The War Hall of Kresh'tovara stretched before King Aldric like a monument to military tradition. Unlike the intimate council chambers of Mieua or Stone's End, this vast space could accommodate hundreds of officers when fully assembled. Ancient banners hung from iron chains along the stone walls, each one representing centuries of Seleune'mhir's defensive campaigns. The central table, carved from mountain oak and reinforced with iron bands, bore the scars of countless strategic discussions.
King Aldric stood at the table's head, his weathered hands braced against the polished wood surface. At sixty-three, the king carried himself with the dignity of a ruler who had guided his mountain kingdom through four decades of careful neutrality. His gray beard was neatly trimmed, his ceremonial armor polished to a mirror shine, but the weight of recent events showed in the lines around his eyes.
The war hall felt different today. News of Misaki's declaration had arrived via Princess Ly'ra's messenger three days ago, and the implications still reverberated through every level of government. A saint declaring independence. A holy kingdom carved from Seleune'mhir territory. The abolition of six centuries of defensive doctrine.
General Wewekca paced near the eastern wall, his boots clicking against the stone floor in a rhythm that matched his agitation. The general's opposition to abandoning Seleune'mhir's defensive doctrine had been unwavering for months, even before the Seventh Saint's divine mandate. At fifty-eight, Wewekca represented the old guard, military officers who had built their entire careers around the principle that Seleune'mhir served as a shield, not a sword.
"Your Majesty," General Wewekca said, stopping his pacing to face the king directly. "Going against the Seventh Saint is going against the gods themselves. We cannot simply ignore divine mandate."
Prince Saqi stood near the great windows that overlooked Kresh'tovara's capital plaza. Unlike his father's ceremonial armor, the thirty-four-year-old prince wore practical military dress that suggested a man more comfortable with action than ceremony. His dark hair was pulled back in the military style favored by younger officers, and his stance carried the restless energy of someone who had been advocating for change long before divine visions made it inevitable.
"The Saint's mandate wasn't directed at us," Prince Saqi said without turning from the window. "He declared independence for Mieua, not rebellion for the entire kingdom. The decision to modify our doctrine remains ours to make."
General Wewekca's jaw tightened. "Your Highness, with respect, the Seventh Saint specifically abolished Seleune'mhir's defensive doctrine. His divine vision encompassed the entire realm, not just Stone's End."
"Did it?" Prince Saqi finally turned from the window, his expression carefully controlled. "Or did a saint establish his own kingdom with its own military philosophy? The two interpretations lead to very different courses of action."
King Aldric raised his hand, silencing the brewing argument before it could escalate. The gesture carried the authority of four decades on the throne, the weight of a ruler who had navigated countless political crises through careful consideration rather than hasty action.
"Both perspectives have merit," the king said, his voice carrying across the vast hall. "But we must consider practical implications alongside divine mandate. General Wewekca, what is your assessment of our current military readiness?"
The general straightened, falling back on professional analysis. "Our defensive capabilities remain strong, Your Majesty. The mountain passes are well-fortified, our garrison cities are fully supplied, and our officer corps maintains high readiness standards. For pure defensive operations, Seleune'mhir can repel any invasion force."
"And for offensive operations?"
General Wewekca's hesitation spoke volumes. "We... lack the logistical infrastructure for extended campaigns beyond our borders. Our supply chains are designed for internal distribution, not field armies operating in foreign territory. Our training emphasizes defensive tactics, not siege warfare or mobile operations."
Prince Saqi stepped forward, sensing an opening. "Which is exactly why Father should listen to the Saint's vision. Our defensive doctrine has served us well, but it's also limited us. The world is changing, and Seleune'mhir must change with it."
"Change to what end?" General Wewekca demanded. "Your Highness, you speak of abandoning six centuries of successful policy, but for what purpose? What do we gain by becoming aggressors?"
The prince's eyes blazed with conviction. "We gain the ability to act instead of merely react. Justice, General. When evil spreads across our borders, when innocent people cry for help, we gain the power to answer their call."
King Aldric studied his son carefully. Prince Saqi's advocacy for abandoning the defensive doctrine had grown more passionate over recent months, but something in his tone suggested deeper motivations than simple military philosophy. The king had ruled long enough to recognize when political arguments masked personal ambitions.
