Crowned In Enmity

Chapter 5

"Rearrange the troops," I command the Beckton's General, "and place Harnsey on the front lines with Margrot. Beckton and Lingwell can hold the rear."

General Demir looks up from the formation plans, a puzzled expression on his face. "Why are we assigning men from other countries to our front lines?"

I raise an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "Would you rather have your own men take the brunt of the assault? Margrot commands the most skilled fighters, and Harnsey's troops are known for their ruthless efficiency. In terms of both numbers and close-quarters combat, Lingwell and Beckton are simply outmatched. They'll be more valuable in the rear, manning the bows and trebuchets where their talents can be better utilized."

"Follow her orders," King Beckton snaps at his general,​​ "It makes most sense to strategically place the men where they will best complement each other. Relay her orders to the commanders, and rearrange the troops."

General Demir gives a respectful nod to his King before exiting the tent to implement the new troop alignments. As he leaves, General Theon Lingwell, the youngest son of King Lingwell, steps inside.

At just twenty-three years old, Theon Lingwell is a remarkable figure. Charismatic and intelligent, he is also a formidable force on the battlefield. In only two years as Lingwell's general, he has transformed the smallest country in The Realm into a formidable military power, now able to offer his own expertise and troops for key battles like this one. Not only is he impressive in action, but he also commands attention with his striking appearance. His wavy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharply chiseled features set him apart from his brothers. His ornate armor, detailed with intricate engravings, underscores the opulence of Lingwell and his elevated status within his country.

"Ah, Theon," King Beckton says, extending his hand with a welcoming gesture. "It's a pleasure to have you here. We're grateful for your assistance; Lingwell's army will be a tremendous asset to our efforts."

Theon grasps King Beckton's hand firmly and shakes it with a confident grip before placing his hand on his chest in a gesture of sincerity. "Of course, Your Majesty. It's an honor to help bring this pointless conflict to an end."

I observe the exchange closely, unable to tear my eyes away from Theon. The respect he commands from the King, despite his youth, is palpable and contrasts sharply with the indifference I've often faced. Even though my army dwarfs Lingwell's by nearly five times, such respect has never been extended to me.

"Have you had the chance to meet Queen Margrot?" King Beckton inquires, shifting his attention. "She's been assisting on my battle strategy; her enhancement is military intelligence."

Once again, my contributions are whittled down to my enhancement, a comment that would never be made if it were a man. I bristle at the implication that my role is merely supportive, despite my substantial responsibilities in running the general's tent.

Theon's gaze shifts to me, his eyes sweeping over my face with interest. "I don't believe we've been introduced," he says, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "But I've heard quite a bit about you from my father. He speaks very highly of you."

"I've heard plenty about you as well," I respond with a nod of acknowledgment, trying to remain composed. "You're certainly making a notable reputation for yourself."

King Beckton interjects, "Queen Margrot can bring you up to speed on my strategy. I need to track down my Spy Master. Excuse me for a moment."

As Beckton departs, Theon's demeanor shifts to a more relaxed, playful tone. "So, Beckton's full of himself, right? You're really the one running this shitshow."