A Sit with the King I

At the feast, the Great Hall thrummed with joyous roars, a tapestry of laughter and clattering plates. The air hung thick with rich scents of roasting meat and spiced wine, warm and inviting. Every face in the flickering torchlight glowed with unbridled revelry.

Alice darted between tables like a mouse hunting white bread.
Emma ate delicately, sipping apple juice.
Even Goro was there, sprawled at a massive table where tens of servants piled mountains of food before him.

Leo sat at a secluded table while Lin shared stories of her life during his absence. She leaned close, her words painting lonely years in vibrant colors.
He traced the hilt of his sword, listening yet lost in thought at times, but a genuine smile touched his lips.

But Arthur was noticeably absent. He’d joined the feast briefly, then vanished.

After the feast ended, Alice snored in a puddle of spilled cider, abandoned among empty platters—unnoticed by the others. Emma and Lin slept in the kingdom's guest rooms, lavender-scented chambers overlooking the gardens.

Alone with Arthur in the king's private chambers, Leo watched candle-flames lick the walls.
Candles threw dancing shadows across Arthur's careworn face. Night air drifted through the open window, carrying the scent of pine. Beyond the glass, a star-pricked sky framed the full moon's glare.

Leo sat rigid, legs crossed, as Arthur poured cider into his cup.
The moon's light sliced across the silence between them.

"I want to—"

"To ask me about the rebellion, huh?" Arthur said calmly, staring at Leo. His eyes hardened to flint despite his calm voice.

How did he know? This man was all laughter and claps just hours ago.

"What do you know about King Richard?" Leo demanded.

"Oh, King Richard? That bastard."

"I heard about the rebellion. He fled after the incident, vanished without a trace."

"Do you know he murdered my father?"

Arthur's cup halted mid-air.
"I knew your father died... but Richard doing this?!"

"Two rumors reached me from the capital," Arthur said, setting down his cider, knuckles whitening around the cup.
"The first claims rebel forces slaughtered him brutally."

He turned to the moonlit window.
"The second... says he died of sickness in his cell.
Only those who stormed the dungeon know the truth.
The truth rots with Richard's cowardice and the rebels who saw too much."

Leo's eyes swelled with unshed tears, his grip tightening on his sword until knuckles bleached white.

Arthur stared unflinchingly into Leo's gaze.
"I see."

He turned toward the moonlight, its silver edge carving his profile.
"And I believe..."

Arthur paused, scanning the room as if searching for lost words.
"Leo, do you know why that rotten king arrested you and your father?"

"Why?.. " Leo's expression fractured.
The chamber held its breath, the silence pressing like stone before Arthur finally moved.

Arthur's blade flashed as he leveled it at Leo—not in threat, but declaration.
"Your father was the true King of the Eastern Kingdom."

The sword's point gleamed between them.
"You are its rightful heir."

"Richard is a rotten king who loves to abuse his power. Though recently, a young ruler has taken his position... I hope to meet them soon."

Arthur stared at his sword.
"Rumors say Richard is being manipulated by darkness."

His voice dropped, like an ancient hunger gnawing at the world's light.

Arthur paused, studying Leo.
"What's on your mind? Are you planning to take the positio—"

"No." Leo's voice cut like steel. "That doesn't matter."

"Thrones won't bring him back..." Leo said, fingers brushing his mother's bracelet.

A laugh rumbled from Arthur.
"That's exactly what my old friend's son would say."

"Thank you for listening, Your Highness." Leo stood and moved toward the door.

"No trouble at all! Treat me like a grandfather."

A gentle smile touched Leo's lips—then vanished as he froze.
"Ah... I forgot something."

"Your Hig—Arthur," Leo corrected himself.

His thumb traced the braided metal still warm from his grip.
"Do you know what 'the inherited letters' mean?"