In the castle, tension grew with each passing day. Aemon's absence, combined with the deteriorating health of King Alaric, cast a dark shadow over the halls of Volcrist. In the great hall, the royal family and advisors frequently gathered to discuss the state of the kingdom, but one question loomed over them all: who should assume the throne if the worst were to happen?

Cedric, with an impatient and determined look, observed the others with a mixture of frustration and barely concealed ambition. He finally broke the silence, his voice filled with a firmness that no one expected:

— Too much time has passed. We cannot continue to act as if the throne is undecided. If Aemon were alive, he would have returned by now. — Cedric looked at each person present, his expression resolute. — I should be named the next king immediately.

Thorne, ever the cautious one, frowned, responding with a calm yet authoritative tone:

— Cedric, we understand your concern, but the search efforts are still ongoing. We cannot simply declare Aemon dead without concrete evidence. The people would not accept that so easily.

Cedric crossed his arms, the determination in his eyes intensifying:

— Concrete evidence? We're dealing with reality. The kingdom needs leadership, not illusions. And with the state of our king... — He cast a quick glance at Alaric, who sat pale and weakened — we cannot afford to wait for a ghost.

Edric tried to intervene, his voice laced with hesitation:

— Cedric, we understand your position, but tradition dictates that we wait until we have certainty. Making a hasty decision could divide the court, and that's something we cannot risk right now.

Cedric narrowed his eyes, his frustration transforming into a near-aggressive determination:

— Divide the court? What will divide the court is uncertainty! What will divide the kingdom is the lack of strong leadership in a time of crisis! Don't tell me I should keep waiting when it's clear Aemon isn't coming back. The people need a king who's present, someone who can make decisions now, not a vain hope.

Fianna, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke up, her voice gentle yet filled with concern:

— Cedric, we understand your urgency. But what you're asking... Naming you now, without due process, could be seen as usurpation. It wouldn't be fair to Aemon or to the people who still hope for his return.

Cedric stepped forward, his stance becoming almost defiant:

— And what would be fair, Fianna? Leaving the kingdom in ruins because we're waiting for a miracle? You all know I'm right. And if Aemon truly is dead, as we all fear? We would be in total chaos without a king to lead.

The members present exchanged uneasy glances, Cedric's words resonating with an uncomfortable truth. Uncertainty was eroding the stability of the kingdom, and though his words were harsh, there was a relentless logic to his argument.

Finally, Thorne sighed, the expression of resignation on his face revealing that, though reluctant, he understood the need to act:

— Cedric... perhaps you are right. The kingdom cannot remain in a state of uncertainty much longer. But this must be done the right way, with the approval of the council and the clergy. If we truly believe Aemon will not return, we must make this decision as a united front, not out of impulse.

Cedric nodded, feeling that his point had finally been accepted. Though the victory was not complete, he knew he had planted the seed of doubt, and that the path to the throne was now clearer.

Alaric, still visibly weakened, took a deep breath before speaking. His voice, though frail, carried the weight of an inevitable decision:

— We have no other choice. The kingdom needs stability, and we cannot continue in this uncertainty. — He paused, his eyes filled with resignation as he looked at the gathered family members and advisors. — The coronation will be in two days.

The room fell silent, each person absorbing the magnitude of what this meant. Cedric maintained a serious expression, but inwardly, the satisfaction of progress was undeniable.

Alaric, with difficulty, turned to Edric and Fianna:

— Edric, Fianna... — He breathed heavily, each word seeming like a struggle. — I ask that you remain in Volcrist for a few more days. I know both of you have your responsibilities in your Dominion, but your presence here will be crucial during this time. You need not leave today.

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Fianna, always concerned about the king's health, stepped forward, nodding firmly:

— Rest assured, we will stay as long as needed. We won't leave you alone at this moment.

Edric also nodded, his voice full of respect and loyalty:

— We are here to serve and support. We won't leave until everything is settled.

Alaric, relieved to know he would have their support, made a weak but significant gesture, asking everyone to leave:

— Thank you. Now, please, let me rest. I will need my strength for the days to come.

As everyone departed, Cedric cast one last look at his father, knowing that time was on his side and that soon, the throne would be his.

The leaders of the sub-Dominions were gathered in a secret chamber, deep within a distant fortress. The atmosphere was thick with tension and mutual distrust as they discussed the future of Volcrist in the wake of rumors about Aemon's death.

Lord Harathor Lannir (leader of Eldreth) slammed his heavy hand on the stone table, his voice echoing through the hall: — We cannot allow that weak and insecure Cedric to be crowned king. Volcrist needs a leader who can wield a sword and command an army, not a man who can barely hold his head up in public.

