Chapter 36
Death of Pride
The only thing that usually made his heart race was the thrill of the battlefield.
The chaos, the smell of burned flesh and blood, the screams of courage and pain, and the clattering of swords.
The power of facing an enemy almost equally skilled, the doubt lingering in the air, whether you’ll survive the madness.
That was why it felt so unnatural to Ranier now, the frantic pounding in his chest as he climbed the marbled staircase of the palace.
It wasn’t the heavily armed men of the king’s personal guard escorting him with death-promising stares that caused his heart to hammer.
It was the looming encounter, the one that could only bring bad news, that sent his pulse spiraling out of control.
The king never invited generals to meetings in the throne room.
Communication with high-ranking officers was handled through assistants and coded messages, carried by trusted emissaries of the Crown.
In all his years of service, Ranier had only set foot in the throne room twice.
The first was to witness an execution, the king himself beheading a captain accused of treason.
The second, a more personal affair, was when King Luwrel demanded Keilan join the Iron Claw battalion as his assistant.
Both encounters were a tragedy of their own, of course, but the general did not have a reason to fear then.
His situation this time, however, ensured that the king did not summon him for casual conversation or tea.
Alissa Kriegen was once again missing, and the Royal Guard who had been under his custody escaped, leaving twelve of his strongest Iron Claws murdered.
The Kingdom of Heldraine continued to be at risk because the general had failed to complete his mission.
Ranier did not know what punishment awaited him behind the fifteen-foot-high door, but he felt that if his life was spared, it meant whatever the king had in store was worse than death itself.
Massive black doors creaked open, snapping Ranier out of his thoughts.
He took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and rubbed his sweaty palms against the fabric of his cloak.
As one of the king’s advisors announced his entrance, Ranier listened to his numerous victories and significant contributions to Heldraine being recited, and he stepped forward with the confidence of a decorated general.
The throne room was almost unrecognizable from his last visit.
The rich crimson curtains had been replaced with soft white ones, embroidered with golden roses.
The altar, once draped in tapestry, now featured an entirely black velvet covering.
The steps leading up to the thrones were adorned with solid gold chains, matching those that adorned the armrests of the thrones where the king and queen sat, while the rest of the room featured a black-and-white checkered tile pattern.
There was a rumor that Queen Gianna allocated twenty percent of the Crown’s annual tax revenue to redecorating the palace each year. Given the dramatic transformations he had witnessed on each visit, this rumor seemed more fact than fiction.
Ranier dropped to the floor, bowing his head in reverence, his fist pressed against the armor over the left side of his chest.
“You may rise,” the king demanded.
If the power of the couple seated on the thrones did not come from their status as royalty, it could have easily come from their beauty.
Though not young, their appearances belied their age.
The king’s golden hair grazed his shoulders.
He was not muscular; in fact, a slight paunch was evident under his garments.
Still, the man was undeniably attractive.
His merciless hazel eyes settled on Ranier.
Feeling the unease he had felt as he entered the room, the general’s gaze instinctively sought the queen for reassurance.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her dark curls cascaded down her back, complementing her warm, green eyes.
Her delicate figure and full lips were so alluring that it made it difficult for him to look away.
Were it not for his fear of the consequences, Ranier might have been tempted to grasp her face in his hands and kiss her passionately.
Instead, he stepped closer, turning his attention to greeting the king.
“It is a great pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty.”
“General Uldor, it’s been a while. Perhaps if you had done the job you were assigned to do, this would have been a ceremony in your honor.”
Ranier cleared his throat; the king’s gentle tone did nothing to hide the sharpness of his message. “I understand the current status of my mission may be a little concerning to you, my king, but everything is under control.”
“Under… control?” The king’s words emerged slowly, each syllable drawn out as if he were struggling to believe he had heard them correctly.
“Yes, my king,” Ranier replied firmly. “We have sent extra reinforcements to Wifdaz and Avren. We believe they will attempt to flee the kingdom, and the ports in those cities are the most likely escape routes. My soldiers will be ready to annihilate the threat without hesitation.”
“I think. I believe. That is all I hear you say, Ranier, but what is it that you know?” The king shifted in his throne, attempting to mask his impatience with a casual, crossed-leg stance.
Yet the subtle flaring of his nostrils betrayed him.
“We cannot stake the safety of our realm on your guesses, General Uldor. We need facts.”
“Unfortunately, my king, we did not have much cooperation from the people of Bryniard, and since searches became hidden from the public, it has been rather difficult to uncover any further clues on our targets.”
“What about your interrogations? Did you not have the Royal Guard in custody under your personal care for an entire month?” The king’s voice grew sharper, the weight of his expectations evident in every word.
General Uldor could only manage a nod, but the drumming of the king’s nails on the golden throne sent a chill down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Well then,” the king began, rising to his feet and stepping forward, his gaze piercing down at Ranier, “I must assume that a skilled Iron Claw general such as yourself would have gathered valuable information after an entire month. Information such as why she left Bryniard, where they are heading, how much of the truth they’ve uncovered, and who they’ve shared it with.
” The king’s words fell like a hammer, each question pressing down heavier than the last.
