Ashes of the Sterling Legacy

Chapter 7: The Ministry of Records

A crown is supposed to protect the realm, but this one was dripping in family blood.

Arthur sat on a broken wooden crate in the dim cellar, his fingers tracing the cold silver plates of his father recovered armor. The shock of Marcus words still hung in the air, heavier than the thick dampness of the room.

"The Crown Prince himself signed it," Arthur said, his voice flat, dangerously calm. "My father bled for that man on the northern borders. We gave everything to the throne."

"The throne does not care about loyalty, Arthur," Marcus said, his voice straining as he tried to sit up against the straw bedding. "They care about control. Your father cosmic energy style was becoming too powerful. The other clans were starting to look to the Sterling family for leadership instead of the palace. Victor was just the weapon they used to cut us down."

Arthur stood up, his jaw tight. "Then this is no longer a simple rebellion against a rogue uncle. If the imperial family is behind the massacre, I cannot just kill Victor. I have to tear down the entire political structure."

"You cannot fight the whole empire alone, my prince," Marcus warned, coughing slightly. "The royal garrison has fifty thousand men in the inner ring. If you march out there with your swords drawn, they will bury you in an unmarked grave."

"I am not going to fight them with swords, Marcus," Arthur said, turning the silver breastplate over in his hands. "I am going to fight them with the truth. If I can expose this illegal treaty to the other great clans, the empire will tear itself apart from the inside. The northern lords will never support a Crown Prince who murders his own loyal vanguard in secret."

"The clans will need proof," Marcus said, shaking his head. "They will not take the word of a ghost or a broken old captain."

"Where is the document?" Arthur asked, leaning over the old man.

"The original signed treaty is locked within the Ministry of Records," Marcus said, pointing a trembling finger toward the ceiling. "It sits inside the heavily guarded inner ring. The security there is absolute. They have magical arrays that scan your lifeforce, and guards at every single intersection."

Arthur looked down at the silver plated armor on the table. "They have guards, yes. But who commands those guards?"

"The elite sector commanders," Marcus said, his eyes widening as he realized what Arthur was thinking. "No, Arthur. You cannot walk into the inner ring wearing that armor. It belonged to the executioner you just crushed in the plaza."

"The executioner was wearing my father armor because Victor gave it to him as a reward," Arthur said, his voice filled with cold logic. "The inner ring guards do not know every commander face. They only know the armor, the sigils, and the rank. With the chaos from the square and the depot explosion, the palace will be expecting high level officers to report to the Ministry for security briefs."

"It is too risky," Marcus pleaded. "If they ask for your token, you are dead."

"I know the old military protocols better than any of Victor new recruits," Arthur said, lifting the heavy silver breastplate and strapping it tightly across his chest. "My father made me memorize the imperial watchwords before I could even wield a wooden sword. I will walk through the front gates, and they will open them for me."

An hour later, Arthur stood before the massive, golden gates of the inner ring. The transformation was complete. He had cleaned the soot from his face, combed his hair back into a strict military style, and wore the magnificent silver armor with absolute authority. He walked with a deliberate, commanding stride, his heavy iron boots clicking rhythmically against the pristine white marble street.

Two elite guards in gold lacquered armor stepped forward at the main checkpoint, crossing their long halberds to block his path.

"Halt, Commander," the guard on the left said, squinting through his visor. "The inner ring is under total lockdown following the incident in the lower plaza. State your name and sector assignment."

Arthur did not hesitate. He drew himself up to his full height, glaring down at the guard with an expression of pure, aristocratic arrogance. "Are you blind, soldier? Look at these dragon sigils. I am reporting directly from the frontline sector of the outer ring execution block. Commander Tyler was incapacitated by the rogue element, and I have taken command of the pursuit squad."

The guards shifted uncomfortably, their halberds lowering slightly. "We need to verify your personal identity token, sir. New orders from the palace."

"Verify this," Arthur snapped, his voice booming with military authority as he stepped directly into the guard space. "While you waste time checking metal tokens at the gate, the assassin who destroyed the military depot is moving through the upper tunnels. The Crown Prince himself demanded an immediate security assessment of the Ministry of Records. If you delay me for another ten seconds, I will personally see to it that your next assignment is shoveling coal in the western mines. Do you understand the code of the silver vanguard?"

The guard on the right blinked, recognizing the specific, ancient phrase used only by high ranking northern officers. "The silver vanguard guards the golden gate, sir."

"Then open the gate and let me do my job," Arthur commanded.

The two soldiers looked at each other, thoroughly intimidated by his fierce demeanor and perfect knowledge of the old protocols. They quickly uncrossed their weapons and stepped aside, bowing their heads. "Pass through, Commander. Apologies for the delay."

Arthur marched through the golden archway without looking back. The inner ring was a stark contrast to the filthy slums. The air was clean, scented with blooming jasmine from the palace gardens, and the streets were lined with grand stone villas. He followed the main avenue directly toward the Ministry of Records, a massive, windowless fortress built from black granite that loomed over the eastern courtyard.

He passed three more security checkpoints inside the building corridors, using the same aggressive, high level military jargon to bypass the lower clerks. The interior of the Ministry was dead silent, filled with row after row of massive wooden shelves containing centuries of imperial history.

Arthur navigated the labyrinth of documents until he reached the restricted archives at the very back of the complex. The air here was cold, smelling of old ink and preserved parchment. In the center of the room stood a heavy, iron reinforced vault door, sealed with a complex mechanical lock.

Arthur drew a thin iron pin from his gauntlet, a tool he had taken from Marcus cellar. He inserted it into the keyhole, listening closely to the clicking of the internal tumblers as he manipulated the mechanism with steady, precise movements.

Click. Click. Thud.

The heavy iron door swung open with a dull scrape, revealing a small stone pedestal inside. Resting on top of the pedestal was a single, leather bound scroll tied with a golden cord. It bore two wax seals, the roaring lion of Victor and the twin suns of the Imperial Crown Prince.

Arthur stepped into the dark vault, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out, his leather glove trembling slightly as he touched the rough edge of the parchment.

"I finally have you, Victor," Arthur whispered to the empty space.

"You always did have your father stubbornness, Arthur," a cold, mocking voice spoke from the dark corner of the room.

Arthur froze, his fingers gripping the edge of the treaty. He slowly turned his head toward the shadow, his hand dropping toward the hilt of his sword as a figure stepped into the flickering torchlight.