Chapter 12: Final Trial

The day of the trial passed like any other day in the cell. Everything took place without his involvement and Darian could only wonder how his fate was decided. Thoughts of his illicit encounter with the queen were the only thing that kept him sane amidst the turmoil. He indulged in the memory of her scent, the softness of her skin, and the fullness of her breasts with meandering blue veins, skin stretches and dark areolae.

If taboo was bad, then why did it feel so damn good.

As Darian lay back on his bunk, pretending to sleep, the dungeon doors creaked open, a shadowy figure moved towards him.

Darian secretly grabbed a sheet from his bunk, wrapping it tightly around his arm as a makeshift weapon. With the element of surprise on his side, he pounced on the intruder, pinning him to the ground and delivering a deadly blow that broke man’s neck.

Only then did he recognize the attacker as his jailer named Frison. What’s going on? Was it orchestrated by Narim?

“I have to find my mother”, Darian took jailer’s sword and headed right upstairs, leaving deep dungeon.The castle was suspiciously quiet. No sound of moving soldiers, no rustling flames, no wind blowing. It was as if time had stopped.

Soon he came across the first corpse. A soldier with an embroidered bear on his cloak, Incurian banner, a puddle of blood on the ground, an arrow piercing his neck.

“Stop right there, prisoner,” a voice boomed behind Darian. Slowly, he turned around to face a heavily breathing soldier in armor identical to the deceased’s.

“What happened? Where is the queen and the counselors?” Darian demanded.

“How did you escape? Drop your sword,” the guard replied, edging closer.

“What is your name, soldier?”

Before he could respond, another guard appeared on the opposite side, wielding a bow. The archer drew back the string, preparing to fire.

Darian let out a sigh, waving his sword in the air. “I cannot handle two enemies from both sides.”

“For escaping, you will face death!” the first one charged into battle with sword raised and Darian prepared to defend himself. An arrow flew and, to Darian’s surprise, the soldier fell dead at his feet, the arrow piercing his eye.

“Are you not wounded, my prince?” the archer asked, appearing closer than before, while Darian still tried to comprehend what just happend “You have been acquitted, but there were traitors among the guards.”

“I was acquitted?” Darian mumbled, staring at the dead guard on the ground.

“We need to go,” Archer said, motioning for prince to follow him. “I’ll explain everything on the way.”

“I need to find the queen.”

“That’s where we’re heading.” the archer told him as they both ran down the corridor. Guard spoke in hushed tones about the recent chaos. The queen, he explained, had ordered a search of Narim and Braga’s chambers, which had left the former visibly shaken. It turns out that part of the guard was collaborating with him. That’s when it started to get messy. The castle is still divided between those who remain loyal to the Serpent-Slayers and the traitors who have aligned themselves with Narim.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Darian asked while they ventured into dark corridors.

“Jason,” the archer replied.

“You will be rewarded, Jason”

As they made their way through the corridors, they encountered more corpses.

“Darian,” a voice called out, and he recognized the wounded figure of Lokir slumped against a wall.”You turned out to be right. Narim...”

“Save your strength. I already know it. Where is the queen?”

“She’s in the Triumphall Hall, Narim is planning to kill your little brother” he replied weakly.

“Jason, take him away and find some other men. I will wait for you in the Hall. Bows would be quite usefull.”

“Understood, Prince,” Jason solemny nodded, taking Lokir’s arm and leading him away. “You are heavier than you look like, counselor”

Darian’s heart pounded in his chest, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword. From now, the fate of the kingdom rested on his shoulders. The sight of fallen soldiers littering the ground only fueled his fear when he soon approached the entrance.

“What if I fail? I can do this, I can do this, I can do this,” he made a deep breath and then heard a familliar woman voice.

“Enough of this, Narim!” It was Nymira. Without hesitation, he burst through the Hall’s doors to find counselor sitting in his usual seat beside the king’s main throne, holding Tartuf in one hand, and a carving knife in other. Five soldiers were surrounding Nymira, while four more stood on the balconies, ready to strike if needed. with bows.

Nymira was clad in a sweat-soaked dress, the strap having fallen off her shoulder, exposing part of her smooth skin.

“Don’t you dare harm him,” Nymira shouted, struggling against the guards holding her back.