Chapter 11:
Okay, So I Might Be a Little Overpowered for a Toddler…
The sounds of the village had gone quiet in his memory. No more shouting, no more flame, no more voices calling his name. Just silence. And in that silence, grief sat on his shoulders like a cloak.
He said nothing on the journey back. Not to Kael who walked at his side, not to Liora who watched him with careful eyes, and not even to Aura, who remained close behind.
The polished marble beneath Rein’s feet reflected torchlight. It was too clean. Too quiet. Too bright. His heart twisted.
"How can this place stay so perfect when the world outside burns?"
The throne room was at the end of that long walk. And at the far end, seated was the King.
He stood before they even reached the steps, robes sweeping behind him. His expression held warmth when his eyes landed on Rein. Relief, even.
“Rein, dear boy. Thank the heavens, your safe.”
Rein tried to bow, but Liora stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“He’s still recovering, Your Majesty,” she said softly.
The King looked at him with a grandfather’s worry, not a ruler’s gaze. He placed both hands gently on Rein’s shoulders.
“You’re alive. You’re safe. When I heard the news about the monster hoard coming your way, I feared the worst! You know, I warned Cael more times than I care to count. I told him, again and again, that leaving the capital was folly. That abandoning his post, his duty to the crown—and to his blood—was not only reckless, but dangerous. I told him the world beyond these walls is no place for a boy like Rein.”
The silence that followed was heavy. No one interrupted.
“But no… he listened to her. He let her fill his head with dreams of quiet fields and peaceful days. As if legacy… blood… power… could simply be walked away from. And now… he has paid the price.”
Finally, he turned back to Rein, and something in his face softened again—less the king, more the grandfather.
“But you, you survived. That… is all that matters now. You carry our name. Our strength. Your future is not meant to end in some forgotten village. You were born to stand higher. And I—” he paused, pressing a hand briefly to his chest, “—I am truly grateful the gods saw fit to return you to us. You are the last flame of your father’s blood. And I swear it—nothing will extinguish you while I still draw breath. From today onwards, I will adopt you as my own son!”
Rein didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to say no, not really. Not when his home was gone. Not when his parents were gone. His throat tightened, and he had to swallow hard just to keep his face steady.
The King looked past him, to the girl standing behind.
“And this is…?”
“She was the one who slew the beast that nearly claimed Rein’s life, your majesty.” Liora answered.
The king’s eyes slid to Aura fully now, taking in her appearance with a single glance that lasted too long. She stood quietly in the elegant dress Liora had chosen for her—soft silk, rich hues, fancy and proper. But he wasn’t fooled. He never was.
Her hands, still faintly calloused, told the truth of work and hardship. Her posture was polite but untrained. And beneath it all, the King’s nose caught the faintest trace of something he didn’t like: the lingering scent of common air. Of dirt. Of low birth.
His lips curved into a slight smile, pleasant only on the surface.
“Is that so? Does our savior have a name?”
Aura stepped forward slightly, just enough to be heard clearly, and dipped her head in a respectful bow. Her voice was quiet.
“Aura, Your Majesty.”
The king’s smile vanished. The warmth he had shown Rein evaporated like mist in sunlight. What was left behind was something colder. Sharper.
“Aura? Well then, Aura… what can you tell me about yourself?”
Before Aura could even part her lips, Liora stepped in smoothly.
“My king, if I may—I’ve already spoken with her. I can provide you with all the details—”
The king lifted a single ringed hand.
“Now, now, dear Liora. Our savior can introduce herself.”
He turned back to Aura with the full weight of his gaze.
“Now speak.”
The room went still. Aura was used to being small, invisible, forgotten. Now the most powerful man in the kingdom was watching her. Not kindly. Not with gratitude. But with suspicion.
“I don’t remember my parents. I’ve lived in the slum’s orphanage for as long as I can remember. I… helped around where I could. Read books when I had the chance. Learned some swordplay on my own, from watching the guards and practicing in secret. That’s all, really. I never meant to stand out. I just didn’t want Rein to die.”
“Did I hear that right? You're from orphanage?” the king asked, eyes narrowing on her.
Aura nodded cautiously, confused by the sudden change in his tone.
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
There was a sharp inhale from one of the guards. Liora’s eyes opened.
The king’s hand clenched into a fist at his side.
“That name. That name is not yours to wear. That name was hers. My first queen. My heart. The very name of this kingdom—Aura—was carved from her legacy. Her strength. Her light. And now a beggar girl… a slum-born rat from an orphan pit has the audacity to call herself that?”
He stepped even closer, his voice rising, furious and cold.
“You stand in royal halls, wrapped in silk you don’t deserve, wearing her name like a thief wears a crown. You should’ve stayed in the gutter where fate spat you out. To think a filthy street rat would dare sully her name…”
He turned toward his knights, fury boiling to the surface.
“Kael. Remove her. I want her gone. Drag her out and have her executed. I will not suffer such an insult to her memory.”
Liora stepped forward sharply.
“Your Majesty, wait—!”
“Enough, Grandpa!”
The king’s voice died mid-command.
All heads turned.
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