Crown of The Ruined

The hooded figure chuckled, "Don't make that mistake. You're smarter than that, Jarte. I will let her go and leave once I've said what I'm meant to."

Jarte didn't shift his gaze from the hooded figure. He was conflicted, he didn't intend to let this assassin go neither did he intend to risk his mother's life. He considered different outcomes but there wasn't a way to fulfill his intentions without endangering Octavia. The hooded figure continued,

"Listen well, Jarte. If I wanted to kill her, don't you think I'd have done it already? Why do you think I waited here? Not the brightest tool in the shed, are you?" The hooded figure's mocking tone made Jarte's skin crawl.

"I have strict orders against killing anyone unnecessarily during this little trip. Even if you call for security, I'll just kill to my heart's content and leave."

If it hadn't been for Octavia, Jarte would've punched the grin right off of the hooded figure's face. He gritted his teeth before spitting out, "What do you want? Who is giving you commands?"

"Oh, I want nothing from you, really! Not yet, anyway. I'm only a messenger and this—" The veiled figure pointed at Octavia, "—is the message."

Jarte swallowed and took a deep breath to keep his composure.

"You don't seem to understand. I'll explain!" Only the veiled figure's mouth was visible. It twisted to form a wicked smile,

"My master has been kind enough to send a warning. Do not claim the crown, Jarte. Whoever claims it, will experience the same thing as your father."

Jarte could barely hold himself back at the mention of his father. He felt the heat of the purple flames beside him get stronger.

[Rage has been activated]

[Detachment has been activated]

[You are incapable of experiencing physical and mental pain while Rage is active]

[You are immune from mental attacks while detachment is active]

[+10 intimidation has been added]

"However," The hooded figure continued on, "the master pitied you and sent me to deliver a warning. Now then—"

With that, the figure vanished before their eyes in a cloud of grey smoke. Jarte and Kyestra rushed to Octavia while Aereos and Avohld went to call for a healer.

"You shouldn't have let him go!" Octavia coughed as she continued to bleed in Jarte's arms. She held his face with bloodied hands,

"You must claim the crown, Jarte. The honour of the bloodline depends on you. You must not give up the crown."

"Mother, now is the time for you to rest. Do not trouble yourself with such matters. I have no intention of giving up the throne."

Kyestra silently watched all of this pass. Mehedarkha was sitting beside Kyestra. Both of them could tell something had changed. The light had left Jarte's eyes. The cheer they briefly enjoyed was taken away before they could savour it, leaving behind only blood and ruin.

Octavia barely raised her sword. It was tainted with blood.

'Where did this blood come from? The assassin seemed quite uninjured.'

She continued, "Take this sword with you. Strike down anyone who stands in your way."

Jarte's eyes sharpened with determination, "I will." He took the bloodied sword from her hand.

Kyestra spoke, "I will stay with Her Majesty. I swear to protect her with my life."

The fire had stopped the bleeding from Kyestra's wound but the wound was still visible. Jarte nodded in approval.

Octavia withdrew her hand, leaving smeared blood on his face, "You must go."

He looked at her with hollow eyes. Octavia could feel how weary he had already grown. Her heart ached to see her son like this. She planned for a sweeter reunion, one where they could share stories over hot tea and warm cakes in the most pleasant weather. However, part of her always knew that was too good to be true.

The healer arrived and so did Zephyr. The scene before his eyes struck him with horror.

The royal healer rushed in immediately. The healer raised his hand,covering Octavia with a faint green glow. He then started lifting Octavia off of the ground with magic and placed her on the bed.

"Kyestra, Martha, stay with mother. Knights, guard them and send for guards, the best you can gather. The more, the better."

All of them bowed with their hands over their hearts, "Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Zephyr, come with me."

Zephyr could hardly believe his eyes. Jarte looked like a walking corpse. His eyes seemed unfocused and distant, as if he's not in the same world as them. He appeared so cold and filled with malice that he could be hardly called human anymore. Jarte resembled more of an angry god than the friend he grew up with. Zephyr spoke with hesitation in his voice,

"Where are you going, Jarte?"

"To claim the crown."

[You have unlocked determination]

Kyestra watched Jarte and Zephyr exit the room with concerned eyes. She sat on the bed beside the queen mother and Mehedarkha placed one of her hands on Kyestra's shoulder.

'Open Map'

Jarte checked the route for the throne room and followed it without stopping. The door of the throne room started opening at his approach.

The room was vibrant with energy. The twelve spaces separated by pillars were all occupied except two— the seat of the dragon and phoenix. Jarte could now tell what the spaces behind the chairs were for. Each space was for an attendant with mask covering their eyes behind the chairs. All of them held an unsheathed sword upright in front of them. Those who occupied the chairs themselves were nothing short of mesmerizing. They sat elegantly and wore lavish clothing. The nobles present took their place in the space without pillar chambers; they sat comfortably side by side and chatted away while tea, various cakes, biscuits, breads and the like were being served to them.

Once the door opened, gasps rose from the nobles and those sitting in the fine chairs turned their heads curiously. Everyone belatedly stood up to honour their king once they recovered from the initial shock.

Jarte walked the path of the king with a bloodied sword and bloodstained clothes with blood on his face. He proceeded to the throne, ignoring the frightened gaze of the crowd. Even the reporter who was broadcasting the coronation went silent and could do nothing but gulp at the sight.

Some of those sitting in the pillar chambers called to Jarte, breaking out of their composed facade, "Your Majesty!" While others only shot a disapproving look at those who were trying to interrupt their ruler.

Jarte paid no heed and reached the steps before the throne. Zephyr took his place by one side of the steps. Climbing them, Jarte took the crown sitting on the King's throne.

"This is...!"

"Your Majesty, you mustn't!"

Protests rose from all.

The atmosphere took a dreadful turn. Those who celebrated his return now dreaded his next action. The blood on Jarte's hands hadn't dried, it stuck to the tall, golden crown as he picked it up with one hand. He turned to his audience and placed the crown on his head.