Lord Frederick's frustration reverberated in the chamber, and the conversation evolved into a critical discussion about the church's apparent inability to manage its responsibility in safeguarding the heroes.
Another nobleman, Sir Reginald Holloway, leaned forward and, his voice edged with concern, addressed the Head Priest directly. "I received word that two of the heroes t their end in a remote village just days ago," he stated bluntly. "Could you please explain how a hero, who should be honing their skills in the royal capital, found themselves in a small, insignificant village?"
The Head Priest responded in a remorseful tone, seeking to provide so clarity. "My lord, these heroes were granted permission to undertake quests with the adventurers' guild. It was considered a valuable learning experience, a chance for them to gain insight into the challenges they might face.
Never did we anticipate that Hero Ken would harbor such a thirst for vengeance that he would lead an army of undead to rcilessly slaughter the villagers and end the lives of his fellow heroes."
Lord Patrick Worthington, a stout and authoritative nobleman with a grizzled beard, roared his disapproval. "Foolish, absolutely foolish!" he thundered. "Of all people, the church should be well aware of the number of adventurers who co for healing everyday, because their parties lack proper healers, their injuries are always serious.
How could you permit our heroes to dabble in such perilous pursuits?" The room echoed with his forceful words, and the tension in the chamber escalated as the gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon them all.
The Head Priest, his voice heavy with regret, repeated his earlier apology, his words a solemn acknowledgnt. "As I ntioned before, my lords, I could not have foreseen such a tragic turn of events."
Lord Gregory Harrington, a man of fiery temperant, erupted in a fit of anger. "Unacceptable!" he yelled, his voice thundering in the chamber. "The church can no longer be entrusted with the heroes. They've proven themselves incapable of ensuring our heroes survive long enough to fulfill their duties."
The room descended into chaos as various nobles interjected, each passionately arguing that they could handle the heroes better.
Amidst the tumultuous debate, the Head Priest contemplated the unfolding power struggle and remarked in a musing tone, "It's clear they seek possession of the heroes not just for training but as a ans to claim resources in the na of their developnt.
In truth, they see the heroes as an opportunity to line their own pockets." His voice carried a touch of cynicism, an acknowledgnt of the darker motives that often lurked behind the facade of noble intentions.
In the midst of the heated discourse, the king's voice cut through the chaos, commanding silence with the weight of his authority. "Enough!" he declared, his words a stark decree that silenced all the nobles. He leveled a piercing gaze across the room, and his words were cold as steel. "If anyone else in this room dares to speak without my permission, their head will roll."
A hushed tension settled over the assembly, and the king turned his unwavering attention to the Head Priest. "Head Priest," he began, his tone asured but firm, "I believe you are well aware of who I am and what I am capable of."
The Head Priest quivered and nodded slowly in response to the king's inquiry.
The king pressed forward, the weight of his words heavy in the chamber. "And you also understand why I have refrained from embarking on a mission to the demon continent, to face the Demon King, don't you?"
With a quivering voice, the Head Priest replied, "Yes, my lord, I do."
The king continued to elucidate, his voice carrying the solemnity of his purpose. "It is because only heroes possess the divine blessing that shields them from the malevolent aura that demons exude, what all races term as a curse. This aura manifests as those accursed purple cracks that drain the life energy from those unfortunate enough to approach.
We know not when the demons may launch a full-scale assault, and that's why multiple heroes were summoned simultaneously. Our duty is to ensure the heroes fulfill their purpose without perishing prematurely. Am I not correct?"
The Head Priest, with a sense of trepidation, nodded and replied, "Yes, my lord, you are correct."
The king finally relented, his stern countenance softening slightly. "Because I am a patient man," he said, "I shall overlook your previous handling of the heroes. But moving forward, it is imperative that you execute your responsibilities with the utmost care, for the safety of the heroes is paramount."
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The king's eyes bore into the Head Priest, his voice resolute and unwavering. "Failure to do so," he warned, his words a chilling decree, "and your life shall be forfeit. Am I clear?"
The Head Priest, his body drenched in sweat, trembling with fear, managed to force a nod as he replied, "Clear." The weight of the king's words hung heavily over him, and he knew that the king ant every syllable.
With a swift, deliberate motion, the king rose from his throne, a towering figure of command and power. "That is all," he announced, his tone final. "This eting shall now conclude." He began to stride away, intent on leaving the chamber, when Lord Frederick, his voice a desperate plea, attempted to intervene. "My lord, you can't be serious! I advise you reconsider..."
In a heartbeat, the king's hand ascended, and, as if conjured from thin air, a gleaming sword appeared. With a single, swift movent, he severed Lord Frederick's head from his shoulders. The nobleman's lifeless body crumpled to the floor, terror etched on his face.
The other nobles in attendance were frozen in a tableau of horror and fear as the king, his voice unyielding, declared, "My commands are absolute. No one disobeys and lives." His words left a chilling reminder of the power he wielded, and none dared to ever defy him further.
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