Chapter 14.The Price of Defeat

"I am the King now, and you will do what I told you,"

-Prince Leo to Alaric

My P.O.V

Two days of relentless marching. Two days of dragging our broken bodies across the land, haunted by the screams of the fallen. Lion’s Crest was lost, Devran was dead, and Lanselot—the greatest knight in the realm—had perished buying us time.

By the time we reached Elria, we were barely more than shadows of the soldiers we once were. Eight hundred weary, bloodstained men, stumbling into the capital like ghosts. The walls of Elria had never seemed so distant, nor had its people seemed so untouched by war.

As we entered the gates, healers rushed forward, their hands searching for wounds to mend. Commoners lined the streets, whispering amongst themselves, confused and frightened. News of our disaster had not yet spread.

And then I saw her.

Aria.

She stood there, waiting for me at the city gates, with Ser Gildas at her side. For a moment, I felt like I couldn’t move. My armor was still slick with the blood of my enemies, my face smeared with sweat and grime. I smelled of death and fire, and yet, she ran to me.

Leo, however, had no hesitation.

The moment he saw our mother, he broke into a run. He collapsed into her arms, sobbing like a child. Queen Dowager Anna, usually composed and regal, wrapped him in an embrace, whispering soothing words into his ear.

I turned away. I couldn’t watch.

This wasn’t just a lost battle. It was the loss of two kings.

Lion’s Crest had fallen, Devran was gone, and Lanselot was dead. Our greatest warrior had perished. Our prince—our king—was slaughtered like a common soldier.

I felt my body sway. The weight of my exhaustion, my guilt, and my wounds all caught up to me at once.

The world tilted.

And then, there was nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in Elria anymore.

I was in Alverton.

The screams of the dying filled my ears. The scent of burning flesh stung my nose. I saw the battlefield, the bodies of my friends crushed beneath warhorses, their blood soaking the earth.

And then, I saw Lion’s Crest—the walls crumbling, the gates splintering, Devran falling with a sword through his gut. Lanselot, covered in the blood of our enemies, fighting like a madman until he was overwhelmed.

I saw Aidan and Francis—my men, my brothers—pulling me from the chaos, forcing me to live when I should have died with them.

Why?

Why am I still here?

I let them die.

I let Devran die.

I let Lanselot die.

I should be dead.

I deserve to be dead.

I woke up gasping.

The pain in my body was sharp, a cruel reminder that I was still alive. I groaned, trying to sit up, but my wounds made even the slightest movement agony.

And then I felt something warm beside me.

I turned my head and saw Aria—asleep in a chair, her face resting against my bedside. Her hands were folded, as if she had been waiting for me to wake up.

She must have watched over me all night.

I shifted, and the slight movement caused her to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment she saw me awake, she didn’t speak.

She just hugged me.

It wasn’t a gentle embrace—it was tight, desperate, as if she had been afraid I would disappear if she let go.

I closed my eyes.

For the first time in days, I felt something other than anger and grief.

It was good to be back in Elria.

“Devran is—”

She cut me off before I could finish.

“I know.”

Her voice was quiet, but firm. There was no trembling, no breaking.

She wasn’t crying.

She wasn’t a child like Leo.

She had always been stronger than him. Stronger than any of us.

“The Church gave him a funeral,” she continued, “but his body was never returned.”

I looked away. I didn’t know how to comfort her. I was never good at this.

Before I could say anything else, the door creaked open.

Ser Gildas stepped inside. His old, weathered face was unreadable, but there was hesitation in his voice.

“King Leo has called for a council.”

I frowned.

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“King Leo?”

Aria and I exchanged glances.

I saw it in her eyes—the same doubt, the same disbelief.

Leo? King?

It hadn’t even been three days since Devran died.

And already, the crown had shifted.

My P.O.V – The Throne Room

The air in the chamber was thick with tension as I stepped inside, flanked by Aria and Ser Gildas. The others were already seated—Queen Mother Anna, Ser Midryn, Ser Daudalus, and Lord Varus, their faces a mixture of impatience and exhaustion. But my attention was immediately drawn to the throne.

Leo sat upon it.

My stomach twisted at the sight. It wasn’t anger or even disappointment—it was something far worse.

Disbelief.

I took a step forward, my boots echoing in the vast chamber.

“Why are you sitting on that throne?” My voice cut through the room.

Leo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrests like he belonged there. “Because I’m the king now.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Since when?”

Queen Anna lifted her chin, her tone laced with authority. “Since Devran left no heir. His title passes to his brother, as it should.”

I exhaled sharply, running a hand down my face. “Devran’s body isn’t even cold yet, and you’ve already seized his seat?”

Ser Midryn bristled at my words. “You will watch your tongue, bastard.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Aria stepped forward before I could. Her voice was firm, unwavering.

“Enough, Midryn.” She turned to our mother, her expression filled with frustration. “And you—why do you always speak of Alaric like he’s filth? After everything he’s done, you still refuse to acknowledge him.”

