In a sudden, unexpected shift in the atmosphere, the soft whisper of a command came from Asher, his voice resonating through the Whisperstone, “Caelum, it’s time.”
A ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd, their gazes shifting to the elegant carriage parked discreetly near the edge of the square. There was a chilling silence, the collective breath of the crowd held in abeyance.
The carriage door swung open, and out stepped Caelum, his presence spreading an air of charm.
Behind him, two of his men emerged, dragging four figures from the darkness of the carriage.
Their clothes were ruffled but were unmistakably of high quality, the cloth of nobility.
They were trying to hide their faces in vain but their bearing was unmistakable. These were men of power, of lineage. They were the lords of their noble Houses.
A collective gasp echoed through the crowd. The faces of the four lords were well known and quite influential around here, their visages gracing the banners and halls of their respective lands.
Yet here they were, in chains, heads bowed as if they carried a guilt that weighted their very souls. Questions rushed through the minds of the crowd. What was their crime? Why were they here, in the center of the square, on their knees? Some could already guess why they were here.
Caelum led them up to the platform, each step heavy with the weight of their impending judgment.
His men pushed them down to kneel before the queen and her consort, their chains rattling in the solemn silence that hung over the square.
The crowd watched with bated breath, their eyes wide with shock, and their hearts filled with a mingling of fear and curiosity, especially the five representatives since these four lords were the ones they usually worked for.
Rowena’s gaze shifted to the first representative, Kelurn. Her voice, clear and steely, rang through the square, “The truth behind your unmet pleas, Kelurn, will be revealed by Lord Hagen of House Lamur.”
All eyes turned to Lord Hagen, his body chained and his expression abject. His lips quivered, as if words were struggling to break free but his fear was holding them hostage.
However, Rowena’s icy gaze landed on him, “Lord Hagen,” she spoke sternly, “have the decency to at least look at Representative Kelurn while you speak.”
As if propelled by an unseen force, Hagen raised his head, his eyes locking with Kelurn’s.
A grimace twisted his features, the truth gnawing at his insides. His voice trembled as he admitted, “Her Majesty… the queen… she sent aid when your waters were poisoned. But we… we intercepted it. We seized those resources for ourselves. We deceived you all… and her grace.”
From his pocket, he drew out a piece of parchment, a scroll bearing the royal seal of the queen.
He unfurled it, and as the crowd leaned in to see, the unmistakable seal of the queen gleamed under the sunlight, the date marking a time right after the water poisoning incident.
It was a direct communication from the queen herself, proof of her immediate action during their crisis.
A wave of shock rolled through the crowd, quickly replaced by a seething anger. The representatives on stage felt it most acutely, their faces a mask of betrayal. But beneath that anger, guilt stirred.
Kelurn was staring at Hagen with boundless resentment, unable to find any words to say.
After Hagen’s confession, the Rowena’s gaze turned towards Yoia, the second representative, “Your questions, Yoia,” she declared, her voice ringing through the silence, “will be answered by Lord Yulan of House Yerven.”
Yulan, pale and shaken, swallowed audibly. He raised his head to meet Yoia’s intense gaze, and his voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as he confessed, “It wasn’t bandits that stole your food and resources. It was us… our men… We staged the robberies. We knew the queen’s guards wouldn’t find the culprits… because they were our own people. We knew we would get caught eventually, but we only needed it to last until the war began…”
A gasp of horror escaped Yoia’s lips. Her face twisted in pain and fury, “How dare you… HOW DARE YOU!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the tense silence.
Tears were cascading down her cheeks, each one a testament to the suffering she and her people had endured. She lunged at Yulan, her hand drawn back to slap him, but her fellow villagers caught her in time, their hands pulling her back from the brink of disrespecting the queen’s presence.
“How treacherous!” The crowd erupted in indignation, a cacophony of voices raised in anger.
Insults and condemnations filled the air, all directed at Lord Yulan who lowered his face with his eyes closed in unbearable shame and fear.
Rowena raised her hand, cutting through the turmoil like a knife, and a hush descended over the crowd.
