Chapter 77: The Crown
The wind had died down.
Dead leaves carpeted the palace courtyard, left un-swept by servants too terrified to move. The doors to the Emperor's private chambers stood wide open.
The sound of wailing had long since ceased. Alice sat on the floor, cradling the body of Odri V. She was perfectly still. The body in her arms had already lost its warmth, turned into a vessel of cold meat and bone. The sword she had wielded remained embedded in his chest, the blood having slowed to a crawl, congealing into dark, jagged patterns in the grooves of the stone floor.
The Queen Mother entered. Her footsteps were light, making no sound against the masonry. Behind her stood the Prime Minister, the Finance Minister, and every high-ranking official who had rushed to the scene. They hovered outside the threshold, none daring to take a single step into the room. They simply watched the tableau: their Princess and their dead King.
The Queen Mother stopped behind Alice. She did not reach out to comfort her daughter, nor did she offer a shoulder to cry on. She simply placed a firm hand on Alice's shoulder.
"Alice," the Queen's voice was a flat, unmoving calm. "Stand up."
Alice's frame gave a small, violent shiver. She did not look up. "Mother... I killed him. I killed Father."
"I am aware," the Queen replied, her grip tightening on Alice's shoulder. "Now, stand up... Odri VI."
Slowly, agonizingly, Alice lifted her head. She released her father's body. She looked at her mother and saw a face devoid of tears—only a weariness Alice had never seen before, and a cold, royal steel she recognized all too well.
Alice pressed her palms against the floor, straining to rise. Her legs were like water; they buckled, and she collapsed back into a seated position.
The Queen did not help her. "A Sovereign does not fall."
Alice bit her lip until she tasted copper. Once more, she braced her arms against the stone. This time, she stood. Her body swayed, her balance precarious, but she remained upright.
Seeing this, the Queen Mother gave a sharp nod. "Now. Draw the sword."
Alice looked down at the hilt protruding from her father's chest. Her hand shook so violently it was a blur. Yet, she reached out and gripped the steel. With a wet, heavy rasp of metal against bone, the blade was withdrawn.
Alice stood there, clutching the bloody sword. She looked like a marble statue of a goddess of war.
The Queen stepped around her to the body of Odri V. She stooped over, straightening his disheveled royal robes with clinical precision, and used two fingers to gently close his staring eyes.
"Prepare the funeral rites for the Emperor," the Queen commanded the attendants outside.
The servants bowed and scrambled to obey. At that moment, the frantic thunder of metal boots echoed from the end of the long corridor.
Altlais and the Lionheart Guard had arrived.
The moment they had crossed the North Gate, they had felt the atmospheric change—the air was heavy, as if the very Mana of the Capital had turned to lead. No one spoke. Every maid and sentry they passed kept their heads bowed, terrified of letting their expressions be read.
Altlais burst into the Emperor's chambers, shoving past the cluster of officials at the door. He skidded to a halt and saw the scene.
The fallen King.
The expressionless Queen Mother.
And Alice, standing in the center of the room, clutching a blood-stained blade.
Altlais's mind went white for a heartbeat. "...What happened?"
His own voice sounded like a stranger's to him. No one answered. The tension in the room was a physical weight.
Altlais stepped forward, dropping to one knee beside the corpse of his master. He inspected the wound. A single thrust through the heart. Lethal. Precise. Unless His Majesty had deliberately abandoned his Battle Aura and suppressed his natural defenses, a Tier 5 powerhouse could never have been ended by such a strike.
Altlais looked up at Alice. "Your Highness?"
Alice didn't look at him. Her gaze pierced through him, fixed on some invisible point in the void.
"Master," Alice said. Her voice was hollow, as if it were drifting from a great distance. "You've returned."
"His Majesty... he..." Altlais started to ask.
A figure stepped from the shadows of the room. It was the Court Diviner, his face still hidden beneath his hood. "The prophecy has manifested. His Majesty knew this day would come long ago."
Altlais remembered the day in the council chamber when Odri V had pushed over his own King-piece on the sand table. He looked back at Alice, his voice a low, realization-filled murmur.
"It was His Majesty... he ordered you to do this."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
Alice's lips moved in a ghost of a whisper. "Yes."
Altlais closed his eyes. When he opened them, the grief had been buried beneath a mask of absolute duty. He shifted his posture, kneeling on one knee.
He was not kneeling to the dead King. He was kneeling to Alice.
"Altlais, Commander of the Royal Knights of the Odri Empire..."
"...stands before his Sovereign."
Behind him, the six members of the Lionheart Guard followed suit, their armor clattering as they took a knee.
"WE STAND BEFORE OUR SOVEREIGN!"
The roar echoed through the empty chamber. Outside the door, the ministers, the officials, and the guards—every living soul—dropped to their knees.
"HAIL, YOUR MAJESTY!"
A mountain-shaking wave of voices.
Alice looked at the man who had been her teacher, kneeling before her. She looked at the pillars of the Empire prostrating in the hall. She tightened her grip on the sword. That blade was her first crime as a Queen.
"Hear my command," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but every syllable carried a resonance that demanded obedience.
"The city is under martial law. Every civilian who perished in the riots shall have their family compensated by the Royal Treasury. Every guard and knight who resisted the undead shall receive double the promised bounty. My father's funeral shall be held in three days. My coronation shall follow immediately after. We do not have time to linger in the past."
The commands flowed from her lips without a hint of hesitation. The kneeling ministers looked up at the girl who was not yet twenty. In her shadow, they saw the ghost of Odri V.
Alice turned her gaze to Altlais. "Master."
"I am here, Your Majesty."
"The report on the Eastern Border. I will hear it now."
She allowed herself no time for grief. She allowed the Empire no time for instability.
Altlais stood up. "As you command, Your Majesty."
He knew that from this heartbeat forward, they were no longer teacher and pupil. They were Sovereign and Subject.
The Queen Mother watched her daughter. She watched the unbending line of her spine.
To be a King... the price is everything.
She stepped forward, taking the bloody sword from Alice's hand. In its place, she pressed an object into Alice's palms.
It was the Crown of Odri. It had not yet been sanctified by the ritual, but it had already found its new master.
Alice took the crown. She did not put it on. She held it with both hands and walked out of the room. She walked past the kneeling court, through the long corridors, and out onto the terrace overlooking the Capital.
It was the same terrace where Altlais had once taught her about the weight of the crown.
The night was thick. The lights of the Capital were sparse after the chaos, but they still flickered, stubborn and defiant. Alice held the crown toward the city.
"Father," she whispered to the wind. "I will keep this view alive forever. In my own way."
A gust of night air swept over her, tossing her golden hair and fluttering her blood-stained clothes. The Queen of the Empire had arrived.
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