Chapter 11 - Whispers from the Capital

While Arthur restored order in the north, Pendragon Castle was far from peaceful. Queen Morgana paced her private chambers, her expression dark and thunderous as Kara relayed the news from the northern scouts.
"He defeated Malaphar?" Morgana hissed, her fingernails digging into the wooden table. "Without losing a single knight? How is that possible? Malaphar had an army of mercenaries!"
"It wasn't just the knights, Your Grace," Kara whispered cautiously. "The mountain clans rallied to him. They say he wields the sword like a god of old. The people in the capital are already naming him 'The True Sun of Albion.'"
Morgana let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Let them sing his praises while they can. A king who is loved is dangerous, Kara, but a king who is merciful is weak. If he thinks he can rule with kindness alone, he is a fool."
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"What are your orders?"
"Send a raven to our allies in the southern duchies," Morgana instructed, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Tell them the boy has left the capital vulnerable. While he plays hero in the frozen north, the true power of the court remains ours to maneuver. When he returns, he will find a throne made of thorns."