Xander escorted Lina out of the castle gates, pausing just outside the torchlit courtyard. He bowed deeply to her, his voice steady but warm. "Thank you for what you’ve done today. Your kindness made a difference."
A court assistant approached, handing over two cloth bags, one filled with fresh garments and the other with food. Lina accepted them with wide eyes, bowing slightly. “I hope Felix recovers fully,” she said, clutching the gifts tightly.
Xander nodded, his expression softening for a moment. “I’m sure he will.”
As Lina began her walk back to the city, the weight of the day pressed upon her. She glanced back at the towering castle, the flicker of torchlight on its stone walls casting long shadows. “No one’s ever going to believe this,” she muttered under her breath. Her thoughts drifted to Felix, his handsome features etched into her memory. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly clapped them with her hands, trying to shake off her thoughts. “Focus, Lina,” she told herself, adjusting her pace as she headed toward the slums.
Xander lingered for a moment, watching her silhouette disappear into the city’s dim streets before turning back. His stride was slower now, each step measured as if he were trying to gather himself. The courtyard torches burned bright, their light reflecting off the polished stone walls. He exhaled, long and heavy, knowing that the most difficult part of his day still lay ahead.
The throne room loomed before him, its double doors guarded by two members of the Xargian Guard. Their snarling beast helmets gleamed under the flickering light as they stepped aside, pulling the massive gates open.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. Lords and vassals from across Xandria crowded the room, their voices a cacophony of heated debate.
“We must retaliate immediately!” one vassal roared, slamming his fist on the table at the center of the room. A large map of the realm sprawled across it, detailing Xandria and the nations beyond.
“Betrayal of this magnitude cannot go unanswered!” another shouted, his voice drowned out by the rising murmur of agreement.
Xander slipped into the room, keeping to the shadows out of habit. He moved toward a corner, preferring the quiet edge over the chaos.
Near the throne of a thousand crowns, Xemena and Xhiva stood at their father’s side, their postures sharp and attentive. King Xerxes sat on the towering throne, his scarlet gaze fixed on his firstborn son as he entered.
“You’re late,” the king said, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. The room fell silent instantly, the authority in his tone leaving no room for interruption.
Xander halted mid-step, bowing his head. “My apologies, Father—”
“I am your king,” Xerxes corrected, his voice sharp and unyielding.
Xander straightened, his jaw tightening. “My apologies, my king.”
The king’s scarlet eyes bore into his son’s, but he wasted no more words on formality. “Let us proceed,” he said, his tone commanding. The meeting had officially begun.
The king’s voice rang out, commanding the room’s attention. “Xemena, begin. Walk us through the events of the attack.”
Xemena stepped forward, her voice clear and resolute as she addressed the gathered lords and vassals. “Honored lords and allies, yesterday’s assault had one clear objective: the elimination of the king and all who stand loyal to him. Many of our friends and allies were slaughtered in cold blood.”
She extended a hand toward Dragon, the leader of the Xargian Guard, who stood stoic and imposing near the throne. “Our elite soldiers were deployed to the city. According to Dragon’s report, the disturbances across Xandria were orchestrated as a diversion—to draw our finest forces away from the castle.”
Lowering her arm, she continued, her voice steady. “However, thanks to the vigilance of one of our court assistants, the tide turned. Sensing something was amiss, he risked everything to sneak away and warn the Xargian Guard. His actions ensured their return to the fortress in time to intercept the attackers.”
A wave of murmurs rippled through the room, tinged with admiration. “Such extraordinary loyalty!” one vassal exclaimed.
“Indeed, such bravery should be rewarded!” another chimed in.
King Xerxes’s voice cut through the growing praise, cold and unyielding. “That assistant has been banished.” His declaration froze the room. “He is one of the culprits responsible for the destruction of the King’s Tower.”
The chamber fell silent, a tension settling over the crowd. Then, a few chuckles broke the quiet, followed by murmurs of agreement. “Ah, of course! A fitting punishment for one who dares to endanger the very heart of the kingdom,” one vassal said.
