Capítulo 11: Assassin
It had been two long months since Alaric last attended a council meeting, and the nobles filled the seats with a mix of relief and apprehension. Every man present understood the stakes, sensing that the king's absence had allowed ambitions to fester unchecked. Today, however, he had resolved to confront the matters that loomed over his reign, however daunting they might be.
"Let us get this over with," he rasped, his voice gravelly from disuse, cutting through the low murmurs that filled the chamber. The nobles fell silent, exchanging glances tinged with both respect and fear. They could feel the shift in the air; the king was back, but his temper had grown short and his demeanor ruthless since the loss of Giana. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension.
Garrick, the king's most trusted advisor, stood with a bow, his expression a careful mask of professionalism. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice steady but laced with hesitation, "I'd like to start with the matter that concerns our country most—it's the rumor…"
Alaric leaned forward, the weariness momentarily eclipsed by irritation. "What rumor?" he demanded, the sharpness of his tone echoing against the stone walls.
Garrick shifted, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words. "It concerns… the late queen," he finally managed, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as if the very mention could conjure her spirit. "May the gods bestow peace upon her."
The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken grief and the weight of memory. Alaric's heart sank at the mention of his late wife, Giana. Though they had shared their struggles, the bond they forged was one of profound respect and loyalty. Her absence left a chasm in his heart, but it had also kindled a fire of anger within him—a fury directed at those he perceived as weaknesses and betrayals.
"The rumors suggest," Garrick continued, cautiously observing the king's reaction, "that her death was not as simple as it appeared. Whispers among the court claim there may have been foul play… and that your son, who was thought to have perished with her, may still be alive."
A chill enveloped the room, the air growing denser with the weight of accusation and possibility. Alaric's hands clenched into fists on the table, knuckles pale against the rich wood. "Alive?" he repeated, disbelief and a flicker of hope battling within him. "By whom? Speak plainly, Garrick!"
The advisor took a steadying breath, knowing the implications of his next words could ignite flames of conflict. "There are accusations directed toward those close to the throne, particularly regarding the queen's lady-in-waiting and a few noble families who stand to gain from her absence. They whisper that she took the child and hid him away, perhaps even to raise him as a pawn in their own schemes."
The tension thickened, and Alaric's jaw tightened. "You bring me these rumors when I have struggled to keep our kingdom together?" His voice was low and dangerous, the ferocity of his anger barely contained. "If this is true, it's treachery I will not abide."
Garrick met the king's gaze, his heart racing. "Your Majesty, we must tread carefully. If there is even a hint of truth—"
"Carefully?" Alaric interrupted, his voice rising, echoing off the chamber walls. "How many times must I bear the weight of your caution while traitors lurk in the shadows? Speak of treachery when we face dire challenges? I will not hesitate to root out any who would conspire against me!"
A long silence hung between them, the weight of the decision resting heavily on Alaric's shoulders. "And what would you have me do?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper, the remnants of his former calm dissolving into something more primal.
"An investigation must be conducted discreetly," Garrick replied, his voice steady despite the tension. "We must root out those who would use the late queen's memory for their gain and secure our position against the treachery that could unravel everything."
Alaric closed his eyes for a moment, exhaustion flooding back. The council chamber, adorned with tapestries of the kingdom's victories, suddenly felt like a prison of his own making. But the flicker of hope at the mention of his son reignited his resolve. "If my son lives, I will not allow that to be used against me," he growled. "And if those nobles think they can play games with my family, they will find my wrath knows no bounds."
"Very well," he finally said, his voice firm yet tinged with menace. "We shall investigate these claims. But it must be done quietly. I will not let the council become a theater of suspicion."
Garrick bowed again, relief flickering in his eyes. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall assemble a discreet team to look into this matter at once."
Alaric leaned back in his chair, his gaze wandering to the high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings, lost in thought. The king felt the pull of possibility; if his son truly lived, it could change everything—not only for him but for the kingdom itself.
Yet, unbeknownst to Alaric, the truth was far more complex than he could imagine. The lady-in-waiting who had served Giana with unwavering loyalty had taken it upon herself to protect the king's child. In the chaos of that fateful night, when tragedy struck and the queen's life slipped away, she had hidden the infant away from the eyes of those who would use him as a pawn in their treacherous games. With steadfast determination, she had raised the child in secret, keeping him safe while the court spiraled into suspicion and intrigue.
