King Thorn, his expression unreadable yet commanding, his piercing gaze shifted to Eryndor. "What are the remaining reports?"
Eryndor stood with practiced grace, smoothing the edges of the files he held. With a measured tone, he began, "Your Majesty, the Eastern Province has made a notable gesture. A priest has been dispatched to our kingdom with the mission of fostering spiritual growth and uniting our people under the worship of Goddess Lumina. Their goal appears to be one of harmony—promoting shared faith and bolstering unity among the human inhabitants of our kingdom. However," he continued, pausing slightly, "we must be mindful of their intentions. Religion has long been a tool of both peace and manipulation. If left unchecked, their influence could extend beyond mere faith and seep into political maneuvering."
A few council members exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement while others remained skeptical.
"Additionally," Eryndor pressed on, "trade relations with neighboring kingdoms are thriving. Merchants and artisans are benefiting greatly, as the influx of goods, services, and ideas has strengthened our economic standing. Our kingdom has emerged as a central player in regional trade."
King Thorn leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. His thoughts turned dark. Trade? Have they learned nothing from their past mistakes? It seems my leniency has been taken for granted.
Snapping out of his contemplation, he turned to Theron with an icy stare. "Theron, it seems your division has been flourishing. Care to elaborate?"
Theron rose with a confident smile, adjusting his sleeves. "As Eryndor mentioned, Your Majesty, we have faced no issues with trade, nor do I foresee any complications arising in the future. Our agreements remain stable, and our merchants are thriving."
King Thorn's eyes narrowed, his voice slicing through Theron's calm demeanor. "And what do you say about Duke Yuzuru's products being sent in secret, without the knowledge of the Imperial Kingdom? Or do you think my silence is a sign of foolishness?"
Theron's confident smile wavered as he laughed nervously. "N-No, Your Majesty. Duke Yuzuru's products were procured solely for the betterment of the kingdom. I had no choice but to involve myself for the sake of the realm."
Before King Thorn could reply, Alaric stood, his voice steady. "Your Majesty, if I may speak on Theron's behalf?"
The king shifted his gaze to Alaric and nodded curtly. Alaric continued, "The trade arrangements with Duke Yuzuru have greatly benefited the kingdom. We've seen significant profits, and the people are living better lives as a result."
King Thorn scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Living better lives? Or merely fattening your own coffers under the guise of helping the people?" His piercing gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge his words. "And what of the rune gem I've been hearing about?"
A tense silence filled the chamber.
Alaric stiffened but replied evenly. "The rune gem has been instrumental in bringing wealth to the kingdom. It has fueled our economic success."
Orin slammed his hand on the table, his face red with anger. "Wealth? That's a blatant lie! Have we already forgotten the gem's side effects? Or are we too blind to see the danger it poses?"
The room erupted in murmurs, but Alaric's voice cut through like a blade. "And where, Orin, did you hear such baseless accusations? From what I've seen, the gem has done nothing but help the kingdom."
Orin's fist tightened as he glared at Alaric. "Help? That cursed gem cost me my son! It's disrupting the kingdom and sowing chaos, all for the greed of a few."
Kael, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. His cold gaze landed on Orin as he addressed him with a measured tone. "Your son's demise was due to his personal greed, not the gem. Need I remind you that you're projecting your own failures onto others?"
Orin's voice cracked with fury. "You dare accuse me of failure? My son was led to ruin by that wretched gem—and by your hands, High Chancellor! If not for your schemes, he would still be alive today!"
Kael's frown deepened, though his voice remained unwavering. "If you believe your son was so easily swayed, then perhaps the fault lies not in the gem, but in the weakness of those who sought its power without understanding the cost."
Orin's jaw clenched, his fingers curling into tight fists. "You speak as if you had no hand in his downfall."
Kael's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "I merely provided an opportunity. It was your son's decision to take it."
A sharp intake of breath was heard from some council members, and the tension in the room thickened.
Lucian, perhaps sensing the impending storm, interjected before the argument could escalate further. "The gem is not evil, Orin. It's a pure element of wealth, and from my observations, it has no adverse effects. Perhaps your son simply wasn't fit to wield its power."
The room tensed further as King Thorn observed the heated exchanges. Orin's struggle was evident, but the gem was a double-edged sword. It brought wealth, yes, but at what cost? These fools were blinded by their greed. He had tolerated their ambitions long enough, but this—this was a line he would not allow them to cross unchecked. I must find a way to counter this madness.
Raising his hand, the king commanded silence, and the room fell into an uneasy stillness. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of his authority. "Enough."
His sharp gaze landed on Orin, who still fumed with barely restrained anger. "Orin, I understand your pain—your loss is not one any father should endure. I sympathize deeply with your plight."
