CHAPTER 193: A BARGAIN OF BLOOD

The heavy oak doors of the royal audience chamber slammed open, the echo rebounding off the soaring marble columns.

King Alden sat upon the Golden Throne, his face drawn and hollow. Before he could utter a single reprimand to the royal guards at the door, Chancellor Oswald stumbled into the hall. His fine velvet robes were stained with dark, dried blood, his wig missing, and his chest heaving with frantic, ragged breaths.

Behind him, dragged by two bound ropes wrapped tightly around his wrists, was Duke Valerian.

The once-proud Duke of Oakford looked like a broken street beggar. His head was wrapped in a crude, crimson-soaked rag where the silver candelabra had cracked his skull, and his breath came in wet, labored gasps. Behind them walked Marquis Corvin, clutching a makeshift bandage over his stabbed shoulder, his eyes wide with a manic, unhinged fervor.

"Your Majesty!" Oswald cried out, falling to his knees and slamming his forehead onto the polished stone floor. "We bring you the architects of the calamity! The men who brought the Sovereign's wrath upon our heads!"

King Alden slowly leaned forward, his cold blue eyes narrowing as he looked at his three highest councilors crawling before him on the stone. "What is the meaning of this madness, Oswald?"

"It was Valerian, Sire!" Oswald shrieked, pointing a trembling, blood-stained finger at the half-conscious Duke lying on the floor. "Valerian harbored a personal vendetta against Cullum Macrae! It was Valerian’s gold that bribed the border captains to hold back the reinforcements at Castle Precipice when the Orc horde struck! He manipulated the court ledgers, and he dragged the Crown into his private feud!"

Marquis Corvin dropped to his knees beside Oswald, nodding frantically. "It is true, My Liege! Valerian coerced me! He threatened my house if I did not hold back the garrison! We bring him to you now so that the Crown may be cleansed! Send his head to the Sovereign! Show Caius that the Crown had no hand in Cullum Macrae's murder!"

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Valerian let out a raspy, blood-choked laugh from the floor, spitting a dark clump onto the pristine white marble. He forced his shattered body upward, straining against his bindings until his bloodshot eyes locked squarely on King Alden.

"TELL THEM THE TRUTH, MY KING!" Valerian roared, his raw, ragged voice ringing through the vaulted hall like a thunderclap.

Oswald flinched back in terror, but Valerian sneered, blood spilling over his bared teeth as he glared at the Golden Throne.

"Tell them you ordered it all!" Valerian screamed, his body trembling with manic rage. "Tell them why Cullum Macrae had to die! Tell them how you lusted after the Duke's daughter, how she rejected you, spurned your crown, and chose a mercenary captain over the King! YOU orchestrated her abduction by the Dark Elves! YOU invoked the ancient royal debt to have her dragged away!"

"Silence him!" King Alden thundered, his face turning deathly pale as he surged from his throne. "Guards, silence his tongue!"

"You couldn't break Cullum while he lived, so you had us stand by while the Orcs slaughtered him!" Valerian spat, laughing maniacally even as two armored guards slammed him back down onto the cold stone. "We were just your hounds, Alden! But the son has come for his father's debt, and he is going to strip the skin from your bone!"

Marquis Corvin and Chancellor Oswald stared at the King in horrified realization, the court falling into a suffocating, terrifying quiet.

Before Alden could speak, CRACK-BOOM!

The heavy leaded windows along the western wall of the palace shattered simultaneously. A sudden, violent pressure flattened the air inside the throne room, snuffing out every torch and chandelier in an instant.

The guards along the perimeter dropped to their knees, clutching their heads as an overwhelming, high-frequency kinetic hum reverberated through the very stones of the castle.

Through the broken windows, a dark shadow-raven composed of compressed spatial mana swooped down into the high hall, dissolving into a floating, glowing scroll of parchment that hovered directly before King Alden's face.

The scroll unrolled itself in mid-air. Written across the parchment in burning, violet-gold flames was a message that caused the blood in every noble's veins to run completely ice-cold:

GRAND COMMANDER TERYN HAS ENTERED ALBAN.

HE BROUGHT NO HEADS. HE OFFERED ONLY STATEMENTS.

THE DEBT OF CASTLE PRECIPICE CANNOT BE DIVIDED.

THE 300 DAYS ARE CANCELED.

WE MARCH TODAY.

The magical parchment burst into black ash, drifting down onto Valerian's bloodied face.

King Alden stood frozen in the dim, ruined hall. He slowly turned his head toward the western horizon beyond the broken windows, where dark storm clouds were already gathering over the mountain passes of Alban.