Bright, orange candlelight flickered around the spacious, empty dining hall. Lassor strode through the entrance, leaving the two guards that had been following him for the past few hours, at the door. He inhaled the delicious smell that filled the room and sauntered over to one of the three bowls at the table. With a massive sigh, Lassor sat down in one of the chairs and began slurping down the hot stew. The roasted dragon .
Lassor didn't care how hot it was, he had never been so hungry in his life. He had barely eaten lunch, and the whole afternoon had consisted of running around town and preparing for war. He was exhausted.
This would be Revelen's first war in almost a decade, and Lassor was ready to throw all they had at Velador and its despotic king. Lassor imagined Zaffre sitting in his throne, gloating as he forced his men to prepare for battle. How horrible, he thought bitterly.
The first thing Lassor had done to prepare was assign extra patrols and watch crews along the Velador border to ensure that when the enemy troops did come, Revelen would have plenty of time to meet them on the desired battlefield. He had gathered everyone in the kingdom that was fit to fight, and had Cerise train all of them in one, large session outside the castle.
He had also learned from Rowan in his many years of training that magic was a useful skill and an effective weapon. Experienced magic users could use magic in battle, which almost always gave them the upper hand. But, since there was hardly anyone in the kingdom that could use magic, let alone fight with it, Lassor had sent a squad of knights over to Mysterfalk in hopes that they could purchase a few potions and spell books and bring them back in time for the battle.
The mysterious kingdom of Mysterfalk could hardly be called a kingdom at all actually. It was more of an independent village full of powerful wizards. Many kingdoms had already tried to ally with Mysterfalk in the past, but the citizens had profusely refused to be involved in any conflicts.
Lassor knew it was futile to try and ask them himself, but they could really use the wizards' help. Without magic on their side, Revelen was at a severe disadvantage. Lassor had no idea how skilled Velador's army was or was not. It hardly mattered though. Even if they managed to kill the entire Velador army, King Zaffre would still be standing, and he alone could take on an army.
But Lassor was beginning to become hopeful. For the past few hours, he had been thinking of a plan to get rid of Zaffre, and he was almost ready to try it out.
A voice from just outside the dining hall tugged Lassor from his thoughts. He turned to watch the entrance as his 8-year-old sister, Mallee, marched in. She turned to face the two guards following her and put her hand up in a halting gesture.
"Mallee says: stop!" she ordered, giggling playfully as the two guards halted abruptly. "Mallee says: spin around!" The two men spun around as told, smiles creeping onto their faces. "Now run away!" She yipped excitedly, throwing her hands up. The guards stood completely still as Mallee giggled again. "Mallee says: go away!" This time, the two men ran out and scattered in opposite directions. Lassor could guess they were just hiding around the corner since they were ordered to always stay near her.
Once Mallee made sure they were both gone, she galloped over to Lassor, sat down in the seat next to him, and began eating. "Hi, Lassor!" she greeted warmly before she took a bite.
With a mouthful of soup, Lassor raised his left hand in a greeting gesture. Lassor felt oddly at ease despite the promise of war hanging over the kingdom. He knew there would be at least a ten-hour window since it took five hours minimum to get from Revelen to Velador, and that seemed like more than enough time to prepare. He had already done everything he could think of, and there was nothing else to do except wait for the approaching battle.
YOU ARE READING
Amaranth's Yule
FantasyThe Revelen royal family has lived in peace for many years, but as Emira and Lassor approach adulthood, everything takes a turn for the worst.