Leornars raised the goblet to his lips, its crystal-clear liquid shimmering under the grand chandelier. He took a sip, the fine vintage of the capital city sliding down his throat. It tasted of grapes, of fermented history, and of something else—a faint, bitter note he'd come to recognize.
"I've had stronger ones than this," he said, the words echoing through the suddenly silent hall.
A subtle ripple of fear and confusion spread among the nobles. As Leornars took a step, the grotesque forms of his undead servants closed in, their ragged claws and tattered robes creating an impenetrable barrier. The doors, the windows, every possible escape route was sealed. The nobles, trapped like prey, could only watch as Leornars glided through their ranks.
The King, seated beside a nervous young nobleman, discreetly slid a small, ornate pocketknife into the man's hand. Leornars passed by, his attention seemingly elsewhere.
Just then, another noble, his eyes filled with a desperate rage, lunged forward. A hidden knife flashed in his hand, and he plunged it into Leornars's stomach. The noble man let out a triumphant laugh, the sound grating and sharp.
"You think just because you're a prophecied being you're invincible?" the noble snorted, his voice dripping with venom.
But his laughter died in his throat. Leornars's body began to shimmer and reform, the image of him warping like a reflection in water. The scene shifted, the opulent banquet hall now a different version of itself. Suddenly, Count Barnsley was on his knees, a stab wound blooming crimson on his guts.
Leornars was already seated on the King's throne, a look of bored detachment on his face. The noble who had just attacked him stared in utter shock, his face ashen with terror.
"Oh, you think I didn't consider an ambush?" Leornars said calmly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "How naive. The moment I arrived, I had my skill Phantom Illusion active. It alters the perception of anyone within a hundred and eighty-meter range—it fools your vision, hearing, and sense of smell. I thought it might come in handy, and you, it seems, have just proved me right."
The noble man collapsed to his knees, his bravado gone. The King, seeing his chance, seized the knife from the fallen man and charged at Leornars. But before he could land a blow, a sharp blade plunged into his back. The King gasped, blood oozing from the wound. He turned, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. Standing behind him was the Crown Prince, Edward.
"Ed…ward…" the King choked out, his voice weak.
"Hello, father," the prince said with a smug, cruel smile.
Even Leornars looked surprised. "Oh, I didn't see that coming," he said, a genuine note of curiosity in his voice.
"What are you doing?" the King asked, his face contorted in pain and disbelief.
"Taking what's rightfully mine," the prince declared.
"Yours? What are you talking about?"
"The throne! It's mine, not Leornars's. It's mine! I'll kill you, then I'll kill him, and I'll take it for myself!" The prince's voice cracked with a fragile desperation, and he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
Leornars merely smirked, settling deeper into the throne.
"You are stupid," the King whispered, his body growing colder. "I never intended to grant Leornars the throne. Since your sister died, you were next in line. I… I was going to grant it to you after this banquet and move out to the countryside."
The King's eyes slowly began to close. "You are incredibly stupid," he said, his final words before his body went limp and he fell to the floor, dead.
The prince stared at his father's body, the smug smile wiped clean from his face. Desperation and tears now streamed down his cheeks.
"Father! Father, please don't die! Father!?" he cried out, his voice raw with grief.
Leornars watched him with a strange mix of amusement and contempt. "Oh, I guess my idea of you killing your father worked. I planned that in case you didn't do it I would, but it seems you saved me the trouble, you bastard child of a mistress," Leornars said, finally rising from the throne.
He walked past the prince, picking up a glass of water from a nearby table. "Oh, my. I didn't know greed was that powerful for humans. Implanting the false statement that I would be taking the throne was enough for you to eliminate your own blood. But it's all right. All's well that ends well, I guess."
"YOU?! YOU MADE ME KILL MY OWN FATHER, ELIMINATE MY OWN SISTER'S RIGHT TO THE THRONE, AND KILLED MY STEP-MOTHER? YOU ARE EVIL!" the prince screamed, his face a mask of rage and despair.
"Can you silence up? I don't like noise," Leornars said, taking a casual sip of water.
"I'LL KILL YOU FOR ALL YOUR CRIMES!" the prince roared, charging at him.
In a flash of motion, Zhylyena appeared, her hand pressing the prince to the floor, his face pushed down against the polished marble.
Leornars walked over to him, a cruel smile on his face. "You wanted the throne? You can have it. I have no use for a corpse nation." He gestured, and Zhylyena released the prince, a sword now appearing in her hand.
The prince scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward the throne. He was so close, his fingers brushing against the ornate wood. But before he could sit, Leornars's sword plunged into his back. The prince coughed up a spray of blood, his body collapsing to its knees.
"We… we had a deal," he rasped, blood bubbling from his lips. "I do as you planned, and you give me the throne."
