Capítulo 100: Ambressa Powder
Royal Palace - Venan Country
The moonlight bathed the grand bedroom in hues of amber and gold. King Claude sat propped up against a sea of silken pillows, his frail figure barely filling the ornate bed. His labored breaths filled the quiet room as his new queen, Edsha, knelt beside him, holding a delicate glass of water to his lips.
The door creaked open, and Prince George entered with a purposeful stride, his face taut with concern. His sharp eyes caught the tension in the room immediately, though his tone was tempered as he spoke.
"Grandfather," he began, his voice steady but carrying the weight of suppressed frustration, "I warned you not to spare the Seldings. Now they've gone after Evangeline—over the hotel. This is spiraling out of control."
Claude sighed, the sound heavy with regret and weariness. "The Seldings…" He broke off, coughing violently, Edsha quickly steadying him as he gasped for air. "They've gone too far by targeting Evangeline. They haven't learned, even after the Vorenforth family's fall."
George's sharp glare hardened. "And Evangeline's husband? Where was he during all this?"
Claude's gaze faltered for a moment. "Dominic," he rasped, "has his own battles to fight. The six families… They've conspired with the Seldings, knowing our feud with the Sarogaths. This puts Evangeline—and all of us—in grave danger."
George's jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "So, it's the six families pulling the strings. From what Evangeline told me, this was all part of their plan."
Claude managed a weak, bitter smile. "Their audacity knows no bounds. You must ensure Count Carcel accompanies you. Trust him, George."
George nodded curtly, his tone resolute. "I'm leaving for Verdaselles tonight. I'll deal with the Seldings, but I'll need time to devise a strategy. I may not return to Venan for a while."
He turned to leave, his posture stiff with determination, but Claude's frail voice stopped him. "George…"
Edsha gasped as Claude doubled over, coughing violently, his hands trembling. "My king! What's wrong?!" she cried, her panic spilling over as she called out. "George, get here this instant!"
George rushed to his grandfather's side, his eyes widening in alarm as Claude coughed up blood. The older man shakily removed a ring from his finger, pressing it into George's hand with what little strength he had left.
"George…" Claude's voice was faint, each word a struggle. "I can't hold on any longer. When I'm gone, take care of Edsha. You'll be king, after all."
Edsha shook her head vehemently, tears streaming down her face. "No! My king, please, don't leave us!" She clutched his hand tightly, her sobs wracking her frame.
George's composure wavered, his voice cracking. "Grandfather, you can't leave yet! There's so much—"
Claude's trembling hand patted George's shoulder weakly. "Send my farewells…to your father, to his siblings, to the others. You've never disappointed me, George. I trust you to guide Venan and Verdaselles down the right path."
Blood stained his lips as his breathing slowed. Edsha cradled his face, her hands trembling. "My king… Please, don't go." Her voice broke as Claude smiled faintly, brushing his fingers across her cheek.
"Edsha… my queen," he whispered. "George will be king, and you'll guide him as the mother of Venan and Verdaselles. Your brother Matthais will assist in Verdaselles as Viceroy, alongside Dominic as Duke. George…" He turned his clouded eyes to his grandson. "Take care of her."
With one final, shallow breath, King Claude smiled faintly, his lips brushing Edsha's forehead in a final act of affection. His hand went limp, and his eyes closed.
Edsha's piercing scream shattered the fragile silence. "Claude!" she sobbed, clutching his still form, her cries echoing through the chamber.
George stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the golden ring in his palm. A single tear escaped, tracing a line down his cheek. Tightening his grip on the ring, he turned his gaze out the window, the weight of his new responsibilities bearing down on him like an iron shroud.
This was not just the passing of a king. It was the beginning of an era—and the burdens it carried were immense.
At Verdaselles
The office was dimly lit, the golden glow from the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Dominic Brusward leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral and distant as he watched Anthony wheel himself forward, a jar in hand. Inside the glass container, a small rat scurried frantically, its movements frantic and confused.
