Arthur slumped back in his father's huge wooden desk, feeling the crushing weight of being king press down on his shoulders.
Tactical maps were scattered all over the polished surface while he scribbled notes, figuring out where to put defenses and supply routes with laser-sharp focus.
Ever since he'd evolved into a Magister, complex battle strategies felt like solving simple math problems.
Three enemy armies coming from different directions. Still don't know who the traitors are. Running out of time before they all attack together.
His enhanced senses picked up footsteps approaching before anyone even knocked—Elliot's familiar walk, radiating nervous energy through the castle's stone walls.
"Come in," Arthur called without looking up.
"Your Highness, you called for me." Elliot stepped inside, carrying himself with that careful formal posture that had replaced their old childhood ease ever since Arthur's dramatic transformation.
