After announcing himself, the court mage walked into the audience room. Calling it a room was a disservice, really.
It was a large chamber, with a ceiling reaching high into the air, the point that if one weren’t looking up towards it, they would not see it.
The area it covered was also massive, the room being fifty meters wide by one hundred long. At the end of the audience room, a set of stairs led up to a throne overseeing the whole chamber.
On the said throne sat an ash elf. He looked like he was bored and would have preferred not to be here at all.
As soon as the doors opened up and the court mage made his entry, he lazily gazed towards the door.
The man watched as the guests walked into the audience chamber, examining each one closely. He recognized some of them, and others, not.
He then fixed his gaze on old Aberon.
“Aberon! Old friend. Have you come to your senses and come to pledge your allegiance to the crown?” The man asked Aberon.
“King Vhol’drokk. Surely you jest. My allegiance is to the kingdom, not its crown.” Aberon snidely replied, doing a half-baked bow.
“Watch your mouth, old man!” Gelum’vire shouted.
“Silence, court mage!” The king barked.
“Yes, my king.” The court mage replied, bowing deeply, but keeping his eyes on Aberon with hatred.
“As for you, old fool. My father owed his life many times to you, so I let many things slide. But don’t get too used to it. I am still your king.” King Vhol’drokk said, looking at Aberon with contempt.
“Your majesty, let me get something straight. I respected your claim to the throne, because of your bloodline, and the immense respect I had for your father.” Aberon started saying, his gaze becoming cold.
“Now, understand this. My loyalty was and has always been to the kingdom. Even when your father was king, it was so.” He continued.
The king seemed irked at the reprimand he was getting from the old mage and lifted his hand to silence him.
“Enough. I see you are still as stubborn as always. Let us move forward from this farce.” The king said, exasperation in his eyes.
“What is it you wanted from me, to have the audacity to request an audience?” He added.
“Trust me when I say this, my king, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. But they automatically declined any application for the coming of age ceremony from our village.” Aberon said, disappointment in his eyes.
“You know the reason for that, old fool.” The king interjected.
“Ahh yes. You don’t want “traitors” to become stronger. But I have a person in the village that has no attachment to us.” Aberon continued, disregarding the interruption.
“If he is from your village, how could he not be related to any of you?” The king asked, a little curious.
The king then started observing the two people he did not recognize. I’dril and Astaroth.
“Astaroth, come forward, boy.” Aberon said, beckoning him.
Astaroth walked forward and stopped at Aberon’s side. He did a slight bow, saluting the king, trying to minimize the animosity he could have against him.
“Hmm. At least you taught the kid some manners.” The king said, resting his chin on his fist.
“I didn’t teach him that.” Aberon defended himself like Astaroth was at fault.
“But back to our business. This boy is not from our village. Not entirely.” Aberon added.
“Oh?” The king said, raising an eyebrow.
“He is an Abnormal. Astaroth only landed in our village by a stroke of bad luck. We should not deny him his birthright.” Aberon said, this time bowing lower, showing actual respect.
The action took the king slightly aback, as Aberon had never once bowed to him appropriately. Not even during his coronation.
“I see you are ready to put your pride aside for this boy. But tell me, mage, why should I grant him anything?” The king taunted.
“There is nothing to prove to me he isn’t one day going to overthrow me. Especially if he grows around your lot.” He added.
“Unless he were to pledge allegiance to me, here and now.” He finished, flashing an evil grin.
“You are being unreasonable, king Vhol’drokk. You don’t impose this on any other of your subjects. Where is your impartiality?” Aberon rebuked.
“Silence!” The king shouted, standing from his throne.
“Who are you, to lecture me, the king?! I have absolute say in my kingdom! My word is law! My orders, divine edicts!” He added, bursting in anger.
King Vhol’drokk walked down from his perch, fuming in rage. He strode up to Aberon and slapped him across the face.
“You come to MY palace with your demands. You! Who has no right to make demands of ME! And then, you refuse my merciful conditions?! I should have you executed right this moment!” The king shouted, spit flying out of his mouth as he did.
Aberon stood there, for a good while, motionless. His fists curled up, and Astaroth saw something around the man move.
When he focused his gaze on Aberon, he understood it was mana. Aberon’s eyes were focused on the king before him and only emanated killing intent.
The surrounding mana was reacting to his unbridled rage, as it spun around him, kicking up an unnatural wind.
“Even your father never dared to strike me when we disagreed.” Aberon said, his tone calm as the dead sea.
But the king could feel the seething rage rolling off of the mage. He tried stepping back, but was locked in place.
As he was trying to force his legs to move, scared for his life, his feet lifted off the ground. Seeing the aggression happening, the royal guards tried to come to their king’s aid but were also stuck in place.
“Let him go, Aberon!” The court mage yelled, lifting his staff up, ready to fight.
Aberon barely registered him as a threat, but still reacted. He lifted his arm, pointing his palm at the court mage, and six barriers formed around the man.
The barriers stuck to each other like layers of an onion before slowly constricting. Gelum’vire started pushing back on them with his own magic, but could only hold them at bay, not break them.
The king, seeing how the situation was turning, tried crying out for help.
“I implore the…. Mmm… mmm!!!!” He started screaming, before his lips fused together, closing his mouth.
“No one is coming to your aid, boy!” Aberon shouted, the mana around now swirling like a miniature hurricane.
ƥαṇdα- ηθνε|·ƈθm
Astaroth wished for Aberon to stop his actions, but could not muster up the courage to tell him. Even Chris, I’dril, Korin, and Aj’axx were only watching on, in horror.
“Can nobody stop him before this goes too far?” Astaroth thought, almost in prayer.
A feminine voice answered his silent wish, talking in his head.
“I can help, but you need to call my name.” The delicate voice said to him.
“Who are you?” Astaroth responded in his mind, looking around.
“I am the kingdom spirit, Alantha Anulo. Call out my name and I shall stop this madness.” The voice replied.
“How does this work?” Astaroth answered, confused.
“Implore for my help, say my name, and I shall answer your call. Quickly!” The voice said, with a bit more insistence.
Astaroth clasped his hands together in a prayer motion. And in an unperceivable whisper, he called out.
“I implore for your protection, Alantha Anulo. Please stop this before it goes any further.”
As Astaroth was having this mental conversation, Aberon lifted his other arm, pointing it at the floating king.
When the arm was pointed at him, the king felt the surrounding air become thinner. It soon became harder for him to breathe, as the oxygen was lacking.
He slowly started suffocating, his skin taking on a shade of bluish-purple, as his consciousness faded away.
Aberon was looking into the king’s eyes as life slowly slipped away from them. And all he could feel was rage.
“I should have done this the day you stole the throne from your father!” Aberon yelled, his eyes bloodshot.
It was at that exact moment that Astaroth made his prayer.
The mana in the room suddenly stopped. Immediately after, it siphoned away from the spells being cast and converged toward the ceiling.
The king dropped to the ground like a rag doll, gasping for oxygen, and Gelum’vire ran to his side, looking at Aberon in hatred.
Meanwhile, the mana that had converged was glowing, and slowly taking the shape of a person.
It started glowing as the shape finished forming, looking like the silhouette of a woman. The glowing silhouette slowly floated down from the ceiling, landing in front of Astaroth.
The glow disappeared, as the silhouette crouched before Astaroth, putting her hand on his head.
“Fear no longer, child. I shall protect you from harm.” She said in a soft voice.