Chapter 9 News

The night was heavy with a foreboding silence when a guard, patrolling the corridors of the palace, heard the shrill, frantic screams piercing through the grand halls. The sound was like a jagged blade, cutting through the quiet of the opulent palace. Panic surged through him as he sprinted towards the king's chambers, his armor clanking with each hurried step.

He flung open the ornate doors, and the sight that greeted him was beyond his darkest imaginings. King Edric lay in a grotesque tableau, his regal robes stained with blood, his eyes wide and vacant. The room was a chaos of overturned furniture and scattered personal effects. Queen Liana, her throat slashed, was slumped over the edge of the bed, her fingers clutching desperately at the gaping wound. Her once-beautiful face was now a mask of shock and pain.

The room was filled with a cacophony of noise: the gasps and cries of the royal family, the frantic shuffling of guards, and the piercing shrieks of the queen. The scent of blood mingled with the faint, acrid tang of the poison that had claimed the king's life.

The guard, frozen at the threshold, finally gathered his wits and bellowed for help. "Get the physicians! Quickly!"

Within moments, a group of physicians, their faces grim and resolute, burst into the chamber. They hurried to the queen's side, their hands working with practiced efficiency to stem the flow of blood. The lead physician, an elderly man with a furrowed brow, barked orders as he worked. His hands moved swiftly, applying pressure and using every tool at his disposal to stabilize her.

Rhys, having been summoned by the commotion, arrived in the midst of the chaos. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the horrific scene. "What the hell happened here!?" he muttered under his breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

The guard who had first responded to the screams met Rhys's gaze, his face pale and shaking. "The king... he... he attacked the queen. We need help! We need—"

Rhys cut him off, his voice sharp and commanding. "Listen to me. No one is to speak of what happened here. This stays between us. If even a whisper gets out, you will all be hanged for treason. Is that clear?"

The guards and physicians nodded, their eyes wide with fear. Rhys's authority was unquestioned, but the gravity of the situation was unprecedented.

He turned to one of the guards. "Go immediately and announce to the court that the king is dead! No details. Just the fact."

The guard, visibly shaken, nodded and hurried away, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Rhys could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the future of the kingdom teetering on a knife's edge.

As the physicians worked to stabilize Queen Liana, her condition was critical. Despite their efforts, her breathing remained labored, and her pallor grew ever more ashen. The room was filled with the hushed, tense murmurs of the physicians as they battled to keep her alive.

Rhys approached the dying king's bed, his gaze fixed on the frail, once-mighty figure of Edric. The king's eyes, though clouded with death, still held a glimmer of the rage and defiance that had marked his final moments. Rhys could see the blood staining the silk sheets, the evidence of the violent final act.

The air in the chamber was thick with the stench of blood and the faint, lingering odor of poison. Rhys's stomach churned, but he forced himself to focus. He needed to maintain control, to ensure that the kingdom remained stable amidst the chaos. His mind raced through the implications of the night's events, the political fallout, and the need for decisive action.

He glanced back at the queen, her body now limp under the physician's care. Rhys knew that the scandal of this night would ripple through the court and the kingdom, and it was his responsibility to manage the fallout. He had to keep the situation under control, to present a united front to the kingdom, and to ensure that no further damage came from this night of horror.

With a final, resolute glance at the scene before him, Rhys turned and walked out of the chamber, the weight of his new responsibilities pressing heavily on his shoulders. The palace's silence was now punctuated only by the distant, mournful tolling of bells—a somber signal of the end of an era and the beginning of a new, uncertain chapter for the kingdom.

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In the heart of Volpia, the city had always been a beacon of opulence and splendor, but today, an air of foreboding hung over the grand streets and bustling squares.

The first sign of change came in the form of the bells. They were large, ancient instruments that had weathered countless storms and events, their deep, resonant tones carrying across the city. But tonight, their usual rhythm was replaced by a somber, mournful tolling. The sound was slow and deliberate, each chime a heavy, deliberate thud that seemed to echo through the very bones of the city.

In the marketplace, vendors and shoppers paused, their faces registering confusion and concern. Murmurs of unease rippled through the crowd as the bells continued to toll, a relentless reminder that something was profoundly wrong.

The sound reached the grand mansions and stately homes of the city's elite. Noble families, gathered for their evening meals or social engagements, fell silent as the tolling bells penetrated their walls. In the opulent halls of the nobility, the noise was a cruel contrast to the expected cheer of their evening affairs.

A servant in the grand manor hurried to his master's study. An imposing figure with an air of authority, looked up from his papers, his brow furrowed "What's this noise, Lorian?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble.

Lorian, the servant, bowed deeply. "My lord, it appears that the bells are tolling for the king."

His eyes narrowed. "The king? What happened?"

The servant shook his head. "I do not know, my lord. But the bells—they never toll like this unless there is grave news."

As the bells continued their mournful rhythm, the streets of Volpia began to empty. People drifted from their homes and businesses, drawn by the sound of the bells and the growing whispers of news spreading through the city like wildfire.

The city's watchmen, usually alert and efficient, found themselves caught up in the sudden chaos. Patrols were redirected to maintain order as people gathered in anxious clusters, their faces reflecting a range of emotions from curiosity to dread.

A young woman, her eyes wide with worry, pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she stood with her children in the city square. "What's happening, Mama?" her young son asked, his voice trembling.

The woman shook her head, trying to keep her own fear at bay. "I don't know, my love. But we'll stay together and find out."

The news finally reached the grand square where the city's main administration was located. Here, the majestic fountain that usually sparkled with the light of lanterns was now surrounded by a growing crowd. The once bustling square fell into a tense silence as the bells tolled on, each chime a reminder of the gravity of the situation.

A herald, his face pale and grave, stepped up to the gathered crowd. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of the grim news. "People of Eldoria! I must inform you that King Edric has passed away. The bells toll in his honor, and the kingdom grieves for its loss."

A collective gasp swept through the crowd, a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. Whispers of the king's death spread like wildfire, each person absorbing the shock in their own way. The gravity of the news began to sink in, and the once lively city now seemed shrouded in a heavy, sorrowful veil.

As the bells continued their mournful toll, the city of Eldoria was left to grapple with the reality of its loss. The streets, once vibrant and bustling, were now filled with the echoes of a kingdom in mourning. The grand capital, so full of life and splendor, stood still under the shadow of its king's death, the future uncertain and the air thick with a sense of impending change.