King of Trind

The sound of hurried steps quickly approaches the unmarked and nondescript room. The man leaning over the sand table looks up briefly as the door opens and closes abruptly. “Speak,” He insists, his focus back on the sculpted terrain beneath his hands. He’s missing something, but he just can’t figure out what.

The messenger takes a moment to gather his breath before he reveals the news that his sources had brought him not minutes earlier. “Your Grace,” He starts. Hand to his chest, he begins rambling, “My sources have reported news from the Palace of Shadows. The empress is to leave for the Land of Creatures in two days time.”

This causes the king of Trind to stand straight. His teeth grind as he asks why. The messenger shakes his head. “She is in search of something. Her dispatched mercenaries failed to secure whatever it is. This is all the knowledge that we have on the matter.” He doesn’t need anymore information.

He knows exactly what that abomination is looking for and he knows exactly what will happen should she find it. It will be the end of his kingdom. Hundreds of years spent building one of the richest nations in the realm will be wiped from history and forgotten, just as she had done with his own dispatched troops already. With shifty eyes, he starts spouting out orders. “Ready the fifth legion’s horses and my own. We head out in two hours. We must make it to Rebun before she steps foot outside of her palace.”

Everyone in the room stands to attention. “But, your Grace-”

“Someone send word to the kitchens. We need stores readied. And someone else dispatch messengers to Lonker and Barigremoy, we’ll need fresh horses and discrete ships readied along the way.” When he sees no movement, his eyes narrow. “Now!”

The room shudders at the sound of his booming voice, but it gets the job done. Urgent messages are written and sealed, travel routes are planned and mapped, and the horses are readied before the first hour is up.

Only when the room has emptied of his advisers and messengers does he finally realize what he’s missing. His mouth puckers as he marks off Zrucooz. He makes a mental note of how many soldiers he lost on that battle field, then he makes another of how many more he’s prepared to lose when he comes face to face with the wicked empress of Velshlind.