Chapter 30 A Crown Without Mercy

The grand doors of the royal hall creaked open as Liora stepped inside, heels clicking against the polished marble floor. At the far end, King Arthur sat perched in his gilded seat, draped in deep navy robes, one leg crossed over the other. His expression, as always, cold.

Liora bowed deeply, hand pressed over her heart.

 “Your Majesty, I’ve returned from the Demon Lord’s domain. As instructed.”

The King raised a hand, palm outward, and with a single, calm gesture, spoke—not to her, but to the assembled court.

“Leave us,” his voice smooth, almost bored.

The courtiers, scribes, and armored guards looked at one another for a moment before bowing in sync and filing out silently. Only three figures remained in the vast hall: the King himself, Liora, and the man in the shadows behind the throne—an aging figure in ceremonial robes, the High Strategist.

Arthur leaned forward, resting his chin on a gloved hand.

“Well then. Tell me. Did the Demon Lord take the bait?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. As I expected, the Demon Lord rejected your offer. The terms were too steep… She made no pretense of calling them anything but what they were — a demand for surrender and enslavement.”

Arthur clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Tck! …we can tell the world we tried for peace, and she spat on the chance. We hold the moral high ground, and war becomes righteous. And Plan B, any luck?”

“Failed. Rein moved before I could give the signal. His hatred boiled over the moment he saw her. He struck hard—fast. Would have killed her, if not for teleportation magic. She escaped at the very last moment.”

Arthur leaned back slightly, fingers tapping the armrest of his throne.

 “How unfortunate. And? Did she say anything before that?”

Liora gave a slight nod.

 “Yes. Claimed to be the former Hero. She told Rein everything. The truth. She recognized him immediately. Called him by name. Spoke to him not as an enemy, but with… sadness. Claimed the truth. That she is the Aura we both know. That you sent her to her death and branded her a monster."

She paused, then added, “Rein didn’t believe a word. He shouted her down. Called her a liar, a monster pretending to be his beloved mentor. He’s still convinced it was all a lie—a demon’s trick. His hatred for the Demon Lord burns brightly.”

At this, Arthur let out a light chuckle, “That’s my nephew. Loyal to a fault. Pure. Unshaken.”

Liora smiled faintly, but inside, she hesitated.

“Yes… pure. But your Majesty—his strength has become something else. He cut through her defenses like they were paper. Left a gash in the ground with a single strike as far as eyes could see. Had she hesitated even a heartbeat, she would be dead.”

A thin smile crept across his face, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“Ah, magnificent! That strong now, is he? Stronger than I even imagined. Hah… I must admit, I’m prouder of that boy than I ever was of my own son. Foolish, soft-hearted thing. Ran off with his wife into the lowlands, thought he could ‘connect’ with the commoners. Thought he could make a difference. All he did was get himself killed. Torn to pieces by monsters. And she… reduced to bones before help could even arrive.”

He leaned back now, eyes narrowed, staring past Liora into some old memory.

 “Only Rein survived. Barely clinging to life. It was her—Aura—who dragged his broken body out of the jaws of death. Brought him back to me.”

His voice lowered.

 “I was grateful then. Genuinely. She asked for a chance. Said she didn’t want titles, just the strength to protect. I gave her that. Made her a Hero. A mistake, in hindsight. I let gratitude cloud my judgment.”

His gaze turned darker, growing colder.

“I should have seen it sooner—should have known better than to think filth could be purified just because it asked to be. She should have been purged before she ever got the chance to bloom into a nuisance. Before she built that ridiculous sense of morality. Before she started speaking like poor people could be better.”

He scoffed.

 “That’s the real danger—not monsters tearing you apart, but people who forget their place and start believing they’re better than what they are. I won’t make that mistake again. Rein will not be led astray. Not by sentiment. Not by ghosts. No… This time, things will be done properly. Liora, you are of noble blood. Foreigner, yes, but refined. Educated. Loyal. There is no better match for Rein than you.”

Liora’s breath caught, but she didn’t let it show.

“You will be his fiancée,” the king declared, “There will be no objections. No alternatives. I will not have him entangled with commoners, traitors, or worse... some girl from damn slums! You understand, of course.”

It wasn’t a question. Liora smiled softly, bowing her head in perfect decorum.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I am honored by your wisdom.”

But behind her lowered lashes, her eyes were hollow, more than ususal. Inside, her thoughts screamed.

"You insufferable bastard. Does Rein even know? Would he agree if he did? You’re chaining us both for your damned control. Not even asking. Not even pretending it’s a choice."

Outwardly, she offered a calm curtsy and spoke sweetly.

 “I shall see to it that everything proceeds as you wish.”

The king nodded once, satisfied, already turning his thoughts elsewhere.

He glanced at Liora, and spoke, “Keep him aimed at Demon Lord. Remind him what was taken. What must be avenged. That’s the last thing Aura will give this kingdom—her death, and the Hero it creates. I want to see him stronger that her.”

“My king, Rein is already stronger than when he left. Which is what gives me pause. You know I am loyal, and I speak only in your best interest—but should the truth ever reach him... should he believe her one day...”

Arthur scoffed gently. 

“Rein would never betray me. He is royalty as me! I raised that boy closer than my own son. Aura was a phase—a childhood fixation. A god damn filth scraped from the orphanage floor! She will not taint my nephew.”

Liora bowed her head again. 

“Of course, Your Majesty. I only wished to speak the concern, nothing more.”

Arthur waved it off. 

“Let him burn the world down to avenge her. As long as it’s not my world.”

He stood and turned his back to her, gazing out the stained-glass window overlooking the pristine capital.

“Let the people cheer their Hero. And when the Demon Lord falls, we’ll write history to suit the crown—as we always have.”

Liora adjusted her gloves, her tone composed.

“Your Majesty, what are your commands moving forward? The teleportation circles the Demon Lord cast... our forces can’t set foot past the outer ridge. The moment anyone crosses, they’re ejected—sent back to the border. Even I can't penetrate them.”

King Arthur leaned back on his throne, tapping his fingers against the gilded armrest.

 “And what do the Arcanists say? How long will this barrier persist? Is there no countermeasure?”

“We’ve questioned the court mages and the scholars from the Tower. They examined traces of the spell, and the residual energy left on the ground. Their conclusion is unanimous—there’s no dispel they can offer. Not with our current means. However, they believe the enchantment wasn’t designed to last forever. A few weeks, they estimate—perhaps less, if the spell wasn’t maintained properly. Until then, our hands are tied.”

The King’s lips curled into a faint smile. He was silent for a long moment, then stood.

“Move the legions to the front lines. Station them at the ridge, let their banners stretch across the horizon. No engagement. Just pressure.”

Liora bowed her head. 

“As you command.”

“They’ll know what it means,” the King continued, “Let them squirm under our gaze. Let them watch our blades glint in the sunlight day after day. It will wear on their spirit, weaken their resolve.”

Then his voice hardened, cruel and dismissive.

 “We still need that magi stone. The veins run deeper there than anywhere else in the continent. And we need hands to mine it. Of course, I won’t waste good blood doing the work. That’s what the filth across the border are for. If they want to cling to survival, they can earn it.”

A long pause stretched between them, the King’s silhouette framed by colored light.

“Begin preparations. When that barrier falls, I want our forces already in position. No hesitation. We need that magi stone ore.”

Liora gave a slight bow. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She bowed again and left, her footsteps soft against the polished marble floor. The heavy doors creaked open ahead of her, the guards waiting in silence.

Then, just as they began to close behind her, the King spoke again—this time, barely a whisper, meant for no ears but the cold stone and stained glass.

“I need that magi stone... or this borrowed life ends.”