Aemon hadn't moved for what felt like an eternity. The cold, lifeless body of Greta lay in his arms, her blood-soaked hair matted against his chest. The warmth of her sacrifice had long since faded, leaving behind only the biting chill of the early morning air. The night had been a blur of violence and bloodshed, but this—this was the silence after the storm, a moment where time itself seemed to pause in respect for the dead.

He held her close, as if by sheer will he could bring her back, as if he could reverse the cruel fate that had torn her away. His mind was numb, unable to process the magnitude of what had happened. The memories of the battle played over and over in his head, each replay sharper, each regret more bitter. But still, he did not move.

The dawn's first light crept over the rooftops of Bastion End, casting long, eerie shadows across the blood-soaked street. As the sun rose, so did the people. Doors creaked open, and wary eyes peeked out, curious and cautious. What they saw froze them in their tracks—a scene of unimaginable horror.

Aemon, once a carefree soul who knew nothing of responsibility, now looked like a man who had been to hell and back. He sat in the middle of the street, cradling Greta's lifeless form, his face a mask of anguish and despair. Blood covered them both, a stark contrast to the pale morning light. The villagers, too horrified to speak, slowly gathered, their numbers growing as word spread. The scene was like a nightmare come to life, and none dared approach.

A low murmur of voices began to ripple through the crowd. Mothers shielded their children's eyes, men whispered in hushed tones, and the elderly crossed themselves, praying for deliverance from whatever evil had befallen their quiet town. But as the crowd grew, so did the fear, and soon, panic set in.

Villager 1:

"What's he done? Is he mad?"

Villager 2:

"That's Greta! She... she's dead! Gods, what has he done to her?"

Villager 3:

"Someone fetch the guards! This devil needs to be locked away!"

The terror in their voices was palpable. They couldn't understand—couldn't see the pain that had driven Aemon to this point. All they saw was a blood-soaked man holding a corpse, and in their eyes, he was the monster. The whispers turned to shouts, and the once quiet street now buzzed with panic and accusation.

Villager 4:

"He's lost his mind! He's gone mad with grief!"

Villager 5:

"It's not safe! We have to protect ourselves—get the guards!"

Within moments, the clamor had reached the ears of the town's guards. A small squadron, armed and wary, pushed their way through the crowd. Their leader, a stern-faced man with a hardened expression, took in the scene with a grimace. His eyes flicked from the bloodied bodies on the ground to the terrified villagers, and finally to Aemon, who still hadn't moved.

Guard Captain:

"By the gods, what's happened here?"

He didn't wait for an answer. With a curt nod to his men, the guards closed in on Aemon. The crowd watched, a mixture of relief and fear in their eyes, as the guards cautiously approached the grieving man.

Guard Captain:

"You there! Step away from the body!"

There was no response. Aemon's gaze remained fixed on Greta, as if the rest of the world no longer existed.

Guard Captain:

"I said, step away! Now!"

Finally, Aemon looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. For a moment, it seemed as though he didn't recognize where he was or what was happening. The captain's voice had cut through his fog of grief, but the words didn't seem to register.

Aemon:

"She's gone... I couldn't... I couldn't save her."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. They had seen grief before, but this was different—this was a man broken beyond repair.

Guard Captain:

"It's over, lad. But we need you to come with us. Now."

There was no fight left in Aemon. He let them take him, their hands rough as they pulled him to his feet and shackled his wrists. The weight of the chains felt insignificant compared to the weight in his heart. The captain motioned to the others to take Greta's body, but Aemon didn't resist when they pried her from his arms. He simply stood there, numb and silent, as the guards led him through the crowd.

The villagers parted to let them pass, their eyes filled with a mixture of pity and fear. As Aemon was led away, he heard the whispers follow him, like a haunting echo.

Villager 6:

"He's cursed, that one. Nothing good can come of this."

Villager 7:

"Gods save us, what have we let into our town?"

The walk to the prison was a blur. Aemon's mind drifted in and out of focus, his thoughts a jumble of guilt and grief. By the time they reached the cold, stone cell, he was too exhausted to care. The heavy door clanged shut behind him, the finality of it reverberating through his bones. He was alone now, with nothing but the ghosts of his past and the heavy burden of his failure.

As he sank to the floor, the darkness closed in around him, and Aemon welcomed it. It was better than the pain—better than the crushing weight of reality. The shadows whispered to him, promising escape, and for the first time, Aemon considered embracing them.

But deep down, a small, stubborn spark of life still flickered. The memory of Greta's final moments, the look in her eyes as she sacrificed herself for him, wouldn't let him go. The world outside might think him a monster, but Aemon knew the truth—knew that he was alive because of her. And that truth, bitter as it was, wouldn't let him give up. Not yet.

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In the cold silence of the cell, Aemon made a vow—a promise to the dead and to himself. He would survive this, no matter the cost. He would rise from the ashes of his own despair, and he would find those responsible for this nightmare. They would pay for what they had done, and the world would remember the name of Aemon Valaryon.

But for now, he allowed the darkness to take him, just for a little while longer.

The news of the events in Bastion End traveled swiftly to the castle, and it didn't take long for it to reach Cedric's ears. Some of his loyal vassals, having overheard the guards' conversations, hurried to inform him. The moment Cedric heard the details, his heart pounded with urgency. Without hesitation, he made his way to the prison to finally meet Aemon, the nephew he had never known.

Upon arriving at the prison, the guards, recognizing Cedric's authority, immediately escorted him through the cold, dimly lit corridors. The air was heavy with the smell of decay and the palpable weight of despair. Yet, Cedric pushed forward, his mind racing with anxiety about what awaited him.