The king’s gaze locked onto Ranier, heavy with unmistakable disdain. “Tell me you know the answers to those questions.”
Embarrassed by his failure, the general broke their stares, lowering his head to the black-and-white checkered tiles of the throne room floor. “The man was unbreakable,” he admitted quietly. Eldric had never yielded, not even under the most creative forms of torture Ranier could devise.
“Do you know what the word on the street is right now, General Uldor?” The look on Ranier’s face said enough for the king to continue.
He drew out a long, disappointed breath.
“The rumor is that your guard has broken his own chains using Ksaren power and that the Lizien faith has brought magic back to Heldraine.”
Ranier’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening in surprise. “We have no witnesses to his escape, Your Majesty, but if the man were a mage, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be captured in the first place.”
The king stepped closer, standing an arm’s length from Ranier, who was desperately trying to regain his king’s trust. With each passing moment, his chances of leaving the palace alive seemed to diminish.
“Our true threat isn’t the magic itself, General. It’s the fact that people believe it has returned.”
“They will not bel—” Ranier’s words were abruptly cut off by the king’s roar.
“Quiet!” King Luwrel’s scream reverberated through the room, shattering any remaining semblance of patience.
“You do not seem to grasp the real gravity of the situation, General. We cannot feed our people with hope. We cannot let them feel comfortable delving into matters that are buried. We cannot allow them to learn more about magic and history. Do you know what they will find if they do? Lies. Lies that will plunge my kingdom into war, lies that will turn every beating heart in Heldraine against us, lies that will threaten my crown and my family. And I will not tolerate that!”
Ranier maintained his gaze with the king, his lips pursed as he struggled to contain his own outburst. Luwrel was so close and his furious speech was delivered with such intensity that several drops of saliva spattered onto Ranier’s face.
“All that I, as your king, am owed is your blade piercing through the hearts of our enemies,” King Luwrel said, his voice trembling with anger. “Yet you have failed me repeatedly, and when you fail to eliminate those who threaten my crown and my power, I must consider you a threat, too.”
Ranier clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “I would never dare threaten you, my king. I am your loyal servant.”
His entire body went rigid as strong hands tightened around his throat, cutting off his air supply. “You will pay for your failure with your life,” the king spoke through gritted teeth.
As Ranier’s face turned red and his vision began to darken, he caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman standing beside the king. Her hands rested gently on the arms that were choking him as she whispered softly, “We do not want to be hasty with matters such as this, my love.”
The queen’s soothing voice was the only thing that softened the determination in Luwrel’s eyes. His grip on Ranier’s neck loosened slightly as he turned his gaze to his wife. “He failed us, Gianna.”
“I know, my love,” she replied gently. “But Ranier has also delivered countless victories for us in the past. What message would we send our subjects if one mistake caused us to overlook all his previous successes?”
As Gianna’s words sank in, Luwrel released his grip on the general. Ranier stumbled, desperately seeking air.
“I’m sure some time to rest and reflect will be enough for General Uldor to learn from his mistakes and return stronger than ever next season.” Ranier was still coughing when the queen’s words caught his attention.
“Next season, my queen?”
“Yes, General. You will step away from your duties for the time being.”
The queen’s promise drove Ranier to the brink of desperation. “Forgive me, my queen, but I cannot accept that. I can still be of use to you. I will find them.”
“We already have your entire battalion spread across Heldraine searching for them,” Gianna said calmly.
“And I’m confident that Keilan will continue to follow up with instructions based on your previous guidance and training.
Trust your soldiers. Let them handle it from now on.
We will call for you when the time is right. ”
Seeing his discontent, she added. “Do you prefer death, General?”
Death seemed a merciful end compared to being deprived of his duties.
Ranier had no life outside of the Iron Claw.
This was everything to him; it had been his purpose his entire life.
The thought of stepping away from everything he had fought so hard to achieve made him feel hollow.
Every accomplishment, every victory, seemed jeopardized by a single mistake.
His pride and ego had been struck by a blow he could barely endure.
Yet even though he would have preferred the king’s hands around his throat until his last breath, he could not bring himself to defy the queen, not when she had shown such grace.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I believe I misspoke in expressing my gratitude for your kindness. I will respect your wishes and use this time away to improve and return stronger and better, to serve you to the best of my abilities.” His deep blue eyes shifted to the couple.
Gianna’s hands, gently wrapped around her husband’s arms, seemed to calm the king’s temperament.
Ranier continued, “My only concern is for our people and our mission. If the targets are not defeated in my absence and a magical threat is indeed a possibility, what would be our next step then?”
The king and queen exchanged glances, their lips curling into a twisted smile.
It was Luwrel who spoke next. “If your soldiers do not succeed, we may need to resort to more extraordinary measures. And we know our neighbors might have the perfect name for it.”
The sinister smiles on their faces sent a chill running down his spine.
Ranier had no clue who they were referring to, but the fact that the king was considering seeking aid from the Kingdom of Trent despite all their animosities was not a good sign.
It made clear that this person was no ordinary threat.
The general could only hope that his men—the ones he had trained for years and who had loyally followed his lead—would be able to achieve what he could not before it was too late.