“Zara Fel Blythe.” The King offered Darko a wry frown. “An infamous Krose-born Defender of the Dragon Wall. An escapee with such power that even the most wicked of nobles were forced to respect her upbringing. She was a true figurehead of Krose tenacity. Until she deserted her post and was never seen again.”

“Zara is someone I know well, including the details of her disappearance,” Darko said. “More importantly, how many of you have heard of a mage named Silas Piarlan?”

The audience observed with curious silence, including me, frozen by the end of the red carpet. The girls and I barely breathed. Our shackled leader was finally doing something. We could only watch and pray.

“Silas Piarlan is a Krose-born mage,” Darko said. “Once a respectable, upcoming mage of a wealthy family. Known as a mediocre fighter by skills. He was mostly famous because of his gender and occupation. Even then, his fame was short-lived. Silas was found dead thirty years ago along with House Piarlan’s collapsed ruins.”

“I am growing annoyed with this audience,” the King said. “Tell me, what are you scheming?”

“Silas’s death was framed,” Darko said. “The mage never died at all. While the majority of House Piarlan perished in the tragic collapse of their House, Mr. Silas traveled to the Dragon Wall in search of true strength. What was known of his mediocre powers was all a front. In reality, Silas could have qualified amongst the most powerful mages of Kroses Sol.”

“Nonsense.” The King slammed his fist on his throne. “You, child adventurer, are far too young to even dream of telling a tale from this age. Were you friends with Mr. Piarlan himself during the glory days of his discoveries? Were you a mana worker at the countless wells his House overlooked? No. You were not. The elderly in this room were sworn peers of Mr. Piarlan. Any one of them will deem your tale a fallacy. Please, my followers, former friends of House Piarlan, let out your laughter on our young oracle!”

That the audience did, though the laughter was not sincere. Nobles laughed because they were told to. In reality, everyone wished to hear more. Darko’s tale had ensnared the room in curiosity, doubtful as everyone was.

“I don’t claim to know the extent of Mr. Piarlan’s mine capital,” Darko said. “Nor is the House important to my tale. What I do know is that Silas Piarlan is not nearly as respectable at raising children as he is at casting spells.”

The King paused, a disapproving expression glued to his face.

“Silas journeyed to the Walls,” Darko said. “I don’t claim to know his achievements or deeds, but his presence is a known fact. Silas was not a registered Defender, and certainly not respected by his peers. However, he was apparently powerful enough to draw attention to himself by the strongest of the strong. Ask any Defender who was active thirty years ago, and they will tell you exactly who this sniffer was, though few bothered to learn his name.” Darko raised his head, matching the King’s eyes. “Most knew Silas by his title: ‘the weird man Zara Fel Blythe was madly in love with.’”

“Ludicrous!” the King called. “Utter lies from the depths of your tangled bowels. This tale has been the largest pile of nonsense to have ever graced this throne room. How in the name of Carillia’s endless moons do you claim to know this information?”

“Oh, I know what a lot of people don’t,” Darko said. “People who are fond of each other tend to express their feelings. Oftentimes, these lovely activities lead to a fun mistake called pregnancy. It’s thanks to this phenomenon that I know of this information today.”

“You offer no proof,” the King said. “You are not who you claim to be.”

“I’ve been told I have my father’s face,” Darko said. “The elders of this room can confirm this. And if this is not enough, you have the power to contact the Defenders. Zara’s friends undoubtedly remember the weird man she had an affair with.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“And to answer my earlier promise regarding Zara’s whereabouts; my mother is dead. She was killed by my father himself after the two deemed that their love wasn’t worth all that much in the end. You can bet this all was quite a shock to my five-year-old self when it happened.”

The room fell into disbelief. Some couldn’t contain themselves and whispered to each other. Remy and Shena were frozen in place, eyes wide. I seemed to be the only one confused about all this.

Darko took a step closer. This brought the room to silence, as if his shackled authority matched the King’s. “This all relates to today’s audience for a simple reason.” He raised his voice and declared, “Silas Piarlan, my father and the murderer of Zara Fel Blythe, is Azetoth, Founder of the cult we are all trying to destroy.”

Silence. A terrifying word when given the right context. Every muscle in my body tensed. Few of Darko’s declarations made sense to me, but I found every ounce of my being invested in the success of his story.

“It is a convincing tale,” the King eventually said. “One that would gain tremendous merit were it proven true. Tell me, Wyvern Slayer, supposed son of Azetoth, did I understand the purpose of this audience correctly? You are trying to kill your own father?”

“Silas is my biological father,” Darko said. “However, he is not, and never will be, my parent. Silas did not raise me. Thus, he is not family. My mother is the loving parent who raised me, and she did so alone in a village that I have sworn not to name.” He grimaced. “Yes, I am trying to kill my father. Revenge is what I’m after, your Majesty. I am the son of Azetoth. Thus, I know his identity. I know his goals. I know his tendencies. And I know how he can be killed.”

The King sat in thought. He and Darko locked in a staredown, studying each other. The room stayed in silence.

“Does anyone in this audience wish to dispute the Wyvern Slayer’s claim?” the King asked.

A knight in steel armor stepped forward from the audience. He unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Darko. “Forgive my insolence, Your Majesty, but this tale is a lie. I know with experience. Do not listen to this adventurer.”

Eyes drew to the odd knight in steel, confusion rising all around. A visor hid the man’s identity, deeming him an unimportant guard. Yet, something was off. The King’s thoughtful frown implied something. This knight was more than was shown outside. An agent, perhaps?

“Interesting,” Darko said. “In this world, there currently exist three people who know the truth of my family, including Azetoth himself. If you claim my tale is a lie with experience, there is only one person who you could be.”

The knight faced Darko, unmoving. It was as if the two knew each other. Some important subtext hung in the air, and I had no idea what it was. The audience seemed to share my confusion.

The knight turned to the King and lowered his head. “I take back my claim. This adventurer is a different man.” He retreated back to his post.

King Xastur reclined on the backrest and let out an audible sigh. “This audience has drawn out to utter ridiculousness. Your fifteen minutes are overdue, and I do not wish to listen to this for a second longer. There is a war I must lead.” He stood up from his throne. “Prince Vitek, my son. I entrust the full command of Azetoth’s disposal to you. The fate of the Wyvern Slayer is in your hands, including the debt he and his team owes. Do what you will with the adventurers.”

With that, the King walked out through the back doors, the Sacred Priest and her team following suit. The audience watched in disbelief.

Prince Vitek stood idly next to the throne. I struggled to read his expression. He wasn’t angry, but not exactly brimming with joy either. This was the face of a man who didn’t wish to deal with overly complicated matters.

Darko, in turn, grinned. He walked up to the red carpet and kneeled. The girls and I hastily followed suit.

“I will be glad to reveal my father’s secrets,” Darko said. “I ask nothing but to offer me a chance to avenge my mother’s death.”

The Prince thought. His stare wasn’t nearly as terrifying as his father’s. The true power of his uncertain gaze came from the authority just given to him.

He took a breath. “Darko, the Wyvern Slayer, and his group of adventurers will join the hunt for the Cult of Azetoth, under the leadership and supervision of Daphine Belyris and Prince Vitek.”