93 - The Fall of Kings

93 - The Fall of Kings
In the midst of the din of the grand feast, spiced aromas rasped with those of roasting meat, combined with the rich scent of wines. Goblets clinked, laughter swung into waves, and besides the tension from the earlier discussion, all acted as kings, indulging themselves in this extravagant setting in front of them. The long table was ablaze, rimmed with golden plates and studded goblets; what a wonder-an offering to the wealth and power each ruler commanded.
At the head of the table, fingers pristine and suddenly straight, poised on Regal Elara's face, unreadable. Cut, bring the full, succulent piece toward her lips, none of the urgency marks on her actions. Every single one of her moves was calculated, controlled; she seemed to be taking her time as though she had all the time in the world.
Then, in her usual cool, she spoke.
"I have a proposal for you all," said she, putting her goblet down. The kings drew a glance at her and waited with fluttering curiosity within their eyes. "I ask that you all swear fealty to my kingdom."
For a moment, silence prevailed. Then, laughter erupted from the table. Some kings chuckled lightly, thinking it was a joke, while others outright roared with amusement.
"Swear fealty?" one fat king with thick graying beard scoffed. "Surely this is some kind of joke, Queen Elara."
Elara continued to chew her meal, her expression unchanged. She cut another piece of food from her plate and placed it very delicately into her mouth, chewing in exactly the same slow, deliberative manner.
Then she said again, still without raising her eyes.
"I'm quite serious."
The laughter died instantly.
The room went eerily quiet, the air growing heavy with unspoken words. The kings exchanged glances, their faces darkening.
"You must be mad," another king said, disbelief woven into his voice. He was the youngest by age at the table but not by ambition, with eyes sharp in longing. "Did you drag us here to threaten us? Did you think we would bow to you by force of demand?"
Elara pulled her gaze toward him. "Because I respect power," she said smoothly, "and I thought you might appreciate being given the chance to make a choice before that power is taken from you."
The younger king slammed his goblet against the table, spilling wine over it onto his fingers. "You insult us!" he roared. "If it is war you want, then war you shall have! We will not surrender to you like cowering dogs."
Several other kings voiced their agreement, nodding and grumbling amongst themselves.
Elara sighed as if greatly disappointed. Leaning back a little in her chair, her fingers tapped on the stem of her goblet. And then, in the same cold, unwavering tone with which she'd spoken before, she intoned again.
"While you are here, enjoying my food and my wine," she said, "through the legions of your soldiers I have sent from my army into your kingdoms."
So casual, so effortless the words were spoken that it took a moment before they registered. But even in that one moment, instant reaction followed.
"You lie," hissed one king, knuckles white around the edge of the table.
Elara raised a brow. "Do I?"
Then, as if on cue, the great doors to the hall came bursting open.
The rushing wings filled the space with sound; sharp cries of messenger birds followed the heavy footprints of creatures bearing sealed letters. They swooped in to perch upon the shoulders of their respective kings. Scrolls were either fastened to their legs or clutched within their beaks.
Hastily, they tore into the messages and instantly scanned their eyes for words scribbled without haste and by their most trusted advisors.
The color drained from their faces.
"My capital is under siege," one king gasped. "My people-my soldiers are falling!"
Another stalwart one clutched into his fists the parchment in fury. "My kingdom is burning!"
Within the hall, the air thickened with panic. Some kings leapt from seats and shouted with loud combined hysteria as though each had been set upon believing something completely different.
"This is treachery!"
"You dare to attack us while we sit at your table?"
"You will regret this Elara!"
Explosive tension erupted at this juncture when one of the kings turned to his mages, still trembling with rage. "Destroy her," he ordered. "Now!"
The other kings were not different, each of them barking orders at their own mages.
The mages, trembling on their feet, touched their hands toward their power--that which they no longer possessed.
They all looked so confused. They extended their arms forward and murmured incantations as if trying to summon a completely familiar spell used innumerable times before. Nothing happened.
Realization hit like a hammer.
One such stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. "My power...," he whispered. "I-I can't feel it!"
Another mage fell on his knees, clutching his hands as if summoning strength that was simply not there. "What did you do?" he choked out, looking at Elara with sheer terror.
Elara smiled.
"You should not have looked into my mirrors."
The kings changed their anger into fear. They looked at her with disbelief and dread, as if seeing her for the first time.
"You," one of them whispered, "have stolen their magic."
Elara did not deny. She simply raised her hand.
And with a flick of her fingers, the room was bathed in blinding light.
The guards of the other kingdoms who had stood like statues beside the walls were already tense, reaching for their weapons. But before a single blade was drawn, the entire company turned to ash.
There, crumbling into fine, weightless dust, their bodies drifted to the marble floor, like gray snowfall. Weapons clattering again was the only sound that was heard in the deafening silence that fell.
The kings sat frozen, horror-struck.
Elara took yet another sip into her wine, licking the last drop from her lips.
"Now," she said languidly, "shall we continue?"
No one dared utter a word.