THE ALPHA KING'S BASTARD SON

🌒 THE ALPHA KING'S COMMAND

The interior of the Captain’s house was simple, smelling of old parchment, polished wood, and dried herbs.

Captain Kenneth personally escorted Danriv into a small, secure study tucked behind the main strategic hall. The room had thick oak doors and windows barred with reinforced iron, a fallback point in case the estate was ever breached. Kenneth closed the heavy door, locking it with three distinct turns of a heavy iron key. He turned to Danriv, his expression a mix of profound worry and intense scrutiny.

"Sit down, son," Kenneth said softly, gesturing to a leather armchair by a cold hearth.

Danriv climbed into the chair, looking incredibly small against the dark leather. The adrenaline that had carried him past the royal guards was beginning to fade, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion. His hands shook as he rested them on his lap.

Kenneth walked over to a sideboard, poured a cup of warm water from a insulated pitcher, and handed it to the boy.

"Drink this. You've run half a league from the refugee tents just to get here."

Danriv took the cup with both hands, taking small, greedy gulps. The water helped clear the ash from his throat, but it did nothing to soothe the cold knot of dread in his stomach.

"Did the Alpha King believe me, Captain? He looked so angry. I thought... I thought he was going to hurt me."

"The Alpha King is angry at the treason, Danriv, not at you," Kenneth replied, pulling up a wooden stool to sit directly across from the boy. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What you just whispered out there... it has the power to start a civil war. I need you to think very carefully. The silver crest you saw on the man's coat, describe it to me perfectly. Every detail matters."

Danriv closed his eyes, the horrific images of the previous night flashing behind his eyelids. He remembered the smell of smoke, his mother’s final scream before the watchtower door was smashed open, and the cold, calculated movements of the man outside.

"It was a circle, with a crescent moon pointing downward, and a dagger cutting through the center of the moon. The metal was shiny, not dark like the armor the Alpha's warriors wear. It caught the firelight when the watchtower started burning." Danriv whispered, his voice cracking.

Kenneth's breath hitched. He sat back, his face losing what little color it had regained.

"The Daggered Moon. That isn't just any royal guard crest. That belongs exclusively to the House of Atiena. It is the personal insignia of Lady Gladice’s elite vanguard, the men her father sent to protect her when she accepted the King's courtship."

"Is Lady Gladice bad? Is she the one who told them to kill my parents?" Danriv asked innocently, his wide eyes looking up at the captain.

"I don't know, Danriv," Kenneth said grimly, his mind racing through the political nightmare unfolding before them.

"But the Alpha King will find out. For now, you stay in this room. I am placing four of my most trusted blood-warriors right outside this door. No one enters unless they have my explicit command, or the King's royal seal."

Meanwhile, outside the stone walls of the estate, the royal vanguard was already assembling.

Alpha King Darius walked through the courtyard, his cape billowing behind him like a cloud of smoke. His Beta, a massive warrior named Garrick, fell into step beside him, his expression grim.

"We've verified the boy's story regarding the watchtower, Sire," Garrick reported in a hushed tone, keeping his voice low so the surrounding Sandoval soldiers couldn't overhear.

"Our scouts found traces of high-grade tracking magic near the northern ward pillar. It wasn't broken by brute force. It was deactivated using a royal bypass key. Only five people in the entire kingdom possess the blood-signature required to create those keys."

Darius stopped in his tracks, turning to face his Beta.

"Name them."

"You, Sire. Long-live the King. Your late mother's sister, Elder Vance. General Thomas of the Southern Army. And..." Garrick hesitated, looking down for a brief second before forcing himself to meet his King's gaze.

"...Lady Gladice Atiena, as part of her coronation preparation rites three days ago."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The air around Darius grew so cold that the breath of the warriors nearby began to crystallize in the air. His Lycan beast, a monstrous entity of pure rage and ancient power, was clawing at the surface of his consciousness, demanding blood for the breach of their territory and the slaughter of their pack-mates.

"She was with me in the grand hall when the alarms sounded," Darius murmured, his voice a dangerous, rhythmic rumble.

"She wept when the reports of the casualties arrived. She held my hand and begged me to find whoever did this."

"A perfect performance, perhaps," Garrick said quietly.

"The House of Atiena has always coveted the throne. Her father, Lord Borin, opposed your father's ascension two decades ago. If Gladice can orchestrate a crisis that makes your borders look weak, her father can bring in his private armies under the guise of "protecting" the kingdom, effectively splitting your rule."

Darius clenching his jaw so hard the bone audibly cracked.

"We do not execute a future Queen on suspicion alone, Garrick. If we move against the House of Atiena without absolute proof, half the high clans will rebel, thinking I have become a tyrant king who kills his mates on a whim."

"Then what is your command, Alpha?"

"We return to the capital immediately," Darius ordered, his eyes flashing a lethal, glowing gold.

"We bring the boy under heavy guard. He is our only eyewitness. We will confront Gladice in the high court, before the council of Elders. If her blood-key matches the signature found at the watchtower, I will tear her throat out myself, regardless of her lineage."

"And what about the Sandoval Village?" Garrick asked, glancing back at the heavily damaged houses bordering the square.

"Leave half our battalion here to reinforce Kenneth's men," Darius commanded, turning toward his massive black stallion, an armored beast bred for the chaos of war.

"The rogues are still lingering in the shadow-forests. They are waiting to see if their distraction worked. We will give them the illusion of a divided kingdom, but we will strike with the precision of a viper."

Within twenty minutes, the courtyard was a flurry of organized chaos. The heavy thud of hooves and the clank of armor filled the air as the royal guard prepared to move.

Inside the study, Danriv sat by the window, watching the legendary warriors mount their horses. He saw the Alpha King mount his great black beast, looking like a dark god preparing to bring judgment upon the world. For the first time since the fire started last night, Danriv felt a small spark of hope. The monsters who killed his parents thought they were safe in their silver armor, but they had forgotten one thing, The Alpha King was the fiercest monster of them all.

The journey back to the royal capital of Oakhaven was a grueling, five-hour trek through the winding mountain passes and dense, ancient forests that formed the spine of the Lycan kingdom.

Danriv had been placed in a heavily fortified carriage, surrounded by six of the King’s elite riders. He spent the journey staring out the small, barred window, watching the towering pine trees blur past.

By the time the sprawling, white-stone fortress of Oakhaven came into view, the sun had fully set, replaced by a massive, silver full moon that illuminated the kingdom in an ethereal, ghostly light. The fortress walls were immense, built into the very rock of the mountain, glowing with protective runes that thrummed with a low, comforting power.

But inside the grand gates, the mood was far from comforting.