Dominic's sharp eyes caught the jar's contents, and with measured grace, he stood and retrieved a small vial of powder from his coat pocket. Without a word, he extended it toward Anthony, who accepted it carefully, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.
As Anthony poured the powder into the jar, Dominic crossed his arms, his demeanor detached. The rat's frantic movements slowed, then ceased altogether as the substance began to devour it from the inside out. Anthony's eyes widened, his face pale despite the sickly yellow glow of the lamp.
"The Seldings could possess an Eardoznian product?" Anthony murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Dominic's eyebrow arched slightly at the mention of Eardoznia, his tone calm but probing. "Eardoznia again?" He tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Anthony with quiet intensity.
Anthony sighed heavily, wheeling himself closer to the desk. "Yes. This is Ambressa Powder," he explained, placing the jar on the table. "One of Eardoznia's finest creations, apart from their advanced technology. It was originally designed for military use on prisoners."
Dominic's lips twitched in what might have been a smirk of disdain. His hand moved to his chin, his fingers lightly stroking it as he considered the implications. "Clever," he murmured. "Its subtle fragrance would mask its lethality. Ingenious... yet insidious. A slow poison, cloaked in sweetness. It's almost poetic."
Anthony nodded, his face grim. "The powder is versatile, too. It can be inhaled, ingested, or absorbed through the skin. The victim rarely realizes their fate until it's too late."
Dominic's fist clenched subtly, the only sign of his internal frustration. "Different delivery methods… That makes it a weapon of convenience. And you're saying the Seldings somehow acquired it?"
Anthony nodded again, wheeling toward the far corner of the room where the desk held several scattered documents. "Yes. Eardoznia guards its assets fiercely. For the Seldings to obtain this, they must have deep connections."
Dominic's gaze turned cold as he followed Anthony's movements, his mind racing. "No wonder they're so audacious," he thought, shaking his head. His thoughts drifted momentarily to Evangeline. "She likely knows about this… being a graduate of the Eardoznian Academy. She has potential, but she's reckless. Verdaselles lags far behind Eardoznia and Lumeria in terms of development. If Eardoznia decides to intervene, it will be catastrophic."
"Dominic," Anthony's voice cut through his musings. "Who have you taken care of so far? The Hawricks family?"
Dominic turned back to Anthony, his expression unreadable. "I have," he replied coolly, "but it seems you hired an assassin to assist me."
Anthony chuckled, his back to Dominic as he reached for a bottle of brandy. "You're sharp as ever, son. I couldn't risk losing you. I heard you sought external help for retrieving some critical documents. Was I wrong?"
Dominic straightened, his voice laced with quiet authority. "I understand your concern, but this isn't my first time eliminating a family. Or is it because I'm no longer under my father's thumb?"
Anthony froze for a split second, his fingers gripping the bottle tighter, but he quickly masked his unease with a nervous laugh. "Not at all, Dominic. You're one of my best clients, and I can't afford to lose you." He turned to face Dominic, his glasses catching the light. "With the Hawricks gone, what's your next move?"
Dominic's piercing gaze bore into Anthony. "I've already taken control of their assets. I'll be returning home in two days to consolidate my position. As for the Seldings… I'll deal with them in due time."
Anthony adjusted his glasses, nodding thoughtfully. "The Seldings won't mourn the Hawricks because they already planned eliminating them. If anything, they'll see it as an opportunity. But seizing their assets was a smart move—it might lower their guard with the other five families."
Dominic inclined his head slightly. "Precisely. Before I become Duke, I intend to dismantle every stronghold that could challenge me. I've sent a letter to His Highness about my plans. The rest I'll handle personally. Continue investigating the five families. If you find anything of note, send word to my manor. My accomplices will handle the correspondence."
Anthony tapped his fingers on the armrest of his wheelchair, his sharp mind already piecing together the next steps. "Understood. I'll ensure no detail escapes my attention."
At that moment, the door opened slightly, and a young servant entered with a tray of refreshments. She approached Dominic timidly, her cheeks reddening as she hesitated near him.
"Sir Dominic, I—" she began, her voice trembling slightly.
