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The God of War Calen Storm Calen’s Night Plan
The night deepened, draping Rivermoore in a veil of silver moonlight. The towering spires of the palace cast long, jagged shadows over the immaculate streets, their reflections shimmering faintly on the smooth cobblestone paths. A cool breeze drifted through the city, rustling the flower-laden balconies and carrying the distant murmur of a fountain, the only sound breaking the eerie stillness of the night.Calen moved with deliberate care, his steps light and measured as he weaved through the quieter streets, drawing ever closer to the palace. His dark cloak helped him blend into the shadows, his posture that of a man aimlessly strolling, as though merely admiring the city's beauty. His keen eyes, however, missed nothing.Rivermoore was unlike any city he had known. Its roads were pristine, its buildings adorned with elegant carvings and lined with ivy. Lanterns flickered in their sconces, casting a warm glow over the pale stone facades, but there were no wandering drunks or loitering
The God of War Calen Storm Poor Bastard
One of the courtesans, a woman with deep auburn hair and mischievous eyes, leaned in, lowering her voice as if to share a delicious secret. "There’s quite the interesting rumor going around," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.Garrick raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might that be?"The woman’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "They say the Queen herself has taken an interest in something happening here in Rivermoore. Something… illegal."Calen, who had been silently nursing his drink, barely flicked an eyelid, but his attention sharpened. He resisted the urge to lean forward, knowing it was better to let the information flow naturally.Garrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Illegal business in Rivermoore? Unlikely. This city runs tighter than a ship in a storm."The woman hummed, swirling the wine in her goblet. "Perhaps. But even the purest river has shadows beneath its surface, don’t you think?" She traced a delicate finger along the rim of her cup. "The
The God of War Calen Storm No Turning Back
The room was silent, save for the distant hum of the inn’s nightly murmurs beyond the thick wooden walls. The flickering candlelight from the street cast faint shadows through the window, stretching long and distorted against the floor.Calen lay on the bed, eyes closed, his body heavy with exhaustion. The day had drained him, but his mind still churned with thoughts—the queen’s secret investigation, the palace’s strict routines, the courtesans’ whispers. But soon, fatigue overtook him, and he drifted into sleep.Then—something changed.A presence. Subtle, almost imperceptible. But not to him.The door had been locked. Yet now, the latch shifted with unnatural silence, the handle turning ever so slightly. It was precise. Measured. The work of someone who had done this a thousand times before.Calen’s instincts flared, his body reacting before his mind fully awoke. He didn't move—not yet. Instead, he kept his breathing steady, controlled, feigning sleep even as his muscles coiled, read
The God of War Calen Storm Hey, Beautiful!
The streets near the palace were cloaked in deepening darkness, the air thick with the distant scent of damp stone and burning oil. The flickering lanterns along the roads cast long, wavering shadows, stretching like ghostly fingers across the uneven cobblestones. Their weak glow failed to reach the narrow alleyways, where silence reigned and the city's filth clung to the walls like forgotten whispers.Calen moved with measured grace, his disguise flowing around him like the delicate robe of a noblewoman slipping through the city on some clandestine errand. He kept his steps unhurried, his posture demure, careful to let his movements betray uncertainty—the hesitation of someone out of place, someone who had wandered too far from safety.It was a calculated performance. A lure.But he was not alone."Hey, beautiful! Where are you going?"The voice came from the shadows to his left, slurred yet confident, thick with the lazy arrogance of a man who knew his authority granted him a certai
The God of War Calen Storm Who is She?
