​The Will of The King

I have never written a short story or anything before, at least nothing of my own. All I have done is craft lore for my dnd maps. Anyways this is basically a part of a bigger story in my dnd world. Constructive Criticism would be greatly appreciated.

Night had settled over the encampment below Kingsport’s walls. The salty air hung heavy in the air, with only the sound of distant waves occasionally breaking through the silence. Edric stepped out of his tent, and took a deep breath. His breath was heavy, but controlled. Out at sea, fog was calmly rolling in against the crashing of the waves.

He was tired. His army was tired. After two long years the war was finally at its close. He gazed over the valley of tents and dying fires. In the distance, he saw Kingsport. That reminded him of her. He exhaled. Two years. Her face appeared in his mind. As it had every night for the last two years. Then it passed, and he took a deep breath of cold sea air.

What if he had gone to Kingsport to negotiate instead of sending his wife. Every night, he reminded himself of her. He hated himself for it. Again, he let the salty air fill his lungs.

The siege had dragged on for days. Uncomfortably long, too costly. So close to the end but so far as well. But Kingsport refused to break. It was odd to him, as a boy he had always wished to see Kingsport at night. He would dream about the glow of the city from afar, calling his name. But not like this. Not this.

A snow raven clutching an arrow flew on the banner above him. Behind him, was the soft crunch of footsteps. Familiar footsteps. Not those of a soldier.

“Lord Snow,” came a voice that never needed to shout.

Edric stood still. “Lucien, you are late. Night has already fallen.” A pause came between the two. They were not hesitating. But thinking.

“I am precisely on time.”

Then, Edric turned.

The dim light of Lucien’s torch illuminated his dark black cloak. Behind him were two Vipermont guards.

“News from the scouts? It’s been two days.” Edric’s voice echoed in the empty night.

“That’s why I am here, m’lord…. Our scouts intercepted Crownhollow negotiators.” Something about the phrasing was off but Edric pushed it aside. Silence. Then a breath.

“Walk with me.” as he motioned for Edric to follow.

They walked past the command tents, and to the negotiation tents . The air inside was warm, too warm. Light pooled across the room, like a pile of gold. In the middle, sat two Crownhollow envoys. Unbound. They gave a quick glance at Lucien and then refocused their eyes towards Edric. Unease crept into Edric’s mind. Something was off.

Outside, the wind had picked up. The tent swayed with each gust.

“What is the purpose of this?” Edric had to raise his voice as the wind picked up. “You will soon see, lord of the north.” The envoy spoke with an unnatural calmness for someone in his position. “The King has a message for you, Lord Snow.”

Edric looked over to Lucien, who was walking towards him. Suddenly, a horn blew. Edric’s eyes narrowed at Lucien. Then it blew again, and once more. Edric stood, then the Envoys, then Lucien.

“That’s not our-” Edric was cut off by the sound of quick screams being cut off coming from outside. Then the clash of steel, and more screams. All at once, Edric understood. Not fully, but enough. The “missing scouts”, “messages lost”. It all made sense at once.

The Vipermont guards moved first, with a swift motion he cut one of Edric’s men open before he could scream. The other reacted quick enough to block a few swings, but was soon overpowered.

Edric readied himself, he began to draw his sword and then-

A steel dagger, sharper than the tooth of a snake plunged into his chest. Once more. Edric stumbled forward and fell. He reached out for the table and splintered the wood as he fell, piercing his hand. He hit the floor with a thud.

“Augh” He groaned.

He tried to push himself up but then he was stabbed again. This time in the back. Once, twice. He could feel the blood rushing out onto his back. Three times. Four. He flipped himself over and met the eyes of a man he once called friend.

“Why?” he rasped. “Because the King wills it.” Lucien drove the blade into his chest.

Edric gazed up. His mind was rampant. It was over. All over. Finally, the room above him faded into a blur of gold.