Chapter 73 - Royal (Part 1)
*SKEACH*
A bolt of fire, as bright and terrible as lightning, erupted from Luxana's fingertip. It streaked across the room, aimed unerringly at Kyle's heart. The man's eyes widened in terror, his body paralyzed by fear and disbelief.
In that frozen moment, Helios moved. With inhuman speed, he threw himself in front of Kyle, his body a shield against his daughter's attack. The fire struck him instead, dissipating harmlessly against some unseen barrier.
"Ene, ene. Aitak beti bezain indartsu jarraitzen du." Luxana hissed, her smile growing impossibly wider. "Niri komeni zait, halako gizona nire aita izatea." The words were laced with displeasure, a child's pout twisted into something monstrous.
(Translation: "My, my. Father is still as strong as ever." Luxana hissed, her smile growing impossibly wider."It behooves me, that such a man is my father." The words were laced with displeasure, a child's pout twisted into something monstrous.)
Helios stood motionless, confusion evident in every line of his body. This blood-soaked creature wearing his daughter's face - what had happened? What had turned his child into this terrifying being?
"A ze etsipena," Luxana said, her voice suddenly childlike, incongruous with her bloody appearance. The sound of it made Helios' heart race, a primal fear taking root in his chest.
(Translation: "What a disappointment," Luxana said, her voice suddenly childlike, incongruous with her bloody appearance. The sound of it made Helios' heart race, a primal fear taking root in his chest.)
And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, Luxana was gone. She faded diagonally, her form dissolving into the shadows. The last thing to disappear was her frown, hanging in the air like the grin of the Cheshire Cat before it too vanished into nothingness.
In the aftermath of her departure, the room felt colder, the shadows deeper. Helios and Kyle stood frozen, their minds reeling from what they had witnessed. The night that had begun with political machinations and old grudges had taken a turn into something far darker, far more terrifying.
-A few minutes later, the very night in The Shrine of the Hidden Springs Temple-
-Pope's Dorm-
The night air hung heavy with tension in The Shrine of the Hidden Springs Temple. Within the Pope's dorm, shadows danced on the walls as flickering candlelight illuminated two figures engaged in hushed conversation. The Pope, a man of considerable influence, sat rigidly in his ornate chair, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on the polished wood of his desk. Before him stood the Archbishop, his face etched with concern as they discussed recent events.
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"I find it astonishing that the High Priest met such a tragic end," the Archbishop murmured, his hands moving in a gesture of disbelief and sorrow.
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The Pope's face twisted into a sneer, his voice dripping with disdain. "That pompous fool got what was coming to him. It's fortunate for us that Aldric intervened, or our losses would have been far greater."
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"Indeed," the Archbishop nodded, his tone measured. "It's fortunate that funerals in Domino are not accorded much significance."
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Suddenly, the Pope's demeanor shifted, his face contorting with rage. He slammed his fist on the table, teeth bared in a snarl. "But that woman is a menace! What drives her to commit such atrocities without any discernible motive?"
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The Archbishop's eyes narrowed, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Princess Luxana, indeed. She is a force to be reckoned with, devoid of moral compass. Her actions are those of a wild animal, driven solely by instinct."
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"Exactly," the Pope agreed vehemently. His tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. "So, what is the status of our preparations for the impending war?"
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The Archbishop's face fell, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Regrettably, we have made little progress. Most of our allies have declined our call to arms against Monis, though a few remain undecided. They represent our last hope."
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Silence descended upon the room as the Pope turned away, lost in thought. The Archbishop, seizing the moment, added with a hint of satisfaction, "It was enlightening to discover that the Lobis had been secretly aligned with us."
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"Indeed," the Pope murmured, still deep in contemplation. "Have there been any developments regarding the traitor's execution?"
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"Rumors suggest that the traitor has escaped," the Archbishop replied, his voice low. "Furthermore, the palace has heightened its security, making it increasingly difficult to gather any information."
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A smirk played across the Pope's lips, his interest piqued. "What could be the reason behind this?"
