HOUND

Erindel's Reply

In the dim-lit study of Castle Therondia, the tapestries hung heavy with a brooding tension that matched the furrowed brow of King Xerxes. The sealed letter from Erindel, delivered by a solemn messenger, felt like a weighty omen in the room. Xerxes, a ruler accustomed to unwavering obedience, crushed the parchment within his clenched fist.

His voice, low and edged with displeasure, murmured, "A refusal, a challenge to the very core of Therondia."

The ornate goblet, a symbol of regal authority, met the polished wooden desk with a resounding thud. The sound echoed through the study, an audible manifestation of the frustration etched on Xerxes' stern countenance. The intricacies of Erindel's defiance seemed to deepen the lines on his face.

"Summon the council," he commanded, the urgency in his voice underscoring the gravity of the situation. The clinking of armor and hushed murmurs filled the air as advisors and courtiers hurried into the study.

Seated on his imposing throne, Xerxes scowled at the crumpled parchment before him, as if it held the secrets to a kingdom's betrayal. The councilors, mindful of the tempest brewing within their ruler, stood with a mixture of trepidation and deference.

"Erindel claims concerns for their independence," one advisor cautiously reported, eyes darting between the king and the parchment.

"Independence?" Xerxes scoffed, the word a bitter taste on his tongue. "They dare question our might, our dominance over these kingdoms."

Another advisor, more diplomatic in approach, ventured, "Perhaps we should consider a diplomatic solution, my king. A strategic display of our strength may persuade them to reconsider."

"Diplomacy has its limits," Xerxes retorted, his dismissive gaze fixing on the advisor. "Ready the armies. Erindel will feel the unyielding weight of our power."

The council chamber absorbed the tension, an invisible web of unease woven by Xerxes' decisions. Whispers and side glances between courtiers acknowledged the brewing storm, and the realization that Therondia was on the brink of a conflict that would ripple through the very fabric of the known world.

"Erindel's defiance, coupled with the Hound King's rejection, spells not just trouble but a reckoning," one courtier murmured in hushed tones, the gravity of the situation settling in like a heavy fog.

As the council dispersed, leaving the study in a heavy silence, Xerxes, fueled by ruthless determination and a history of unyielding dominance, began plotting the swift and brutal reprisal that would soon unfold across the kingdoms. The room, witness to a ruler's unyielding will, seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the tumult that would sweep through the lands, altering destinies.

The kingdom of Erindel...

In the heart of Erindel, where emerald forests whispered tales of peace and serenity, Princess Thalassa and Prince Magnus found themselves amidst the murmurs of impending war. The rejection of the Hound King's alliance and the subsequent ire of King Xerxes had cast a looming shadow over their kingdom.

Within the grandeur of the royal chambers, maps sprawled across the table, adorned with strategic markings. Advisors, draped in regal attire, engaged in fervent discussions.

Magnus's brow furrowed with concern. "This refusal from Xerxes is a spark that could ignite a war, sister."

Thalassa, her eyes reflecting the uncertainty that enveloped the realm, replied, "We must prepare our people, Magnus. War may be inevitable."

As torchlight flickered in the courtyard one evening, the siblings stood side by side, gazing at the starlit sky.

"The night sky feels different now," Magnus mused, "as if it echoes the approaching storm."