As they reached the cell, the guard captain paused, his hand on the door. His face was pale, and his voice was tinged with unease.

Guard Captain:

"My lord, what you're about to see... it's not for the faint of heart."

Cedric nodded, bracing himself as the door creaked open. The dim light barely penetrated the darkness of the cell. Inside, slumped against the cold stone wall, was Aemo

Cedric:

(whispering to himself)

"By the gods... Aemon..."

He stepped closer, the shock of seeing his nephew in such a state rendering him momentarily spee

Cedric:

(gently)

"Aemon, do you know who I am? Do you remember anything?"

Aemon's gaze was dis

Aemon:

"She's gone... I couldn't save her..."

Cedric's breath caught in his throat. He had expected many things—a defiant, hardened man, perhaps—but not this. Not a soul so thoroughl

Cedric:

(softl

"Aemon... I'm Cedric, your uncle. I came as soon as I heard. But I need to know what happened. You need to tell me."

Aemon's eyes hardened briefly, a flicker of anger and determination breaking through his despa

Aemon:

"They'll pay... I'll make them pay for what they've done."

Cedric nodded, understandin

Cedric:

"Rest now, Aemon. We will find those responsible. But first, you need to regain your strength. The kingdom will need you."

As Cedric left the cell, the image of Aemon's haunted eyes stayed with him. He had seen a man on the brink, teetering on the edge of darkness. And Cedric knew that whatever happened next, it would shape the future of the kingdom.

King Alaric: (with a tired and pale look, his eyes briefly closing due to the pain) "Thorne, these rumors are alarming. If the assassination attempt was truly carried out by House Thornveil, then we are facing a more serious threat than we imagined."

Lord Thorne: (with a concerned tone) "Yes, Your Majesty. The information we've gathered indicates that House Thornveil is more deeply involved than we thought. They may have other plans, other factions working with them."

King Alaric: (sinking further into his throne, his expression exhausted and his face sweaty) "And what about Aemon? What has been decided about him?"

Lord Thorne: "He is still in prison, Your Majesty. Cedric visited him and reported that his skills are more impressive than we expected. But there's also an imminent risk. He could be a threat to our reign if not contained."

King Alaric: (clenching his teeth with difficulty, his voice weak and trembling) "We can't allow another assassination attempt to jeopardize everything. If Thornveil can't be trusted to deal with Aemon, then we'll need to find another solution. We must ensure there are no more failures."

Lord Thorne: "Understood, Your Majesty. I'll summon the royal guards and ensure Aemon is removed from the prison for a secure audience. We can't risk another attempt."

King Alaric: (with a visible expression of pain, his breathing irregular and his hand trembling slightly) "Do it immediately, Thorne. We have no time to waste. And what about Thornveil, what measures do you recommend?"

Lord Thorne: "House Thornveil should be dealt with the utmost severity. We can't allow them to continue challenging our authority. I suggest we prepare a decisive action against them as soon as we've resolved the situation with Aemon. But for now, we need to focus on Aemon's safety."

King Alaric: (frowning, struggling to keep his eyes open and his voice shaky) "Make sure everything is done precisely. We can't let these intrigues undermine our kingdom. I trust you to make the right decisions."

Lord Thorne: (with a resolute tone) "I'll take care of it, Your Majesty. I'll make sure Aemon is taken out of prison and that no other assassination attempts occur. And as for Thornveil, we'll begin preparing the appropriate response."

King Alaric: (with a heavy sigh, eyes almost closed, visibly exhausted) "So be it. May this crisis lead us to a safer future. Do whatever is necessary, Thorne."

Lord Thorne: (bowing) "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll do what's necessary to protect the kingdom and ensure that all involved are dealt with according to their actions."

Lord Thorne rises after his conversation with King Alaric, his expression hardened by the urgency of the situation. He quickly walks to the door of the royal chambers, where a royal guard stands at attention.

Lord Thorne: (in a firm tone) "Guard, bring me the prison chief immediately. We have no time to waste."

The guard quickly bows and leaves to carry out the order. Moments later, the prison chief enters the chambers, looking slightly nervous as he faces Lord Thorne.

Lord Thorne: (without preamble) "The King orders that Aemon be brought to the castle immediately, under maximum security. We can't take any risks. Prepare a convoy with your best men and make sure he arrives here without incident."

Prison Chief: (nodding) "Yes, my lord. I'll make the arrangements immediately. There won't be any mistakes."

Lord Thorne: (with a severe expression) "Make sure there aren't. If there's any sign of an attack, eliminate the threat without hesitation. Aemon's safety is now the top priority. Go, don't waste time."

The prison chief gives a deep bow before hurrying out. Back at the prison, he quickly gathers his men and organizes a convoy with experienced guards, all armed and ready for anything.

They proceed to Aemon's cell, who is still shaken by recent events. Without many words, the prison chief signals for the men to open the cell. Aemon is led out, his movements slow, weighed down by guilt and sorrow.

Prison Chief: (firmly) "By the King's orders, you're being taken to the castle. You'll be escorted safely. Don't try anything."

Aemon doesn't respond, simply following in silence as he's led out of the prison. Outside, a reinforced convoy is prepared. Several guards form a protective barrier around the carriage in which Aemon will be transported.

Prison Chief: (addressing the guards) "Stay sharp. We can't afford another attack. Be ready for anything."

Aemon is placed inside the carriage, surrounded by guards. The convoy sets off towards the castle, with each guard on high alert, eyes scanning the path and weapons at the ready, determined to carry out the King's order and ensure Aemon reaches his destination safely.