Chapter 3: The Crossroads
Chapter 3 • 160 Words
Arthur stood on the ridge, watching the campfires of his army in the valley below. The soldiers were sharpening their swords, their laughter carrying on the wind. Across the river, the lights of Oakhaven burned quietly, unaware of the storm gathering on their horizon.
He pulled a small parchment scroll from his sleeve—the draft of the treaty he had written in secret. If he delivered it to the city elders tonight, they might surrender peacefully before Hector's vanguard could attack. But if Hector found out, it would be treason. His own men would turn on him, and his father would disown him.
He looked at the iron ring on his finger, emblazoned with the crest of Kael-Drak. The path of his father was easy, paved with blood and gold. The path of peace was narrow, dangerous, and lonely. He slipped the scroll back into his pocket, took his horse's reins, and began his descent into the darkness of the valley.