Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

The Draken envoy moved through the dense, shadowed forests of Valeria with an air of calculated confidence. Six riders in total, their mounts expertly guided along the uneven terrain, their heavy cloaks shielding them from the biting wind. WIthing the carriage rode Envoy Marek Valtor, a seasoned diplomat with sharp eyes and sharper instincts.

Two guards flanked a covered carriage carrying their most precious cargo: letters, artifacts, and a prepared dossier—evidence that could dismantle Sylas Valerian's ambitions in an instant.

Marek turned to glance at the carriage, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "The Valerian court will be in disarray the moment this reaches the Emperor," he said, his voice carrying just enough volume to be heard by the others.

One of the guards snorted. "You make it sound too easy, Valtor. We're still in enemy territory."

"Enemy?" Marek chuckled, shaking his head. "Valeria is a fractured empire, its court a nest of vipers. Trust me, when this is over, they'll thank us for revealing Sylas's betrayal."

The guard said nothing, though his skeptical glance lingered on the diplomat. Confidence was one thing, but underestimating Valeria's chaotic politics was another.

The convoy pressed on, the clatter of hooves breaking the silence of the forest. Marek's mind raced ahead to the moment he would stand before Emperor Xavier, presenting his damning evidence.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

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He could already picture the ripple of shock across the court, the gasps of betrayal, the fractured alliances that would leave Valeria vulnerable to Draken influence.

It was a masterstroke, orchestrated with precision.

———

The study was tense, the kind that made the air feel heavier than it had any right to be. Aric stood at the head of the room, his hands resting on the dark wood of the table as his trusted court trickled in.

The soft murmurs of conversation and the sound of boots against the stone floor filled the space as they arrived, each one sharp-eyed and curious.

Maxim entered first, his dark cloak swirling around his legs as he moved to the far side of the room.

His face was as unreadable as ever, the only sign of his focus the way his gloved fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the hilt of his blade.

Next came Mandel, ever the picture of casual brilliance. He strolled in with a lazy confidence, his long coat dusted with ash from whatever tinkering he'd been doing before being summoned.

He gave Aric a quick nod, his piercing eyes already scanning the room as if he could read the walls themselves.

Serina followed, her sharp features softened by the glow of candle. She settled into her seat with a quiet grace, her gaze flitting between Aric and the others as though piecing together the puzzle before the meeting even began.

Alan, ever the warrior, arrived last. His presence was calm but commanding, his subtle nods to the others inplace of greetings.

And then, as the door closed behind them, silence fell. The quiet before the storm.

Aric straightened, looking over each of them in turn. For a moment, he didn't speak. Was it deliberate? Did he enjoy the way they leaned in, waiting for his words? Maybe. Or maybe he was just making sure he had their full attention.

"The Draken envoy," he began, his voice steady, cutting through the silence like a blade, "is already moving toward the imperial court. Their intentions are obvious—they mean to undermine everything we've been building by disrupting the empire with the knowledge they posses"

Lerai leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "If we let them reach the court, Sylas falls without our intervention…is this not more efficient?"

Aric smirked faintly, his sharp features catching the dim light. "No, If the envoy reaches the court, the balance shifts, yes Sylas falls but it is is my brothers who get the upperhand from this. None of us want that."

"Do we even know their route?" Maxim asked, his voice low but firm.

"Not yet," Aric admitted, a trace of frustration creeping into his tone. "That's the first thing we'll address. Maxim, I'll need your men on this immediately. Discreetly. No word of this gets out. If even a whisper of what we're doing reaches the wrong ears..."

Maxim nodded once, already calculating. "I'll dispatch them as soon as we finish here. They'll find the envoy before the night is out."

Aric's gaze shifted to Serina. "Your thoughts?"

Serina tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Draken envoys are rarely unarmed, but they're not an army. They'll move with precision and secrecy. Small guard, likely. They won't risk drawing attention…however we cant ignore the possibility of a Dragon tamer with them"

"Agreed, they might not be well guarded" Kael added, his voice smooth and measured. "They'll also avoid main roads. Smugglers' paths, perhaps, or routes through unguarded villages."

Lerai scoffed lightly. "And what if they are well guarded, Draken mages are unpredictable at best."

"That's where I come in," Aric said, his tone cool and confident.

The room went quiet again, the weight of his words sinking in.

"What do you mean, your highness?" Kael asked, his brow furrowed.

Aric's gaze swept the room, landing on each of them in turn before he spoke. "I'll go alone to intercept them."

"Alone?" Lerai's voice was sharp, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Aric replied evenly.

Serina frowned, leaning forward. "That's reckless, even for you. Why would you take such a risk?"

For a moment, Aric didn't answer. He let the question hang in the air, the tension building. Then he straightened, his expression hard and unyielding. "Because terror is a tool," he said, his voice steady.

"And I intend to use it."

The room buzzed with unspoken reactions. Fear? What did he mean by that? Maxim shifted slightly, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade as though considering something. Lerai muttered under his breath, too quiet to catch, but his expression was one of disbelief.

Aric stepped away from the table, pacing slowly as he spoke. "The Draken envoy expects resistance, yes. But they expect armies, politics, drawn-out strategies. They don't expect me. A single man, walking into their path, turning their confidence into doubt and their doubt into panic."

"You're betting on intimidation?" Lerai asked, one brow raised.

"I'm betting on certainty," Aric shot back, his voice sharp. "They need to see, to feel, that their actions come at a cost. They need to understand that this empire doesn't belong to them. It belongs to me."

"And what happens if it goes wrong?" Serina pressed, her tone unusually sharp.

"It won't," Aric said simply.

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on them. It wasn't arrogance—it was conviction. Aric wasn't asking for permission or approval. He was informing them of what was to come.

Maxim broke the silence, his voice steady. "My men will find the envoy's route. You'll have the information by morning."

Aric nodded once. "Good. The rest of you, prepare contingencies. If something goes wrong—"

"Which it won't," Lerai interjected, smirking faintly.

Aric allowed himself a small grin. "If something goes wrong, you'll be ready to move. Understood?"

One by one, they nodded, though the tension in the room remained.

The meeting ended shortly after, the weight of the plan settling over them all like a storm cloud. As the others filed out, Aric remained behind, his gaze fixed on the map spread across the table.

Fear was a tool. A weapon. And soon, the Draken envoy would know exactly how sharp it could be.