Without sparing her a glance, Dominic raised a hand, his tone icy. " Whatever you intend to say or offer, I'm not interested."
The servant froze, her face falling as she quickly stepped back. Anthony glanced at her and cleared his throat. "Miss, please take your leave. And for the record," he added with a sly smile, "Dominic is married. You'd best not waste your time."
The servant flushed a deep red, muttered an apology, and hurried out of the room.
Dominic's expression remained unchanged, his indifference palpable. "Unnecessary distractions," he muttered.
Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "You've got a way with people, Dominic. But I suppose it's part of your charm."
Dominic said nothing, his sharp mind already returning to the puzzle of the Seldings and their mysterious connections to Eardoznia.
The Royal Palace, Venan
The Royal Palace stood in a heavy, oppressive silence, the usual bustle of courtly life stilled by the passing of King Claude. His death had cast a pall over the entire kingdom, and Prince George, the newly crowned heir, was left to grapple with the weight of responsibility that now rested squarely on his shoulders.
The palace garden, usually vibrant and full of life, now felt cold and distant. A chilling breeze swept through the hedges as George stood, lost in thought. His gaze was distant, fixated on a bench near the fountain, where an illusion seemed to form before him. There, sitting as he once had so many years ago, was King Claude—his grandfather—looking regal and wise, with a young George beside him. The image flickered like a fading dream before dissipating into the air.
George's hand tightened around the wrought iron railing nearby, his expression hardening as the memories flooded back. His grandfather's proud smile, his steady guidance through the years. The coronation. The moment George had first been declared Crowned Prince, the weight of the title heavier than he had ever imagined. And now, the moment had come far too soon for him to accept, much less prepare for. His grief gnawed at him, and beneath it, the sharp sting of reality: he was to be the next king. There was no escaping it.
He continued to walk through the garden, his boots soft against the stone path, the weight of his thoughts growing with every step.
It was then that a voice broke through the fog of his memories, pulling him back to the present.
"Your Highness… you have a message," the guard said, stepping into view.
George glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, his thoughts momentarily distracted from the grief that clung to him like a second skin. "A message?" he repeated, his voice thick with fatigue.
The guard stepped forward, extending an envelope with a respectful bow. "It's from Dominic Brusward… The Viceroy of Verdaselles," he said, his voice cautious.
The name sent a jolt through George. He took the envelope with a quick motion, his hand momentarily shaking before he steadied himself." Dominic?"
As he tore open the letter and began to read, his brow furrowed. The contents sent a wave of shock through him. His grip tightened around the paper, his knuckles turning white as his eyes scanned the message.
"The Seldings... This would endanger the civilians' lives... "His mind raced as the implications of the letter settled in. His jaw clenched, a bitter taste of anger and frustration rising in his chest. He could already feel the storm brewing within him.
"This isn't just a political matter," George murmured to himself, his voice low, edged with resolve. "This is about lives… and the safety of my kingdom." His fists clenched at his sides, the frustration evident in the tightness of his posture.
Meanwhile, Queen Edsha stood quietly at the edge of the garden, hidden behind the pillar of the palace. She had been watching George from a distance, her eyes softening as she observed the weight of the young prince's burden. She hadn't approached him, knowing full well the depth of his grief and the difficult path ahead. But something within her stirred as she saw him standing there, so alone in his sorrow, his figure framed by the lush greenery of the garden.
Edsha couldn't help but admire him from afar. There was an elegance to George that was undeniable, an understated strength in the way he carried himself despite the grief that had swallowed him whole. His face, though hardened by the loss of his grandfather, was still young and full of potential. His posture, though taut with the weight of his new responsibilities, was regal in a way that left Edsha speechless. She felt her cheeks flush red as she subconsciously gripped the hem of her dress, her thoughts momentarily lost in admiration.
There was no need for words. She could see the anguish, the intelligence, and the raw emotion swirling within him, and it stirred something deep within her, something she didn't fully understand yet.
But for now, all she could do was watch, lost in the sight of him, a prince caught between the echoes of his past and the daunting future awaiting him.
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