94 - The Supreme Queen’s Decree

94 - The Supreme Queen’s Decree
The tension in the Grand Hall was suffocating. The once-lively feast had turned into a scene of horror, silence stretching as the scent of spiced meats and wine mingled with the fresh blood that still stained the floor. The bodies of the five kings lay motionless, their heads severed cleanly, their expressions frozen in shock.
Elara remained seated, her demeanor as calm as ever, fingers gracefully twirling the stem of her goblet. The ruby liquid inside shimmered under the glow of the grand chandeliers, yet she had not taken a sip. Her cold gaze swept over the remaining rulers, their eyes darting toward the bloodied bodies, then back at her, fear creeping into their expressions.
The grand doors of the hall creaked open, and a procession of servants entered, their movements eerily synchronized. Each carried a stack of parchment bound with the royal insignia of Elara’s kingdom. Without hesitation, they dispersed among the kings and queens, placing the documents before them on the lavishly decorated table. A single quill was provided for each, along with an inkpot sealed with golden wax.
Elara leaned forward slightly, her voice smooth and commanding. “Sign it.”
The simple command sent ripples of unease through the room.
King Aldric of Vaeloria, still gripping his goblet, finally spoke. “What exactly are we signing, Queen Elara?” His voice carried an edge of forced civility, but there was no mistaking the tension beneath.
Elara exhaled, as though mildly amused by the question. “It is a decree,” she said, slowly setting her goblet down, “that establishes my rule over each of your kingdoms. You will all remain as kings—figureheads, if you will—but your power, your wealth, your armies, and your lands now belong to me.” She gestured slightly to the parchment in front of them. “Sign, and you may live to enjoy the illusion of authority. Refuse, and you will join the unfortunate souls who have already signed with their blood.”
Murmurs broke out among the rulers, voices laced with disbelief and outrage.
King Edric of Durnham slammed his fist against the table. “This is madness! You invited us under the guise of peace, of alliances! If you think we will bow to this—”
Elara lifted a hand, and the room fell silent once more.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that you misunderstand your situation.” She flicked her wrist, and from the shadows, her personal guards stepped forward, their swords still glistening with the blood of the fallen kings.
As if on cue, the grand doors burst open once more, and this time, it was not the servants who entered.
Messenger birds and winged creatures of various kinds swooped into the hall, each bearing scrolls adorned with the seals of different kingdoms. Panic spread across the remaining rulers as their personal attendants rushed forward to retrieve the messages, hands trembling as they unfurled the letters.
Gasps and horrified whispers filled the air.
One by one, the rulers realized the same terrifying truth—Elara had not been bluffing.
Their castles were under siege. Their armies were being crushed. Their cities burned under the banners of Elara’s forces.
“No… this isn’t possible,” Queen Seraphina of Myradis murmured, her fingers gripping the message so tightly the paper crumpled. “We had stationed our best forces… How did you—”
“I sent my soldiers before you even set foot in my kingdom,” Elara said simply. “By now, resistance is futile.”
King Leontius of Ivaris shot up from his chair, eyes blazing with fury. “You dare betray the sacred laws of diplomacy? This is nothing short of treason against the balance of power!”
Elara tilted her head, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Balance?” she echoed. “There has never been balance. You all claw at each other for power, for wealth, for dominance. I am simply accelerating the inevitable.”
Leontius clenched his fists, his breath ragged. “I will never sign this.”
The moment the words left his lips, Elara flicked her fingers toward her guards.
A sword sliced through the air.
Leontius’s head fell before he could even register what had happened. His body slumped forward, blood pooling around the parchment he had refused to sign.
Screams erupted. The remaining kings and queens scrambled in their seats, eyes wide with horror.
Elara sighed, shaking her head as she surveyed the mess. “That’s six,” she murmured. Then, lifting her gaze to the rest of the room, she spoke louder. “It seems King Leontius has signed with his blood as well. Would anyone else like to do the same?”
Silence.
No one moved.
King Aldric, his face pale but his expression carefully guarded, exhaled sharply. “What if we sign?” he asked. “What guarantees do we have that you will honor your word?”
Elara leaned forward, her dark eyes gleaming. “You don’t.”
The weight of her words hung heavily in the air.
One by one, the kings and queens glanced at each other, searching for any sign of resistance, any hint of a plan. But there was none.
They were trapped.
One by one, hands trembled as they reached for the quills.
The sound of scratching ink filled the silence.
Each signature sealed their fate.
Elara watched, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she reclaimed the parchments, one after another.
Then, she turned to Alden.
Her husband.
Alden had not touched the document in front of him. His hands remained clenched, his blue eyes locked onto hers with an expression of something between horror and disbelief.
“This isn’t the woman I married,” he said, his voice raw. “What happened to you, Elara?”
Elara’s smile faded. She met his gaze, unflinching, unrepentant.
“The Elara you knew is gone.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, ever so slowly, Alden reached for the quill.
And signed.
The hall remained deathly silent as Elara collected the final document. The contracts were sealed, the power shift complete. She stood, her crimson gown pooling around her like blood.
“You may all leave,” she declared, her voice echoing. “Your kingdoms now belong to me.”
The kings and queens rose from their seats, their faces a mixture of humiliation, fear, and resignation.
Alden remained seated, his hand still clutching the quill as if he could undo what had just transpired. He looked at Elara once more, searching for a trace of the woman he once loved. But all he saw was the Supreme Queen—ruthless, powerful, untouchable.
And he realized, perhaps too late, that she had been planning this all along.