Page 49 of Warlord’s Plaything

49

XYRON

T he walls of this fucking world are starting to crumble. I’m watching it crack within the secret room of the chamber.

I can feel it.

The weight shifting.

The foundations breaking beneath Kaelith’s feet, shaking under the pressure of the war he thought he controlled.

The council chamber is filled with smoke and voices raised too high, too sharp, too fucking fragile.

The space is overflowing with the aroma of burning incense and paranoia.

The room feels smaller than usual, or maybe that's just Kaelith’s power shrinking by the second.

"You dare accuse me of treachery?"

Kaelith’s voice is pure venom.

Cold, smooth, laced with the kind of arrogance that belongs to a man who doesn’t yet realize he’s already lost.

He stands at the head of the chamber, his usual control slipping, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Not shaking.

Not yet.

But it’s coming.

One of the councilmen—an older one, a viper who has lived too long in the shadows—steps forward.

"You have been withholding information, Kaelith."

His voice is like a dagger slicing through silk.

"We have seen the reports. The orcs are uneasy. They are questioning their position. And now… these letters."

A crumpled piece of parchment is thrown onto the table.

One of the many Hira planted.

And it does its job beautifully.

Kaelith doesn’t look at it.

Doesn’t move.

But I see it?—

The flicker in his eyes.

The split-second calculation, the sharp inhale.

He knows.

He fucking knows his house of cards is starting to fall.

"Lies."

The word is smooth. Dismissive.

But not as steady as usual.

Not as powerful.

Not as fucking untouchable.

"Lies?" The viper councilman chuckles, dark and knowing. "Then explain why the orc war chiefs have suddenly started refusing direct orders? Explain why our own men are whispering of betrayal in the halls? Explain why our spies report discord among the ranks?"

His voice rises.

"You think we are blind, Kaelith?"

The entire chamber goes silent as if everyone’s holding their breath. Then it happens. The shift. The fucking crack in the glass.

"You cannot rule with power alone, Kaelith."

A new voice. A different voice. One of Kaelith’s so-called loyalists—one of the spineless council members who has spent years licking his boots.

Turning on him.

Just like that.

Like a fucking jackal sensing a dying king.

I lean back in my seat, silent.

Watching.

Waiting.

Feeling the weight of the inevitable slide into chaos.

Kaelith takes a step forward, his mouth curling into something sharp, something full of rage.

"Do you fools truly believe the orcs would be anything without us? Do you believe they have power? They have steel and muscle, but they have no strategy, no control ? —"

"And yet you seem terrified of them turning against you."

Valis.

His voice is smooth as silk, calm as the fucking abyss.

The trap snaps shut.

Kaelith turns sharply, his eyes locking onto Valis’s face like a predator sizing up a rival.

But he says nothing.

He doesn’t have to.

The damage is done.

Doubt has already taken root.

The council is no longer his.

I exhale slowly.

Kaelith knows.

He knows he has lost the room.

His jaw tightens, his fingers flex.

He’s thinking.

Calculating.

Trying to find a way out.

Looking for his chance to still come out on top.

But I already know what happens next.

He's cornered.

And a man like Kaelith?—

He won’t go down without making this war burn.

"Enough."

His voice is quieter now.

Controlled.

Cold.

The chamber settles into uneasy silence.

"We will deal with this. We will remind the orcs where their place is."

His gaze cuts through the room like a blade, lingering on those who have questioned him, those who have spoken against him.

Marking them.

Like a predator committing its prey to memory.

His eyes land on the secret chamber’s entrance as if he knows I’m watching.

The tension in the air is thick.

Like fucking tar.

Like a storm waiting to rip apart the sky.

His lips curl, just slightly.

He doesn’t speak.

Not to me.

But I see it.

I see the threat.

I see the silent promise.

This isn’t over.

Not yet.

I let my smirk widen. Let him see exactly what’s coming.

He doesn’t have control anymore.

The council is crumbling under his feet.

Because soon, his entire fucking empire will burn.

And when it does?—

I will be the one standing over the ashes.