As the nobles shifted uncomfortably in their seats, sensing the storm brewing, Alaric knew that the investigation could expose treachery lurking beneath the polished surfaces of their court. He would not tolerate weakness or betrayal; the game of thrones had begun anew, and he would be damned if he allowed the shadows to claim him or the life of the child he had believed lost. His short temper and ruthlessness would be both shield and sword as he navigated the treacherous waters ahead, for the sake of his kingdom and the legacy of the queen he had loved.
As the tension in the council chamber began to settle, Alaric, still reeling from the implications of Garrick's revelation, took a deep breath, steadying himself for the matters that lay ahead. The room was still charged with uncertainty, but he knew he needed to address the other pressing issues that threatened the stability of his reign.
"Let us move on," Alaric commanded, his voice firm despite the fatigue weighing upon him. He dismissed Garrick with a curt wave, signaling that immediate action must be taken regarding the investigation. The advisor nodded, disappearing into the shadows of the chamber, his mind already working through the labyrinth of loyalty and betrayal.
Next, the finance manager, a stout man with thinning hair and a no-nonsense demeanor, stood up. His name was Helvin, and he had a reputation for speaking his mind, especially when it came to the kingdom's coffers. His eyes narrowed as he faced the king, a flicker of contempt barely masked behind a veneer of professionalism.
"Your Majesty," he began, his tone steady but laced with an undercurrent of resentment. "I must address the crown's financial state, which has deteriorated under your—shall we say—negligent oversight." His words hung in the air like a dare, bold enough to provoke but calculated enough to avoid the king's wrath.
Alaric's jaw tightened, but he remained silent, allowing Helvin to continue. The finance manager, well aware of the precariousness of his position, pressed on. "We are deeply in debt, Your Majesty. The coffers are nearly empty, and while the nobles squabble over trifles, the common folk suffer. They do not have the luxury of lavish feasts and grand banquets." He paused, gauging Alaric's reaction, but the king's expression remained impassive.
"Why have you not yet been beheaded?" Alaric finally said, a hint of a smirk on his lips, but his eyes held a flicker of seriousness. "You tread dangerously close to insubordination."
Helvin met his gaze squarely. "Because I speak the truth, Your Majesty. It is my duty to oversee the kingdom's finances, and the well-being of the people must take precedence over the royal house's indulgences. Your royal expenditures have ballooned beyond reason, while the less fortunate barely scrape by."
Alaric felt a surge of irritation rising within him, but there was a grudging respect for Helvin's fortitude. The finance manager was astute and capable; his skills had kept the kingdom from absolute financial ruin, which was why Alaric hadn't executed him for his insolence.
"Very well, Helvin," Alaric replied, his voice taut. "What will you have me do?"
"Do what you must to ensure that the nobles are not affected and that the poor must suffer less. We need to reduce unnecessary expenditures and reassess our priorities."
"Very well," Alaric said, nodding sharply. "Look into the matter and identify any wasteful spending. We must tighten our belts without further burdening the common folk."
Helvin bowed slightly, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his features as he took his seat.
"Anything else?" Alaric prompted, looking around the table.
The noble council member, in charge of the trading matters stood bowing respectfully before speaking. "Your Majesty, I have an urgent matter to bring to your attention. A trader from the northern reaches has informed me of troubling news. It appears the dragon worshippers have finally come out of hiding and are seeking more followers to march south from their abandoned lands."
Alaric raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet cautious. "The followers of Idirs the First?" he asked, recalling the tales of their fanaticism and the terror they had once wrought upon the kingdom at the time when dragons roared in the sky.
The council member nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. While they may be isolated in their dangerous territory, we cannot underestimate their resolve. Although their numbers dwindle in those forsaken lands, they seem intent on gathering strength."
Alaric leaned back in his chair, considering the implications. "For now, it does not appear to be an immediate threat. If they wish to dwell in the north, let them. But keep a watchful eye on their movements; we cannot afford any surprises."
The trader nodded and took his seat, the tension easing slightly in the chamber. The king scanned the faces of his council, seeking any other concerns that needed addressing.
"Are there any other matters of importance?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of authority. When no one else stood, he made the decision to dismiss the council. "Very well. I expect updates on these issues by the next meeting. you all are dismissed", the kings leaves his seat and heads out of the hall.
As the council members began to rise to leave after the king, a figure at the edge of the room shot up from his seat and hurried out, his movements hurried and conspicuous. Helvin's eyes narrowed, a sense of unease creeping over him. He watched the man disappear down the hall, the air thick with suspicion.
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