Chapter 12 - The Northern Challenge
The heavy oak doors swung open, admitting a tight formation of northern guards clad in heavy furs and chainmail. At their head strode Duke Caelen, a towering man with a thick red beard and a scar running from his left temple down to his jawline. His boots struck the marble with heavy, defiant thuds. Behind him walked several lords, their expressions guarded and proud.
Duke Caelen stopped fifty paces from the throne, offering only a stiff, shallow bow that lacked any real respect.
"Queen Valeria," Caelen said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder in the high-ceilinged hall. "Or perhaps we should still call you the scullery maid of the lower east wing? Rumors travel fast, but gold and steel speak louder than glowing jewelry."
Gasps echoed from the courtiers gathered around the hall. Several guards instinctively moved their hands toward their weapons, but a single subtle raise of Valeria’s hand froze them in place.
Valeria did not flinch. She descended the first three steps of the dais, the blue light of her crown catching the harsh morning sun and throwing dancing sapphire reflections across the cold stone.
"You speak of gold and steel, Duke Caelen," Valeria replied evenly, her voice ringing clear and steady. "Yet it was steel that butchered my parents in their beds twenty years ago, and gold that bought the silence of men like you while the treasury was bled dry. If you came to test my patience, you have already succeeded. If you came to challenge my right to rule, speak your terms or kneel."
Caelen’s jaw tightened. He had expected a frightened girl overwhelmed by her sudden elevation; instead, he faced a sovereign carved from absolute iron. He stepped forward, his hand resting heavily on the hilt of his broadsword.
"The law demands a trial by combat or council ratification for any disputed bloodline," Caelen challenged, his eyes flashing with dangerous ambition. "If you are truly the daughter of Alistair, prove it not just to a piece of metal, but to the living lords of the realm. Face my champion in the arena tomorrow at dawn."
Marcus stepped forward, his face dark with fury. "You insolent dog—"
May you like
"Accepted," Valeria interrupted, her gaze locked unblinkingly onto Caelen's.
The northern duke blinked, clearly surprised by her immediate compliance. "Tomorrow at dawn, then. Let us see if your crown protects your neck when the blade falls." With a sharp turn, Caelen swept out of the hall, his entourage trailing nervously behind him.