Her gaze then shifted to the third representative, Muner, “Representative Muner, Lord Nelan of House Nalor will tell you why you and your village suffered,” she stated, her voice resonating in the silence.
Muner’s eyes were wet with hot tears, his gaze locked onto Lord Nelan.
Nelan’s lips trembled as he began to speak, his voice low yet piercing, “The massacre of your people…it was orchestrated to spread fear amongst the rebels. To ignite the flames of anger and fuel the rebellion,” As he made this shocking confession, his eyes strayed subtly towards Caelum, who stood at the edge of the platform. Caelum still had a neutral expression on his face as he nodded at Muner with his eyes.
Gasps of shock and horror rippled through the crowd.
“How could you…We looked up to you…” Muner’s face blanched. He swayed on his feet, the force of the revelation nearly knocking him over. His lips moved soundlessly, his eyes wide with disbelief and pain. A low murmur of outrage began to rise from the crowd, a wave of fury and disgust crashing against the platform.
These lords, who were supposed to protect them, were behind the massacre and suffering. The very thought was a poison seeping into the crowd, turning their shock into an icy dread. The echoes of Nelan’s words hung heavy over them all, the implications too vast, too horrifying to fully comprehend.
Once again, Rowena’s hand went up, the people falling silent at her command, “Calm down, my people. Let Lord Baluk of House Balor reveal why he and the other lords carried out all these despicable actions,” she said, her voice echoing across the square.
Baluk, a large man with a once-proud bearing, now quivered in his chains. His eyes skittered across the sea of faces before him, reflecting the dread coursing through his veins. He swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he began to speak.
“We…we were contacted by a representative of the Umbralfiends,” he confessed, his voice barely audible over the tense silence, “We don’t know who arranged the meetings, but we were promised more land, more power, and resources, once the Umbralfiends took control and House Thorne was obliterated. We…we received help from unknown sources to execute our plans, all while avoiding Her Majesty’s suspicions.”
The words fell like stones, stirring up a maelstrom of shock and fury in the crowd. Betrayal, a word so heavy with malice and deceit, echoed in their minds, seeping into their hearts. Their lords, the nobles they had respected and trusted, were nothing more than conniving snakes, plotting against their own kingdom, siding with the enemy for the sake of power born from their greed.
The four lords’ deceit had been despicable, their actions unforgivable. The knowledge of their betrayal struck deep, adding fuel to the already ignited anger of the masses. The plaza was abuzz with their outrage, a chorus of disapproval against the men who had wronged them.
But they were also angry at themselves for siding with the very enemies who played a part in their suffering as well. They had no idea they were unknowingly helping their foes by starting a rebellion.
They had doubted their queen, betrayed her care and had failed to see her efforts. And now, standing in the heart of the kingdom, they were faced with the stark truth. The queen had not failed them, but they had failed their queen.
They couldn’t begin to express their regret and guilt for their actions and felt that even if the queen punishes them, it would feel just.
Suddenly, almost as if on cue, the five representatives fell to their knees. Their faces were etched with guilt and remorse, tears cutting paths down their weathered faces.
“We have wronged our kingdom!” The first, Kelurn, cried out. His voice cracked with the rawness of his regret.
“We have wronged you…my queen…” Yoia added, her voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. She was weeping openly, her sobs echoing through the silent square.
“We…we are willing to accept any punishment for our sins,” Muner’s voice was a mere whisper, but it rang loud and clear in the hushed crowd. His body shook with the force of his sobs, his words lingering in the air.
“W-We should have never doubted Your Majesty,” The other two representatives cried out.
One by one, the representatives confessed their guilt, their voices intertwining in a chorus of remorse. The crowd watched on in stunned silence, the enormity of the scene etched into their hearts.
Then, like a wave crashing against the shore, the people of the Northern Lands, those who had partaken in the rebellion, fell to their knees.
Their cries of regret filled the air, a symphony of guilt and shame. They had been wrong, so horribly wrong, and the cost of their actions weighed heavy on their hearts.
At the edge of the platform, Asher watched the scene unfold, a deep sense of satisfaction coursing through him.
