The Chronicles of Van Deloney-Chapter 30: WHISPERS TO THE THRONE

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THE ROYAL chambers were rather dark, the soft breeze brushing against the curtains as the gentle evening light filtered in. His Majesty, the King of Luxtonia, was propped up on his bed as faint color returned to his face. His once frail presence was softening now, and he looked brighter in his eyes, clearer than before. Though he was still recovering, there was a quiet strength returning to him.

Marquess Adellian Farrow entered with calm measured strides. He was standing upright and respectful and inclined his head while speaking.

"Your Majesty, Duke Necario has arrived, and he wishes for an audience," announced Marquess Farrow, with due respect, but firmness, not betraying any sign of the anxiety that might have bubbled beneath.

The King turned away from the window, his expression indecipherable for a moment. He took a breath, exhaled it slowly before giving a slight nod, his voice hoarse.

"Send him in," His Majesty said quietly, though his masterful voice carried the weight of command, even in his weakened state.

Marquess Farrow nodded and withdrew, with barely a rustle of his footsteps leaving to bring in the Duke.

The King turned back to the window, his mind bright elsewhere. Rest must have little time as there was always something to attend in the kingdom whether in sickness or health.

The doors leading into His Majesty's chamber creaked open, and in walked Duke Necario— haughty yet calm, with none of the weariness of the place where the King might be. Striding over to the bed with a wide, knowing smile, he bowed in respect but instantly fell into a more familiar tone.

"Decabrius! It's been a while," Duke Necario opened, voice warm, but with that edge of long-lasting acquaintance. His ever-sharp eyes studied the King carefully, taking in the slow yet still fragile signs of recovery. "I see you're recovering well, cousin."

The King, Decabrius, chuckled weakly, recognition lighting up his eyes. "Necario... It's good to see you. I had no idea you'd come at a time like this."

Duke Necario took a seat at the edge of the bed, clasped his hands tightly over each other and leaned slightly toward Decabrius. "It is indeed the good time, Decabrius, for some contingencies are in a state of disarray in the kingdom, and I must ensure that my family remains in good stead by preserving my interests."

There was a slight crease on the King's forehead as he thought about the state of his kingdom. "What happened now? " he asked, the voice quieter but filled with concern.".

Duke Necario cleared his throat, looking out the window wards, then back to the King's eyes. "The Cabinet is in disarray, Majesty. Your health is under recovery, so many are questioning your authority, and the conflicts beneath the surface are beginning to rise. Taking the war between the political factions to a whole new level.".

Decabrius gave a nod, though a shadow crossed his face. "I know. It's just been very difficult managing everything. The advisors are restless, but Dominique is the one named heir.".

Necario's voice was steady, but, "That's why I have come. And there's even more news of trouble. My daughter... She is willing to enter an arranged marriage with Desmond, for a political alliance."

The King's eyes softened a little but were still tinged with unease. "Ah, I see. Political machinations for certain. But-is she truly willing to do so?"

Duke Necario's jaw set tight. "In truth, she has little choice. The future of our house depends on it."

Then there was a pause, after which the Duke continued, his voice growing serious and almost haunted. "There's another thing that weighs heavily on me, Decabrius. The recent disappearances... the women. It is just so impossible to overlook."

The expression on the King became darker and more somber. "Yes... I have heard. It's unsettling."

"I pray my daughter not to be the next enactment," Necario muttered, and he drew his hand closed into a fist subconsciously. "I don't want to see her vanish and join the others. We've heard the rumors that the Earl's daughter is from Normaine... Charlotte... has similarly disappeared under suspicious circumstances."

For a moment, Decabrius closed his eyes, a conflict of painful memory flitting through his mind. "Charlotte... yes, I've heard. It's terrible what happened to her," said Decabrius in a voice with a shade of sorrow, and he sighed as he looked out through the window with a distant gaze. "She was going to marry my son, Dominique. They were engaged to join our houses and thus strengthen the Kingdom."

Duke Necario's expression was altered at the mention of the Crown Prince. His piercing eyes narrowed. "Dominique, you say? Where is he now?" he inquired, his tone genuinely curious but tinged with a hint of concern.

The King's gaze darkened as he reclined against his bunk, evidently perturbed. "He... has disappeared. No one knows where he's gone. After Charlotte's disappearance, he mysteriously eloped. We sent our best men within the search, but there's been no trace. It's as if he has vanished into thin air."

Duke Necario's brow furrowed; a bit of foreboding crept into his mind. "Disappeared? Just like that?" He spoke those words in a low voice, as if thinking out the implications of this.

"This is beyond troubling; Decabrius, yet if your son is involved in these webbed disappearances, we have a greater problem," Duke Necario said, voice low as realization sunk in, rekindling within him that ugly sight of the Crown Prince.