“Truly a wise decision, my king!” another added, their tone deferential.
Xemena pressed on, her composure unwavering. “Additionally, one of the summoned champions brought critical information to my attention. They reported that one of the culprits—Zacharias, from now on known as Snake Eyes, a prince of Zairule—was seen consuming a mana potion during the attack.”
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the room. “We suspect he has unlocked the ability to wield magic—and that his magic may possess the power to temporarily nullify skills.”
Murmurs erupted once more across the room. “We were fortunate that one of the summoned champions warned us of this!” a voice chimed in, nodding emphatically. “A fitting reward should be given for such a critical feat.”
Xerxes raised his hand, the movement sharp and deliberate, silencing the room in an instant. His scarlet eyes burned like smoldering embers as he leaned slightly forward in his throne. “That man has also been sentenced to banishment,” he announced coldly. “He dared challenge me to a duel—and lost.”
The gathered lords and vassals held their breath, none willing to risk speaking over the king. Xerxes eased back into his seat, his imposing presence unshaken.
After a tense pause, a lone voice ventured, “Ah, a fitting punishment for one who dares to oppose our king!”
The sentiment quickly caught on, with others echoing in agreement. “Indeed! Good riddance!”
Xemena resumed her report, her voice unwavering as she addressed the room. “During the ambush, Roy, another one of the summoned, used his skill to blast a hole in the wall.”
A silence hung heavy in the room, the crowd unsure how to respond to this revelation.
“Roy is not banished,” Xemena clarified pointedly. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room, tension easing momentarily.
“His actions allowed the Xargian Guard to breach the ballroom and enter the fray,” she continued. “We also have reason to suspect the involvement of the Golden Bank, along with other nations, in this assault. Their exact motivations remain unclear, but investigations are underway.”
She straightened and offered a nod. “That concludes my summary.”
Xerxes took over seamlessly, his voice cutting through the lingering murmurs. “Good. Now, the question is this: how do we respond to this brazen declaration?”
A hand rose from the crowd. “Forgive the interruption,” came the voice of Lord Aldric. His tone was laced with unease. “We’ve neglected to discuss my daughter—Aurelia was abducted during the chaos.”
Xerxes’s gaze hardened as he dismissed the concern with a single wave. “She has served her purpose. Do not interrupt again, Lord Aldric.”
The old man visibly recoiled, his voice stilled. Xerxes turned back to the gathered lords and vassals. “Now, to the matter at hand. How should we retaliate?”
“Declare war!” someone shouted, the cry quickly amplified by others.
“Destroy the Golden Bank!” another demanded. “Make them pay for their treachery!”
The room buzzed with fury and a hunger for vengeance, yet Lord Aldric remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the floor. His hands trembled, his lips quivering as tears pooled in his weary eyes. Alone, amidst the roar of voices demanding blood, no one seemed to notice or care about the loss that haunted him.
Xerxes’s voice thundered across the hall, commanding unwavering attention. “Send word to every corner of Xandria about what transpired here. Let our people know the truth. Dispatch emissaries to every nation to tell our side of the story. And as for the Golden Bank, they will provide an explanation—or compensation will be taken by force. Furthermore, no one from Zairule shall set foot in our lands, be they merchants or laborers. Zacharias, also known as Snake Eyes, is hereby sentenced in absentia for his crimes and will face justice within our borders. Does anyone object?”
The room fell into an oppressive silence. Not a single voice rose in dissent; none dared challenge the king’s decree. His word was law, immutable and final.
Xander took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as he prepared to speak. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on him. "Life was simpler just days ago," he thought bitterly. Rising to his feet, he squared his shoulders and addressed the throne with careful respect.
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“That is a wise plan, Your Majesty,” he began, his voice measured but steady. “However, I would like to propose an additional idea.”
