The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace of Zarion was a monunt to opulence and imposing power.
At the far end, dominating the entire space, was a dais of obsidian, upon which rested a throne crafted from what appeared to be solidified lava, its jagged edges smoothed and polished.
Upon this formidable throne sat King Theron, the undisputed ruler of Zarion.
He appeared strangely young, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, with a neatly trimd dark mustache that frad a perpetually smug smile.
He was clad in robes of deep crimson silk, embroidered with golden threads that ford the roaring lion sigil of his house, draped loosely over a fra that, while not overtly muscular, exuded an undeniable aura of raw power.
Four other individuals occupied smaller, yet still grand, thrones arranged in a semi-circle before the King’s dais.
These were the Four Dukes of Zarion.
The mont Duke Cedric concluded his detailed account of the events leading up to this point, a heavy silence descended upon the vast hall.
The only sounds were the faint whisper of the breeze through the high windows.
Everyone’s expression was solemn, their gazes fixed on King Theron, each awaiting his reaction with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation.
They knew his volatile nature, his unpredictable moods, and the weighty implications of Cedric’s news.
But their apprehension quickly gave way to a different kind of unease when they saw him.
King Theron’s entire set of teeth was exposed in a wide, unrestrained grin that stretched from ear to ear, a chilling sight in the otherwise somber atmosphere.
"So," King Theron finally spoke, his voice a low, guttural purr that nevertheless carried to every corner of the hall,
"Queen Gaya is dead. That’s... unfortunate. I would have loved to take her down with my own hands, to witness the light fade from those haughty elven eyes. But I suppose we have to settle for what we have."
The Dukes all looked up at him. Each held various internal reservations, but none dared to voice them, knowing the king’s swift and brutal retribution for dissent.
Thankfully, King Theron spared them the agonizing wait, his smile never wavering as he continued.
"No, no, this is great news! Eldryth has been seen as superior for far too long and they have only grown more arrogant over the years, and it was all because of that damn bitch."
The Dukes exchanged quick, knowing glances. They understood precisely where this was heading, and his next words confird their unspoken thoughts.
"But with the Queen dead," King Theron’s voice swelled with a terrifying exhilaration, "there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that can co between us in taking them for ourselves! All their resources... and those beautiful elves. They will be all mine!"
His eyes glead with a disturbing mix of greed and lust.
The Dukes, for the most part, had no objections to the prospect of conquering Eldryth. The idea of vast new resources and a weakening rival was appealing.
However, Duke Varyn couldn’t help but speak out, bowing his head deeply and saying in a murmur. "But, my King... the treaty?"
King Theron threw his head back and laughed boisterously.
"HA! What shitty treaty, Duke Varyn? Treaties are only in place for the weak, for those who cannot achieve their desires through strength alone!"
He waved a dismissive hand.
"Besides, I can guarantee you the other continents would mind their own business when we wage our war. We wouldn’t even need to involve our entire continent. Zarion alone is enough to conquer them. Our might is unmatched!"
Their ears perked up at the ominous word "war," and Duke Varyn, despite the king’s bluster, pressed on with his reservations.
"My King, but isn’t it too early? We haven’t even confird how true this news is. It could be a setup, a cunning trap laid by the elves to lure us into attacking them."
King Theron’s manic energy seed to ease down, and he leaned back on his throne, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest.
He touched his chin, seemingly lost in thought.
"That’s true..." he said slowly in a low contemplative voice. "It could be fake. But that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll confirm it myself."
His gaze then shifted, fixing on a small, still form lying down on the floor.
"Anyway, is this the girl you ntioned, your supposed daughter, Duke Cedric?"
Cedric bit his lips and nodded his head slowly.
"Yes, My King. She’s the one. We are not sure yet if she’s—"
King Theron didn’t let him finish before waving a dismissive hand that imdiately made Cedric stop talking.
"She’s definitely the one. I can tell."
King Theron’s eyes narrowed further, and he massaged his jaw, staring intently at the unconscious girl on the floor as if dissecting every inch of her.
Lord Cedric felt his heart clench at the King’s statent. He struggled to accept the fate that now seed sealed, and he stamred out a question, "My King, did... did you use a spell to find out?"
King Theron let out another booming laugh.
"HA HA! A spell? That isn’t necessary, Cedric! When I say she’s the one, she’s the one. I trust my guts."
Cedric swallowed hard and nodded in agreent. "I... I agree with you, My King."
A tense calm settled over the hall once more. King Theron seed poised to continue, perhaps to outline his next steps regarding Eldryth, when the smile on his face suddenly vanished.
His eyes, previously alight with dark humor, turned sharp and cold, fixing on one of the Dukes.
His gaze, like a predator’s, landed squarely on Duke Varyn.
Varyn imdiately felt the crushing pressure of the King’s will, a force that seed to push down on him, making him shrink back in his ornate throne.
He began struggling to breath, and he felt his lungs on fire. With a pained sound, he slid from his chair and his knees hit the cold hard floor with a thud.
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