Chapter 492: Turmoil

The watchtower blazed with candlelight deep into the night.

Placido sat in his study, eyes closed, lost in thought. The words Ronin had whispered echoed through his mind—unsettling, urgent. If such a scenario truly unfolded, what choice should he make?

Should he uphold his convictions, risk his family’s entire legacy, and fight a battle that would likely end in ruin?

Or should he bear the shame, join the enemy, and survive?

His fingers tapped against the desk—a restless rhythm mirroring the turmoil in his heart.

For days now, he had sent word to his kin in the capital, Dragonspire. By all rights, a reply should have arrived soon.

Tap. Tap. Tap!

A sudden clatter of hooves shattered his thoughts.

It was already ten past midnight. Such urgency at this hour was unnatural.

He rose and stepped to the window. Below, two riders dismounted swiftly, speaking urgently to the guards at the gate. Moments later, a soldier sprinted toward the tower where Placido stood.

“Messengers from Mistveil,” he murmured, brow furrowed. “What could be so pressing?”

Without delay, he left the room and met the guard just outside.

“Bring them to the hall.”

Soon, they faced each other in the grand chamber below.

“My lord Viscount, I am Landen, a messenger knight under Count Ural, commander of the Mistveil front. I bring you his orders.”

He reached into his coat and offered the sealed letter with solemn reverence.

Placido hadn’t expected war to arrive so suddenly. His pulse quickened as he took the letter.

At that moment, his sister Merys entered the hall and sat quietly by the side, watching.

It seemed the time had come for the Carmine family to choose.

But as Placido read the contents, his face drained of color. He sank slowly into his chair.

“What is it?” Merys asked, puzzled. Even if Count Ural had ordered an advance, her brother would not wear such a haunted expression.

With effort, Placido spoke: “King Thamriel… is dead.”

Merys lifted a hand to her lips. “How can this be?”

He passed the letter to her and turned to the messenger.

“Knight Landen, what happened? The king’s strength may not have been legendary, but he was a Gold Knight. Barely sixty—hardly old for one of his rank, especially a monarch blessed with every comfort. How could he die of illness?”

Sixty was still youth for a Gold Knight. A man like the king should have lived another forty years without issue.

And yet, here he was—dead. Not in battle, but by sickness. Suspicion coiled in Placido’s chest.

His mind flashed to Ronin’s warning—the kingdom’s secret alliance with the infernal cult, the Sacred Storm of Magma Duchy.

Could it be that the alliance wasn’t with the late king, but with the crown prince, Tero, who now wore the crown?

“I… cannot say,” Landen replied. He was only a messenger. He knew the king had fallen ill, but the nature of the illness, any hidden truths—he knew nothing.

“My lord Viscount, my duty is done. Count Ural bade me warn you: upon hearing this news, the Kingdom of Oduin will likely launch an immediate assault on Mistveil. You must prepare to fight to the death.”

“Moreover, Emperor Tero has dispatched reinforcements—they are already en route to the front. Hold until they arrive!”

Placido’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Did the count not receive my letter? Westwind Hill is held by Marquis Ronin—a Solar Knight, accompanied by a magus and a monstrous dragon soaring above. How am I to withstand such power until aid comes?”

He paused, voice strained. “At the very least… send me a Silver Moon Knight?”

Landen’s expression tightened. He understood the imbalance—but orders were orders.

“The count received your message. But every sector of the line is under pressure. No more reinforcements can be spared. The knights and mage squad he sent you recently were the most he could afford.”

“He says,” Landen continued, “that like you, he has defended this frontier for years. Both he and his house have been favored by the crown. Now is the time to repay that debt.”

“If you fall and are captured, the kingdom will ransom you at any cost. If you die… Emperor Tero will elevate your children. Heroes shall never bleed in vain.”

Placido’s face remained still, but his heart clenched.

What did that last sentence mean? Was it a veiled reminder—your children are in Dragonspire?

He drew a slow breath. “I understand. Please tell Count Ural I will hold Watchtower. And I pray he sends aid swiftly.”

Landen smiled. “Then I wish you fortune in advance.”

He and his companion bowed deeply, then withdrew into the night, riding back to Mistveil to deliver their report.

“Brother,” Merys said softly, setting the letter aside. “King Thamriel was in perfect health. He couldn’t simply fall ill and die. There is treachery here.”

Placido nodded gravely. “It was Prince Tero who dealt with Magma Duchy all along. The alliance must be his. The king… perhaps…”

He dared not finish the thought.

“So Ronin’s warning… was true?”

“Perhaps. I had waited for word from our family. But now… I fear those in Dragonspire may no longer be able to reach us.”

A shadow crossed Merys’ beautiful face. “Then Robert and the others…”

Placido fell silent. His children studied in the capital—once thought the safest place in the realm. Now, it might be the most dangerous.

Yet all this was speculation, built on fragments of truth and whispers.

He picked up the letter again, rereading it slowly.

“To my knowledge, Mistveil holds three Silver Moon Knights and several Meteor Knights. Yet not one is sent to aid me. Instead, he invokes my children, my kin—as if to remind me where my loyalties must lie. He means to sacrifice us, preserve his own strength, and buy himself time.”

After a long silence, Placido made his decision.

“For Robert. For all of us. We must stand against Ronin.”

Qi surged through his body. The letter in his hand tore apart, shredded by invisible force.

In all of Watchtower, he was the strongest knight—a Starfall warrior. And his sister Merys, the most powerful mage.

But how could they fight?

Even if the fortress was strong, it would not withstand beings of such transcendent power.

“We must prepare for the worst,” he added.

Merys rose. She already knew his answer.

“No matter what comes, I will stand with you. Now, let us plan our defense. Tomorrow, we summon the captains of the knightly order and the leaders of the mage squad for a mobilization council.”

Placido nodded, drawing a deep breath. “One more thing—we must find a way to send word to Ronin.”

“I’ll handle it,” Merys said, confidence in her voice.

(End of Chapter)