The grand halls of the palace stretched before him, bathed in the dim glow of torches flickering along the stone walls. The air inside was cooler than the streets outside, carrying the faint scent of polished wood, parchment, and the lingering trace of incense.Calen kept his pace steady, his boots tapping lightly against the smooth marble floors as he moved deeper into the fortress-like structure. He had made it past the gates, but his mission was far from over. The barracks—he needed to find them.But that was the problem.He had no idea where they were.His sharp eyes flicked across the hallways, studying the architecture, the banners lining the walls, the occasional flicker of movement in the distance. He took a turn, moving past a long corridor with tall windows that overlooked the darkened courtyards below.His stolen uniform had granted him passage, but lingering too long in the wrong place would raise suspicion. He needed to act like he belonged—walk with purpose, but not too
The God of War Calen Storm A New Face in the Barracks
Calen scanned the barracks, eyes sweeping over the rows of neatly arranged bunks. He needed an empty bed. A place where no one would question his presence—at least for now.Fortunately, in a palace this size, soldiers were constantly being transferred, rotated, or added to the ranks. There were always a few unclaimed spaces meant for new arrivals.He spotted one. A simple cot near the back. No personal belongings. No signs of ownership.Perfect.Without hesitation, he moved toward it and sat down, his muscles finally relaxing after the long, tense night. For now, he had blended in.But just as he let his guard down for a moment—"Hey!"The sharp voice snapped his focus back into place. Instantly alert, he rose to his feet as someone approached.A young soldier.Short brown hair, bright green eyes, and a wide, friendly grin. He carried himself with an easy confidence, his expression open and unguarded. The kind of man who made friends wherever he went."I don’t think I’ve seen you befo
The God of War Calen Storm The Queen’s Arrival
Despite the weight of exhaustion, Calen had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep the moment he closed his eyes. His body had been too worn down by the day's events to resist.But even in sleep, a shadow of tension lingered.Someone had tried to kill him.It was almost certain they had come from the palace. Yet, ironically, by stepping into the lion’s den, he had made himself invisible. The assassin would scour Rivermoore for him, search the alleys, the markets, the docks—everywhere except here.Because no one would ever think to look for him inside the palace itself.As the first sliver of morning light crept through the high windows of the barracks, a sharp, commanding voice shattered the silence.“Up! All of you, on your feet!”Calen’s eyes snapped open. Around him, soldiers were already stirring, some groaning, others instantly rolling out of bed with practiced efficiency.Rowan, still lying down, groggily rubbed his face before turning to Calen with a grin. “This is it, brother.”C
The God of War Calen Storm A Moment of Suspense
Calen’s heart pounded so violently he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. Each heavy beat was a warning—this was it.Queen Elara Wynn moved with the deliberate, unhurried grace of someone who had never once doubted her authority. Her golden gown, embroidered with intricate silver threads, shimmered under the morning sun, and each step she took seemed to demand reverence.He forced himself to remain still, his hands clenched at his sides beneath his leather gloves. His fingers ached from the pressure, but he dared not relax them.If she recognized him, it was over.He was one man, outnumbered and surrounded, in the heart of enemy territory. His only defense was his disguise. No sudden movements. No eye contact.The soldiers standing beside him held their heads high, their backs straight, their expressions resolute. They belonged here. Their loyalty to Rivermoore was evident in the way their chests swelled with pride as the Queen passed.Calen, on the other hand, was an intruder.
Latest Chapter
The Storm is Coming
Queen Elara Wynn sat motionless before the grand mirror in her private dressing chamber, a room bathed in the soft golden glow of oil lamps. Her gown shimmered like moonlight on water — layers of silver and pale blue silk that cascaded like waves down her form. Her attendants had outdone themselves; no queen had ever looked more regal.And yet, her expression was stone.Her eyes, sharp and resolute, stared back at her reflection — not with vanity, but with grim contemplation. This is it, she thought. The first step into the unknown. The beginning of a very dangerous game.The heavy silence was broken by the soft creak of the door. Seraphina entered, cloaked in midnight blue, flanked by two women in sleek armor — the silent generals of Vynoria, loyal only to their queen. She approached quietly and leaned close, whispering something directly into Elara’s ear.Elara gave a slow, imperceptible nod."I need to speak with the High Priestess," Elara said aloud, rising from her seat.Seraphin
Bitterness is All I Have
Queen Elara’s smile returned to its formal calm as the ceremonial greetings ended.“Seraphina,” she said softly, yet clearly, her voice echoing with quiet command. “Please escort His Majesty and his entourage to their chambers. Ensure they are well taken care of. The soldiers may rest in the prepared barracks. Tonight, we celebrate.”Seraphina bowed her head slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”King Ashford offered a satisfied grin. “Then I shall look forward to this evening. I expect a celebration worthy of a union between kingdoms.”Queen Elara’s expression didn’t falter. “I believe you will find it… unforgettable.”She stepped back slowly, preparing to leave the grand hall. “Until tonight, King Ashford,” she said with a soft, final nod.But just before turning completely, her gaze shifted once more.Not to the king.Not to Seraphina.But to Calen Storm.It was quick, fleeting — yet unmistakable.Her eyes lingered for just a heartbeat too long. Something unreadable passed through
First Meeting
