Chapter 27
1638 Words
The Royal Dining Hall was silent, save for the wet, rhythmic scraping of silver against porcelain and the heavy, desperate breathing of the staff.
King Lodrick sat at the head of the table, a man who treated power like a f*****g aphrodisiac. He was born to command, and he loved every second of the fear he radiated. Every noble around him was a spineless coward, measuring their words, terrified that a single wrong syllable would get them killed. The servants moved like ghosts, trembling, knowing that one slip-up meant their blood would be the next thing cleaned off these floors.
At the king's right sat Queen Seraphina, her face a mask of bored indifference. Across from her, Princess Lyanna picked at her food, her eyes dark with frustration. Beside the queen, Crown Prince Aldric sat stiffly, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.
Commander Vaelith sat farther down, a dark stain in the room. His black mask concealed his face, leaving only those unsettling silver eyes visible. He watched everything.
A servant, a young boy with shaking hands, hurried forward to refill the king's goblet. His fingers were numb with terror. Wine sloshed over the rim. A single, crimson drop landed on the pristine white tablecloth.
The boy froze. His face went white as a sheet.
"My apologies, Your Majesty—"
Lodrick didn't even look up from his plate. "Get out of my sight."
The servant trembled, tears welling in his eyes. "Sire, please—"
"I said get the f**k out." The king's voice cracked through the hall like a whip.
Two guards grabbed the boy instantly, their hands digging into his arms. He was dragged away, his heels scraping against the stone, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved to help. Not even the queen. The boy's cries faded down the corridor, replaced by the sound of a door slamming shut. Probably the last sound he'd ever make.
Lodrick calmly cut another piece of meat, chewing slowly. "Pathetic."
Aldric's jaw tightened, his knuckles white around his fork.
The king noticed. He always noticed.
"What? Got something to say, boy?"
Aldric looked up, his eyes burning with suppressed rage. "Nothing."
Lodrick laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "No? Come on. Say it. I dare you."
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Then, Aldric slammed his fork down.
"He spilled a few drops of wine. That's it. He didn't deserve to be dragged off to be tortured or killed over a f*****g stain."
The hall went dead silent.
The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room.
Seraphina closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. Lyanna smirked, enjoying the tension like it was foreplay.
The king slowly turned toward his son, his eyes cold and predatory.
"And?"
"He didn't deserve that," Aldric repeated, his voice shaking with fury. "He's a human being."
A dangerous silence followed.
Lodrick leaned back, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"And this is exactly why you'll never keep a kingdom together, Aldric. You're weak."
Aldric's eyes hardened.
"A kingdom built on fear and blood deserves to fall. It deserves to burn to the ground."
Several nobles choked on their food. The servants stopped breathing entirely.
The king's smile vanished.
For a moment, everyone expected him to draw a weapon and kill his own son.
Instead, Lodrick threw his head back and laughed.
A deep, mocking, belly-shaking laugh.
"Still naïve. It's disgusting." The king waved a hand dismissively. "Perhaps one day reality will beat the idealism out of you. Or maybe someone will just slit your throat before you get the chance to be a stupid martyr."
Aldric said nothing.
But he didn't look away.
He stared his father down, hatred radiating off him.
The king eventually lost interest in his son's moral superiority complex.
His gaze shifted, landing on Vaelith.
"Commander."
Vaelith looked up, his silver eyes unreadable.
"When are you leaving?"
The question hung in the air.
The entire table turned.
"The war preparations are finished," Lodrick said, taking a long drink of wine. "My soldiers are ready to march."
Vaelith didn't hesitate.
"No."
The king's eyebrow rose.
"Excuse me?"
"No, Your Majesty." The commander's voice was calm, cold as ice. "I'll remain here."
Lodrick's eyes narrowed.
"And why the f**k would you do that?"
Vaelith set down his cup with a deliberate clink.
"Because your soldiers are weak. They're useless."
Silence.
Absolute, shocking silence.
One servant dropped a tray with a loud crash. A noble choked on his drink, coughing violently. Even Seraphina's eyes widened.
Then, Aldric burst out laughing.
A genuine, loud laugh.
The first real sound of joy in that f*****g miserable castle.
Lyanna rolled her eyes, looking bored.
The king stared at Vaelith, stunned.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"Weak? You think my army is weak?"
"Undisciplined," Vaelith corrected, his voice sharp. "They swing swords like drunken farmers having a brawl in a s**t-hole tavern. They have no honor. No skill. They'd get slaughtered in an hour."
