Conquering Planets: Rise of the Cosmic Tyrant-Chapter 17: The Gathering Storm

Two days later, under the cover of dusk, a small caravan of "merchants" made its way toward Riverhold.

The wagons were loaded with fake supplies—empty barrels, worthless cargo, and a handful of hidden soldiers.

Alina rode ahead, disguised as a simple traveler. Beside her, Lord Varin looked deeply unamused.

"I still think this is reckless," he muttered.

Alina didn’t glance at him. "Everything is reckless until it works."

Varin grunted. "That sounds like something your father would say."

She smiled slightly. "It is."

The night deepened. The forest grew quieter.

Then—movement.

Alina didn’t react. She kept her horse at an easy pace, her posture relaxed. But she saw the figures in the shadows.

They were waiting.

Good.

She gave the signal.

The caravan continued forward, playing the part of an oblivious group of travelers.

And then—the attack came.

A dozen figures burst from the trees, masked and armed.

The first mistake.

Alina kicked her horse forward, drawing her sword in one smooth motion. The ambushers were expecting an easy raid. They weren’t expecting someone who fought back.

The first attacker barely had time to react before she cut him down.

Varin and the hidden soldiers sprang into action.

Steel clashed. Shouts filled the air.

Alina moved through the fight with calm precision, striking only when necessary. She didn’t waste energy—she didn’t need to.

In minutes, the ambushers were dead or captured.

A survivor struggled under a soldier’s grip, snarling. "You don’t understand—"

Alina pressed the tip of her sword against his throat. "Then explain."

The man hesitated. Then—a smirk.

"You’re too late," he whispered.

Alina’s eyes narrowed.

Too late for what?

She grabbed him by the collar. "Talk."

The man laughed. "Look to the east, little queen."

And then—he bit down.

A sharp crack.

Poison.

He was dead before his body hit the ground.

Alina cursed.

She turned to Varin. "Send a scout to the eastern border. Now."

Varin barked an order. A rider spurred his horse and vanished into the night.

Alina exhaled slowly.

This wasn’t just a raid.

This was a distraction.

And something bigger was coming.

A Dangerous Truth

By the time Alina returned to the capital, Aldric was waiting.

She strode into his study, removing her gloves. "It was an ambush," she said without preamble. "But not a normal one."

Aldric nodded, motioning for her to continue.

"They weren’t just raiders. They were trained. And they weren’t trying to steal supplies."

She told him everything—about the ambush, the poisoned man, his final words.

Aldric listened in silence. When she finished, he leaned back, considering.

Then he smiled.

Alina frowned. "What?"

"You passed the test," he said simply.

Alina narrowed her eyes. "You knew this would happen."

Aldric shrugged. "I suspected. But now, I have confirmation."

She crossed her arms. "And?"

Aldric’s smile faded.

"And it means war is coming."

Alina didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, steady as ever.

Then she nodded.

"Then let’s be ready."

---

The candlelight flickered as Aldric traced a finger over the map spread across his desk. The borders were stable—for now. But stability was an illusion, a fragile veil over the chaos lurking beneath.

Across from him, Alina sat with arms crossed, watching him.

"What’s the next step?" she asked.

Aldric smirked. "You assume there’s only one."

Alina leaned forward. "There’s always a next step with you."

Aldric chuckled. She was learning fast.

"Riverhold was a distraction," she continued. "So what’s the real move?"

Aldric tapped the eastern province on the map. "We make the first strike."

Alina raised an eyebrow. "You’re not going to wait for confirmation?"

"I don’t need confirmation," Aldric said. "I need control."

Alina considered this for a moment. Then she nodded. "Then let’s move."

Marching Orders

By the next morning, the war council was assembled.

Generals, commanders, and strategists stood in the great hall, all awaiting Aldric’s word.

At the head of the table, Aldric rested his hands against the polished wood. "The enemy has already made their first move," he began. "We will not wait for their second."

Murmurs spread through the room. Some were cautious. Others, eager.

Lord Varin stepped forward. "What’s your plan, Your Majesty?"

Aldric’s gaze swept across the council. "We send two forces. One to the eastern province to reinforce the garrisons. The second..." His smirk returned. "...will not be where they expect."

Alina spoke up. "You’re planning a feint."

Aldric nodded. "Let them believe we’re fortifying our defenses. Meanwhile, we strike south, where their supply lines are weakest."

One of the generals frowned. "Risky."

"All war is risky," Aldric countered. "But the greater risk is hesitation."

Alina glanced at him. She could see it—the confidence, the absolute certainty.

He wasn’t just reacting. He was controlling the board.

And she found herself impressed.

Preparation for War

The castle was alive with movement. Soldiers armed themselves. Blacksmiths worked through the night. Horses were saddled.

In the training yard, Alina tightened the strap of her gauntlet. She wouldn’t just watch from the sidelines.

Varin approached. "You plan to fight?"

Alina shot him a look. "I plan to win."

He sighed but didn’t argue. "Then you should know—your husband is watching."

Alina glanced toward the balcony.

Aldric stood there, arms folded, observing her.

Their eyes met.

A challenge.

A test.

Alina smiled.

She picked up a sword and stepped into the sparring ring.

If he wanted proof of her worth, she would give it to him.

The First Clash

By nightfall, the army was on the move.

Aldric led the primary force eastward. Alina, alongside Varin, took a smaller detachment south.

It was a cold night, the kind that made the world feel sharper.

Alina rode at the front, her senses alert. If there was an ambush waiting, she would see it first.

Hours passed. The silence was unnerving.

Then—movement in the trees.

Alina reacted instantly.

"Shields up!"

Arrows rained from the darkness. Soldiers raised their shields, deflecting most—but not all. A few men cried out.

"Form up!" Varin bellowed. "Advance!"

Alina gritted her teeth, drawing her sword. "We don’t stop. Push forward!"

They charged.

The enemy emerged—cloaked figures, trained fighters, not simple raiders.

Blades clashed.

Alina parried an incoming strike, twisting to drive her knee into her attacker’s ribs. He stumbled—just long enough for her to finish it.

Varin fought beside her, cutting through foes with brutal efficiency.

The enemy had skill. But Alina had something more.

Purpose.

The battle lasted minutes—but it felt like hours.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the enemy broke ranks and fled.

Alina exhaled, her sword dripping with blood.

She turned to Varin. "We need to move faster."

Varin nodded grimly. "Agreed."

They pressed on.