Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 213

Chapter 213: Omens Beneath a Restless Sea Part Two
The group traveled the winding road away from Thalren’s harbor, the distant sound of gulls giving way to the rustle of wind through the coastal grasses. Sir Albrecht walked beside Lord Commander Kael Draven, their respective escorts keeping a measured distance behind.

For a time, Kael studied the Threshian knight in silence before speaking. “I have heard stories of you, Sword Saint. They say you felled a dragonborn in the southern marshes of Threshia.”

Albrecht’s mouth curved faintly. “A tale told too many times. It was not I who felled the beast, but the combined strength of my order. Still, men prefer a single name for their legends.”

Kael chuckled under his breath. “So the tales of heroes are alike in every land. Here in Akeria, the people still tell stories of emperor Varian’s youth, back when he was but a second prince who drank and gambled as though life were a game.”

Albrecht raised an eyebrow. “And yet that same man now rules one of the greatest empires in the East.”

Kael’s expression hardened slightly. “Aye. But the crown changed him. After the death of his wife and child, he became a man of singular purpose. There is no softness left in him.”

Mother Anira tilted her veiled face toward the Akerian commander. “Grief forges iron sharper than any sword. It is no wonder he is feared as well as respected.”

Kael inclined his head slightly at her words, though his jaw tightened. “Respected, yes. But feared more. Varian seeks strength above all else. Every law he passes—none are without cost.”

Albrecht’s gaze drifted briefly to the horizon. “Then he will understand our plea, if only because he knows what is lost when nations crumble.”

Kael gave him a sidelong look. “You think to sway him with appeals to compassion? Varian does not rule with his heart, Sword Saint. He weighs only what can be gained or lost.”

The conversation slowed as they passed through a field road where farmers watched the soldiers with wary eyes. Albrecht finally asked, “Tell me, Commander—how do the Akerian people fare?”

Kael exhaled slowly, glancing toward the distant hills. “They endure. Taxes grow heavier each year, and conscription takes sons from homes that can ill afford to lose them. Heraldran’s fields strain to feed both soldier and citizen, yet the levies do not lessen. Some whisper of discontent, though few dare speak it openly.”

Mother Anira nodded slightly. “Discontent festers quickest when burdens are shared unequally. Threshia knows this pain well. Our nobles feast while peasants starve. And now, with Lady Isode gone, the faith of the common folk withers.”

Kael regarded her curiously. “This High Priestess—she holds such sway?”

“She is more than priestess,” Albrecht answered. “She is heir to the throne and the sole bridge between faith and crown. Without her, the nobles fight like rabid hounds, and the Church splinters. She is the one soul who could command both sword and prayer.”

Kael studied him for a long moment, as though weighing the sincerity of his words. “And yet she is gone, leaving your empire rudderless.”

Albrecht’s jaw tightened. “She will return. Until then, we must endure.”

Kael’s expression darkened. “Endurance is not victory.” His voice lowered slightly, as if he spoke more to himself than to his guest. “And endurance alone will not hold back Bloodbane’s tide forever.”

Albrecht glanced at him. “Then we come to the truth. It is war that bleeds your empire dry.”

Kael gave a short, humorless laugh. “Aye, Sword Saint. That is the wound that festers deepest.”

Kael’s expression hardened as he finally spoke of the war. “The Bloodbane Empire strikes like a storm without warning. Barely a month ago, they crossed the border—swift, merciless, wielding magics not seen since the days of the old gods. Entire battalions were incinerated before a sword was even raised.”

He glanced at Albrecht. “They march behind a tide of crimson banners, their warlords commanding sorceries that tear through our fortifications as though they were paper. Cities that we once thought impregnable—burned in a single night. Their knights fight like men possessed, their magi summon fire and shadow as though the heavens themselves obey them.”

Albrecht’s brow furrowed. “And yet Akeria still holds the line?”

Kael nodded sharply. “Aye, because we prepared. Velkaria’s forges run without rest, black powder flows through our armies like blood, and the Skyward Dominion’s airships scour the skies for Bloodbane columns. But this war is young, Sword Saint. We have won some battles, aye—but every day, the cost grows. Drevain’s shipyards are stretched thin, Heraldran’s harvests are feeding soldiers first and peasants last, and already whispers rise among the nobles questioning how long this war can be endured.”

Mother Anira’s veiled face turned toward him. “And so you fear that giving aid to Threshia will break you before Bloodbane does.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “I fear that a divided empire—an empire feeding another while its own sons die—will not stand long enough to see victory. Even Varian himself, for all his might, cannot fight a war that bleeds the land dry.”

Albrecht’s grip tightened on Sanctivale’s hilt.

“Then Akeria must see reason. Bloodbane has already struck at your heartlands, but if Threshia falls, they will gain another front, another source of power to feed their war. Our empire’s ruin would only hasten yours. We are not merely beggars at your gate—we are the shield that still stands between Bloodbane and total dominion.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly, weighing Albrecht’s words. “You speak boldly, Sword Saint. Yet from where I stand, your empire bleeds just as ours does. Your nobles fight among themselves, your High Priestess is absent. Why should Akeria stake its survival on a realm that cannot even stand on its own feet?”

Albrecht met his gaze evenly. “Because Threshia is not yet broken. We have endured centuries of strife and risen from every war stronger than before. Lady Isode’s absence weakens us, aye, but she will return. And when she does, there will be one voice strong enough to bind faith and crown together.”

Mother Anira’s veiled face turned toward Kael. “And even should she not return, the tide of fate does not wait for kings to be ready. Those who stand idle are swept away.”

Kael’s jaw tightened, but he did not argue further. For a moment, only the wind through the grasses filled the silence.