CHAPTER 420: THE WAR OF THE SILVERSTONES

North of Savadra

The sun had only just slipped beyond the horizon, leaving the Silverstone estate draped in a darkness so complete it seemed to smother the surrounding sounds.

But within the castle walls, the night was restless. The courtyard breathed with activity — the crunch of boots on gravel, the muted jingle of horse tack, the low hum of orders passed just above a whisper. The air was sharp with the bite of late October, every breath blooming briefly in the torchlight before vanishing into the blackness of the night.

Above, the sky was a vast canvas of deep ink, pricked with cold yellow stars.

Torches blazed along the outer gates, their flames bending eastward under a steady wind.

At the top of the stone steps, Scarface leaned lazily against the balustrade beside one of his cousin’s commanders. Scarface was swaddled in a robe so ostentatious it seemed meant for a throne room, not a war council.

Below them, men labored in the half-light, strapping supplies, tightening saddles, and loading wagons that groaned under their burden. Beside Scarface, General Galil stood in stark contrast — armored, helmet under one arm, a man clearly ready for battle.

Riders waited at the gates astride restless mounts.. Supply wagons creaked under their load. Banners hung limp in the evening stillness, waiting to stir.

They had chosen the cover of night for their march — the Northem garrisons would not see them coming. Among the soldiers stood two kinds of men: Zuran-trained warriors whose loyalty was unquestioned, and Duke Silverstone’s knights, their obedience wrung from them by the threat hanging over their families, now prisoners in Zuran’s hands — at the very place meant to protect them.

A resounding trumpet call pierced the stillness, echoing off the ancient stones of Silverstone Castle. With an ear-piercing groan and a shudder that reverberated through the ground, the massive gates began to swing open, revealing the fortress’s majestic interior cloaked in mystery and history.

Commander Galil’s voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd in the courtyard like a clarion call. He raised his tone just enough to command attention, the sound echoing off the stone walls while sweeping over the gathered soldiers and citizens, each face turning toward him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Warriors of Zura! We march today as conquerors. We have waited enough for this day, and now is the right time. Our enemies are weak and foolish. We could defeat them easily. We will crush Northem beneath our boots, and they will never rise again!"

The Zuran soldiers answered with raised fists. A fierce, guttural cheer echoed through the walls of the courtyard to the chagrin of the knights who could only stand there and grit their teeth.

Then, with the heavy grace of a predator on the hunt, the column began to move. Five hundred strong warriors. The army wound down the narrow road flanked by silver pines and looming cypress. Hoofbeats beat like a slow war drum, the rhythm fading into the dark until the night swallowed them whole.

From their vantage point atop the rugged western wall, Asael, Galahad, Gideon, and the ten stalwart members of Asael’s Eagle Team stood cloaked in a tense silence.

In the cover of the night, they watched the Zuran army slowly vanish into the undulating hills, a tide of steel and shadow dissolving into the darkness. Each soldier’s face was etched with determination and worry, the weight of their mission palpable in the cool evening air. The distant echoes of marching boots faded, replaced by the soft rustle of wind through the surrounding trees.

Asael was the first to stir. Without a word, he strode to a section of the wall, pressed his hand against the cold stone, and pushed. Bricks shifted with a muted scrape, revealing a narrow opening.

"How did you find this hole, Asael?" Galahad asked as he dropped to his stomach and crawled his way through the opening.

Asael smirked. "Brother, this is practically my second home. We used this to slip past the knights when we were boys."

"You should’ve made them bigger. We look like dogs crawling through this," Galahad muttered, wriggling inside.

With a shrug, Asael pushed additional bricks that shifted obediently upon his touch, enlarging the entrance. Asael crouched and entered through.

Galahad froze, glaring. "Why didn’t you—"

"You didn’t ask," Asael interrupted with a grin, motioning for the others to follow.

One by one, the team slipped into the darkness beyond. Asael replaced the bricks, the wall closing behind them like the sealing of a tomb.

The night before, they had come aboard the Aerallon, a hundred strong army, making camp in the shadowed forest behind the estate. No fires were lit — the dark was their only shield.

Asael sat at the edge of the camp, sharpening one of his blades. That was when a young scout brought word: more hostages were being held in the keep, and five hundred Zuran warriors — with fifty unwilling knights — would march to reinforce Turik’s army in the capital.

After consulting his brothers and General Kellan, who had the same idea, they decided to infiltrate the castle and let the others in when the time came.

He had made the decision in a heartbeat. The only way to save the captives — and everyone in the castle — was from inside these walls.

Now, in the frigid darkness of the tunnel, Asael guided them farther into the shadowy depths beneath Silverstone Castle. The air was thick and heavy, a palpable silence enveloping them as the damp stone walls loomed close, slick with moisture. Torches cast flickering shadows that danced hauntingly along the jagged contours of the passage, revealing glimpses of ancient carvings that whispered stories of a forgotten past. Every step echoed, a reminder of Asael and Sigfred’s childhood, where they played hide and seek in these tunnels that led to the dungeons.

It was in these tunnels that he and Sigfred played with his sisters, making them cry from fear. Asael would laugh aloud once the girls begged to be let out. He took pleasure in their misery, especially Arabella. It was only later that he realized how bad he was.

"Just how many turns do these tunnels have?" Galahad grumbled.

Somewhere ahead, beyond these silent corridors, lay the hostages... loved ones whose rescue could break the Zuran threat on Northem.

And as they turned the final corner, Asael froze.

Because the corridor was not empty.