Winter's Rebellion

Prologue: Shadows of Division

After the night's revelries for the Princess concluded, High King Aric and his wife, Queen Lyra, sat in the grand throne room. Silence hung heavily, broken only by the crackling of torches as King Aric's hands trembled while reading the missive from King Malakar. Aric ruled over Eldoria. His palace in the kingdom of Dracoria, surrounded by four smaller neighboring kingdoms ruled by kings and queens who served the High King.

His face contorted with anger, veins bulging at his temples, as he absorbed the venomous words inscribed on the parchment. King Malakar ruled over the northern kingdom of Maloria. It's desolate lands parishing under his tyrannical ruling. Five knights of Maloria stood before the High King, their heads bowed low in respect. Unbeknownst to those within the castle walls, Maloria's army lay in wait, shadows coiling with anticipation.

The High King had allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability during the evening's festivities, inadvertently giving Maloria the perfect opportunity to advance their nefarious plans. As King Aric's fury rose, he clenched the missive tightly, the delicate parchment crumpling under his grasp. His eyes met Queen Lyra's, a shared understanding passing between them—they were on the brink of war.

"How dare you come into my palace with this," Aric spat, venom lacing his words as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Your majesty, we only followed the orders of our king. We are unaware of its contents—" one of the knights began, only to be cut off by the king's rage.

"Your King? Seize them and lock them away! You dare to plan treason against your High King? I rule over King Malakar, not the other way around!" Aric thundered, rising from his throne in a heated fury.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, the room seeming to swell with the heat of his anger. The Dracorian knights moved swiftly to apprehend the Malorian knights. When they advanced, the Malorians drew their swords and struck, their blades glinting in the torchlight. The throne room erupted into chaos, the clang of steel against steel reverberating through the air as battle erupted. Sir Tristian, the leader of the Dracorian Knights, took charge, his voice cutting through the room.

"Protect the King and Queen at all costs!" Sir Tristian commanded, his voice firm and authoritative.

Tristian's knights fought with valor and skill, their swords flashing in the torchlight. As steel met steel, sparks light up the throne room. From the shadows, more Malorian knights emerged, ambushing the defenders from all sides. The odds stacked against them as their army out numbered them by a multitude.

"Reinforce the eastern corridor! We need reinforcements!" Tristian barked orders to his knights, who responded with disciplined resolve.

King Aric descended from his throne, his face a mask of fury and determination. With his sword drawn, he joined the fray beside his knights, his presence galvanizing their defense. A number of Dracorian knights entered into the throne room. Together, they fought back the Malorian invaders. Queen Lyra with her own blade joined the tumultuous battle with skill and precision. Dracorian knights began falling against the powers of Maloria.

Seeing the danger escalate, King Aric's voice boomed above the clash of swords. "Tristian, go find the princess! Protect her with your life! Do not forget what I told you!"

Tristian hesitated, torn between his duty to defend and the King's direct order. The room swarmed with enemies making it impossible to leave. There was no clear path to exit, Malorian knights piled into the room ensuring no survivor would leave. But the urgency in the King's voice left no room for debate. He retreated to the shadows remaining hidden.

Tristian kept a vigilant watch, his senses attuned to the sounds of battle echoing through the throne room. His heart pounded with each clash of swords, every moment stretching as he waited for an opportunity to ensure an escape for the princess.

King Aric, deeply focused in battle, engaged Sir Eldric, the leader of the Malorian knights. His sword sliced through the air with deadly precision. In his heart, he knew this would be his end. Eldric parried the blow, sparks flying as their blades met. With a swift twist of his wrist, Sir Eldric forced the King back, using his strength to drive him toward the wall. The room filled with the clanging of swords, grunts of exertion, and the harsh sound of metal scraping on stone.

Queen Lyra fought fiercely, her movements a blend of grace and deadly accuracy. She parried an attack and countered with a swift strike. After calculating an opening, she swung her sword, piercing through the armor and body of a Malorian assailant. Blood covered her blade as the knight fell to his knees. She swiftly ripped out the sword, the knight sputtering and coughing, collapsing to his end. Despite her prowess, Lyra could feel the fatigue setting in, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

A sudden, searing pain shot through her abdomen as a Malorian blade found its mark. Lyra cried out, her grip on her sword faltering for a moment. But she steeled herself, ignoring the pain as she turned to face her assailant. With a fierce cry, she swung her sword in a desperate arc, decapitating the knight in a single, powerful stroke.

Blood poured from her wound as she turned to Aric, her vision blurring. She staggered and fell to her knees, clutching her abdomen. She sputtered and spat out blood. The sheer layer of cold sweat that cover her body sent a shiver down her spine.

"Aric, I'm sorry," Lyra weakly said, fear consuming her final thoughts and collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

King Aric, witnessing the fall of his queen, let out a loud anguished cry, losing his focus against Sir Eldric. The King found himself cornered and, with a powerful blow, Eldric disarmed the King, sending his sword clattering to the ground. Pain filled the heart of the King as he looked over to his queen. Sir Eldric raised his sword against the King and delivered the final blow. A single tear released, falling down the Kings face before his final collapse.

Princess Elara, drawn by the commotion, entered the throne room. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the pitched battle unfolding before her. Pain gripped her heart as she watched her father fall before her eyes. Tristian, who had been watching painfully from the shadows, saw Elara's arrival. His heart pounded with urgency as he risked being seen and moved toward her. He grabbed her and dragged her away from the scene unfolding before her eyes.