The King's Guard

Chapter 89

Gleaming marble stretched from the gilded doors to the obsidian throne where King Elric sat, straight-backed and distant. The black on silver banners of the Shadow Corps normally used during such grand events hung behind him, each stitched with the insignia of a single blade. The scent of oil and steel lingered in the air, masking the faint trace of blood that time couldn’t wash away.

The hall was full. Officers, nobles, foreign delegates, and every other notable person, each murmuring about the “heroism” of Darius’s cadets. But Kael heard the lie beneath every word. The attack hadn’t been heroism. It had been betrayal, plainly put.

Archon stood to the King’s right, dressed in ceremonial armour. His expression looked like he was carved from stone, filled with pride without warmth. When his eyes brushed Kael, they were cold and assessing, the look of a man measuring how much longer a blade would stay sharp.

“Step forward, the new shadows of Veridale.” Archon announced.

Kael, Reyna, Kyna, Jared, Ember, and Drax, and a few honorary cadets who were involved and fought valiantly in battle, walked as one down the polished floor. Their boots echoed through the hall. For the first time, Kael didn’t feel like a cadet. He felt like a name on Darius’s old roster of ghosts who haunted him.

Princess Vashti rose beside the throne, her crimson gown pooling like liquid silk. Her voice was soft but carried through the hall.

“Bravery is the light that survives the fire. These young warriors stood when others fell. Veridale owes them gratitude and remembrance.”

Kael felt the weight of Darius’s absence in every word.

Archon turned to the King. “Your Majesty, by your decree, I present the graduates of the Shadow Corps, sworn blades of Veridale.”

King Elric nodded stiffly. “They have proven their worth in blood. May they serve with honour.”

Honour, Kael thought. If only you knew how little of it remains.

When Archon called Darius’s name, the hall fell silent. The banner behind the dais was draped in black. A single blade which was his, rested before it.

Archon said, “Chief Commander Darius died defending his students. His courage will not be forgotten.”

Kael’s fists clenched. Forgotten? Darius had been buried with questions, and the people who should answer them were standing here, wearing medals.

King Elric’s gaze swept the squad. “One of you will speak for the fallen. Who among you will bear that honour?”

Before anyone could move, Kael stepped forward.

Archon’s eyebrow lifted. “Very well. Kael Estaran. Speak.”

Kael approached the dais, every step measured. He stopped before the throne and looked out at the sea of polished armour, bored nobles, and empty faces. Reyna’s steady and urging eyes found his. Kyna gave the smallest nod. Jared looked away.

Kael drew a slow breath.

“When I first met Commander Darius,” he began, “I thought he was the sort of man who expected too much. Every word was a challenge, every silence a lesson. But he never asked us to be perfect, only honest. Honest with our fear. Honest with our strength. Honest with what we’d give to protect Veridale.”

The hall stilled. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a quiet gravity that cut through the gold and marble.

“He taught us that the measure of a soldier isn’t obedience. It’s purpose.” Kael’s eyes flicked briefly to Archon. “And sometimes, purpose means disobeying when the order leads to ruin.”

A few murmurs rippled through the nobles. Archon’s stare sharpened.

Kael continued. “Darius didn’t die a commander’s death. He died a teacher’s death. Shielding those who hadn’t yet learned how cruel this world can be. He believed in a Veridale worth bleeding for, one where truth still means something.”

King Elric shifted, expression unreadable. Princess Vashti watched Kael intently, her hand clasped near her heart.

Kael’s voice wavered, but he steadied it. “So when I draw my blade now, it’s not just for the Corps. It’s for the man who showed us that even in shadow, we can choose what light we follow.”

He looked toward the banner again. “We were his students. Now we are his legacy.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, the King began to clap. The rest of the hall followed: measured, polite applause that filled the space like cold rain. Reyna’s eyes glistened; Kyna’s chin lifted, defiant. Drax exhaled quietly. Jared stared at the floor.

Archon didn’t clap. He stepped forward, the echo of his boots slicing through the noise. “A stirring tribute,” he said evenly. “Commander Darius would have been… proud.”

Kael met his gaze. “He would have been watchful.”

The words hung like a blade between them.

Archon’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps. Still, today marks a new chapter. You’re no longer cadets. You serve the Crown directly. See that you honour that privilege.”

Reyna whispered under her breath, “That’s not a privilege. It’s a leash. A tight one on the neck.”

Kael didn’t answer. The applause resumed, louder this time, as the nobles rose. Trumpets sounded from the gallery. The newly appointed Shadows bowed before the throne.

“Rise,” King Elric commanded. “You are the hands that guard this realm.”

Kael straightened. His pulse thudded in his ears.

From where he stood, he could see Princess Vashti leaning toward the King, whispering something too soft to catch. Her eyes lingered briefly on Kael curiously in a calculating manner.

Then Archon’s voice cut through again. “Tonight, the halls will honour the fallen. Tomorrow, the Corps moves forward.”

Kael whispered to himself, “Not without answers.”

Reyna glanced sideways. “You planning something reckless again?”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But I think Darius would approve.”

She gave a faint smile. “Then I’ll make sure you don’t get yourself killed while honouring his memory.”

As the ceremony ended, the squad filed out beneath the vaulted ceiling. Kael could feel Archon’s gaze on his back like a heavy weight.

Outside, the courtyard was bathed in torchlight. The air smelled of rain and iron. Kael stopped beneath one of the statues: old heroes whose names no one remembered anymore. He drew a slow breath.

Reyna joined him. “You spoke well.”

“I meant it,” he said quietly. “Every word.”

“I know.” She hesitated. “Archon didn’t like it.”

“Good,” Kael replied. “Neither would Darius.”

Kyna came up behind them. “The King’s daughter was watching you like you’d just declared war.”

“Maybe I did,” Kael muttered.

Ember chuckled weakly. “You’d better hope she’s on your side.”

Drax grinned, despite the bandage around his shoulder. “Or that she’s got terrible aim.”

Even Jared’s voice joined in, dry and bitter. “Careful, Estaran. You keep talking like that, and you’ll end up on the wrong side of history.”

Kael turned. “Maybe history needs a new side.”

For a heartbeat, neither looked away. Jared’s mouth twitched: half sneer, half something else. Then he walked off, hands shoved in his pockets.

The courtyard fell quiet again. The rain began to fall, soft and cold.

Kael stared at the sky. Somewhere above, the palace bells tolled for the dead.

He whispered, “You deserved more than applause, Darius. But I’ll finish what you started.”

Behind him, Reyna rested a hand on his shoulder. “Then we’ll finish it together.”

Kael nodded, the resolve hardening in his chest.

Above the parapets, lightning flashed.

Inside the hall, Archon watched from the window, his reflection warped in the glass.

“He’s beginning to sound like you once did,” Velreth murmured beside him.

Archon’s eyes stayed on Kael. “Then he’ll meet the same end.”