Aldric laughed harder, wiping tears from his eyes.
The king pointed a finger at him.
"Careful, boy. You're laughing at your future army."
"I'm laughing because he's right," Aldric shot back, still grinning. "They are pathetic."
Lodrick barked another laugh, shaking his head.
Then he pointed at Vaelith.
"I like you, Commander. You've got balls. I'll give you that."
"That's unfortunate," Vaelith replied immediately. "I have no interest in being liked by you."
Several nobles looked horrified, their mouths hanging open.
Aldric nearly choked on his own laughter.
The king stared for a second, then roared with amusement.
"You've got more courage than most kings I've known. Or you're just stupid."
"Or less common sense," Seraphina murmured, her voice low.
For the first time that morning, Vaelith inclined his head slightly toward the queen.
It was the closest thing to respect anyone in this room had shown.
Then Lyanna spoke, her voice cutting through the laughter like a knife.
"I questioned a slave this morning."
Nobody cared.
At least, not initially.
Lodrick tore a piece of bread with his teeth.
"Congratulations. Don't expect a reward for doing your job."
The princess glared at her father, then turned her predatory gaze to Vaelith.
"It was the slave. The one you keep requesting. The one you spend hours with."
The room went quiet again.
The air shifted.
Aldric immediately looked between them, his laughter dying. Seraphina's attention sharpened, her eyes calculating. The king noticed everything. Especially the way Lyanna looked at Vaelith. Like a woman obsessed, like a b***h in heat who couldn't get what she wanted.
Vaelith remained completely unmoved.
"Is there a point to this conversation, Princess? Or are you just bored?"
Lyanna's nostrils flared, her chest heaving.
"You spend hours with her. Alone. In your chambers."
"And?" Vaelith's voice was deadly calm.
"She's a slave," Lyanna spat. "A piece of meat. A nobody."
Vaelith's silver eyes settled on her.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
"I was unaware that slaves were forbidden from serving meals. Or did I miss a new law? Because last I checked, even slaves have to eat, f**k, and breathe. Unless you're planning to stop that too?"
For the first time, Lyanna had no answer.
Her face flushed with rage and something else—jealousy.
Pure, unfiltered jealousy.
The king smirked, watching his daughter struggle.
"Which slave?" Lodrick asked, his voice casual.
"The dark-haired one," Lyanna snapped. "The pale one. The one with the eyes that look like she's begging to be beaten."
The king frowned, trying to remember.
Eventually, he shrugged.
He didn't remember.
To him, Elara had never mattered enough to even register.
She was just another body in the castle.
"You're making a great deal of noise over a slave, Lyanna," Lodrick said dismissively. "Get over it. There are thousands of slaves. If you want someone to f**k or beat, pick another one."
Lyanna looked furious, her hands clenched into fists under the table.
"Father—"
"Enough."
The single word ended the discussion.
Immediately.
The princess clenched her jaw shut, her eyes burning with hatred.
Nobody argued with Lodrick when he used that tone.
Not even her.
Breakfast ended shortly afterward.
The tension was palpable, thick with unspoken threats and s****l frustration.
One by one, the nobles departed, eager to escape the toxic atmosphere.
Aldric left first, shaking his head.
Then Seraphina, her face unreadable.
Then Lyanna, throwing a venomous look at Vaelith before storming out.
Finally, Vaelith stood up.
He didn't look at the king.
He just turned and walked away.
Only Lodrick remained.
He sat alone in the massive hall, watching the empty doorway.
Thinking.
Calculating.
A guard approached hesitantly.
"Your Majesty?"
The king didn't look at him.
His eyes were fixed on the spot where Vaelith had been sitting.
"The slave."
The guard straightened, confused.
"Sire?"
"The one my daughter won't stop whining about. The one the Commander is interested in."
The guard nodded quickly.
"Yes, sire."
Lodrick's eyes narrowed, a dark, predatory light in them.
"Find out who she is. Everything. Where she sleeps, who she talks to, what she looks like naked if you have to. I want to know everything."
"At once, Your Majesty."
The king stared toward the doorway Vaelith had exited through.
A faint, cruel smile touched his lips.
Cold.
Calculating.
Because kings learned to pay attention when powerful men showed interest in something.
Especially when that something was supposed to be nothing.
And if that slave was the key to controlling Vaelith, or breaking his daughter, or just f*****g with someone's life for amusement... well, that was a game Lodrick was always willing to play.
"Bring me the file on every slave in the castle," Lodrick muttered to himself, pouring another glass of wine. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can cause."
- Writer