"Prince Saqi," the king said slowly, "what specific actions do you propose? If we were to... modify... our traditional approach?"
The prince moved to the strategic map mounted on the hall's southern wall, where colored pins marked territorial boundaries and military installations. "Ul'varh'mir remains under Vel'koda'mir occupation. Thousands of civilians suffer while we debate protocol. The Saint's new kingdom of Mieua has declared its intention to liberate those territories."
"With what army?" General Wewekca interjected. "Stone's End has perhaps three hundred professional soldiers. Admirable for city defense, utterly inadequate for siege warfare against entrenched positions."
Prince Saqi's smile carried dangerous confidence. "Unless they had support. Seleune'mhir support. Our engineering corps could provide siege equipment. Our supply lines could sustain extended operations. Our mountain-trained soldiers know terrain warfare better than any force on the continent."
The implications hung in the air like drawn steel. King Aldric felt the weight of the moment, understanding that his next words would determine Seleune'mhir's path for generations. Support Mieua's independence and abandon six centuries of neutrality. Oppose the Seventh Saint and risk divine displeasure. Maintain the status quo and watch while neighboring kingdoms burned.
"Father," Prince Saqi said quietly, moving closer to the king. "The Seventh Saint's vision wasn't just about Mieua. It was about justice. About standing against the darkness that threatens this entire continent. We have the power to make a difference."
General Wewekca stepped forward, his opposition unwavering. "Your Majesty, I urge caution. Military adventures beyond our borders risk everything we've built. Our mountain kingdom survives because we don't threaten our neighbors. Change that, and we invite retaliation from powers that could devastate our settlements."
The debate continued as afternoon shadows lengthened across the war hall's stone floor. Outside the great windows, Kresh'tovara carried on its daily rhythms, citizens unaware that their kingdom's fundamental nature hung in the balance. The capital sprawled across three terraced levels of mountain stone, its architecture reflecting centuries of defensive thinking: narrow streets that channeled attackers into killing zones, buildings designed to serve as secondary fortifications, gates positioned for maximum defensive advantage.
Yet as Prince Saqi had noted privately to his father, the world beyond Seleune'mhir's borders was changing. Vel'koda'mir's expansion threatened the regional balance. Ul'varh'mir's suffering demanded response. And now a saint-king had declared his intention to act where others merely watched.
The meeting concluded without resolution, but the king's thoughtful expression suggested decisions were forming beneath his careful diplomatic facade. As the assembled officers dispersed to their duties, Prince Saqi lingered by the strategic map, studying territorial boundaries with the intensity of someone planning far beyond the current crisis.
The capital city of Kresh'tovara stretched beyond the palace windows, its architecture and atmosphere starkly different from the intimate community of Stone's End or the divine majesty of Mieua. Where Stone's End had grown organically around mining operations and defensive necessity, and Mieua carried the spiritual weight of divine mandate, Kresh'tovara embodied the accumulated authority of six centuries of mountain kingdom governance.
The royal quarter occupied the highest terrace, its palaces and administrative buildings carved directly from living rock. Government complexes spread across the middle terrace, housing the bureaucratic machinery that administered territorial agreements, trade relationships, and military coordination across dozens of mountain communities. The lower terrace contained the commercial districts where merchants from across the known world gathered to trade in mythril, precious stones, and the specialized metalwork for which Seleune'mhir had become famous.
Unlike Mieua's spiritual focus or Stone's End's practical functionality, Kresh'tovara projected power through sheer scale and ancient dignity. Its streets were wide enough for ceremonial processions, its buildings tall enough to impress foreign dignitaries, its fortifications massive enough to deter any conceivable siege. Everything about the capital spoke of a kingdom confident in its strength and secure in its traditions.
But traditions, as Prince Saqi would argue later that evening, could become chains that prevented necessary action. And in a world where saints declared holy kingdoms and evil spread unchecked across borders, the question facing Seleune'mhir was whether ancient wisdom could adapt to unprecedented challenges.
The war hall fell silent as the last officer departed, leaving only the weight of decision and the distant sounds of a capital city unaware that its destiny hung in the balance.