The King's expression hardened. "That was the last time I saw Dominique. He requested permission to meet the Prince of the Eastern Border, said something of political matters, but I... never thought it would lead to this. He left shortly thereafter, and nobody has seen him since." Necario leaned in deeply, staring at Decabrius with intent. "The Eastern Border, eh?" He stopped as if sorting through possibilities. "Do you think this has something to do with them? With the Prince? Was your son's disappearance political?"

Decabrius shook his head, displaying more frustration on his features. "The truth is we do not know. And I cannot tell the people-if they find out, it will cause chaos. That will destroy the last bit of stability we have in the Kingdom. Only the royal family knows the true gravity of what happened to Dominique. The rest... the rest is kept in the dark."

He gravely pressed back on his soft chair and slightly wheezed. "As for the Grenswood incident the people are talking about...they do not know it was the Crown Prince who was caught up in this. They think it was merely a noble that was caught ambushed-an unfortunate tragedy in the woods."

Deeply, Necario's brows furrowed with an almost elusive look of feigned rage flashing in his eyes. "Who on earth would even dare do that? To dare attack the heir of Luxtonia-right under our noses?"

Decabrius merely shook his head, a grim, helpless gesture. "I have my suspicions...but no proof. Not yet."

He sat a bit straighter, forcing out what authority, unshaken as it was, his failing body could muster. "So I intend to propose that we have a royal investigator. One suited to loyalty solely to the Crown. Someone bold enough to undertake the investigative avenues where we dare not tread. My son will not die without an answer... nor will I let whoever is responsible be free."

On the way to that thought, a truthful smirk curled on Necario's lips with the left side slightly slower. "And if that is the solution to your little problem? What about the other son, Desmond...also kept in the dark, I assume?" Necario questioned. His voice was tinted with genuine concern.

The King sighed and leaned back against the pillows as a tortured expression spread across his face. "Desmond... A few days ago, he sent me a letter saying that he was going to Gerania for personal reasons. As for the rest... he has his reasons to stay away. He... still bears that grudge from the time he lost his mother. I tried... Necario, I tried reaching out, to mend what was broken between us, but..." He hesitated, disheartened. "He refuses to forgive me, and quite frankly, I don't think he ever will."

Sympathy and understanding mixed in Necario's gaze for the King. "That child... He's been through so much, hasn't he?"

Decabrius nodded slowly as if he could feel the weight of everything he had said. "Yes... but I cannot help him anymore. He has made his choice. Frankly speaking, I don't think he will ever truly come back to the family after everything that has happened."

For a second, silence stretched into thick holds before Duke Necario finally steered the subject, his voice low yet probing, "Then... What is your plan with Normaine, Decabrius? Are you really sure about pursuing intermarriage as opposed to making war? With how chaotic that nation has become-no true ruler, no proper laws."

Decabrius released a slow breath, focusing his tired gaze now. "For me alone... war would have had no hesitation," echoed through his voice, firm as steel wrapped in velvet. "Normaine is weak. Messy. It wouldn't even require much to break them."

Necario slightly scrunched forwards; there was obviously more.

"But Dominique..." The King's voice softened. He seemed to intone pride with 'and regret.' "My son wanted oneness, not blood. He thought peace was to be made possible through marriage. Through trust. To win the people, not conquer them, he said." A bitter smile touched his lips. "Idealistic... but he had a point."

Decabrius shouldered on; arms folded thoughtfully by Necario-in contrast to his darkening tone on, "However, should the Normaine leaders fail to find a proper bride.... or fail to get negotiations anywhere, then I would have no other choice. With Dominique missing, the responsibility falls to me now as King... and as his father." His eyes, ones cloudy with illness, now blazed with grim resolve. "If peace is no longer possible, then war will be inevitable. I will not let the weakness of others stop my Kingdom from marching into glory."

Necario's brow wrinkled, leaning a little closer. The edge-of-his-seat presence coupled with piqued curiosity now. "But why would you, in the first place, declare war, Decabrius? What truly influences this decision?" He asked.

The darkness of Decabrius's eyes seemed to grow distant, and his voice became one of coldness and heavy pain. "To take vengeance over my wife's death. This is the truth. Throughout it all, every sorrow that the Kingdom has ever borne is all because of them. Because of Normaine."

Necario's expression then shifted quite sensibly. The facade of his curiosity faltered, instead taking on true shock. He leaned back with the information, stunned. "Normaine?" His voice hardly drew breath, as though the terms in themselves were too heavy to utter.

