Chapter 8 - The Road to Redpeak
Three days after the transformation of the capital, the administrative transition was well underway. The city council, now composed of elected guild representatives and veteran commanders like Gideon, had repealed the oppressive emergency taxes and opened the royal granaries to the public.
King Alaric had chosen exile. Refusing to participate in the new council's proceedings, he packed two chests of gold and departed quietly under the cover of night, heading south toward the coastal provinces where his name still held a shred of fearful recognition. No one pursued him; a deposed tyrant weighed down by his own guilt was punishment enough unto himself.
High in the northern foothills of Redpeak, the air was crisp, thin, and scented with pine and melting snow.
Elias and General Vane walked side by side along a narrow stone trail that wound upward through the craggy pines. Their boots crunched softly against the frosted gravel. Gideon had offered them a cavalry escort, but both grandfather and grandson had politely declined. Some journeys required a quiet approach.
"Do you think it will remember us?" Elias asked, pulling his woolen cloak tighter around his shoulders as a chilly gust swept down from the upper peaks.
"Malachar never forgets, Elias," Vane replied, his breath pluming white in the cold air. "It remembers those who hunted it, yes. But it also remembers those who respected its boundary."
They rounded a steep granite ridge and stepped out onto a vast, sunlit plateau overlooking the endless green expanse of the northern valleys.
There, resting peacefully in a wide clearing of silver-leafed moss, was Malachar.
Its three heads were lowered, resting gently against one another in a circle of quiet repose. The blue fire that had once crackled violently across its body was gone, replaced by a soft, natural bioluminescence that pulsed gently beneath its dark and silver scales.
As the two travelers approached, the middle, silver-scaled head lifted. The luminous violet eyes fixed upon Elias.
Elias stopped twenty paces away. He didn't reach for a weapon, nor did he tense his muscles. Instead, he unslung a small leather waterskin from his belt, unscrewed the cap, and poured a clean, clear stream of mountain spring water onto a flat stone before him.
The beast’s central head let out a soft, melodic hum—the very same sound it had made in the arena when the truth was finally spoken. It lowered its snout, gently nuzzled the wet stone, and then closed its eyes in quiet acceptance.
May you like
Vane watched with a warm, knowing smile. "It seems peacekeeping pays better than kitchen service, doesn't it?"
"The pay is terrible, Grandfather," Elias laughed softly, turning his gaze toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to set in a blaze of amber and gold over the free kingdom of Eldoria. "But the view... the view is entirely worth it."
