?" Kaelen asked, his brow furrowing.
"A band of... vigilantes, shall we say," Lyra replied, her tone laced with a hint of disdain.
"They operate primarily in those three provinces, claiming to be... cri punishers." She made air quotes with her fingers, her expression sardonic. "They've established dominance in the provinces but claim to protect the smaller settlents that cannot do it themselves.
They extort protection fees from rchants and farrs, offering 'safety' from bandits and other threats."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "And I assu they are the ones committing most of the cris they claim to... punish?"
Lyra nodded. "Indeed, Your Highness. They steal from rchants, raid farms, and generally terrorize the countryside. Their leader, a man known only as 'Red,' is ruthless and cunning. He's managed to evade capture for years, and his influence is spreading like wildfire."
Garron snorted. "Sounds like a glorified bandit lord to . Why hasn't the king dealt with them?"
Lyra sighed. "The Crimson Hand has grown... surprisingly powerful, Your Highness. Their numbers are significant, and they're well-ard. They even appear to have access to so form of low-tier magic, perhaps so Ember or Torch rank users, but it could be more than just one. The King... he's been... reluctant to engage them directly, hoping to avoid a costly and potentially disastrous conflict. So long as their activities don't beco too brazen, he's chosen to... tolerate their existence." She finished her sentence with a mix of regret and respect for the King.
Kaelen's gaze hardened, his mind raced, piecing together the fragnted information. The Crimson Hand... a powerful, well-ard group operating outside the crown's control, led by a ruthless and cunning leader.
They were a threat, certainly, but also... an opportunity.
"How large are their numbers, Commander?" Kaelen asked.
"Estimates vary, Your Highness," Lyra replied, "But sowhere between five hundred and a thousand n. Perhaps even more, given the fact that they operate like shadows. They seem to disappear as easily as they appear so even the count can be exaggerated."
"And their leader, this... Red?"
"A phantom, Your Highness," Lyra said, her voice low. "No one knows his real na, or where he cos from. He's a master of disguise, a ghost story whispered in low tones."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed, a calculating glint in their depths.
"A phantom, you say?" He tapped his finger on the map, his gaze fixed on the provinces where the Crimson Hand operated. "Interesting."
He turned to Garron. "Prepare the horses," he instructed. "We're taking a trip to Silverstream. It's ti to pay a visit to our... cri punishers."
Reviews
All reviews (0)