Chapter 290: War is never easy

When the Empress, Nyx, and Seraphine entered the council chamber, the King was already waiting. There were no guards, no ministers, no attendants. Only the King himself, standing before the central table, his hands clasped behind his back as he turned to meet them.He gave a nod of acknowledgment, first to Nyx, then to Seraphine, and finally, with a touch of solemn respect, to the veiled figure of the Empress.

"You’ve all had a long journey," he said, his tone deep and measured. "But there are matters that cannot wait." Then he gestured to Seraphine and Nyx..."leave us for now."

Seraphine hesitated briefly, glancing at the Empress, but the latter gave a small nod. "Go," she said softly. "I will be fine."

Reluctantly, the two women bowed and withdrew, their footsteps fading into silence as the heavy doors shut behind them.

The King gestured toward a nearby seat. "Please, Your Majesty," he said with formal politeness. "Sit."

The Empress inclined her head and moved gracefully toward the offered chair.

For a few moments, neither spoke. Then the King broke the silence. "Nyx told me what she could...about the fall of Lechia, your son’s betrayal, and the rot’s growing influence. But I need to hear it from you directly."

The Empress’s hands folded neatly in her lap. "Then hear it plainly," she said, her tone steady but cold. "The fall of Lechia was no sudden calamity...it was a slow poisoning that began years ago. The usurpers did not strike from without; they were already within our walls. Ministers, generals, palace attendants... all of them, in time, were touched by the rot."

The King’s expression hardened. "You’re saying your court was completely infiltrated?"

"Not completely," she replied, "but deeply enough. When I still sat on the throne, I could already feel their corruption spreading. By the time I realized the extent of their reach, it was already too late. The alliance proposal your young lord...Xavier...brought to my kingdom never had the chance to be sealed. My son’s betrayal struck before the ink could touch the parchment."

The King frowned deeply, pacing a slow line across the chamber. "Xavier risked his life for that mission..." he murmured. "And all for nothing."

"Not for nothing," the Empress said quietly. "He delayed them. His actions bought me time...time to flee, time to preserve what little remains of Lechia’s legacy. That boy carries more than he realizes."

The King turned back to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what of Valerion? You said earlier that our kingdom may already be compromised. What makes you certain?"

The Empress tilted her head slightly. "The rot does not confine itself to borders, Your Majesty. It moves through desire, ambition, and fear. Those who aided my son’s treachery were not all of Lechia. Some were men and women from beyond our lands...spies who have long since taken root elsewhere. If the rot reached my palace, then yours is not untouched."

A heavy silence followed. The King’s jaw tightened, and his gaze drifted toward the window, where the banner of Valerion swayed faintly in the breeze. "You’re suggesting my court may already be compromised," he said at last, his voice low. He said this even though he knew it already.

"I’m not suggesting," the Empress replied softly. "I am certain."

Her words fell like frost upon the chamber...quiet, but chilling enough to still the air.

The King looked back at her, his eyes filled with a grim weight of realization. "Then the battle for our kingdoms has already begun," he said.

The Empress inclined her head slowly. "It began long before we knew it."

The King exhaled slowly, his hand pressing against the edge of the table as he gathered his thoughts. The silence between them stretched, heavy with the weight of what had been revealed. Finally, he said, "If the rot has already spread across borders, then we can’t fight this alone. I’ll send word to the Rus Emperor...he needs to know of what’s happening. Together, perhaps we can form a stronger front before the corruption consumes us all."

The Empress’s head lifted sharply beneath her veil, and even through the gauzy fabric, her displeasure was unmistakable. "The Rus Emperor?" she said, her tone measured but edged. "You would trust him now, after everything between Lechia and Rus? Do you forget how many border skirmishes we fought? Or how often he sought to undermine our trade routes in the north?"

The King’s jaw tensed, but his voice remained calm. "I haven’t forgotten. But this isn’t about politics or pride anymore. If what you’ve told me is true, then the rot threatens all of us...Lechia, Valerion, and Rus alike. I’d sooner sit across from an old rival than stand alone against a plague that consumes worlds."

The Empress said nothing for a while. She looked away, her gaze drifting toward the flickering torches that lined the far wall. Beneath her veil, her expression softened...though it was hard to tell if it was from reluctant understanding or bitter acceptance. "You speak with reason," she admitted. "But understand this, Your Majesty...the Rus Emperor plays his own game. If he senses weakness in Valerion, he will exploit it. He always has. Still..." Her voice dropped to a faint whisper. "We cannot afford to be idealists."

The King gave a single nod. "Then it’s settled. I’ll send a message tonight. If he refuses, at least we’ll know where we stand."

The Empress turned back to face him fully now, her tone firm, her presence regaining its regal command. "Then while you do that, know this...the first battle will not be here in Valerion. It will begin in Lechia."

The King looked at her, a flicker of realization crossing his face. "You intend to reclaim your throne."

"I intend," she said, "to reclaim my kingdom from the rot that stole it. If we do not strike soon, the corruption festering there will fester beyond control. My son sits on a throne that no longer belongs to him, guided by hands that seek to devour the living. Every day we delay, Lechia dies a little more."

The King straightened, his expression hardening into resolve. "Valerion will stand with you. But understand this will not be easy. We’ll be waging war on two fronts: against the rot and against our own fear."

The Empress’s voice lowered to a solemn murmur. "War is never easy, Your Majesty. But it is better to fight with fear in our hearts than to kneel in silence while the world rots beneath us."

Her words hung in the air like frost, chilling yet resolute. The King bowed his head slightly, both in respect and in grim acknowledgment.