The public confession, the collective remorse – it was the catharsis the kingdom needed.
Rowena’s decision to hold the meeting was proving to be a masterstroke. Asher slowly nodded, his gaze flickering towards her. This was not just a victory for her, but a victory for their kingdom.
The crowd hushed instantly, their tear-streaked faces turned towards their queen.
She spoke then, her voice soft, yet filled with a strength that resonated through the square, “I will abide by what I said first,” Rowena began, her gaze sweeping over the representatives and then the crowd, “I will not punish you.”
A collective gasp filled the air, followed by a murmur of surprise. They had been prepared to face punishment, their hearts heavy with guilt. But their queen’s words brought a glimmer of hope, the promise of mercy in the face of their betrayal.
“Our kingdom needs to heal,” she continued, her voice growing stronger, “From the war, from the deceit, from the pain of the loss we suffered in the past. Punishing honest and loyal people like you all, who were misled in these troubled times, is not the solution.”
Rowena’s words struck a chord with the people. They were stunned, relieved, and grateful.
A tide of murmurs washed over the crowd, but Rowena raised her hand again, quieting them. “But,” she said, her tone growing stern, “The first step to healing is cleansing. Cleansing our kingdom of the filth that has brought us to this point.”
Her gaze turned to the four lords, chained and trembling. The air grew thick with anticipation. The crowd watched on, their hearts pounding.
Rowena’s next words were spoken in a voice colder than ice, “Starting with these four.”
Rowena snapped her fingers, and four of her bloodborn guards including Eradicator sprang into action. Each grabbed one of these lords, dragging them to the four thick wooden poles that had been erected on the platform.
“Please…Your Majesty…Have mercy!” The lords’ pleas for mercy filled the air, their cries echoing through the square, though they weren’t pleading for their lives but for the safety of their Houses.
They knew no amount of words would let them escape what was coming to them but the main reason they confessed before all was due to the hope that the queen would show mercy to their respective Houses.
As the lords were being hauled and chained to their impending doom, Rowena’s eyes met the sea of faces before her, a mosaic of awe, fear, and respect. Her voice rang out, clear as a clarion call, piercing the heavy silence that blanketed the square.
“Even though I may have eventually found out about the betrayal of these lords,” she began, her gaze turning to Asher, standing by her side while softly smiling at her, “I wouldn’t have found out now if not for my consort.”
Rowena had got Asher’s message right before the war started, informing her of his findings about who incited the rebellion and helped the Umbralfiends.
She knew the only reason he didn’t inform her earlier was that he was planning to verify his information and capture all the traitors, though this war ruined it all.
The crowd gasped, their gazes darting between the queen and her consort. This revelation was unexpected. Had he been instrumental in unmasking the traitors? The murmurs grew louder, a mix of surprise and newfound respect.
He not only helped win the war but also helped punish the traitors who made them suffer for so long. Even those who had been previously skeptical of the royal consort due to his alien race and unknown origins no longer held any doubt towards him.
They had already begun to see him as their idol and someone who actually cared about them and this kingdom. Now even if he told them to shed blood for his sake, they wouldn’t hesitate, for they felt they owed their lives to him as well, especially the Naiadon Tribe.
Nereon, the chief of the Naiadon Tribe couldn’t help but be moved to tears upon looking at the savior of his people. He could already see good times awaited this kingdom because of him.
Rowena’s expression became frigid as she turned towards the four lords who were chained to the poles by now. Her eyes remained unmoved as a crimson flame materialized in her palm, flickering and dancing with an eerie glow.
The crowd held their breath, their eyes wide with fear and awe. And then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent the flame soaring into the air.
It split into four, each flame hurtling towards a chained lord.
*Whooosh!*𝑜𝑽xt.𝗇t
“AARGHHH!!!”
The fire engulfed them, their screams of agony piercing the silence. The crowd watched on in horrified silence, the smell of burning flesh filling the air as their ear-rendering cries echoed throughout the place.
Rowena stood tall amidst the chaos, her face a mask of cold indifference as the cries gradually died down.
The message was clear.
Betrayal and deceit would not be tolerated.