Lady Cerys Valtara (leader of Vaermere) smiled maliciously, her cold eyes glinting in the torchlight: — I agree, Lord Harathor. Cedric is a threat to the economic stability of Volcrist. If he takes the throne, the kingdom's coffers will be emptied by his incompetence. Vaermere already has the resources necessary to lead.

Sir Daeron Rykker (leader of Blackharrow), growing impatient, crossed his arms and huffed: — Waiting three days for this coronation is foolishness. We should act now while Alaric is vulnerable. Cedric does not have the strength to lead Volcrist. Blackharrow should take the lead.

Lady Elara Thorne (leader of Ravenhold) spoke in a low, almost hypnotic tone, her words laced with dark power: — There are forces at play that you do not understand. Chaos brings opportunities, my friends. Cedric can be easily manipulated, but there are other ways to secure our dominion over Volcrist. Ravenhold can ensure the transition is favorable for all of us… if we play our cards right.

Lord Maric Althar (leader of Duskfort), ever the strategist, stood and looked each of them in the eye: — We must be pragmatic. Duskfort is prepared to offer military support, but only if there's a solid plan. We must ensure that when Cedric falls, it is Duskfort that commands the defenses of Volcrist. We cannot risk a disorganized revolt.

Lady Cerys Valtara leaned in, clasping her hands together: — So, we are all agreed that Cedric must be removed from the equation? And who, then, will claim the throne?

Lord Harathor Lannir smiled with a challenging air: — Who else but someone who understands the true nature of power? Eldreth has always been the heart of Volcrist's strength. We will ensure the kingdom doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Sir Daeron Rykker pounded his fist on the table: — So be it! But let it be clear, Blackharrow will not be ignored in this game. We will not back down until Volcrist is led by a true warrior.

Lady Elara Thorne chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills through the room: — Excellent. Let the game begin, then. Ravenhold will be watching… and waiting for the right moment to act.

Lord Maric Althar gave one final look to the others before sitting down again: — Three days. Cedric will fall, and Volcrist will see a new era. Prepare yourselves.

Lord Harathor Lannir raised a goblet of wine, his eyes locked onto the others as he spoke with conviction: — Cedric may have the crown, but he lacks respect. Without the support of the sub-Dominions, he'll merely be a puppet. We must sever the strings before he even realizes it.

Lady Cerys Valtara replied, her voice smooth but edged with malice: — Cedric is weak, but underestimating him could be a mistake. He might attempt to gain the support of the king's advisors to consolidate his power. We need to ensure these advisors turn against him, offering them something more... lucrative.

Sir Daeron Rykker's frustration was evident as he crossed his arms: — Advisors are nothing but opportunists, always ready to betray for a handful of gold. Let Blackharrow handle this. My men can make these advisors "change their allegiance" swiftly.

Lady Elara Thorne leaned forward, her serene demeanor belying the intensity of her words: — Power isn't just about military strength, Sir Daeron. There are other methods of control that can be more effective and enduring. A whisper in the right ear can be as lethal as a blade to the heart. Ravenhold has its... specialties.

Lord Maric Althar glanced at Lady Elara with calculated interest: — Your specialties will be valuable, Lady Elara. But we must remember that we need leadership that inspires obedience and fear. Duskfort has always been the bastion of Volcrist, and if there is a power vacuum, we must be the ones to fill it.

Lady Cerys Valtara nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming with cold resolve: — Volcrist needs stability, and Eldreth has the resources to ensure that. But any alliance between us must be based on mutual trust. If anyone betrays Vaermere, I will not hesitate to take what is mine.

Lord Harathor Lannir laughed softly, almost dismissively: — Betrayal? Cerys, my dear, that's something I leave to fools. What I offer is a true alliance, a united force that no other Dominion will dare challenge. Together, Eldreth and Vaermere can control Volcrist's fate.

Sir Daeron Rykker interjected, his voice cutting through the air like a blade: — Volcrist's fate will not be decided by whispers or empty promises. It will be decided on the battlefield, where true power is forged. Cedric will be crushed, and then we'll see who deserves the crown.

Lady Elara Thorne smiled enigmatically, her gaze fixed on Sir Daeron: — And when the battle is over, it will be Ravenhold that decides who truly sits on the throne. The mind is a more powerful weapon than any sword, and I'm sure none of you want to be on the wrong side when the dust settles.

Lord Maric Althar stood, ending the discussion with a firm gesture: — Three days. We have three days to ensure Cedric does not survive the coronation. Duskfort will be prepared, and I expect the same from each of you. There is no room for error.

Lady Cerys Valtara raised her goblet in a final toast, her voice laden with determination: — To Volcrist, and to a future where power is truly held. May our actions in the coming days decide the kingdom's fate.