Chapter 7 - The Shadow of Varek
The victory at Blackwater Pass sent shockwaves through the northern territories and beyond. Within a fortnight, the lords of the border provinces—men who had sat on the fence waiting to see which tyrant would win—came riding into the capital to bend the knee to Queen Clara. They brought tribute, grain, and solemn oaths of fealty, realizing too late that the kitchen maid they had ignored for a decade possessed a strength far greater than any army Malrec had ever bought.
Yet, within the stone walls of Blackstone Palace, there was no time for celebration.
In the royal map room, Clara stood leaning over the massive stone table, staring at a new report brought by a scout from the northern frontier.
"The Iron Duke did not retreat back across the mountains," Clara said quietly, her finger tracing a mountain pass far deeper into Varek territory than they had ever mapped. "He is regrouping at the fortress of Blackspire. He has called upon every mercenary clan from the northern wastes."
Jared crossed his arms, his face grim. "Blackspire is a fortress carved directly into the living rock of the mountains. It has never fallen in three hundred years of warfare. If we march north to besiege it, our supply lines will stretch thin, and the winter will decimate our ranks before we even reach their gates."
"We cannot wait for him to come to us either," Queen Celestine said, stepping forward from the shadows of the arched doorway. She looked tired, the lingering stress of her twenty-four-year captivity and the recent trials weighing heavily on her shoulders, but her eyes burned with fierce determination. "If Varek consolidates his clans, he will return with twice the numbers in the spring, and this time he will burn everything down to the sea."
Clara looked between her mother and her commander, feeling the crushing weight of the crown pressing against her temples. For twelve years, she had worried only about washing blood from butcher’s knives and keeping Tomas safe from tax collectors. Now, she held the lives of millions in her hands.
"We do not besiege Blackspire," Clara said softly, a dangerous, brilliant light entering her eyes.
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Jared raised an eyebrow. "Your Majesty? If we don't lay siege, how do we take an impregnable fortress?"
"We don't send an army," Clara replied, straightening up from the table. "We send a delegation. Or more specifically... an invitation he cannot refuse."
