The air outside the council chambers carried a crisp edge, a sign that the colder months were beginning to creep in. Solomon exhaled, watching his breath form a faint mist in the morning light before stepping forward and pushing open the heavy wooden doors.
Inside, the meeting was already underway. The Twelve-Seat Council sat in their designated positions, a mix of hardened veterans, aging strategists, and political schemers—all of whom had spent the past weeks pretending that Solomon was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
Lord Marek sat comfortably at his usual place, arms folded, watching Solomon's entrance with a smirk that barely hid his contempt. Lord Rylas, his close ally, leaned forward, fingers steepled together, as if already preparing his next move in this endless game of manipulation.
The conversation paused as all eyes turned to Solomon.
"Ah," Marek said smoothly, his voice filled with forced politeness. "The King's newest advisor finally graces us with his presence."
Solomon ignored the bait and took his seat. "I wasn't aware this meeting had started without me."
"We assumed you were too preoccupied with more… youthful matters," Rylas added, his tone dripping with condescension.
Solomon smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "And yet, here I am. Now, unless you were planning to spend this entire session throwing veiled insults, I suggest we get back to the actual business of governing."
A few council members exchanged glances. Some were amused. Others, wary.
Marek's smirk twitched, but he didn't rise to the challenge. Instead, he tapped his fingers against the table. "Very well. We were discussing resource distributions. Specifically, the fact that certain military outposts seem to be receiving additional supplies that have not been approved by this council."
Solomon tilted his head. "And which outposts would those be?"
Marek slid a parchment across the table. "The ones under Commander Vera's jurisdiction."
The statement hung in the air for a moment.
Solomon didn't blink. "And?"
Marek raised an eyebrow. "You don't deny it?"
Solomon took the parchment, scanning the details. Supplies had been redirected to key strongholds—ones Vera had personally restructured to ensure faster response times. It was a military necessity, not a power move.
He set the parchment down. "I don't deny that the military is being strengthened where it needs to be."
Rylas leaned in slightly. "Without council oversight?"
Solomon met his gaze, unflinching. "With the King's approval."
That shut them up.
A few of the more neutral council members shifted uncomfortably. Marek's fingers tightened around the edge of the table, but his expression remained composed.
"Perhaps," Marek said slowly, "we should all be reminded that the council exists to maintain balance, not be circumvented at will."
Solomon smiled. "And perhaps we should all be reminded that the council serves the kingdom, not itself."
A tense silence filled the room.
Lord Marek had been pushing hard lately, trying to undermine both Solomon and Vera at every turn. This wasn't about supplies. It was about control.
Solomon exhaled. He had played Marek's game long enough to know this was leading somewhere.
"You seem particularly interested in Vera's command structure," Solomon noted. "Any specific reason?"
Marek leaned back. "No reason at all. Simply an observation."
Which meant he was hiding something.
Before Solomon could press further, the doors opened, and a messenger rushed in, bowing quickly before speaking.
"Urgent report from the southern border," the soldier announced. "A scouting party was intercepted near Valin Outpost."
The tension in the room shifted immediately.
Marek's expression remained neutral, but Solomon saw it—the brief flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"You seem surprised," Solomon mused.
Marek exhaled, folding his hands together. "Merely concerned. We don't want to risk unnecessary escalation."
Solomon's fingers drummed against the table. "Then perhaps we should focus on securing our borders instead of bickering over supply chains."
Marek didn't respond immediately. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he said, "I'm sure you'll handle it, Solomon. After all, you've made it quite clear you intend to shape Fantasia as you see fit."
Solomon didn't return the smile.
He simply stood. "This meeting is over."
And with that, he walked out, already thinking about his next move.
The air outside the council chambers carried a crisp edge, a sign that the colder months were beginning to creep in. Solomon exhaled, watching his breath form a faint mist in the morning light before stepping forward and pushing open the heavy wooden doors.
Inside, the meeting was already underway. The Twelve-Seat Council sat in their designated positions, a mix of hardened veterans, aging strategists, and political schemers—all of whom had spent the past weeks pretending that Solomon was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
Lord Marek sat comfortably at his usual place, arms folded, watching Solomon's entrance with a smirk that barely hid his contempt. Lord Rylas, his close ally, leaned forward, fingers steepled together, as if already preparing his next move in this endless game of manipulation.
The conversation paused as all eyes turned to Solomon.
"Ah," Marek said smoothly, his voice filled with forced politeness. "The King's newest advisor finally graces us with his presence."
Solomon ignored the bait and took his seat. "I wasn't aware this meeting had started without me."
"We assumed you were too preoccupied with more… youthful matters," Rylas added, his tone dripping with condescension.
Solomon smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "And yet, here I am. Now, unless you were planning to spend this entire session throwing veiled insults, I suggest we get back to the actual business of governing."
A few council members exchanged glances. Some were amused. Others, wary.
Marek's smirk twitched, but he didn't rise to the challenge. Instead, he tapped his fingers against the table. "Very well. We were discussing resource distributions. Specifically, the fact that certain military outposts seem to be receiving additional supplies that have not been approved by this council."
Solomon tilted his head. "And which outposts would those be?"
Marek slid a parchment across the table. "The ones under Commander Vera's jurisdiction."