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As the Archbishop opened his mouth to respond, a chilling voice cut through the air like a knife. "Because Lady Vespera is deceased. And her son, Rowan, was sold to a foreign land. But do not worry, he shall return soon."
The Pope and Archbishop froze, cold sweat breaking out on their brows. Their eyes, previously locked on each other, now darted to the source of the voice. There, bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace, stood Luxana. Her reddish-black dress was splattered with what could only be described as Hades' blood, and a regal smile played on her lips that sent shivers down their spines.
The two men began to tremble at the sight of her, their composure crumbling. The Pope, in a desperate attempt to maintain control, rose from his chair and exclaimed, "How dare you intrude upon us like this?"
His words were cut short as Luxana, with lightning speed, hurled a fiery dagger that whizzed past his temples and embedded itself in the wall behind him. Both men turned, eyes wide with shock, to stare at the smoldering weapon. With a casual gesture, Luxana recalled the dagger to her palm, her smile never wavering.
"By the authority vested in me, I command you to show the deference due to my presence," Luxana declared, her voice resonating with the power of a monarch. "Kneel before me."
The Archbishop's voice trembled as he began to speak, but Luxana's zircon blue eyes flashed with terrifying intensity, silencing him.
"Let your knees touch the ground, and your heads bow in submission," she ordered once more, her voice echoing with regal authority as the fire roared behind her, casting her in an otherworldly light.
The Pope and Archbishop's bodies seemed to move of their own accord, dropping to their knees. They trembled violently, their eyes fixed on the marble floor, unable to meet Luxana's fierce gaze.
Luxana's expression twisted into one of disdain as she thought, And you guys thought on taking on the Monis Household? How quaint. How utterly...beneath me. With a regal sigh, she prepared to speak once more, her next words poised to shatter the fragile illusion of power these men had clung to for so long.
-The Following Day at the Crack of Dawn-
The first rays of dawn kissed the horizon, but the palace of Domino was already alive with activity. The sound of trumpets pierced the crisp morning air, their regal tones reverberating through the grand halls and out into the sprawling courtyards. Each note was sharp and commanding, played by imperial knights who stood in perfect formation. Their uniforms were a masterpiece of design, a harmonious blend of red, black, white, and gold. The crimson cloaks draped over their shoulders fluttered slightly as they raised their brass instruments in unison, their polished armor catching the light and glinting like fire. Gold embroidery traced intricate patterns on their tunics, and their black boots were polished to a mirror shine.
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As the trumpets reached their crescendo, the massive double doors of the Royal Coronation Hall creaked open with deliberate grandeur. A flood of people began to enter—nobles in their dazzling finery, commoners in simpler yet clean attire, clergy members in pristine white robes trimmed with gold, and an army of maids and servants moving with practiced efficiency. Holy knights clad in ceremonial white armor mingled with imperial guards whose darker uniforms exuded an air of authority.
The hall they entered was nothing short of magnificent—a testament to centuries of craftsmanship and devotion to the crown. Towering columns lined the walls, each carved from pure white marble and adorned with golden filigree that spiraled upward like vines reaching for the heavens. Between these columns hung massive banners representing the various houses and regions of Domino. Each banner was a riot of color, embroidered with sigils that told tales of loyalty and valor.
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The ceiling stretched impossibly high, painted with a breathtaking mural depicting a celestial battle between gods and mortals. Stars sparkled against a dark blue expanse, while golden rays from an imagined sun illuminated scenes of triumph and sacrifice. At its center hung a chandelier so vast it seemed almost alive; its countless crystal facets refracted light into a cascade of rainbows that danced across the hall like fleeting spirits.
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The floor was a masterpiece in itself—a mosaic of black and white marble tiles arranged in intricate geometric patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles. These tiles led toward a raised platform at the far end of the hall. The platform was draped in crimson velvet embroidered with silver flames that shimmered as though alive. Behind it loomed an empty space where a throne should have stood—a detail that did not go unnoticed by those entering.
The nobles entered first, their every movement calculated to display their wealth and status. Men wore doublets encrusted with jewels, their capes lined with fur from exotic beasts. Women glided across the marble floor in gowns made of silk and velvet, their necks adorned with strings of pearls or diamonds that caught every flicker of light. Their faces were painted with expressions of polite curiosity, though whispers betrayed their unease.
