Blue

Eight

The war room was packed with generals and head warriors, most having to stand around the table as only the soldiers with the highest ranks could have a seat. The table held a map of the land around Pritor, little pieces scattered about the map showing formations of soldiers and palaces amongst other things. This map was used to plan different strategies to take over kingdoms and mark which lands had already fallen to Pritor.

Cyprian sits at the head of the table, sipping from a glittering goblet full of perfectly fermented wine, the deep red liquid staining his lips. He listens intently as one of his generals, Mattias, hovers his hands over the map, pointing to different structures and formations pertaining to their next raid which would be carried out within the next few days.

Farron and Rhys stood away from the group, watching from the corner of the room as the generals argued over which strategy was the best to pursue in taking over the small kingdom of Brojut.

The pair were not looking at battle plans, however, more so looking for men who were unhappy with the war as a whole. And one particular man stood out to them today.

A man named Grigor was the focus of their attention during the conference. Grigor was one of the newer generals, appointed after During several meetings, he voiced his displeasure about the war and what it could mean for the kingdom and its people. They planned to confront the man after the meeting. Corner him and propose their idea of a rebellion to him.

Only a few more plans needed to be put into play before they could kill Cyprian. A little longer before they would be free of his cruel reign.

"I say we take over these two countries before moving onto the Northern Isle," Mattias says. "The Isle is a large country with a staggering amount of loyal citizens who would fight for their kingdom even if their King were to fall. We need to tread lightly and not go full force as we typically do."

"I still think this plan to be extremely dangerous," Grigor says, making Farron and Rhys lean forward to better hear him. "We should not move forward with the attack on the Northern Isle. Should we not be appreciative of the land we have won already? It is pointless to try and gain control over a country so vast as the Northern Isle. There is no way we would win against such a strong kingdom no doubt with a perfectly skilled army behind them. It is suicide to go through with this."

"Then it is a good thing you are not king," Cyprian says, taking another slow sip from his goblet. "The final say lies with me. I want more land and taking down the Northern Isle would mean more land than one can dream of owning. Think of the cities, countries that damned king's ancestors had to demolish to get that kind of acreage! To gain more power, we must push forward and claim what we so desperately want. We will be attacking the Northern Isle after getting the last few kingdoms out of the way. We will be victorious, there is no other option. You'd best keep yourself in line or else I will strip you of your ranks and send you back to the farming city where you quite frankly belong."

Grigor sinks back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. He glances over at Rhys, their eyes meeting briefly before cutting away.

Yes, Grigor was the perfect man to set their sights on.

The meeting was over a few long hours later, the generals filing out in a single line. Farron and Rhys put their plan into action, following the warriors down a few hallways and down the winding stairs that lead to the palace courtyard.

Rhys finds Grigor in the crowd, waiting a long moment until they are close to the flower garden, a place they are least likely to be disturbed.

"Grigor," Rhys says, making the young general turn and face his King. "May I take a moment of your time?"