The statement hung in the air for a moment.
Solomon didn't blink. "And?"
Marek raised an eyebrow. "You don't deny it?"
Solomon took the parchment, scanning the details. Supplies had been redirected to key strongholds—ones Vera had personally restructured to ensure faster response times. It was a military necessity, not a power move.
He set the parchment down. "I don't deny that the military is being strengthened where it needs to be."
Rylas leaned in slightly. "Without council oversight?"
Solomon met his gaze, unflinching. "With the King's approval."
That shut them up.
A few of the more neutral council members shifted uncomfortably. Marek's fingers tightened around the edge of the table, but his expression remained composed.
"Perhaps," Marek said slowly, "we should all be reminded that the council exists to maintain balance, not be circumvented at will."
Solomon smiled. "And perhaps we should all be reminded that the council serves the kingdom, not itself."
A tense silence filled the room.
Lord Marek had been pushing hard lately, trying to undermine both Solomon and Vera at every turn. This wasn't about supplies. It was about control.
Solomon exhaled. He had played Marek's game long enough to know this was leading somewhere.
"You seem particularly interested in Vera's command structure," Solomon noted. "Any specific reason?"
Marek leaned back. "No reason at all. Simply an observation."
Which meant he was hiding something.
Before Solomon could press further, the doors opened, and a messenger rushed in, bowing quickly before speaking.
"Urgent report from the southern border," the soldier announced. "A scouting party was intercepted near Valin Outpost."
The tension in the room shifted immediately.
Marek's expression remained neutral, but Solomon saw it—the brief flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"You seem surprised," Solomon mused.
Marek exhaled, folding his hands together. "Merely concerned. We don't want to risk unnecessary escalation."
Solomon's fingers drummed against the table. "Then perhaps we should focus on securing our borders instead of bickering over supply chains."
Marek didn't respond immediately. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he said, "I'm sure you'll handle it, Solomon. After all, you've made it quite clear you intend to shape Fantasia as you see fit."
Solomon didn't return the smile.
He simply stood. "This meeting is over."
And with that, he walked out, already thinking about his next move.
The air in the war room was thick with tension.
Solomon stood at the head of the table, staring down at the reports scattered before him. Kairo and Vera flanked his sides, their expressions mirroring his unease. Across from them, Harper and Rhyker listened in silence, both men reading between the lines of everything being left unsaid.
The scout team had returned.
And their findings were worse than expected.
Kairo leaned over the table, scanning the documents. "So let me get this straight—this wasn't just some scouting party. These guys were organized?"
Harper nodded, arms crossed. "More than that. They moved in precise formations, used coded signals, and had gear that doesn't match any of the known rogue factions around our borders. They weren't here to loot or stir up trouble."
Vera clenched her jaw. "They were testing us."
Solomon exhaled. "And now Marek suddenly cares about what's happening at the border."
Rhyker leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "If Marek is in communication with whoever sent these scouts, he's not just playing politics anymore. He's making alliances. Dangerous ones."
Kairo frowned. "Do we have any idea who they are? What kingdom they're from?"
Harper shook his head. "No insignias. No standard-issue weapons. It's like they were meant to be untraceable."
Solomon tapped his fingers against the table, mind racing. "Then we're dealing with one of two things—either this is a rogue faction operating under someone's orders, or…"
Vera exhaled. "Or it's another kingdom, hiding its hand."
A heavy silence followed.
They all knew what that meant.
Fantasia had enemies. Plenty of them.
Their power had grown too quickly. Their military had become too organized. Their influence, once contained, had begun stretching beyond its borders.
And other nations didn't like that.
Kairo sat back, rubbing his face. "Great. Just what we needed. We're already dealing with internal power struggles, and now we might be on the edge of a war."
Vera cracked her knuckles. "So what's the play? Do we start reinforcing the borders?"
Solomon shook his head. "Not yet. We can't show weakness, but we also can't make them think we're looking for a fight."
Harper nodded. "If we overcommit to the southern border, we might provoke them."
Rhyker crossed his arms. "Then we get eyes on them. If this wasn't just a one-time scouting mission, they'll be back. We set a trap—monitor their movements, track where they go, find out who sent them."
Vera smirked. "Now that's something I can work with."
Solomon turned his gaze toward Kairo. "And you?"
Kairo blinked. "Me?"
"You're learning how to fight differently. You're adjusting to strategy, not just brute force. And right now?" Solomon's eyes sharpened. "We need someone unpredictable. Someone who doesn't move like a soldier, doesn't act like a politician, and isn't tied to any one system."
Kairo exhaled. "You want me outside the borders."
Solomon nodded. "I want you to move separately. Go where they're least expecting. Track what's happening without being seen."
Harper smirked. "Guess that means you're finally being treated like a real threat."
Kairo huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. I get it." He straightened. "Fine. I'll do it. But if I get stabbed in some random foreign city, I'm haunting you."
Vera snorted. "Get in line."
Solomon smirked. "Duly noted."
Rhyker sat up. "Alright. We have a plan. We watch, we wait, and when the time comes?" His expression hardened. "We move first."
The meeting ended with unspoken understanding.
The fractures in Fantasia's foundation were growing.
And if they didn't act soon?
Everything would collapse.