Queen Anna’s gaze was ice. “Because he is not one of us.”

Aria clenched her fists. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

Queen Anna let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “Oh, don’t act so naïve, Aria. He is a stain on your father’s legacy, standing here pretending he belongs. I will never call him my son.”

Aria’s voice was a quiet, simmering rage. “Then you are a fool.”

The room fell into a dead silence.

Queen Anna’s nostrils flared. “You have always defended him. Always sided with him. Why?”

Aria didn’t hesitate. “Because someone in this family needs to see reason.”

For the first time, the Queen Mother was speechless.

Leo, visibly uncomfortable, cleared his throat. “Enough of this. We have more important matters to discuss.” He straightened on the throne, as if that would make him look more like a king. “Eadric will march on Elria soon. We must defend it.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “No, we aren’t defending Elria.”

Leo frowned. “What?”

I met his gaze. “We’re leaving.”

The room erupted.

Ser Midryn slammed his hand on the table. “Abandon the capital? Are you mad?”

Queen Anna glared daggers at me. “Feldyns do not flee.”

Leo shot up from the throne, his face twisted in outrage. “If we abandon Elria, I have no claim to the throne!”

I deadpanned. “You don’t.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Leo’s face burned red with fury. “How dare you—”

I cut him off, stepping forward. “This isn’t about you. It isn’t about your throne. It’s about survival.”

Ser Midryn still looked furious. “We can defend Elria! The city walls—”

“With what army?” I snapped. “We have eight hundred men. Wounded, starving, demoralized. Eadric’s forces are at full strength. He crushed us at Lion’s Crest. What makes you think he won’t do the same here?”

Queen Anna’s lips curled in disdain. “You underestimate our defenses.”

I turned to her sharply. “No, you overestimate them.”

She had no response.

I exhaled and spoke more evenly. “We have one chance. We must regroup, secure reinforcements, and forge alliances. That means heading to Iza.”

Lord Varus, who had remained quiet, finally spoke. “Duchess Irene.”

I nodded. “Her Duchy is the closest neutral ground. But she’s struggling with rebelling vassals. If we help her, we can earn her trust. And if we persuade her to back us, we might actually stand a chance.”

Queen Anna scoffed. “You would have us beg for her aid?”

I turned my glare onto her. “Enough with your pride.” My voice was sharp, cutting through the room. “You lost two kings in the span of a year. You’re losing this war. It’s time to listen to your vassals.”

Ser Gildas, who had remained silent, finally spoke. His deep voice carried authority.

“The boy is right.”

All heads turned to him.

Ser Gildas exhaled, crossing his arms. “I fought in many battles, many wars. And I have seen pride lead men to ruin.” He looked directly at Leo. “Your brother gave Alaric command of the army for a reason. Do not ignore his final decision.”

Leo hesitated. “But—”

Ser Gildas continued, unwavering. “If we stay in Elria, we will die. Every last one of us. Alaric’s plan is sound. Our only option is to retreat and secure allies.”

The chamber remained silent.

For once, Leo had nothing to say.

I took a step forward. “We leave in three days.”

Queen Anna stiffened. “You do not command here, bastard.”

I met her gaze, unflinching. “Then command your own army.”

She fell silent.

Leo swallowed hard but didn’t object.

The decision had already been made.

Lord Varus P.O.V

The bastard was the only man with a shred of sense in the chamber.

Queen Anna, blind with arrogance. Leo, too obsessed with his throne to see reality. Ser Midryn, too proud to admit the truth.

And yet, Alaric—the boy they scorned, the one they refused to acknowledge—was the only one who understood what needed to be done.

It was no wonder Devran gave him command.

It was no wonder he survived Lion’s Crest.

Leo was not his brother. Devran had been a cautious leader, a man who knew when to fight and when to cut his losses. He had chosen Alaric to command his forces for a reason.

And yet, the fool now sitting on the throne was about to throw it all away.

I could see it clearly—the entire kingdom teetering on the edge of collapse.

If they stayed in Elria, they were finished.

The Queen Mother refused to see it. Leo refused to see it.

But Alaric?

Alaric understood.

And as I watched him stand against the Queen, against the so-called king, against an entire council of men unwilling to accept reality—one truth became abundantly clear.

The future of this kingdom did not rest on Leo’s shoulders.

It rested on Alaric’s.

My P.O.V – The Courtyard

Preparations had begun for our retreat, but there was little for me to prepare. **My armor. My sword. That was all I needed.

I stepped into the courtyard, and the sight before me was grim.

Wounded soldiers lay sprawled across the ground, their bodies too weak to move. The hospital tents were already overflowing, the Royal Church had been converted into a makeshift infirmary, and even the Weeping Soldier—once a lively tavern filled with the laughter of veterans—had become a sanctuary for those too broken to stand.

I remembered that place well. It was where Ser Hector and I would drink after long campaigns, drowning our regrets in ale and old war stories.

