Chapter 12
The grand hall was alight with the flickering glow of torches, the scent of roasted boar heavy in the air. The kings who had accompanied Tommen on the hunt were seated at the long table, their cups overflowing with wine as they laughed and boasted of the day's events. Tommen sat at the head, basking in their flattery, though his sharp eyes cut through the merriment like a blade.
Mathias, however, remained silent. His goblet sat untouched before him, his gaze distant. The hunt had been a show-Tommen parading his prowess, cutting down beasts as if he were still at war. Yet, Mathias knew that true power did not lie in the sharpness of a blade, but in the mind that wielded it. And in the shadows that watched unseen.
As the feasting continued, a figure slipped through the hall's entrance, draped in the simple robes of a palace servant. He moved quickly, unnoticed, until he reached Mathias's side. Bending slightly, he whispered something in the king's ear.
Mathias's hand stilled on the table.
He stood abruptly, ignoring the questioning looks from the other kings. With a final glance at Tommen, he turned and exited the hall, his cloak sweeping behind him.
---
In the dim corridors of the palace, Mathias's steps were measured, his expression unreadable. The servant guided him to a secluded chamber, where a lone figure awaited him-one cloaked in mystery, her presence both unexpected and inevitable.
Mia stood in the candlelight, her golden hair casting shadows against the stone walls. "You took your time," she murmured, her voice laced with something between amusement and urgency.
Mathias's jaw tightened. "I was not expecting to see you here."
She smirked. "You never do."
He exhaled sharply, folding his arms. "What is it?"
Mia stepped closer, lowering her voice. "There is something you need to know-something that will change everything."
Mathias studied Mia in the dim candlelight, his expression unreadable. She was an enigma-a woman who appeared when it suited her, revealing only what she wished. But he knew better than to ignore her warnings.
"Speak," he ordered, his voice low.
Mia smirked, tilting her head as if considering how much she should say. Then, stepping closer, she whispered, "The hunt was not just for sport, was it?"
Mathias's eyes narrowed. "You came all this way to tell me something I already know?"
"No," Mia said smoothly. "I came to warn you. There are whispers in the dark, Mathias. Tommen may sit on the throne, but he is not the only serpent in this den."
Mathias felt the weight of her words settle in his chest. He had suspected for some time that things in Aethelgar were more dangerous than they appeared. But now, Mia was confirming it.
She reached into her cloak and withdrew a small, folded parchment. "I found this in the chambers of one of Tommen's closest advisors. It's a message-coded, but I deciphered enough." She handed it to him.
Mathias unfolded the parchment and scanned the words:
"The time draws near. The beast is restless, and the throne grows unstable. Prepare the offering."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "What offering?"
Mia's smirk faded. "That, I don't know. But I have a feeling you're not going to like the answer."
Mathias exhaled sharply, his mind racing. If Tommen was planning something beyond his usual thirst for blood, he needed to know.
Mia took a step back. "I should leave before I'm missed. But think on this, Mathias-Tommen may be dangerous, but the real threat may be standing right beside him."
She turned, moving toward the chamber's exit. Before she disappeared into the corridor, she glanced back at him. "And if you're wondering where my loyalty lies," she murmured, "just remember-I always bet on the winning side."
With that, she was gone, leaving Mathias alone with the weight of her words and the parchment burning in his grasp.
---
Back in the great hall, Tommen raised his goblet, his voice booming over the revelry. "To victory!" he declared.
The kings cheered, their voices ringing through the stone walls. Esmeralda sat beside him, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. Lord Malrik was nearby, his dark eyes assessing the room.
But even as the court celebrated, shadows lurked just beyond the torchlight, waiting for the moment to strike.
And Mathias knew-whatever was coming, it would change everything.
----
The sound of crackling flames filled the dimly lit chamber, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and melted wax. A lone candle burned on the desk where a hooded figure sat, quill in hand, writing with steady precision.
The letter was short, its message cryptic:
"The den stirs. The serpent watches. The time is near."
The writer sealed it with dark wax, pressing a signet ring into its surface-a serpent coiled around a dagger. The wax hardened, sealing the fate of its recipient.
A knock came at the door. The figure did not turn. "Enter."
A cloaked messenger stepped inside, head bowed. "It has been done, my lord."
"Good." The figure slid the letter across the desk. "Deliver this personally. It must reach its destination without delay."
The messenger hesitated. "And if someone intercepts it?"
A slow, knowing smile curved beneath the hood. "Then they will learn only what I wish them to."
With a nod, the messenger took the letter and disappeared into the night. The figure sat in silence, fingers tapping against the desk. The serpent was in the den, and soon, it would strike.