"Yes," Decabrius confirmed, voice as rigid as the steel beneath it. "It was them. I knew it when I asked my sons to give me all the details about the incident. I asked them to 'describe' the killer. All tell some version of the same thing–the hooded figure that killed my wife.." He paused, the weight of the moment pressing down upon them both. "And Desmond... he was young then. Just a boy. But he saw something. He saw markings. The eyes of the killer. Those eyes were unmistakable... he says that it was as cold as ice. Yet, as red as the blood."

Necario's shock deepened. "Markings? Eyes? You mean to say..." His voice trailed off, unable to grasp fully what he was hearing.

That moment marked the end of the royal patience, and the King slowly nodded with a hard stare. "Only Desmond–" Decabrius collected his breath and began anew. "Only Desmond's testimony, but I consider it the truth. He described the eyes... emotionless, cold, and that marking—one, mind you, without any exception, from the bloodline of Normaine." A deep breath later, he stated, "This should have been a child's nightmare, but when Desmond described the killer, I couldn't dismiss it any longer; the killer... came from Normaine."

Necario paused for a moment, pondering the gravity laden in Decabrius's words. The room felt heavier somehow, thick with an unspoken history.

Necario's eyes grew larger as he absorbed the King's words. His mind scrambled for the pieces to fit together, and though his voice emerged steady, it bore the crushing weight of dark realization: "Those eyes you speak of... the ones Desmond described... They are the eyes of death, aren't they?" He leaned in closer, for the words felt so heavy in the air. "The killer was gazed at by the goddess Lilith, wasn't he?"

A moment's pause stretched painfully until Decabrius stiffened in an understanding so deep it had become a silent accord between them: he nodded. "Yes," he said with a biting cold vengeance; "Those eyes... Lilith, goddess of death; I knew the moment Desmond mentioned them, Lilith's eyes. The same eyes that once pierced through the night...set their heavenward gaze upon our doorstep with darkness."

Necario's air squeezed out suddenly, settling the weight of the knowledge into the man's bones. Every bit was suffocating. The goddess's gaze—marking death. It was all much darker than he had pictured.

"I must find that killer," Decabrius insisted, alive now with barely tempered fury. "I must find them ...and sentence them to death. Just as they did to my wife. There will be no mercy." His eyes darkened. The resolve in his voice had turned to steel. They will pay for what they have done. And should they be the ones marked by Lilith, then by all means, they die at my hand."

Necario nodded, aware of the conspiracy now lying grimly between the two. The heavy grudge for revenge had long since come to bear on the atmosphere, and they were now embarking on an obvious path of retaliation. All disassembled pieces from their painful past were falling together, and there was no return from here.

Necario leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest as he continued to let the King's words sink in. "Well, now that you mention Lilith's gaze..." Here he paused. His voice became deep, grave, and rich with the knowledge of ancient times. "It has been centuries since the last one was ever seen. The last sightings of Lilith's gaze marked the commencement of a bloodbath. The ones marked by Lilith... were reapers of nobles."

This time he lowered the screen of his eyelids, as if he was sifting through a long-forgotten memory. "Her gaze, when cast upon two successors of her blessings... it does not lead to salvation. It leads to a hunting ground for prosaic assassins-victims among the wicked nobles. She sends them out to do her bidding, to kill in cold blood as the 'Mother' to cleanse the corruption of the world through death. That very sight, upon witnessing those eyes bestows upon them a deathly purpose. It is both a plague and an uncontrollable power."

Necario's expression turned stern as he continued. "And it would now appear that, with the death of your late wife and the tragedy concerning your son, Dominique, that same curse is stirring again. The reapers are awakening."

The words struggled to breathe in the air between them as civilization weighed down with the heavy knowledge of history. There was no more doubt now: past and present had converged, and with it had awakened the terrifying force.

The King's face turned grim, his voice low but full of assurance: "Lilith's gaze is attracted only by those who have been consumed with unspeakable grief and revenge. She does not like to make a choice; she chooses the broken ones... those who are damaged beyond repair. It is no longer a blessing, Necario. It is a curse."

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Leaning forward now, hands clenched tightly before him, he said: "Among all divine beings of this world, it is the hideous gift of the glance of Lilith, the Goddess of Death and an Order member, whose strength of power signifies ghastly oppression over those whom it falls upon. He who gets her gaze becomes a reaper of death and despair. Her blessings are twisted, not intended for healing but rather for destruction. Purging the world of the ones she considers corrupt is creating the most hazardous of all reapers in the process."

Necario was curious and asked, his brow slightly furrowed. "Then what of Dominique's blessings? He's the heir, right? He should definitely possess some sort of blessing. If not Lilith's gaze, then another one..."

The King stiffened as the mention of his son's blessings crossed the air. He fidgeted, avoiding eye contact as if he was not ready to confront the reality of the matter.

"That is something I have never known, Necario. A blessing... or a curse. It is something I never really understood."