Ser Hector…

I hadn’t seen him at Lion’s Crest. He had retired from my service before the war turned bitter, but I had heard nothing of him since. Had he joined Eadric? Had he chosen to fight against us?

I didn’t know.

I pushed the thought aside and focused on the reality before me.

This was a disaster.

How could we retreat with so many wounded? How could we move with soldiers barely able to stand?

And worse—the path ahead would be brutal.

With Lion’s Crest lost, our best route to Iza was gone. The Drowning River was out of the question; its currents were too wild, too unpredictable this time of year. That left only one path—north, then west, then south. A long, grueling journey, nearly twenty days of marching through unfamiliar terrain.

I exhaled a weary sigh.

Damn it.

My wounds throbbed with fresh pain, a sharp reminder of the battle I barely survived. I pressed a hand to my side, breathing through the ache. Damn it all. This would slow me down.

Then, I heard her voice.

Aria.

She stepped beside me, her eyes scanning the courtyard, taking in the suffering around us.

I frowned. “You shouldn’t be here. This sight… it’s not for royalty.”

She shrugged. “I’ve seen you **covered in blood** more times than I can count, Alaric.” Her voice was steady, but there was a shadow in her gaze. “This… is horrifying. But I need to see it.”

I turned to her, unsure of what to say.

She continued, her voice quiet. “War is pointless.” She glanced at a soldier groaning in pain, a healer desperately trying to stop the bleeding. “Especially a civil war. Brothers against brothers.”

I followed her gaze and let out a slow breath.

“…I couldn’t agree more.”

For a moment, we stood in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on us. Then, Aria suddenly smirked.

“I prepared some clothes for you,” she said lightly, tilting her head at me.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because you’re filthy, Alaric. You still have dried blood on you.”

I shrugged. “I rarely bathe.”

Aria’s smirk vanished, replaced by pure frustration.

“Alaric!” she scolded. “That’s exactly why I did it! You’re disgusting! No wonder you still haven’t found a woman—who would even want you like this?”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed.

Or, I tried to. The moment the chuckle left my lips, a **sharp pain** tore through my side. I gritted my teeth, groaning as I pressed a hand to my wound.

Aria’s frustration immediately turned to concern. “Alaric!” She reached for me, steadying me before I could stumble. “See? This is why you should take care of yourself!”

I sighed. Damn it.

She shook her head, still scowling. “Come on. You’re getting cleaned up, whether you like it or not.”

I groaned again—but this time, not from pain.

Eadric’s P.O.V. - Lion's Crest

Two days had passed since my grand victory, but it hardly felt like one. The bodies still rotted in the streets of Lion’s Crest, the stench of death mixing with the foul scent of sickness. Consumption had begun to spread after some of my men foolishly drank from the river. Now, we had no proper water supply. There were a few barrels left in the fort’s reserves, but with over 12,000 men occupying this fortress, they wouldn’t last long.

My supply lines were stretched thin. I had pushed my army to the limit marching this far, and now I questioned whether we could even hold this damned place. If Alaric’s retreat had been intentional—to leave us to rot in a diseased stronghold—then I had underestimated him.

A loud knock on my chamber door pulled me from my thoughts.

"Enter," I said.

Ser Hector stepped inside, his face grim. I had kept him from the battle, not fully trusting his loyalty. He had served Alaric, after all. I needed to be sure he wouldn't hesitate if it came down to killing his former liege.

"The disease worsens," Hector reported. "Healers have confirmed 127 men showing signs of Consumption today alone. Seventy-seven are already dead."

"Damn it," I muttered, clenching my jaw.

Before I could say anything else, another voice cut in.

"So much for a grand victory," Edward said as he entered the chamber. My son was tall, with his mother’s sharp features but my steel-gray eyes. He was young, but he had the mind of a seasoned commander.

"Watch your tone," I warned him, though I couldn’t deny the truth of his words.

Edward crossed his arms. "I told you we should’ve bypassed Lion’s Crest and gone straight for Elria. Now we sit in a fortress with no clean water and dwindling supplies while Alaric regroups elsewhere."

"Bypassing the fort would have left a stronghold behind us," I countered. "Alaric could have used it to harass our supply lines."

"And now we're trapped in it, barely able to sustain ourselves," Edward shot back. "This was his plan, wasn’t it? He knew we’d take Lion’s Crest. He knew we’d bleed for it. Now, he's out there rallying support while we're stuck in this godsforsaken ruin."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I cannot march yet. Not with my men sick and exhausted."

Edward frowned. "If we don’t move soon, Alaric will turn the tide. You need to make a decision, Father. Either we hold and die here, or we march and take Elria before he gathers strength."

He was right. If Alaric convinced one of the Crown’s vassals to join him, the balance of power would shift. This war wasn’t won yet, and I was beginning to realize that my greatest challenge wasn’t the battlefield—it was outmaneuvering Alaric before he outmaneuvered me.

"You lost at the Siege of Lion's Crest and now you want my Support?"

-Duchess Irene to Alaric