Only I Am The Strongest

The King's POV

"Move forward." The guard shoved Kieran in the back.

Kieran stumbled on the floor but quickly caught his balance. He stood beside Garry Owen in the center of the royal throne room. The chamber was built to intimidate commoners and rival lords alike. Towering pillars of black marble held up a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of ancient, violent conquests. Gold banners bearing the royal sun crest draped down the stone walls.

At the far end of the hall sat King Reagor. The monarch wore crimson robes. He rested his hands on the armrests of a throne forged from melted iron swords.

Alaric stood at the base of the dais. The noble held a cloth of crushed ice against his bruised jaw. His silver armor was stained with the sweat of his earlier humiliation in the registration hall.

"That is him." Alaric pointed at Kieran the moment the doors slammed shut. "He killed my men in the foyer. He used demonic sorcery to break royal steel. I saw the dark magic myself."

"I demand his execution." Alaric took a step toward the iron throne. "He summoned a golden fire in his eyes before he attacked us. He is a vessel for the demons. If you let him live, he will open a portal in the lower wards and let the demons slaughter us all."

King Reagor raised a single hand. The simple gesture carried the weight of absolute authority. Alaric snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head.

The King did not look at Alaric. He did not ask about the dead guards or the broken swords. He leaned forward on his iron throne and fixed his gaze entirely on Kieran. The monarch possessed eyes like a chipped flint.

"Golden fire." King Reagor repeated the phrase. His voice was deep and rough like grinding stones. "That is a very specific shade of magic for a boy from the ash wastes. Tell me, applicant. Do you know the history of the Dragon Tamers?"

Kieran felt his heart slam against his ribs. A cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck. He remembered Garry's strict warning in the medical chamber. The King slaughtered the true bloodline. If Reagor sensed even a fraction of draconic aura, the executioner would take Kieran's head before the sun set.

Inside his mind, the dormant ghosts of the dead emperors began to stir. They recognized the usurper sitting on their stolen throne. A primal, suffocating heat flared behind Kieran's ribs. The ancient voices whispered in his ear, demanding blood and vengeance for the massacre of their family.

Kieran forced the heat down. He gripped his own thighs to stop his hands from trembling. He kept his facial expression blank and let his shoulders slouch. He adopted the posture of a terrified, ignorant peasant standing before royalty.

"I do not know what that means, Your Grace." Kieran kept his voice small and uncertain. "I do not know any magic. I hunt scuttlers in the mud for coins. I only know how to survive the cold."

Reagor stood up from his throne. He walked down the stone steps of the dais and stopped a few feet in front of Kieran. The King searched for deception in Kieran's posture. Kieran focused on the ache in his fractured ribs to keep himself grounded in reality. He needed the pain to drown out the whispers of the dead emperors.

The tension in the throne room shifted. King Reagor let out a harsh breath and turned his back on Kieran.

"Of course you do not know." Reagor spoke with a dismissive tone. "The royal scholars restrict the old archives. They lock the history books away to protect the innocent from the horrors of the past. The Dragon Tamers were not men. They were mindless, brutal villains who treated humanity like cattle."

Kieran listened to the lies. He kept his head bowed to hide the anger building in his gut. The usurper stood in a stolen castle and preached about salvation.

"They terrorized this continent for centuries." Reagor gestured to the painted murals on the ceiling. "They bonded with flying dragons and burned entire cities to the ground simply because they enjoyed the scent of charred flesh. They possessed no honor and no discipline. They ruled through pure, unchecked terror."

"They were monsters." Alaric chimed in. He tried to regain the King's favor by agreeing with the twisted history.

"Silence." Reagor snapped without looking at the noble. He turned his attention back to Kieran. "I led the army that slaughtered them. I put a spear through the chest of the last Emperor and ended their reign of terror to save humanity. Their death carried a heavy curse. The demonic invasions began the very same year the tamers fell. The demonic rot spilled out of the earth as a final act of spite from their dying bloodline."

Reagor walked back up the stone steps and sat down on his iron throne.

"That is why I established the academies." Reagor continued. "That is why the King's Knights exist. We are the shield that protects the realm from the curse they left behind. That is the exact organization you just bled to join."

