Silence hung heavy in the throne hall after Kael's promise. The chandeliers threw pale light across marble and banners, but something in the air had turned cold. King Alden's face stayed unreadable for a long moment. Then, without warning, his mouth twisted into a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Boy," the king said, voice low and cruel, "you speak bravely for one so small. Brave… and useless."
A murmur rose among the courtiers. Maverick, perched on Kael's shoulder as a cat, felt the change first. The cat's whiskers twitched; his golden eyes narrowed. Something is wrong, he thought, every instinct prickling. No one else noticed. Or they pretended not to.
King Alden's smile grew. "Your father… will never return."
The words fell like a hammer. Kael froze, breath caught in his chest.
The king laughed then, a sound like dry iron. "I sent him far away from here. I gave the order." His voice rang through the hall. "And you—" He leaned forward, the circlet on his brow catching light. "I will send you away too. Far from Valdoria. Far from any power to threaten the crown."
Shock rippled through the gathered lords. The three nearest generals—Sir Garrick the Ironwall, Lady Seraphine Dawnblade, and Sir Roland Stormbreaker—looked at one another, confusion written plain on their faces. Garrick's hand tightened on the haft of his shield. Seraphine's fingers flexed around the pommel of her short sword. Roland's jaw clenched.
But the three who stood closer to the throne—Lord Darius Blackthorn, Sir Cedric Galeheart, and Lord Magnus Crownsbane—changed very little. Darius's dark eyes glinted. Cedric's face was unreadable. Magnus simply shifted his weight, as if this were a well-known turn in a game.
Kael's voice rose, small but furious. "Your Majesty—how could you—why would you do this? My father would never—"
"Silence." The king's hand fell like a judge's gavel. "You question your sovereign? You question the throne?" He turned to the three nearest him. "Take him. Kill the boy."
For a breathless second nothing happened. Then—quick as a knife—Lord Darius moved.
He lunged toward Kael. Steel flashed.
Only one thing intervened: Sir Garrick's shield. The Ironwall threw himself between Darius and the boy with the speed of a storm. His shield slammed into Darius's blade and stopped the strike dead. The clang echoed like thunder. Wood splintered. Garrick stood like a wall, face fierce and red, breath steaming in the cold hall air.
"Your Majesty!" Garrick bellowed. "Why this? This child has done nothing. He is not the enemy."
Lady Seraphine stepped forward as well, her voice clear and bright. "My king—this is wrong. Kill him for what? He is a child. He has lost his home."
Sir Roland's axe came up in a warning stance. "We should not spill his blood without proof. Why order this now?"
The hall bristled with shock. Even some courtiers stirred, uncertain who to believe. The three who had been closest to the king—Darius, Cedric, Magnus—did not protest. They watched like men who had expected this to happen all along.
King Alden's face darkened. Fury flared. "Are the three of you trying to defy my royal order?" His gaze swept the room, hard as steel. "Those who disobey the crown answer for treason."
Garrick's voice did not waver. "We answer for honor. We will not murder a child at your command."
Seraphine and Roland stood firm beside him, their armor shining like pledged oaths. For a heartbeat it looked as if the throne might be opposed.
Then the king's eyes went cold. "Kill them all," he said plainly.
A stunned gasp filled the hall. The three generals who had spoken—Garrick, Seraphine, Roland—tensed to defend themselves and Kael. But before any royal guard could move—before the hall could descend into a hundred clashing blades—King Alden said a single word.
"Come."
It was not a summons for the palace guard. The word felt like an opening, an invitation. At once, through the high doors and from shadowed side passages, came a new force: tall figures in heavy, dark robes, faces hidden beneath deep hoods. They moved like a tide, silent and sure. Their armor was not the bright polished steel of Valdoria's guard; it was matte and strange, covered in symbols that drank the light.
Kael's stomach dropped. He felt like a mouse before a pack of wolves. "Who are they?" he whispered, voice small.
Maverick's whiskers bristled; even as a cat he felt the weight of danger. "Those are not the king's usual men," the cat hissed softly. "This will be bloody."
The robed warriors fanned out, blocking exits, surrounding the three generals who had spoken and the boy beside them. Darius's lips curled in a smile that had no warmth. Cedric and Magnus shifted forward, but their faces gave nothing away.
For the first time since the hall had filled, an uneasy truth pressed in on Kael: those around the throne did not all serve the same master. Some bowed to the king with honest duty. Others bowed to a darker order—an order that moved silently at a word.
The courtiers fell silent, their whispers dying as fear took hold. Kael's small body trembled. He looked at Maverick, who sat very still on his shoulder, yellow eyes like polished coins.
Maverick's voice was only a whisper. "This is wrong. Trust no one but steel and your own blood."
The king sat back in his throne, a thin smile on his lips as if watching a play. Around him, the robed warriors readied themselves. The three generals who had defended Kael stood with shield and sword at the ready, faces set like iron—but Kael could see uncertainty in their eyes. Even if they stood for honor now, the tide had shifted.
"Majesty," Sir Alaric started, stepping forward as if to demand an explanation, but his words cut off under the heavy silence that fell like a blanket.
Kael's voice was small, hoarse. "What is happening? Why—?"
No one answered him. Only the robed figures moved closer, stepping into the pool of light. They carried weapons like scythes and spears with strange curves, and at their leader's sign they spread into a ring.
Maverick's tail twitched."get ready boy"
The king's smile widened, cruel and slow. Whatever plan he had, it had begun. The throne hall—sacred, strong, the heart of Valdoria—was now the stage for something no one had expected. Kael's mind churned with fear, anger, and a single, burning question.
Who could he trust?
The hall closed in around that question like jaws. The robed warriors stepped forward. The chapter ended with Kael's confusion swallowed by the heavy, sharpened quiet of what was to come.