Chapter 1 #4
She cleared her throat softly.
Goroth was suddenly beside her.
She nudged him.
Hard.
He didn’t move an inch, but something cold flickered across his expression.
“…Yes,” he grumbled. “Welcome.”
The Queen nodded, satisfied.
Before anything else could happen, Goroth spoke.
“Knight. Walk with me.”
The words were not a request.
The court stilled. No one argued. No one questioned it.
Aldric inclined his head.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
The Queen’s gaze snapped to Goroth, cold enough to freeze stone, but she said nothing.
Seraphae opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly torn between trust and outrage.
Goroth turned and began walking.
Aldric followed.
They passed through corridors that grew narrower and darker the farther they went. The warmth of the palace faded, replaced by damp stone and the scent of old iron. Torches flickered along the walls, casting distorted shadows.
A dungeon.
Goroth stopped.
He turned slowly.
“First impression of Nerathys?”
Aldric met his gaze evenly.
“It’s charming. Can’t complain so far.”
A corner of Goroth’s mouth twitched.
“Good.”
He gestured toward a rack set into the wall. Two practice blades rested there.
Blunted.
Heavy.
“Care for a bit of sword practice?”
Aldric hesitated only a heartbeat.
“It would be an honor.”
They took their weapons.
Aldric adjusted his grip, testing the balance.
Goroth didn’t announce the start.
He lunged.
The first clash rang through the dungeon like thunder, steel screaming as it met steel. Goroth moved with terrifying speed for someone so massive, each swing driven by brutal weight and intent. Wide arcs meant to crush, not finesse.
Aldric barely got his blade up in time.
He dodged the next strikes, boots scraping stone as he gave ground, still trying to find a proper grip. Goroth smirked and pressed harder, relentless, forcing Aldric to react instead of think.
Too much mass.
Too much force.
Parrying head-on was impossible.
Aldric shifted tactics. Deflect, redirect, slip the blade aside and let the king’s momentum work against him. He switched stances, circling, searching for an opening.
Goroth saw it instantly.
He closed the distance in two crushing steps, cutting Aldric off and driving him back. Stone rushed up behind him.
Cornered.
The king pressed him hard.
Too hard.
Aldric stumbled. His back slammed into a column, breath driven from his lungs. He raised his sword again, deflecting strike after strike, arms burning as Goroth hammered him without pause.
Steel rang.
Sparks flew.
One blow nearly dented Aldric’s blade.
Then Goroth changed the angle.
A brutal horizontal slice.
Aldric twisted,
but not fast enough.
The blade slammed into the column beside his head, biting deep into stone, embedded there.
Just inches from his neck.
The dungeon fell silent.
“WHAT IN THE ABYSS IS GOING ON HERE?!”
The dungeon erupted.
Seraphae stormed in first, followed by her sisters, voices overlapping in furious chaos.
“Father, are you out of your mind?!”
“You always do this!”
“Every single boyfriend!”
“Gods, you’re impossible!”
The Queen arrived last.
Her presence alone silenced the room.
“Goroth,” she said quietly. “Really? We talked about this.”
Before Goroth could respond, Aldric moved.
He reached up, wrenched the blade free from the stone with a sharp twist, dust and grit cascading down the column. In the same motion, he turned the weapon in his hand and extended it toward the king, hilt first.
An invitation.
His stance settled, balanced and ready, eyes steady on Goroth’s.
Goroth’s gaze flickered.
Then he smiled.
Just slightly.
“Hmph,” he grunted. “Not bad.”
Seraphae, however, was not impressed.
She marched straight up to her father, fists clenched.
“You are unbelievable,” she snapped. “Do you have any idea—”
The Queen raised a hand.
Silence fell instantly.
She looked at Goroth, one eyebrow lifting.
Waiting.
Goroth glanced at Aldric again, something dangerously close to approval touching his expression.
“Same time tomorr—”
“That will be enough,” the Queen interrupted sharply.
She turned to Aldric, her tone softening at once.
“My apologies, Aldric. I hope you’re not offended by this… lack of decorum.”
Aldric bowed his head.
“Not at all, Your Highness,” he said calmly. “I’m used to sword practice. It was… refreshing to do it again.”
He straightened and gave Goroth a brief nod.
Goroth studied him, then gave a single, approving grunt.
Seraphae stepped in before anything else could be said.
“That’s wonderful,” she said tightly. “Now if you don’t mind, Dad, we’re going to get ready for dinner.”
She grabbed Aldric by the hand and hauled him toward the exit, heels striking stone with purpose as she stormed out of the dungeon.
As they were gone, every single woman in the room turned their full attention on Goroth.
Death stares.
Seven sisters.
One queen.
All synchronized.
Goroth shrugged.
“What?” he rumbled. “A little practice never hurt anyone. Besides,” he glanced toward the corridor Aldric and Seraphae had taken, “he enjoyed it.”
The women rolled their eyes as one.
A collective sigh followed.