Xander stepped forward, standing just beneath the throne as his gaze swept across the room. “Loyal subjects of Xandria,” he said, his tone firm and persuasive, “in these trying times, we must stand united. Petty disputes and smaller offenses should be set aside for the greater good. Therefore, I propose this: we unbanish Winston, the court assistant, and Niles, the summoned champion. While their crimes are undeniable, their efforts to redeem themselves have proven invaluable. We will need every ounce of manpower to face the challenges ahead.”
The hall grew tense, every eye flickering between the young prince and the king. Xerxes’s gaze locked onto his son, smoldering with barely restrained fury.
“Xander,” the king growled, his voice low but full of menace.
But Xander pressed on undeterred. “Niles has also been gifted with a familiar,” he continued, “an avian with the ability to deliver messages at lightning speed. Such a skill could be critical in the battles we will undoubtedly face to protect our empire.”
“XANDER!” Xerxes’s roar echoed like thunder, causing even the most stalwart lords to flinch. The king leaned forward, his tone brimming with menace. “You dare question my decisions?”
Xander exhaled slowly, his composure barely intact. “No, my king,” he corrected himself. “I merely suggest we consider the bigger picture.”
Xerxes’s gaze narrowed, sharp as a blade. “And in this so-called ‘bigger picture,’” he asked coldly, “who sits on this throne?”
Xander hesitated for a fraction of a second, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What?” he murmured, caught off guard by the king’s cutting response.
Xerxes leaned forward, his muscles tensing as his voice deepened. “I had a soldier spy on you today,” he began, each word deliberate and cutting. “It seems you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with this Niles.”
He raised one finger, his tone sharpening. “First, you took the Holy Crystal without authorization.” A second finger followed. “You allowed commoners—filthy commoners—to discover their skills for free.” A third finger. “You visited Vulcan, the smith, and turned a blind eye to the heritage sign he raised, a clear breach of our laws.” A fourth finger jabbed into the air. “You went to the Adventurer’s Guild, got robbed, and when you caught the thief, you delivered no punishment. Do you understand the catastrophe losing the crystal would have brought upon this nation?” Finally, a fifth finger joined the rest as Xerxes’s hand formed a rigid claw.
“And then,” Xerxes growled, pointing his clenched fist at Xander like a weapon, “you overruled a decision to transfer the experience points of a dying soldier to the Xargian Guard. To top it off, I hear the summoned champion dares to call you a ‘future great king.’” His hand dropped to the armrest of his throne, heavy as a hammer. “Tell me, Xander—what is your ambition?”
Xander’s face twisted with frustration. “What you’re insinuating is nonsense!” he snapped, throwing his arms wide. “My loyalty is to you and to Xandria!”
His voice rose further, his words spilling over. “I saved your life during the ball! If I wanted to take the throne, I wouldn’t have intercepted! I would have let them—” He stopped, too late to rein in his tongue. “And perhaps I should have!” he barked, his anger overtaking him.
The room grew deathly quiet as his words hung in the air. “During the attack, you were numb!” Xander continued, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and regret. “Your passiveness nearly cost all of our lives. You were naïve, Father! This blame is yours!”
The silence became suffocating.
Xerxes rose from his throne, his movements slow and deliberate, yet the fury in his expression was unmistakable. “Perhaps I should have you banished as well.”
Realizing the gravity of his outburst, Xander’s confidence faltered. He struggled to reclaim his composure. “Father, no, please—just listen!”
Before Xerxes could respond, Lion, a soldier of the Xargian Guard, seized the moment. “EVERYONE STAND BACK FROM PRINCE XANDER!” he roared, his voice shaking the hall. “HE’S ACTIVATED HIS SKILL—ONE-MAN-ARMY! HE SEES US AS ENEMIES!”
Chaos erupted. Lords and vassals scrambled for safety, their screams filling the air as guards drew their weapons, advancing cautiously on the prince.
“NO, STOP!” Xander shouted, his hands rising defensively. He reached for the sword on his back, his posture tense. “This is insane!” His eyes darted to his father. “Father, I apologize! I was wrong—I shouldn’t have said those things. Please, believe me!”