As the grand hall filled with people from all walks of life, a buzz of conversation grew, each group huddling with their own kind to speculate on the reason for this unusual gathering.
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Among the nobles, a cluster of finely dressed men and women stood near a gilded pillar, their jewels glinting in the early morning light. A portly nobleman with a ruby-encrusted brooch pinned to his velvet doublet leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.
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"I must say, being summoned at such an ungodly hour is most irregular. What could be so urgent?"
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A tall, willowy noblewoman with a string of pearls cascading down her neck replied, her fan fluttering nervously, "Perhaps it's about the unrest at the borders? I've heard whispers of increased bandit activity."
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"Nonsense," interjected another nobleman, his silver-streaked beard quivering as he spoke. "This is the Coronation Hall. It must be a matter of succession."
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A younger noble, his face still smooth and unmarked by age, chimed in eagerly, "Could it be about the chaos during the royal hunt? I heard there was quite the commotion."
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"Hush," admonished an elderly noblewoman, her wrinkled hands clutching an ornate cane. "We mustn't speak of such things. Though I do wonder... is this where they plan to execute the traitor?"
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The group fell silent for a moment, exchanging meaningful glances. Then, a nobleman with a scar running down his left cheek spoke up, his voice gruff.
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"Execute a traitor in the Coronation Hall? Preposterous. Besides, I heard the traitor escaped."
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This revelation sent a new wave of murmurs through the group, their theories growing wilder by the minute.
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Meanwhile, in a corner of the hall, a group of commoners huddled together, their clothes clean but simple compared to the opulence surrounding them. A burly blacksmith, his hands calloused from years of work, scratched his head in confusion.
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"I don't understand. Why call us common folk to such a grand place? It's not like they need us to witness an execution."
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A thin, wiry merchant with quick eyes darted glances around the room as he replied, "Maybe it's about taxes. Gods know they've been squeezing us dry lately."
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"Taxes?" scoffed a weathered farmer, soil still embedded under his nails despite his best efforts to clean up. "Nah, it's got to be about the harvest. Maybe they're worried about a famine."
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A young seamstress, her fingers bearing the tiny scars of countless needle pricks, shook her head. "You're all wrong. I bet it's about the war."
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"War?" the others exclaimed in unison, their eyes widening in alarm.
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"Think about it," she continued, lowering her voice. "Why else gather everyone like this? They must be preparing to announce a call to arms."
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This sparked a heated debate among the commoners, each offering their own theories and concerns about what a war might mean for their livelihoods.
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Near the altar, members of the clergy whispered amongst themselves, their white robes a stark contrast to the colorful attire of the nobles and the simple garb of the commoners.
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An elderly priest, his face lined with years of devotion, murmured to his younger colleague, "In all my years, I've never seen such a gathering in this sacred hall. It must be a matter of great spiritual importance."
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The younger priest nodded solemnly, "Perhaps they're going to announce a new religious edict? Or maybe it's about the rumors of heresy spreading in the outer provinces?"
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A nun, her habit crisp and immaculate, interjected softly, "Whatever it is, we must pray for guidance and wisdom for our leaders in these uncertain times."
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"Amen," the others responded in unison, their heads bowing briefly in prayer.
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In the shadows near the walls, servants and maids moved quietly, their ears perked to catch any snippets of conversation that might shed light on the situation.
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A young maid, balancing a tray of delicate crystal glasses, whispered to her companion, "I overheard one of the nobles saying something about a new heir. Do you think that's why we're here?"
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Her friend, an older servant with graying hair, shook her head. "Impossible. If it were about an heir, why invite the commoners? No, this is something bigger."
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A kitchen boy, his face still round with youth, piped up, "Maybe it's about magic! I heard one of the guards talking about strange lights in the sky last night."
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The older servant cuffed him gently on the ear. "Don't be ridiculous, boy. There's no such thing as magic."
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But even as she said it, her eyes darted around nervously, as if checking for any sign of the supernatural.
To be Continued...
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