CHAPTER 524: THE BIRTH OF AN EMPEROR 3

After a few more courteous exchanges, Alaric and Lara took their leave, their footsteps fading into the marble corridors of the palace.

Left alone in the chamber, King Heimdal and Prince Dakota, also Grand Duke of Arches turned their conversation to the subject that weighed heavily on both their minds: the upcoming coronation of the new Emperor.

"Do you think it is the right time?" Heimdal asked.

"Why not?" Dakota replied, his tone carrying a wistful warmth. "The sooner he is crowned, the better. I am not getting any younger, and I would like to see him wear the imperial crown while I still draw breath." A faint smile touched his lips. "That boy has a gift for leadership. He’s already surrounded himself with ministers of his own choosing — loyal, capable men."

Heimdal frowned slightly, the lines of worry deepening on his brow. "Northem has only just gone to war. The treasury is bled dry. We can scarcely afford a modest feast, let alone a coronation worthy of an emperor."

Dakota gave a short, dry laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Do not underestimate your son, Heimdal. You might be surprised to learn just how wealthy that ’brat,’ as you call him, has become."

...

While the two royals were talking about Alaric’s coronation, the concerned was walking beside Lara on the silent corridor. The sconces along the walls were lit, the flame burning low and golden against the marble stone. Outside, the dusk pressed close against the windows — a quiet sea of darkness stretching toward the unseen horizon.

Alaric entered a tea room. He stood at the great table, one hand resting on the scroll that had changed the course of Northem. His reflection swayed faintly in the polished wood, crowned by candlelight rather than gold.

Behind him, soft footsteps approached — light and deliberate.

"You didn’t speak to them after," Lara said, her voice low, carrying easily through the still air.

"I said what needed saying," he replied without turning. His tone was calm, but there was something underneath it, not weariness, but the weight of a man holding back the flood.

Lara stepped closer. The faint scent of travel and smoke still clung to her — leather, steel, and the sweetness of wild herbs from the eastern plains. She came to stand beside him, her gaze falling upon the pledge lying open before them.

"You’re Emperor now," she murmured, "Two kingdoms."

Alaric’s mouth twitched into the faintest shadow of a smile. "And you will be an Empress soon."

Lara chuckled, then she was silent.

"Titles change nothing," Alaric said. "The crown only makes the fall steeper."

Lara studied him quietly. "You sound like a man already mourning something he hasn’t lost."

He turned to her then, and in the candlelight, she saw the exhaustion etched into his face — the faint lines near his eyes, the hollowness that no victory could fill.

"I’ve seen what power does," he said. "How it corrodes faith, how it turns allies into claimants. My great uncle’s words earlier were a warning that should keep me cautious."

He traced the edge of the scroll with a gloved hand. "Every man who bows strengthens my cause... and sharpens the knives behind me."

Lara folded her arms, watching him. "You fear betrayal?"

"I expect it," he said simply. "But that’s not what keeps me awake."

She waited.

"Alderan," he said, the name quietly, "I am not sure if he knew about our father’s action today."

"Prince Alderan seemed to be a good man." Lara said gently.

"I hope that he is, that he would not be tempted by the power that comes with the crown."

Alaric gestured for Lara to sit down on the soft cushioned chair. Then he sat beside her, their shoulders touching.

"And there is also,Turik."

The candle nearest him flickered violently, its flame bending in the draft from the window.

Lara’s expression darkened. "There are rumors that Turik stood and walked. You knew that, didn’t you?"

"They aren’t rumors," Alaric admitted. "The reports said his legs were miraculously cured. I didn’t believe them at first. But then, a man like Turik doesn’t surrender to his wounds. He learns to wield them."

She looked away, her jaw tightening. "He was like a cockroach, so difficult to kill."

"He is," Alaric sneered. "General Odin, should be careful. I heard that Turik’s miraculous hearing was fueled by his desire for vengeance. Odin stole his body, and now he wants your father to suffer his fate. Not only that, he also wanted to exact his vengeance on me."

Lara turned back to him. "Then what will you do when they come for you?"

"I’ll be ready," he said. "Even before he comes, I will come for him. Didn’t Northem declared war on Zura? Since Northem is our vassal kingdom, I will fight its battle."

Lara’s brow furrowed. "Zura is a strong opponent, isn’t it?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face — sharp, weary. "They are strong, but our army is stronger because each soldier in the Phoenix Legion is driven by their quest for justice. Zura did them a lot of injustice."

He didn’t need to say the name. Lara felt it. Among their army recruits, many came from Zura. Those whose wealth was seized, whose sisters or wives were forcibly taken to become sex slaves, and those whose families were exterminated.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the soft rustle of the curtains, stirred by the breath of the young night.

Then Lara broke the silence. "You’re not alone in this, Alaric."

He turned toward her, and their eyes met — hers steady, his uncertain for once. There was a quiet strength in her, the kind that neither crown nor command could summon, and it grounded him more than any oath.

"I know," he said. "That’s why I’ll win, because I have you."

She stepped closer, close enough that the faint warmth of him brushed her skin. "You speak of winning," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "And I believe you would. You are the most qualified to rule over these four kingdoms."

Alaric held her gaze and the moment was magical.

Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance — far to the east, where dark seas met colder skies. The sound seemed to linger, rolling across unseen waters toward them.

Lara’s eyes flicked toward the sound, her voice soft. "The storm is coming."

Alaric looked out the window, toward the unseen horizon where Estalis lay shrouded beyond the night. "Let it come. It could not harm us."

The candlelight trembled once more, casting their shadows across the white walls — two figures standing together at the edge of an empire, staring into the darkness of what was to come.