But Xerxes remained unmoved, his expression carved from stone, disgust etched into his features.
Xander turned to his siblings, desperation creeping into his voice. “Xhiva, Xemena—please! You must vouch for me!”
Xhiva’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Oh, I’d love to, dear brother,” he began mockingly. “But the king is right. After all, you even threatened my life when I refused to obey your whims. I had no choice but to watch over that injured soldier on your behalf.”
Xander’s gaze shot to Xemena, searching for any sign of loyalty. “Xemena, please!”
His sister’s lips trembled, her expression conflicted as she avoided his eyes. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but resolute. “The king’s judgment is just. None of us—no matter our relationship—should question it.”
The weight of her words crushed him. Xander’s proud posture sagged, his spirit broken. “I see,” he murmured, his voice hollow.
Reaching for the sword strapped to his back, he unsheathed it with deliberate slowness. Every guard and family member watched him closely, tension thick enough to choke on. He stared at the blade for a moment before letting it fall from his hand.
The sword hit the ground with a loud, metallic clang, the sound echoing through the chamber like a tolling bell.
Xerxes’s voice thundered, rising above the murmurs in the room. “Such insolence would typically demand severe punishment. Yet you may be right about one thing—war may indeed be upon us. Your skills will be needed on the battlefield.”
Xhiva cast a sharp, disapproving glare at the king, his expression suggesting he would have preferred a far harsher sentence for his older brother.
The king’s verdict came swiftly, his gaze locking onto Xander with the weight of finality. “You are sentenced to house arrest. You are forbidden to leave your chambers until I decree otherwise. Leave your blade on the floor; it will be confiscated. Furthermore, your financial privileges are hereby revoked.”
Xander remained silent, bowing his head in a show of obedience. His expression betrayed nothing, though inwardly he noted Xhiva’s subtle delight—the faint smirk, the quiet laughter barely masked behind a stoic facade.
This is why I stay silent, Xander thought. The political games hold no appeal for me. Years of training his body to become stronger had steeled his will, but Xhiva had taken a different path, sharpening his tongue and wit instead. Xander moved with action; Xhiva with words. And for a fleeting moment, Xander was tempted to respond in kind—to let his voice move with his body and strike.
But he refrained. Rising from his bow, he prepared to take his leave.
Then Xerxes’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, stirring the pot with calculated precision. “Xhiva, tell me—how would you handle the thief who dared rob your brother? And the smith who dared raise a forbidden sigil within our realm?”
“Well, my king,” Xhiva began, his tone dripping with condescension, “it’s vital that the commoners understand their place. Any affront to the crown, no matter how small, must be dealt with swiftly and severely.” A sly smirk spread across his face as he added, “Therefore, at dawn, I propose to lead a detachment of loyal soldiers into town, apprehend both the smith and the petty thief, and deliver the justice they deserve.”
King Xerxes tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And what, in your view, does this justice look like?”
Xhiva bowed with exaggerated grace, his voice smooth. “A public spectacle, my king. They shall dance at the gallows in the town square for all to see.” He straightened, his smirk unwavering.
The king’s piercing gaze shifted to Xemena. “Daughter of mine, do you find this proposal agreeable?”
Xemena stiffened, caught off guard by the question. She hesitated, the weight of expectation heavy upon her shoulders. The way the king framed the question left no room for dissent. Bowing her head, she replied, “Yes, my king.” Her voice was steady, but inside, she prayed she had chosen correctly.
“Then I expect results by the end of the day tomorrow,” Xerxes declared, his tone final.
Xander could no longer remain silent. He knew he was already in enough trouble, but this was something he couldn’t let pass. Carefully collecting his thoughts, he spoke with measured respect. “My king, may I humbly ask you to reconsider? The smith provides us with high-quality goods vital to our cause, and the thief is merely a child. He has already learned his lesson.”
Xerxes’s crimson eyes bore into his son. “Did I ask for your opinion?”