Alaric lowered the ice cloth from his face. "Your Grace, he still murdered two of your soldiers. He must face the headsman for his crimes against the nobility."

King Reagor looked at Alaric. A harsh, booming laugh erupted from the monarch's chest. The sound echoed off the black marble pillars.

"Crimes against the nobility." Reagor shook his head in disgust. "You bring a starving, magicless peasant before my throne and claim he defeated two of your elite guards in barehanded combat. Do you understand how pathetic that makes House Vayne look?"

Alaric turned pale. "Your Grace, I swear he used forbidden magic."

"He used his survival instinct." Reagor cut him off. The King pointed a thick finger at Alaric's bruised jaw. "Look at him. He wears torn rags and reeks of swamp water. You wear enchanted silver armor and carry a forged broadsword. The King's Knight requires vicious killers like him to fight the demon hordes. We need men who know how to break bones when their swords fall. We do not need pampered boys who cry to their King every time a street rat punches them in the mouth."

Garry remained silent beside Kieran. The physician relaxed his posture slightly. The King's arrogance played right into their hands. Reagor blinded himself with his own prejudice against the lower class.

"You let a boy who eats garbage humiliate your entire retinue." Reagor sneered at the noble. "Take your bruised face out of my sight, Alaric. If you want him dead, do it yourself in the recruitment trials. Do not waste my time with your incompetence."

Kieran felt a surge of dark courage. The dead emperors in his bloodline pulsed with quiet approval. The King had inadvertently granted him protection from the high mages. The usurper believed Kieran was just a feral animal, and that false assumption served as the greatest shield he could ask for.

Kieran turned his head and looked directly at the humiliated noble. He let a cold, mocking smile touch his lips.

"Is this all you have got?" Kieran asked.

Alaric's face contorted with unadulterated rage. His skin flushed a deep, violent purple. He gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword. He wanted to strike Kieran down, but he did not dare draw his weapon in the presence of the King.

"This is not over." Alaric spat the words at Kieran. "You will not survive the first day of the trials. I will carve you apart myself."

Alaric turned on his heel. He stormed out of the throne room. 

"You are dismissed, applicant." King Reagor waved a hand. "Report to the training grounds at dawn. Physician, take him away before I change my mind."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Garry offered a short bow. He gestured for Kieran to follow.

They turned and strolled out of the massive chamber. Kieran kept his pace steady and calm. He left the King behind without a second glance. He had faced the man who massacred his ancestors and walked away with his life intact.

The doors slammed shut. King Reagor remained alone in the vast throne room.

The amused, dismissive demeanor vanished from his face. A cold, calculating paranoia replaced it. He walked back down the stone steps and stared at the empty space where Kieran had just stood. He traced the faint scuff marks left by Kieran's boots on the floor.

"Black Raven." Reagor spoke into the empty shadows resting behind the stone pillars.

A woman stepped out of the darkness. She wore robes crafted from black feathers. A veil of dark silk covered the top half of her face, leaving only her pale jaw and blood red lips visible. She moved without making a single sound. She possessed no visible weapons, yet the air around her dropped in temperature.

"I am here, Your Grace." The dark sorceress whispered. Her voice sounded like wind rustling through dead leaves.

"Watch his every move." Reagor ordered. He gripped the hilt of a dagger hidden in his crimson robes. "A street rat does not break forged steel with an open palm. A starving boy does not possess golden fire in his eyes. I do not believe a single word that physician said."

The sorceress bowed her head. "You suspect he belongs to the old bloodline."

"I put a spear through the last Emperor myself." Reagor gritted his teeth. "I watched the royal family burn to ashes. The rot always finds a way to linger in the dark. Shadow him during the recruitment trials. Find out exactly where that golden fire came from. Test his limits in the arena."

"And if he shows even a spark of draconic aura?" Black Raven asked.

"I will mount his head on the Citadel gates." Reagor finished the sentence. "Do not let him out of your sight."

Black Raven took a step backward. She melted seamlessly back into the shadows of the throne room, leaving the King alone with his paranoia.