As the first blush of dawn lit the sky in soft hues of gold and rose, the gates of the grand palace of Aerondale creaked open. Trumpets sounded low and regal as the royal procession assembled in the palace courtyard, bathed in the ethereal light of morning. Servants bustled about, tightening saddle straps, checking the gilded wheels of carriages, and ensuring the safety of the heavy, ornate chests filled with gifts fit for a queen.Silks from the East, goldwork from the southern isles, precious gems from Aerondale’s mines—all stacked neatly inside lavishly decorated palanquin, carried by eight men each. These were no mere tributes—they were trophies, flaunting Aerondale’s wealth and power, meant to impress and overwhelm.General Calen Storm sat astride his dark warhorse at the front, armor polished to a mirror sheen, his crimson cloak trimmed in gold fluttering lightly behind him in the wind. His gaze was sharp, scanning the horizon even before the gates had fully opened. He felt the
Secret Plan
As the King turned to give further instructions to his advisors, Calen’s sharp eyes flicked toward General Evan Drake. The man stood there, composed, ever the image of a loyal officer. But there was something in his smile—too calm, too gracious—that set off alarms in Calen’s mind.He volunteered too quickly, Calen thought. Evan Drake doesn’t offer support unless there’s something in it for him.Their eyes met across the courtyard. Evan’s lips curled slightly into a knowing smirk, his gaze unreadable. It wasn’t the expression of a man offering support—it was the expression of someone who had just moved a piece on a hidden chessboard.Calen narrowed his eyes but said nothing. The King had already given his decree. There was no room for protest. Whatever Evan was planning, Calen would have to remain vigilant and trust no one but the men he commanded himself.After the formalities concluded, Calen excused himself from the gathering and made his way to the military wing of the palace. Ther
Jealousy
The sound of wood cracking echoed sharply through the stone corridors of the eastern wing of Aerondale’s military citadel.General Evan Drake stood in his office, his chest heaving, the splinters of a shattered goblet strewn across the floor. The heavy oak table bore a fresh dent from the force of his fist. Papers were scattered—battle plans, intelligence reports, diplomatic records—all now forgotten in the wake of the news that had just reached him.The sharp crack of wood splitting echoed through the stone walls of the eastern military wing as General Evan Drake slammed his fist onto the desk, sending a crystal decanter crashing to the ground. The wine seeped into war maps and strategy scrolls, now forgotten.“He succeeded?” Evan spat, disbelief lacing every word. “Calen Storm succeeded?”His aide stood stiffly by the door, unsure if he should speak. “Yes, General. The Queen of Vynoria has accepted King Ashford’s proposal. The message came directly from General Storm himself. The Ki
The Prize
The morning sun was just beginning to rise over Rivermore as Calen Storm and his two captains, Aldric and Edric, mounted their horses at the palace gates. The crisp air carried the scent of damp earth from the previous night's rain, and the roads glistened faintly with lingering moisture. The three warriors sat tall in their saddles, their cloaks billowing slightly in the cool breeze.The grand city of Rivermore stretched behind them, its towering spires and intricate bridges casting long shadows in the morning light. They had spent weeks within its walls, navigating the careful dance of diplomacy and observation, yet now they were finally departing. The news they carried would change the course of two nations.As they rode through the outskirts of the city, past fields and quiet hamlets still shrouded in early morning mist, Aldric was the first to break the silence. “I still can’t believe Queen Elara agreed to the proposal so easily,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I expected more r
The Guilt
Calen Storm stood tall in the dimly lit chamber, his piercing gaze shifting between his two trusted captains—Aldric and Edric. Their expressions were serious, awaiting his command.“If the queen continues to stall, we must push her,” Calen stated firmly, his voice low yet filled with authority. “We cannot allow her to buy more time. Keep your eyes open and your ears sharp. Observe everything—her movements, the council’s meetings, anything unusual.”Aldric and Edric exchanged brief nods before responding in unison. “Understood, General.”Calen studied them for a moment, then dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He trusted their skills—Aldric was resourceful, and Edric had an eye for the smallest details. If there was any information to uncover, they would find it.When they left, Calen exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his dark hair. He walked toward his bed, unfastening the belt that held his weapons before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. His mind churned, trying to p
This Cannot Happen
Calen watched as Queen Elara trembled, rain-soaked and vulnerable in the middle of the garden. His voice was gentle but firm as he asked, "Your Majesty, are you alright? Do you need me to escort you back to your chamber?"Elara's breath hitched. She couldn't look at him. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she feared he might hear it. The warmth of his hand still lingered on hers, a touch so foreign yet… comforting.No. This cannot happen.Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and ran. Her soaked dress clung to her as she rushed through the palace gardens, past the lantern-lit corridors, and up the stone steps leading to her chamber. She didn’t dare look back.I cannot fall for him. He is the enemy. A general of Aerondale. A man sent here to see my downfall.Her breathing was ragged when she finally reached her chamber. She slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it, hands clutching the fabric over her racing heart.But the Sacred River…The River h
The Rain
Calen remained hidden in the shadows, his sharp eyes fixed on the stone doorway built into the palace wall. One by one, the priestesses emerged from within, their hoods drawn low over their faces, their expressions grim. Their movements were hurried, almost anxious, as if burdened by something that had just transpired inside.But Queen Elara was not among them.Calen's brows furrowed. What had happened in there? Why was the queen still inside?He stayed rooted to his spot, waiting, watching. Minutes dragged on like hours, the night stretching into silence except for the occasional roll of distant thunder. And then, finally, the door creaked open again.Elara stepped out.Even from a distance, Calen could see that something was wrong. Her posture, usually so poised and commanding, was frail. Her steps were unsteady, and as she passed under the dim glow of a nearby lantern, he caught sight of her face.Tear-streaked. Eyes swollen a
