Aldric didn't believe in luck.
Only power.
Power won him the throne.
Power crushed his enemies.
And power would keep him on top—so long as he played the game better than anyone else.
The nobles were cowed. For now.
But Aldric wasn't foolish enough to think that fear alone would keep them loyal.
He needed something stronger.
Something that would bind them to him—permanently.
A Kingdom to Secure
The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the war chamber, casting long shadows across the map spread before Aldric.
The kingdom was his. Officially.
But maps were liars.
A border drawn in ink was meaningless without men to enforce it.
Lands he had "claimed" were still restless. Cities still whispered of Cedric, the deposed king. And the outer provinces, ruled by lords who had sworn begrudging allegiance, were waiting for the first opportunity to rebel.
Aldric tapped his fingers against the table, thinking.
"We need more troops," Elya said, standing across from him.
