Chapter 409: Troubles in the North
Meanwhile, in the rolling emerald hills north of Savadra, the Silverstone Castle blazed beneath the late-afternoon sun, its pale stone ramparts gleaming like molten silver, like a beacon against a sea of silver pines and dark cypress.
The air was scented with pine and the faint resinous tang of cypress, and from a distance the fortress looked unassailable—its proud towers etched against the sky like a promise of safety.
But inside its keep—the fortress within the fortress—the air was different. It was thick, stale and too still. The grand chamber, meant to be a refuge in times of siege, had become a prison.
The scrape of boots on stone and the faint jingle of armor filled the silence between muted sobs. Women sat on the floor, clutching children to their chests, whispering comfort in voices too calm to be believed. The elderly hunched against the cold wall, their eyes cloudy, as though seeing something far away.
At the great double doors, a line of Zuran soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, hands resting on spear shafts, their expressions carved from stone. The Duke of Silverstone, his eldest son, Sigfred and two other sons waited in the corridor beyond.
"Your general swore that we could visit our families whenever we wished," the Duke declared, his voice a low growl, sharp with barely restrained authority. His piercing gaze bore down on the guard, a storm brewing behind his calculated demeanor. "What reason can you possibly provide for blocking our passage?"
A flicker of hesitation crossed the soldiers’ faces. Their eyes slid toward their captain. One slow, deliberate nod.
The doors opened with a reluctant groan, the smell of sweat and damp stone spilling out.
"Don’t even think about pulling any clever maneuvers or attempting something foolish, or I swear one of your daughters will pay the price," one guard hissed, his voice laced with a chilling severity that sent a shiver through the air.
The Duke’s jaw clenched. He stepped inside, each stride measured, though his pulse thundered. His gaze swept the room—his aging parents, seated together like weathered statues; his wife, outwardly calm but with eyes rimmed red from tears; his three daughters and daughters-in-law, each holding their children close.