Xander held his ground, his voice steady. “You did not, my king.”
The king’s lips turned into a cold form. “Then you may leave your clothes here as well.”
Xander’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly masked his expression. Xerxes’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Do not test my patience further.”
With a deep, resigned breath, Xander nodded. He turned to his siblings. Xhiva’s grin was wide, his silent laughter evident in his shaking shoulders. Xemena, on the other hand, couldn’t meet Xander’s gaze. Though she had supported the decision aloud, her trembling form betrayed her inner turmoil.
Xander’s anger began to dissipate. “I’m sorry to have put you in this position,” he said softly to his siblings. “Please, don’t feel bad for me. I still feel honored to serve this court and will proudly wear our colors again when allowed.”
He began to undress, folding each article of clothing neatly and placing them on the cold stone floor. The air bit at his skin, but it wasn’t the chill that drew gasps from the room—it was his body. Scars crisscrossed his chest, deep and jagged, each one a testament to battles fought and survived. A vicious slash stretched across his torso, and the remnants of spear wounds adorned his sides.
He bowed deeply, his voice calm. “Thank you, my king.”
Turning, he walked away, his back straight and proud. The murmurs in the room grew louder, and laughter erupted.
“The disgrace of Xandria!” one voice sneered.
“You’re fortunate our king is so merciful,” another spat.
Even Xhiva couldn’t contain his amusement, his laughter echoing through the hall.
But Xemena did not laugh. Her gaze was fixed on her brother’s retreating figure. Though his back was smooth and unmarked, unmarred by the battles that scarred his front, she felt the weight of the burden he carried. And for the first time in years, her heart ached with silent regret.
A pair of Xargian guards trailed Xander into his chambers, their stern presence ensuring he didn’t create another spectacle—or worse, further embarrassment for the king.
As the heavy door closed behind him, Xander exhaled and moved toward his drawer. He pulled out his nightclothes, the soft fabric a small comfort, and slipped into bed. “I’m sorry, everyone,” he murmured into the silence, his voice barely audible. Seeking solace, he closed his eyes, but the weight of the day pressed heavily on him. Tears burned behind his eyelids, a sensation unfamiliar and raw. It had been years since he’d felt the stirrings of grief strong enough to summon tears.
Sleep eluded him. For hours, he stared out of his window, the distant stars mocking him with their indifference. Then, a light knock on the glass startled him. A familiar chirp followed.
“Squeaky,” Xander whispered, relief softening his voice as he opened the window. The bird fluttered in, perching on his shoulder.
Inside his mind, Niles’s voice rang out through the link. “Sup, bro! How’s it going? Spill the tea—how did the meeting go? We’re stuck in here, and the guards are killing us with their ‘don’t leave the room’ orders!”
Xander scratched Squeaky gently under the beak, the little bird leaning into the touch with obvious delight. A faint smile tugged at Xander’s lips. “You couldn’t have come at a better time, Squeaky,” he said warmly.
He began recounting the events of the meeting, leaving no detail untouched. As he spoke, the weight on his chest lifted slightly, his words flowing freely. “Most importantly,” he said gravely, “Vulcan the smith and Lina’s little brother are in danger. Niles, they’re planning to make an example of them at dawn.”
At the end of his account, Xander added, “I’m under constant surveillance now, so don’t send Squeaky back for at least the next full moon. It’s too risky.”
Turning to Squeaky, he gently placed a royal insignia brooch into the bird’s talons. “I don’t have any gold to send, but this should help open some doors for you. Keep it safe.”
Squeaky let out a soft, mournful chirp as though reluctant to leave. Xander stroked the bird one last time before lifting it back to the window. “Good luck, little one. And good luck, Niles,” he whispered.
With a final chirp, Squeaky spread its wings and soared into the night. Xander watched the bird’s graceful flight, the faint electrical hum of its movement smoothing the air in its wake. For a moment, he felt a flicker of hope. Xander turned back to his bed. This time, sleep came more easily.