CHAPTER 48: THE KING’S CALL

Kelar walked down the royal hallway, with Cynthia escorting him from behind. The corridor was lined with intricate paintings on the walls and ornate murals stretching across the domed ceiling, each stroke a testament to the palace’s rich history and artistry.

As Kelar passed by, palace workers and stationed guards stopped what they were doing to bow their heads in silent respect.

Eventually, they arrived at a grand set of golden double doors, flanked by two armored guards. The guards saluted and pushed open the doors without a word. Kelar gave them a small nod in acknowledgment before striding inside, his boots pressing against the long crimson carpet that led directly to the throne.

Cynthia followed close behind.

At the far end of the royal chamber stood a magnificent throne, carved from gold and adorned with crimson velvet, exuding an aura of power and regality. Seated upon it was an elderly man, his hair stark white with traces of faded yellow, a jeweled crown resting atop his head. His beard was thick, flowing down over robes of deep gold and red. In his left hand, he held a royal scepter encrusted with gleaming gems.

Beside him sat the queen, dressed in a royal gown of deep violet. Her beauty remained evident despite the soft wrinkles that framed her mature face. To the king’s left stood another man, middle-aged, with a neatly groomed white beard and mustache, radiating an air of authority.

Two noblemen dressed in royal garments stood before the throne. Along the walls, guards clad in full silver plate armor stood silently on standby. On the left side of the throne chamber, a tall transparent window offered a breathtaking view of the City of Rose.

All eyes turned to Kelar as he approached the throne.

Cynthia moved to the side and took her place along the wall, joining two other knights clad in the same sleek, dark armor.

"How does the right-hand man of the kingdom arrive late when summoned by the king?" the bearded man beside the king said sharply, his tone edged with irritation.

Kelar reached the throne and knelt, lowering his head to the floor, ignoring the man’s words entirely.

"Your Majesty, I am here, answering your call," Kelar said respectfully.

The king gave a thoughtful hum, prompting Kelar to rise.

"As far as I’m aware," Kelar said calmly, "I only answer the summons of His Majesty the King, not that of a pretender... Edward."

"You dare—!" Edward barked, his face flushing red with fury.

"Enough!" the king shouted, his voice carrying weight despite his age. A sudden fit of coughing followed. The queen quickly rose and gently massaged his chest, trying to soothe him.

Kelar and Edward immediately bowed again, showing deference to the ailing king.

"Are you alright, Father? You should’ve let me handle the council. You still haven’t fully recovered from your illness," said a man in his early thirties. His spiked golden hair framed a confident face, and his sharp yellow eyes gleamed under the throne room light. He wore royal attire styled for battle, shoulders exposed, a design fit for a warrior prince.

"There’s no need. I’m not dying yet," the king replied gruffly. "And I’d rather attend to this myself than leave it to you, Reymond."

Reymond clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. He buried his frustration behind a tense smile. Kelar, watching nearby, let out a faint smirk. Reymond shot him a glare and tightened his fist.

"Don’t be harsh, Father," the other prince interjected smoothly. "Brother Reymond only wants to ease your burden. He genuinely cares about your health."

This one had a polished, refined appearance. His short, neatly combed golden hair shone under the chamber lights. His royal attire was immaculate, tailored to perfection.

"Hmph. I know," the king said with a cough. "But still, if I had to choose... I’d rather leave this throne to you, Reid, than to your brother. Who knows what chaos would follow if I let him rule. Cough, cough..."

"Your Majesty... you shouldn’t speak like that," the queen said gently, her voice tinged with concern. "They’re both your sons. And Reymond is the firstborn"

Standing silently at the side, Cynthia observed the royal family’s exchange, her expression unreadable.

"What a broken family," came a muttered voice beside her.

She turned her eyes, barely moving her head, to see the speaker. A man clad in the same dark armor stood beside her. An elegant rapier, finely crafted and adorned with intricate patterns, hung at his waist.

"Watch your mouth, Thomas," she said, her gaze hard and cold.

"Alright, alright. I’ll zip my mouth," Thomas muttered, then dramatically pressed his lips tight in mock obedience.

After the king’s coughing settled, he turned to the man beside him. "Edward, explain the situation in Lily Town."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Edward stepped forward. "The night before last, a report came in. A horde of monsters attacked Lily Town. Approximately 300 people lost their lives. After the attack, a strange structure appeared in the southeast part of town, a tall tower. Shortly after, a mysterious light burst forth from Lily Town, wiping out all the monsters. The source of both the monsters and the light is unknown... but we believe it may be linked to the emergence of that tower."

Cynthia clenched her fists. Another 300 dead...

"This is the third time this has happened just this month," Kelar said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "And all of them occurred in towns near the capital. These aren’t random attacks. They’re organized."

Edward continued, "The attack also crippled the harvest. Lily Town is our main supplier of wheat. If we don’t act fast, we’ll be facing a major food shortage."

The king remained silent, eyes fixed on the window beside his throne. Beyond it lay the shining rooftops of the City of Rose.

"That can be addressed in time," Kelar said calmly. "For now, what matters most is sending an envoy to Lily Town, to show them that the crown stands with them."

Reymond’s eyes flared. "You think a food shortage is a minor issue? Are you out of your mind? More will die of famine than from monsters!"

Kelar turned slowly, folding his arms behind his back. He began to stroll casually across the room. "This is why I dislike speaking with people who solve everything using their fists instead of brain."

A vein popped on Reymond’s temple. A faint red aura began to radiate from his body, his fury barely restrained. "Say that again, and you will regret it!"