"Yes, that was the original agreement—until you drew your sword on me," Leornars explained, pulling the blade free. "I won't deny I wanted you as king, but here we are. You wanted to play two games at once: victim and ruler. Too bad. You can only play one game with me."
An undead servant dragged the prince's body from the hall. Leornars clapped his hands once, the sound echoing through the tense silence.
"Alright, where were we? Oh, yes, the cleansing."
Stacian, one of his loyal followers, handed him a thick parchment.
"If I mention your name, you are to be executed for slavery, fraud, murder, treason, and other names I can't be bothered to say." Leornars began to read off a list of names. Ninety-nine percent of the nobles in the room were called out. A few of them, in a last, desperate act, tried to flee. They were instantly decapitated by the undead guards. Leornars watched, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"Can't you just accept it and die with the last of your dignity? Don't die like a dog," he sighed, moving back to the throne and sitting down with an air of complete dominance. "This is your last feast, so at least die in a way that's presentable to your name."
He then called out to another of his lieutenants, Bellian. "I need you to go with Zhylyena and eliminate the remaining residents of the nobles who were just executed. Don't kill the servants, just the lineage. It's best to remove the… problems from the roots."
Bellian and Zhylyena vanished in a flicker of movement. Leornars looked at the few surviving nobles and their wives, who were trembling with fear.
"You will keep your noble status until further notice," he said. "I will elect a new king today."
He looked out the window. The sky was beginning to lighten. "Oh, it's almost dawn. We better hurry before the citizens wake up," he said, just as his undead servants executed the final noble.
Leornars's eyes then landed on Count Barnsley, who was still alive, bound and gagged. "Oh, Barnsley. I wanted to deal with you myself, but it seems we're out of time. I'll hurry up and eliminate you. I have a kingdom to rebuild."
The count, his tongue cut out, tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound came out. Leornars placed his hand on the count's face.
"Touch of Decay," he said.
The count's flesh began to rot, his skin turning a sickly green and peeling away from his bones. He cried out in agony, his body disfiguring, until he was nothing more than a pile of torn flesh and bone, unrecognizable as a man.
Leornars walked away, turning to the innocent nobles who had been spared. "You are free to go. I find you innocent of any slavery or other disgusting deeds."
With that, he and his undead retinue departed.
The early morning sun rose over the capital city, and the citizens began their daily routines. Then, an announcement blared from speakers placed throughout the city.
"King Edgar, his wife Queen Victoria, and the Crown Prince Edward Guer Montgomery have all been killed. The incident occurred at last night's banquet, all orchestrated by Leornars, the White Plague."
The people looked at each other, shocked and confused. Was this a joke to scare them? Then they looked up and saw it—Leornars's undead wyvern, its skeletal wings casting a shadow as it carried the body of the king through the sky. Panic spread like a wildfire.
"Today is a new age of revolution," Leornars's voice boomed from the speakers. "I recently discovered a hidden document in the king's chambers about the founding of this nation. The document clearly stated that the founding father of the Theocracy of Lurtra, King Lebela Montgomery, was a demi-human—a beast-folk, to be exact. I discovered that after his death, four generations later, his legacy was changed to state that he was a human who founded the nation. I have decided to elect a new ruler—a beast-folk—as king."
The people were stunned.
"I elect Julius, the village elder of Nurmalla village, as king."
In a small, remote village, a middle aged man named Julius, standing with his daughter and son, was bewildered by the news.
"I don't know what connections you had with your former ruler," Leornars's voice continued. "But with a new ruler comes new orders." The speakers went silent.
A deafening cheer erupted among the demi-humans in the nation. They lifted Julius onto their shoulders, cheering for their new king.
Inside the audience chamber, Stacian stood with Leornars. He handed her a piece of paper.
"This is the list of people I need as the new nobles of this nation," he said.
She glanced at the list. "Hmm… most of them are demi-humans."
"I looked up the founding father's retainers and nobles at the time and selected their descendants," Leornars explained.
"So Julius is the descendant of the founding father?" she asked.
"Not likely," Leornars said calmly. "He is the founding father's concubine's descendant. The original descendant was killed by the Black Acers. We were late."
"I understand now," she said, looking up at him. "I guess all's well that ends well."
They both sat in the audience chairs as Julius was brought in. Julius, regaining his composure, knelt on one knee. Leornars walked to him and placed the crown on his head.
"I, Leornars, the White Plague, anoint you as the King of Lurtra. You and your descendants shall rule this nation as your own. Do you accept the role of king?"
"I accept," Julius said, his voice firm.
"Now, as the constitution states, I appoint you ruler," Leornars announced.
The people outside cheered, their voices a rising tide of hope and revolution.
"It's just the beginning of a new age" stacian said
"Absolutely, it's going to be tough but interesting" Leornars added with a smirk on his face