Chapter 7 - The Confrontation in the High Tower
The grand throne room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a dying fire in the central hearth. Empty wine goblets and shattered crystal littered the polished floor.
At the far end of the hall, sitting atop the high slate throne, was Cedric.
His royal tunic was unbuttoned, his silver crown tilted sideways on his head. In his right hand, he held a dark iron torch; in his left, a heavy imperial broadsword. Beside the throne sat three barrel drums dripping with black, foul-smelling oil—wildfire oil, brought up from the deep siege vaults.
Standing on either side of the throne were six remaining guards of the King’s Personal Guard—men whose faces were pale with absolute dread.
“I knew you would come like a thief in the night,” Cedric rasped, his voice slurred with wine and madness. He raised the sputtering torch, casting long, frantic shadows across the carved gargoyles above. “The great Empress... sneaking through the back door!”
Adeline walked slowly down the central aisle, stopping twenty paces from the throne. She did not draw her sword.
“It is over, Cedric,” Adeline said quietly. “My army surrounds your walls. The nobles have abandoned you. The people do not want you. Put down the torch.”
“Abandon me?!” Cedric laughed—a sharp, hysterical cackle that echoed off the high vaulting. “They didn't abandon me! They are cowards! All of them! They bowed to my father, they bowed to me, and now they want to bow to you because you found an ancient lizard in the dirt!”
He stood up, staggering slightly as he stepped down the first marble stair, holding the flame closer to the oil barrels.
“If I cannot have this city, no one will,” Cedric hissed, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “One spark into these barrels, Adeline... and the high tower collapses. We all burn together. You, me, your army outside, and your precious dragon.”
The six guards behind him exchanged frantic, terrified glances. They had been willing to fight for their prince, but they had not agreed to burn alive for his madness.
“Drop your weapons,” Adeline said softly, looking past Cedric to the six soldiers. “Leave this room, and your lives are spared. You have my word as your true Empress.”
The guards did not hesitate. One by one, they dropped their heavy spears, turned their backs on the prince, and ran out through the side exits into the night.
“Traitors!” Cedric screamed after them, waving his sword wildly. “Cowards!”
He turned back to Adeline, his face contorted in absolute rage. “You took everything from me! My crown, my pride, my glory! I was supposed to be the greatest king Oakhaven ever saw!”
“You were given every advantage, Cedric,” Adeline said, her voice filled with a sad, immutable truth. “You had gold, armies, peace, and the love of your people. But you threw it all away because you believed greatness was something you were born with, rather than something you earn.”
“Shut up!” Cedric screamed.
He lunged forward, swinging his broadsword in a desperate, wild arc aimed at her neck, while thrusting the burning torch toward the open lid of the oil barrel with his other hand.
Adeline moved.
With the lightning speed forged in the harsh northern baronies, she stepped inside his wild swing. Her mother’s silver blade flashed in the firelight.
CLANG!
She struck Cedric’s wrist with the flat of her blade, sending his heavy broadsword spinning across the stone floor. Before he could lower the torch into the oil, she caught his forearm with her left hand, twisting his arm back with absolute leverage.
The torch dropped from his numb fingers, rolling harmlessly across the stone floor toward the cold hearth.
Cedric stumbled backward, tripping over his own long cloak, and crashed heavily onto the steps of the throne. His silver crown slipped from his head, clattering down the marble stairs until it came to rest against Adeline’s boot.
He lay there on his back, gasping for breath, looking up at her with a face full of pathetic, hollow realization.
“Kill me then,” Cedric choked out, tears finally spilling from his eyes. “Do it. Finish your revenge.”
Adeline looked down at him. She looked at the crown at her feet, then slowly sheathed her silver sword.
“Revenge is for children, Cedric,” Adeline said softly. “A true ruler does not execute a fallen enemy out of spite. You will live. You will live to watch me rebuild the kingdom you tried to burn.”
The heavy bronze doors behind her burst open. Uncle Mathias and fifty northern soldiers poured into the hall, weapons drawn, followed by the elderly King Alistair, supported by two guards.
The old king looked at his son weeping on the steps, then looked at Adeline standing calm and untouched beneath the imperial crest.
May you like
King Alistair slowly shuffled forward, took off his own heavy, golden ring of state, and held it out to the girl from Thornmere.
“The reign of House Alistair is ended,” the old king whispered, bowing his head. “Long live Empress Adeline.”
