Chapter 18 – The Shadow of the King and the Chessboard
The waiting room was a heavy cage of silence and expectation. Thick walls, carved with ancient runes and gold filigree, rose around the occupants like the walls of a fortress, both protective and imprisoning. The heavy velvet curtains dulled the light filtering in from the outside world, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch into infinity. Time itself seemed to hesitate here—suspended in the weight of history and power.
Sora sat with her back straight, though her heart beat unevenly against her ribs. Her hands rested in her lap, trembling slightly but hidden beneath the fabric of her gown. She was a daughter of the Valenhard family, born to nobility and strength—but in this moment, the ancient power of the kingdom pressed down on her fragile resolve. Her father, Zico, stood beside her like a towering sentinel, his presence steady and unyielding.
Then, the sound came.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, each step deliberate and unwavering. The chamber's silence cracked as breaths were held and eyes fixed on the looming door. When it slowly swung open, all motion seemed to pause.
Valtorion entered.
He was no ordinary man—he was a force of nature clad in royal black and gold. His robe, embroidered with the sigils of the kingdom, shimmered faintly in the dim light, enveloping the room like a dark shadow. His presence was magnetic and terrifying, a man whose very existence demanded respect and obedience. His eyes were sharp as obsidian blades, piercing the souls of all who dared meet his gaze.
The room was silent. Even the air seemed to still, as if the entire kingdom waited on his every breath.
Valtorion's voice broke the silence, neither loud nor soft, but heavy and cutting like a blade:
"How long have you been waiting, esteemed Valenhard family?"
Sora's throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. Her gaze darted briefly to her father, who stood unmoving, his jaw set like iron.
Zico met the king's gaze steadily, his voice calm but firm:
"Waiting is our nature, King Valtorion. We are the summoned, not the ones who wait."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Valtorion's lips—a smile that was more challenge than warmth.
"Zico, my old friend," he said, threading familiarity with unspoken rivalry, "the time has come. I hereby officially announce the marriage of my son Perseus to your daughter, Sora."
At those words, Sora's heart skipped. Her eyes found her father's—and in his unyielding expression, she saw the weight of this proclamation. It was no mere ceremony; it was a declaration that would shape their fates.
Valtorion's voice grew colder, more commanding:
"This is not merely a marriage. It is an alliance that will determine the future of the kingdom. You understand this, do you not?"
Zico straightened, the steely resolve in his eyes deepening.
"Yes, we understand. But in this decision, our voice must be heard. My daughter is not a mere pawn on your board."
The air thickened, suffused with tension so dense it felt tangible. Sora could feel the invisible but razor-sharp line drawn between her father and the king. These were not men who settled disputes with mere words; they waged wars of intellect, will, and pride.
Valtorion inclined his head slightly, eyes gleaming with respect and warning:
"Zico, your wit has always been admirable. But this is no longer just a game of chess. This time, it is not the pieces, but the players' destinies that hang in the balance."
A slow smile, forged in the fires of hardship and iron resolve, touched Zico's lips.
"Then let us play well. But remember, I am always one move ahead."
The unspoken duel between them filled the room, electric and suffocating. For Sora, it was breathtaking. She was more than a mere piece on the board; she was the very game itself.
Suddenly, Valtorion's laughter rang out, booming and genuine, breaking the tension like a lightning strike.
"My old friend! It is good to see you."
Zico's laughter followed, and he rose to embrace Valtorion tightly. Sora watched, a mix of astonishment and confusion swirling within her. The delicate dance of emotions and reason waged a silent war inside her.
Valtorion regained control of the room with a serious tone:
"Today, I declare officially: the marriage of my son Perseus and Sora marks the dawn of a new era. Wedding preparations will commence at the castle."
Zico nodded, his expression softening slightly:
"Today, my daughter steps into her place as a part of the Valenhard legacy — the future queen."
The weight of those words pressed on Sora's mind like a storm. Though storms raged within, her stance remained firm. The game had begun, and she was no longer a mere pawn. She was ready to take her place on the board.
The king's eyes locked onto hers again:
"So, princess, how do you feel?"
After a brief pause, Sora's voice emerged, steady yet tinged with practiced restraint:
"There is the excitement of a special day, Your Majesty."
Though her thoughts ran wild, this was all she allowed herself to show. She was unaccustomed to this world, forced to hide her true feelings behind a veil of duty and expectation.
The king regarded her silently for a moment, then nodded slowly. Zico gave a small shrug, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
Silence reclaimed the room, heavy and expectant. Time seemed to slow, the future unfurling before them like a vast, dark tapestry. Under King Valtorion's shadow, moves had already been made. Sora had stepped onto the board—no longer a pawn, but a player in her own right.
To the Readers:
The game has begun.
Will Sora remain just a piece moved by others' hands, or will she find the strength to change the rules?
Is the friendship between King Valtorion and Zico genuine, or merely a mask?
If you were trapped in a game where every move was watched and every choice weighed, what would you do?