Tristan

Vausterland – Late Summer

Tristan did all he could to ignore the sneers of contempt that Aryan kept throwing his way as they sat across each other in the council chamber. Aryan had always hated Tristan for the sole fact that he was a wingless human, a human who commanded King William's army and ruled the richest city in Vausterland. And now, after Tristan had married the King's daughter, Aryan found another reason to hate him with more vehemence. It was not unexpected, especially that Aryan's elder son was one of the suitors who had proposed to Princess Sophia and had been rejected by the King.

Tristan had grown used to Aryan's open hostility, but he had not grown used to tolerating it. The old bitter man did nothing to conceal how much he loathed Tristan, and Tristan always made sure to repay him the same kindness.

The late summer sun hung low in the afternoon sky, bathing the interior of the council chamber in a warm shade of red. Tristan remained silent as the King spoke, keeping up a façade of patience, until Aryan decided to open his mouth.

"We must take Brynhal," Aryan said, his head held high as he addressed the King, and Tristan did all he could not to curse. Just because some mysterious man came telling him that a couple of Kassarathi soldiers had been spotted in Brynhal, Aryan had gone straight to the King like it was the end of existence, convincing him that they had to attack Brynhal.

"What exactly do you plan to take in Brynhal, Lord Aryan?" Tristan asked, unable to remain quiet any longer, which resulted in a dark glare from the elder council member. "A few pirate ships? Refugee shelters?"

"They are building a fort," Aryan hissed.

"Which is a mere wall of rock barely the height of a child. A useless wall of rock atop the cliffs."

"Kassarathi forces have also been spotted at Brynhal."

"How many men? Twenty? Thirty?" Tristan turned to the King and folded his arms. "Is this why you dragged me all the way across from Grytia? To discuss an attack on a wasteland with nothing but rock and refugee tents?"

"Tristan, Brynhal is not just a wasteland of pirates and refugees," King William said in a calm, rather soothing tone. "If well-fortified, it can become a great stronghold between the borders of Nordenland and Vausterland."

"Exactly, just like you said, if well-fortified," Tristan said. "But the fact is, it is neither well-fortified, nor had it ever been a stronghold between Nordenland and Vausterland throughout the history of Engeldom."

"Then perhaps it is time for us to change that fact," William smiled gently. "We take Brynhal before the Kassarathi manage to secure it. And we fortify the city. We continue what they started, but for our own advantage. Their slaves and workers will continue to build that fort, but they will be building it for us. With securing Brynhal, we destroy the pirates' base, control the Red River, and we stop the Kassarathi from ever approaching the borders of Vausterland."

"Well said Your Grace," Aryan grinned, before he threw a side smirk at Tristan.

Tristan narrowed his eyes at Aryan and clenched his fists. He could not argue anymore, because even if he hated to admit it, what the king said actually made sense, which meant that Aryan managed to have his way in the end.

"Who was the man that warned you about the Kassarathi plans to attack us?" Tristan asked.

"What difference does it make to you who the man was?" Aryan sneered.

"Who the hell was he?" Tristan insisted.

"Vilfred Nordstrom." It was Crown Prince Stefan who answered, shrugging innocently as he received a dark glare from both Aryan and the King.

Tristan sat dumbfounded for a moment, before black rage blocked his vision. He stood up and turned to the King.

"Is it true?" Tristan asked through clenched teeth. "You listened to that bastard Northman? The very same fucker who betrayed us?"

"Lord Tristan, I believe this is not a way to speak before your King," Aryan scorned, and Tristan turned to him with a murder in his black eyes.

"If the King has a problem with the way I speak before him he will tell me so by himself," Tristan said.

Deadly silence fell over the room, and all eyes stared back at Tristan with silent reproach. He knew he had pushed it too far. But he was so furious now. He was the fool who had only just found out that it was Vilfred who gave them information on Brynhal. And the worst part about it was that not a single one of the council members sitting before him seemed to have a problem with that.

"Can someone fucking explain to me why are we suddenly allowed to trust that Northern bastard?" Tristan attempted to speak more calmly, but he still couldn't hide the fury in his voice. "Hasn't it crossed your minds for a moment that he might be setting us up?"

An unpleasant laugh came from Aryan's direction, and Tristan turned to him quietly, using all his willpower not to strangle the man.

"Lord Tristan, it amuses me how you think yourself the smartest person in the room," Aryan chuckled. "Do you really believe none of us has thought of that? That all of us here are just some fools instantly believing the words of a man who had betrayed us once before?" He shook his head. "That would even account as an insult to His Grace."

"Aryan, there is no need for that." William raised his hand.

"Pardon me Your Grace." Aryan inclined his head, before he turned back to Tristan with a sneer. "Lord Tristan, you must trust your King's judgement, and that of his council, which you also happen to be a part of."

"His council, which I happen to be a part of?" Tristan hissed. "Then why am I the last one to know about Vilfred Nordstrom being in contact with the King, and moreover giving us crucial information about our enemies?"

"Because, Lord Tristan, how could you have possibly known about all that while you were hundreds of leagues away in Grytia, enjoying your blissful honeymoon!" Aryan smirked. "So you see? While you had been... occupied with your new marital duties, we managed to perform all necessary investigation on Vilfred and the information he gave us. We have sent spies and scouts to Brynhal, who all confirmed that what he told us was true."

Tristan turned to look at the King, who only nodded at him in silence, confirming Aryan's words.

"We don't have much time to spare," King William said. "We'll need to organize a campaign for Brynhal. Aryan shall lead the Tyryan ships and attack Brynhal's coast from the north, while Tristan shall lead the ground forces and march inland from Grytia, attacking from the south."

Tristan clenched his fists beneath the table in resent. He had no problem organizing a campaign and attacking the wastelands of Brynhal, as long as it was what King William ordered him to do. But he had a huge problem with Aryan sitting so pompously across from him and smirking with triumph, believing himself to have won his way against Tristan.

But Aryan was not his only problem. Tristan had been planning to spend the coming months in getting close to Alina again. With Alina carrying his child, he could find many excuses to visit her, from checking on her wellbeing, to providing her with whatever necessities she needed for the coming baby. It would have been a perfect chance for them to fix the bonds that had been broken. It would have been a perfect chance to earn her love once more. If only that fucking Aryan had not brought up that issue of Brynhal.

But now Tristan had to leave Alina and go to war. He had to leave her and miss watching his child grow within her belly. He had to leave her when she still hated him, not knowing if she would ever love him again.

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