Chapter 6 - The Siege of Oakhaven
Three weeks after the battle of the Iron Pass, the northern army arrived at the outer gates of Oakhaven.
The grand capital was no longer the festive, light-filled city Adeline had entered a month prior. Panic had seized the metropolis. The surrounding fields were deserted, the granaries had been emptied into the citadel, and heavy black iron chains had been raised across the harbor to block all trade ships.
Inside the Grand Citadel, chaos reigned.
King Alistair had been locked away in his chambers by Cedric, who had officially declared himself Regent-King. But Cedric’s reign was built on shifting sand. The noble houses, seeing the destruction of the imperial vanguard at the Iron Pass, had begun to turn on one another.
Lady Roselyn’s father, the High Treasurer, had already attempted to flee the city with four chests of gold, only to be arrested by Cedric’s remaining loyalists at the southern gate.
Adeline set up her war camp on the surrounding hills overlooking the city. Her army had grown to eight thousand men—joined by southern lords who had abandoned Cedric’s falling regime to swear fealty to the true line of Asterwyn.
That night, Adeline sat in her command tent, staring at a map of the capital spread across a heavy wooden table.
Uncle Mathias entered, tossing a damp cloak onto a stool. “The siege lines are fully established, Empress. The city is sealed. In three weeks, they will run out of fresh grain.”
“We do not have three weeks, Mathias,” Adeline said quietly, looking up from the map. “The people inside those walls are innocent. They are peasants, cobblers, and children who had no part in Cedric’s arrogance. If I starve Oakhaven to take my crown, I will be no better than the usurpers who came before me.”
“The walls are forty feet of solid granite, child,” Mathias reasoned gently. “A direct assault will cost thousands of our men’s lives.”
Adeline stood up and walked to the flap of her tent, looking out at the distant, glittering lights of the Grand Citadel on the mountain peak.
“There is another way,” she said softly. “A way that requires only one person to risk everything.”
Mathias narrowed his eyes. “You cannot mean to go in alone.”
“I will not be alone,” Adeline said, turning her head as the low, comforting rumble of Varyn’s breath sounded from the dark hills behind her. “I have the key that opens every door in this empire.”
At midnight, beneath a starless sky, the shadows over Oakhaven deepened.
Varyn flew low, his pitch-black scales rendering him completely invisible against the night sky. He did not roar. He did not breathe fire. He glided silently on the dark drafts of the sea wind, sweeping over the outer battlements where sleepy imperial guards stood shivering in their coats.
With surgical precision, the dragon touched down softly upon the high terrace of the Royal Palace—the very balcony where the old kings had once looked out over their domain.
Adeline unlatched herself from the harness and dropped onto the marble tiles. She wore lightweight black leather, her mother’s silver sword strapped to her hip, and the golden circlet of Asterwyn secured firmly upon her brow.
She walked through the high archways of the palace interior. The halls were eerie, silent, lit only by sputtering oil lamps.
As she rounded the turn toward the throne room, she heard the sound of weeping.
She stopped. Resting against a gilded pillar was Lady Roselyn.
The treasurer’s daughter was stripped of her fine silks, wearing a plain, linen gown. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair unkempt. When she saw Adeline step out of the shadows, she let out a small, terrified gasp and collapsed onto her knees, clutching her hands together in desperate prayer.
“Please...” Roselyn wept, her voice shaking violently. “Please, Your Highness... do not kill me! I knew nothing! I only did what my father ordered!”
Adeline stood above the girl who had mocked her in front of four hundred nobles. She looked down at her—not with hatred, but with a deep, quiet pity.
“Get up, Roselyn,” Adeline said softly.
Roselyn blinked through her tears. “You... you are not going to execute me?”
“I do not execute children for the foolishness of their parents,” Adeline replied, her voice firm. “Where is Cedric?”
Roselyn pointed a trembling finger toward the heavy oak doors at the end of the corridor—the entrance to the high throne room.
“He is inside...” Roselyn whispered. “He has been drinking since sunset... He brought guards... he says he will burn the city before he gives up the throne.”
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Adeline stepped past the weeping girl, her boots making a soft, steady sound on the carpet.
She reached the doors, placed her hand on the iron latch, and pushed them open.
