A thin mist shrouded the plains before Rivermount. From a distance, the city
walls loomed gray, lit only by the flickering watchfires atop its towers. The
silhouettes of Riverbend archers stood tense, their bodies rigid, their eyes
restless. The morning air felt heavy, like the breath of the world was held
back, waiting for the storm to break.
At the front of Valoria's lines, Arthur stood tall. Two katanas crossed his
back, his black-and-violet cloak billowing in the wind. His gaze never left the
enemy walls, yet he turned briefly to Lionel Drest.
"Lionel," he said quietly, sharp as steel, "do not chase those who flee. Let
those who want to live, live."
Lionel bowed his head, voice steady with respect. "As you command."
Arthur raised his hand, blue runes glowing faintly from his sheath. His
voice, amplified by magic, boomed across the field, striking the city walls and
drilling into the hearts of every soldier who listened.
"Soldiers of Riverbend!" he called. "If you cannot fight, run into the city.
Kneel. I will not kill a soul that has lost the will to fight."
Silence swept over the battlements. Young faces glanced at each other,
fingers trembling on bowstrings. Some had already lowered their eyes, unsure if
they could truly stand their ground.
Then heavy steps echoed. A man in black-and-red armor strode forward, his
greatsword glinting against the pale morning light.
"I am Kaelen Durn, General of Riverbend!" he roared, his voice shaking the
air. "Any who retreat will die by my hand! Better your blood spills here than
you shame your families by fleeing!"
Veterans shouted in grim approval, but the younger men paled further. Their
hearts were torn between the general's iron command and the enemy's unexpected
mercy.
Arthur lowered his hand. His voice was soft, but carried a deadly chill.
"Then it will be your blood that pays the price."
He raised his arm high. "Mana cannons—bring down the gate!"
Seventy colossal barrels turned as one, runes along their frames burning
bright blue. The air rumbled, and Arthur's voice cut through it like a blade:
"Fire!"
The earth shook. Explosions ripped through the fog, shattering the barrier
at the gate. Stone cracked, iron screamed, soldiers were hurled from their
posts. A second volley struck the walls, tearing them apart like paper before a
storm tide.
Arthur drew both katanas. The black blade thrummed with the weight of
gravity runes, the silver gleamed with reflected dawn. Raising them high, he
shouted,
"Forward!"
The roar of thousands of Valorian soldiers split the air. Shields locked,
mages raised blue domes against arrows and fire. Lionel charged at the head of
the column, his sword flashing, his cry carrying, "For Valoria!"
The clash erupted. Steel met steel, magic met screams. Blood sprayed, mud
churned, the battlefield drowned in shouts and death. Many Riverbend youths
fell, some dropping their weapons entirely—but Kaelen roared, cutting down two
of his own men as they tried to run.
"There are no cowards in Riverbend!"
Arthur strode forward, qi surging from the Heavenly Valior Technique. His
eyes locked with Kaelen's. For a heartbeat, the chaos dimmed, as if the world
itself gave way for the duel of two leaders.
"Come, pretender!" Kaelen bellowed. "I'll break your blades and claim your
head—Elara's head will follow!"
Arthur did not answer. He exhaled once, then moved. The twin blades spun
like shadows, parrying each swing of Kaelen's greatsword. Steel rang, sparks
burst.
Arthur's breathing deepened. His movements shifted into rhythm—each slash
flowing into the next. The two blades danced, alternating strikes and guards, a
storm of steel that pressed relentlessly forward. It was the Dual Blade Dance,
a deadly waltz of twin swords that gave no room to breathe.
Kaelen fought back, but his steps grew heavy. The earth seemed to clutch at
his boots. Each time his sword met the black katana, the weight dragged it
lower, slower—as if the world itself sought to drag him down.
Arthur spun, his silver katana slicing across Kaelen's shoulder, leaving a
bloody gash. Kaelen roared, mana bursting around him, but Arthur did not
falter. His qi carried him light and swift, his blades flashing in an endless
storm.
At last, with a crossing motion, Arthur forced Kaelen's sword wide, then
drove the black blade straight through his armor. Gravity crashed down with the
thrust, breaking bone beneath steel.
Kaelen choked blood, eyes wide in disbelief. Arthur leaned close,
whispering: "You did not die for Riverbend… only for your pride."
Kaelen collapsed with a heavy thud, his greatsword falling beside him. With
him, the spirit of Riverbend's defenders broke. Cries of despair rose, weapons
clattered to the ground, many fled, the rest surrendered.
By nightfall, Rivermount had fallen. Streets ran with tears and cries,
bodies lay scattered, weapons abandoned. In the square, Arthur stood firm, both
swords still in hand, his voice magnified by rune.
"People of Riverbend!" he thundered. "I did not come only because of a
broken treaty. I came for the heart of a woman—your princess, Elara Riverbend!"
Elara stepped forward, tears glistening on her cheeks though her gaze was
steady. "I am Elara, daughter of Alden. I was cast aside, hunted, forgotten.
Yet my love for this land never dimmed. Today I return, not as a captive, but
as your queen."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then a voice cried out, "Elara!" Others
joined, tens, then hundreds, until the square shook with the chant: "Elara!
Elara Riverbend!"
Arthur raised his swords high. "Riverbend will rise, not under traitors, but
beneath its rightful heir!"
In Riverbend's palace, a storm raged in the council chamber. Roderick sat
pale on the high chair, surrounded by shouting nobles.
Lord Gareth slammed the table. "Enough! Rivermount has fallen, Kaelen is
dead! How many more will you sacrifice, Roderick? Our children?!"
Lord Veymar sneered, face red. "Silence, Gareth! Better to die standing than
live on our knees before Valoria!"
"Standing?" Gareth strode forward, eyes blazing. "You're blind, Veymar!
You've thrown thousands of boys into the cannons' mouths for your pride!"
Lady Miriel rose, voice trembling. "I've already lost my nephew at the
river. Don't ask me to give my sons as well! If you keep this madness,
Roderick, we'll pull our troops tonight!"
Lady Serene spat bitterly. "Then leave! Let Riverbend be defended by those
with courage left!"
Lord Eamon finally spoke, his tone cold as ice. "Courage? Or foolishness?
Valoria shattered your walls like parchment. Do you think they will stop at
Rivermount?"
Baron Kalden bowed his head, voice heavy. "The lords loyal to Alden are
united. If you refuse to surrender, we withdraw. We will not let our children's
blood be wasted."
Chairs scraped, boots thundered. Some nobles stormed out, taking their
forces with them.
Roderick lurched to his feet, pale and desperate. "You cannot leave!
Sunstones, Veritas—they will come! They promised!"
Lord Eamon halted at the door, turning with a cutting glare. "I read their
replies. They will not intervene, no matter what you offer. You are alone,
Roderick."
The chamber fell silent. Roderick sank back into his chair, face buried in
his hands.
Baron Kalden's sigh was the final weight. "You have only six thousand
soldiers left."
Roderick's voice cracked. "Then… we surrender."
At dawn, white banners unfurled above Rivermount. A letter of surrender was
carried to Valoria's camp.
Arthur read it once, Elara standing beside him. "They surrender," he said
flatly.
Elara wept, clutching his hand. "At last… my home is ours again."
Arthur looked up at the palace towers, whispering, "Come, Elara. It's time
for Riverbend to welcome its queen."
They mounted their horses, entering the city to the cries and tears of its
people—welcoming back the princess they thought lost forever.