Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 204

Chapter 204: Falmer’s Fears
“Shh! It’s all going to be over soon, sweetie” – a mother whispered, hugging her child tightly in her arms. Her voice trembled as she tried to keep her tone gentle – “Do you remember when we played hide-and-seek? It’s just like that now. We just need to stay quiet… and not be seen.”

Outside, the heavy sound of horses’ hooves echoed ominously through the narrow streets of Drathla. The mother’s grip tightened around her child as her heart raced with fear, but she forced herself to remain firm. It wasn’t just her, every resident of the capital was paralyzed with terror, no one daring to make a sound.

Some held their breath, others buried their faces in their loved ones’ shoulders. It felt as though the spirits of their ancestors were riding through the streets, come to collect the souls of the living. No one had the courage to peek outside, not after hearing the desperate cries of the patrols, the same men who had, until recently, terrorized them. Now, those guards had fallen silent, drowned out by the ominous rhythm of hooves.

“Spread out and take every street in this city,” Henry commanded, his gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of the royal castle looming in the distance, its shadow stretching across the wooden houses. “Once the city is secured, we move on to the palace.”

Without hesitation, the cavalry, dressed in dark leather armor, urged their Snowfire horses forward. The horses’ hooves struck the snow-covered cobblestone streets, their muffled steps exuding a quiet but deadly power. As the cavalry disappeared into the winding streets, Leier reined her horse next to Henry.

“Good work, Leier,” Henry said, his voice low and steady. His compliment was brief but enough for Leier to understand his satisfaction. She was one of his most efficient soldiers, perhaps the most efficient. Her abilities made her invaluable, especially in operations requiring stealth and precision.

“Where are Yngvi and the other dwarves?” Henry asked, glancing behind him as if expecting to see the small figures of his dwarven subjects.

“They stopped at the gates,” Leier replied. “Said they’d catch up soon. They didn’t look too good.” She couldn’t help but smirk slightly, recalling their faces.

Henry chuckled softly. The dwarves weren’t fond of riding, especially at high speeds. Throughout the journey, they had looked ready to vomit at any moment, their usual stout demeanor shaken by the unfamiliar motion of horseback travel. In fact, just before entering the city, they had begged to dismount and proceed on foot, fearing they might lose the contents of their stomachs if the pace quickened any further.

“They’ll manage,” Henry said, his eyes returning to the castle. He didn’t dwell on the dwarves’ discomfort; they would join the battle soon enough. But as he gazed at the imposing structure of the castle, a strange sensation gnawed at him, a mix of nausea and anticipation. There was something about that place, something that unsettled him, something lurking within its walls that he wanted to destroy.

Henry took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself. First, they would conquer the city. Then, they would storm the castle. No one, not even a speck of dust, would escape his grasp. Falmer would not slink away in the dead of night like a coward. Not this time.

-x-

Inside the royal castle of Luak, King Falmer was biting his nails, pacing in his study. He was sure something was wrong. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if the weight of a thousand nightmares had settled over him. He could still remember the vivid dream he’d had, the one where he lost everything: his throne, his crown, even his life.

“Where is my goddamn water?” Falmer muttered under his breath as he sank into a plush couch, rubbing his temple. But even the thought of drinking did little to quell the unease crawling beneath his skin. His eyes drifted over the room, scanning the bookshelves, before settling on an old, rusty sword mounted on the wall, a relic from generations past. It had been passed down through his family since the founding of the kingdom, but its original purpose and history had long been forgotten.

He stared at the sword for a moment, then stood and took it down from the wall. The cold iron felt reassuring in his hand, a thin thread of protection in the sea of fear that had taken control of him. Sinking back into the couch, he held the sword tightly, staring at the door as if expecting it to burst open at any moment.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside, faint but steady. Falmer’s grip on the sword tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. The footsteps grew closer. He swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow. Was it his imagination, or was someone coming for him

Then came the knock.

“Who is it?” Falmer called out, his voice shaky despite his efforts to sound firm. His hand gripped the sword tighter, the metal hilt growing colder in his sweaty palm.

No response. Another knock fell.

“Who the fuck is it?!” Falmer barked, his fear boiling into rage. He rose from the couch, moving cautiously toward the door, pressing his ear against it, making sure it was still locked.

“It’s me, my king,” came the muffled voice of the guard he had sent for water earlier. “I brought the water you asked for.”

Falmer exhaled sharply and unlocked the door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. His face was a mask of fury as he glared at the young guard standing on the other side, holding a jug of water.

Without a word, Falmer snatched the jug from his hands and drank deeply, the cool water soothing his dry throat.

“Why didn’t you answer me the first time?” Falmer demanded, wiping his mouth roughly with the back of his hand. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but the water had calmed him slightly.

The guard, clearly nervous, stammered, “Apologies, my king. I… I thought you heard me.”

“Just shut up and stand by the door,” Falmer snapped, eyeing the guard suspiciously. There was something off about him—he wasn’t sure what it was, but the man didn’t seem familiar. Was this even the same guard who’d fetched him the water?

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. He was being paranoid. The stress of the looming invasion, the uncertainty of the northern front, it was all getting to him.

But still… something gnawed at his gut.

As the guard took his place by the door, Falmer paced the room, trying to shake the feeling of dread that clung to him. The castle felt too quiet.