Orin's clenched fists loosened slightly at the king's words, his features softening ever so briefly. But the king's tone turned firm, a warning veiled in concern. "However, this council is no place for personal grievances. We must think beyond ourselves. Your son's tragedy must not cloud your judgment when this kingdom's future hangs in the balance."
Orin exhaled heavily, his head lowering slightly in reluctant acknowledgment. "I... understand, Your Majesty," he murmured, though his simmering anger remained like embers waiting to ignite.
The king's gaze swept across the council, his eyes resting on each of them long enough to make the weight of his scrutiny felt. "As for the Eastern Province and their priest," he continued, "I see no threat in their presence for now. Their faith and their mission do not concern me—provided they know their place." His tone sharpened, carrying a subtle warning. "But let it be clear: while they are here, I will allow no meddling in our affairs. And as for the rest of you, know this—I am watching. Closely."
A slow, uneasy silence followed, thick with unspoken words. The council members sat rigid, feeling the pressure of the king's gaze bearing down on them like an unrelenting storm.
Kael, seated with his usual air of superiority, allowed a faint smirk to cross his lips, a sign of his thinly veiled disdain. The king speaks of control, yet he allows foreign influence to creep into our kingdom?
But his smugness quickly evaporated as King Thorn's piercing gaze locked onto him. A sudden, invisible force seemed to grip the air around Kael, the weight of the king's presence pressing down on him like a storm about to break.
Kael's breath hitched, his body stiffening under the crushing intensity of the unspoken power in the room. It was not magic—it was something far more suffocating. Authority. Absolute and undeniable.
The other councilors exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale with anxiety. They dared not intervene, nor could they bring themselves to meet the king's eyes. The suffocating tension grew heavier with each passing second as the king's power was made manifest in an unspoken but undeniable way.
"Do not mistake my patience for ignorance, Kael," King Thorn's voice cut through the silence, low and cold as a blade drawn in the night. "I am no fool. I see everything, and I have tolerated much from you. But that tolerance has limits—limits you are dangerously close to testing."
Kael clutched at his chest, gasping as the pressure eased just enough for him to draw a ragged breath. Though he regained his air, the humiliation burned in his chest far more than the choking grip of the king's power.
Theron, usually the first to inject himself into matters of political debate, remained deathly silent. Even Alaric, who had defended him earlier, chose not to speak now. No one was foolish enough to draw the king's ire further.
The room remained silent, the king's warning echoing like a distant thunderclap. His gaze lingered on Kael for a moment longer, ensuring his message had struck its mark. Then, with a curt gesture, he turned his attention to the others. "This council will not devolve into a den of personal squabbles and unchecked ambitions. Remember who it is you serve."
The tension was palpable as the king stood, his cape billowing slightly as he passed the table. He paused behind Orin, placing a hand on his shoulder. In a low voice, he whispered, "Justice will be served for your son. Trust me."
Orin's anger ebbed slightly, though his expression remained conflicted. He gave a slow, hesitant nod.
As the king exited the room, the silence he left behind was deafening.
Kael, humiliated and seething, clenched his fists tightly beneath the table, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to contain his fury. His face betrayed none of the venom swirling in his thoughts, but the storm within him raged unabated. Just you wait, Your Majesty, he thought bitterly, the echo of the king's oppressive power still lingering in his chest. Your days are numbered. You think you've won? Once I find the runaway princess, her head will be yours on a silver platter, and your so-called righteousness will crumble before the might of my plan.
The other councilors began to rise and shuffle out of the chamber, their movements slow and deliberate, as if still shaken by the exchange. But among them, Serphina lingered briefly, observing Kael from the corner of her eye.
Her lips curled into a sly, knowing smile, a flicker of amusement dancing across her face. The king is finally opening his eyes. This will be interesting. Her gaze flickered between Kael's tense posture and the retreating figure of the king. Let's see how long Kael can maintain that fragile composure of his before he finally snaps.
She moved with an air of practiced grace, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she exited the chamber. But behind her serene exterior, her thoughts churned with intrigue. The cracks are forming in Kael, and I intend to be there when it all falls apart.
A chessboard full of fools, blinded by their own ambitions, she thought wryly. And yet, the king seems to have found his voice at last. Perhaps the tides are turning.
Kael, now alone in the empty chamber, exhaled sharply and slammed his fist onto the table. The sound echoed through the hollow space, a physical manifestation of the frustration that boiled within him. His mind raced, plotting his next move.
You've made a mistake today, Your Majesty. One that you will regret. His lips curled into a dark smirk as his thoughts took shape. I will ensure that your reign ends in ruin—and that runaway wretch will be the first step toward your downfall.
As he stalked out of the room, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge, his every step heavy with purpose.
In the shadows, Serphina observed him leave, her expression unreadable but her thoughts razor-sharp. The game has only just begun, Kael. Let's see how far you're willing to go before you destroy yourself.