Kyrios, the dark prince

“Patience,” Kyrios commanded, his voice husky and toneless. Only the sounds of the forest morning—small creatures stirring and rolling fog weaving through the trees—could be heard. The prince stood high on a branch, weapons strapped to his back, muscles tense in anticipation. His men, the best of his personal guard, hid nearby, poised to act at the slightest signal.

But nothing should happen. He was here to observe—to find weaknesses and plot a course forward. Sameia, his city, was under siege by southern barbarians. Or so the propaganda wheel spun. In truth, Kyrios knew these people to be neither barbarians nor simple. Sameia had survived for centuries as the continent’s cultural heart. Its streets, rumored to be paved in silver and lined with rubies, had lured countless invaders. This enemy was no different.

Here, just outside the city within the autumn forest, Kyrios felt the weight of his responsibility. Within the palace walls, life carried on as though nothing had changed. Courtiers feasted, poets sang, and merchants traded. But this mission was his reminder of reality, a truth he could not escape.

Time passed, the morning mist giving way to pale sunlight. Kyrios’s sharp eyes tracked every movement in the clearing below. A caravan of weaponry passed first, its handlers—chatty old men—unknowingly spilling precious details. They spoke of reinforcements and strategies, oblivious to the forest’s ears. Next came hunters, skilled but focused only on the ground ahead of them. Each passing figure told Kyrios a story, one that painted a clear picture of an enemy preparing for a long campaign.

He was ready to withdraw. The sun was now high in the sky, and other matters demanded his attention. Then, from the underbrush, a solitary figure emerged. They moved with deliberate purpose.

Kyrios descended silently, landing just behind the figure. This trespasser could prove useful as a bargaining chip, he was curious as to what tunes this lost little bird would sing.

“Wrong day to brave my forest,” Kyrios said, his tone low and measured, each word carrying an unspoken warning. “Explain yourself.”