Interlude: The Defeated King

  The Month of Noel, Day 15, Year 681 of the Second Holy Calendar

  Once, the nd now known as Anttur was divided between two warring kingdoms: the Kingdom of Forester and the Kingdom of Ironhill. For nearly a century, they cshed, sacrificing tens of thousands of lives in a futile struggle—only for both to be conquered by the rising Towers Empire. Seeing the natural advantage of the region, a certain man established the city of Higgsbury, naming it after himself. He became the first patriarch of House Anttur.

  For eight unbroken generations, the leadership of House Anttur remained within the Higgsbury lineage. It was only with the fifth patriarch that they gained royal status. With the support of the Republic of Elefsina, they successfully revolted against the Kingdom of Redtower—a remnant state of the Towers Empire—founding the Kingdom of Anttur.

  Higgsbury I ruled for only seven years, barely securing the kingdom’s independence. His son and grandson would cement the dynasty’s legacy. Higgsbury II, a masterful diplomat and schemer, orchestrated a succession crisis in the Kingdom of Cygnets, splitting it in two and binding both halves as vassal states with minimal effort.

  His son, the future Higgsbury III, expanded Anttur’s influence further, conquering resource-rich territories from the Uscan Union—ter forming the kingdoms of Monica and Unica. He also seized nds from the Kingdom of Redtower, paving the way for the future Kingdom of Bck. Meanwhile, his father brought the Kingdom of Cabe into Anttur’s sphere without shedding a drop of blood.

  Higgsbury II’s 20-year reign of military and diplomatic triumphs ended with his death, and his son, Higgsbury III, ruled for only seven years before perishing in battle against the Kingdom of Triton. Ironically, despite his death, his army won the battle, successfully drawing the Kingdom of Esterberg into Anttur’s alliance.

  At the height of Anttur’s power, Higgsbury IV ascended the throne. The kingdom was rich, its armies seasoned, and its influence unparalleled. Yet, he proved incapable of upholding his forebears’ legacy. He lost numerous gold and silver mines to the Uscan Union, nearly surrendered the Kingdom of Cabe to a Jaxian invasion, suffered defeat against Triton, and saw the Kingdom of Bck revolt. His attempt to recim Bck ended in disaster, marking the start of a downward spiral.

  The kingdom’s misfortunes continued to mount. The Kingdom of Triton unched an invasion, and in response, Crown Prince Higgsbury was dispatched to lead the defense. However, the Kingdom of Greentowers struck unexpectedly, ambushing and killing the Crown Prince. The kingdom teetered on the brink of colpse.

  Just when all seemed lost, Andrew Anttur, the king’s second son, rallied the army. In a bold counterattack, he ambushed the Tritonian forces, sughtering 30,000 soldiers. Shortly after, he repelled the Greentower invasion. His victories earned him widespread accim, and with his mother’s backing, he was swiftly installed as the new Crown Prince. His triumphs earned him the moniker "The Golden Stallion."

  Yet, victory was fleeting. Andrew unched another invasion of the Kingdom of Bck, only to suffer a catastrophic defeat. He lost his sister and nearly 70% of his army, retreating in disgrace. The once-glorious "Golden Stallion" became derided as "The Gilded Stallion"—or, more mockingly, "The Gelded Stallion."

  Fortunately for Anttur, its neighbors were too preoccupied with their own conflicts to capitalize on its weakness. The Kingdom of Jax and the Uscan Union were locked in war, Greentowers battled its eastern foes, and Triton pursued innd expansion under Queen Marianne’s directive. However, while external threats were momentarily stalled, Anttur’s internal cohesion crumbled. The kingdom’s grip on its vassal states weakened, and the prestige of its monarchy plummeted.

  The Grand Council of Anttur, comprised of 1,000 noble seats, convened in a vast chamber. The royalists and anti-royalists were once again locked in heated debate.

  Duke Winston Seberg, one of the six remaining dukes, watched with growing frustration. He had inherited his title only three years prior but was already well-versed in the political ndscape. Once, there had been seven ducal houses, but the pro-Republican Duke of Elefsina had been expelled following the Republic’s defeat in the Great War. This shift had empowered House Feivel, which initially supported the crown but turned against it after Andrew’s failed invasion. Now, they led the anti-royalist faction, speaking of "restoring the kingdom’s pride," though their true intentions remained unclear.

  Unlike the fiercely divided factions, Winston took a more pragmatic stance. While disappointed in Andrew’s failures, he recognized that internal strife would only hasten Anttur’s colpse. The kingdom’s enemies watched hungrily, ready to pounce on any sign of weakness. Repcing Andrew with someone more capable might be necessary—but repcing the monarchy with House Feivel was folly.

  The debate dragged on. As protocol dictated, the highest-ranking nobles spoke first, effectively silencing the lower-ranked members. The cycle repeated: anti-royalist dukes denounced the monarchy, pro-royalist dukes defended it, and so on. Meanwhile, Andrew sat on his throne, unmoving. Rumors whispered that grief had broken him, that he mourned his sister’s death in silence. But Winston wasn’t convinced. The prince didn’t look defeated—he looked like a man biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Duke Feivel stood once more. "In this era of war, we cannot afford a leader who loses battles despite superior numbers."

  Six years ago, such a statement would have been unthinkable—a direct challenge to the monarchy’s authority. Now, it was commonpce, uttered in council halls, whispered at noble gatherings.

  Duke Lucere, an elderly stalwart of the pro-royalist faction, countered Feivel’s argument. He pointed out that past monarchs had suffered defeats without losing their right to command. But his argument rang hollow, and Feivel and Duke Tilton immediately seized on the weakness, further undermining the crown’s credibility. The anti-royalist tide was rising.

  Winston frowned. His concern for the kingdom deepened. Then, suddenly, the chamber doors burst open. A messenger strode in, undeterred by the chairman’s withering gre.

  "This is a meeting of the esteemed Lords and Ladies of the Kingdom! How dare you interrupt—"

  The messenger, a noble himself, met the chairman’s gre without flinching. "My apologies, my lord, but I bring urgent news. Galia Citadel has fallen."

  The chamber fell silent.