Chapter 8: Audience with the King
The royal summons arrived before dawn, borne by a herald in blue and silver. Aurelius stood serene in the pre-dawn hush, his attire impeccable, the golden lion crest of House Davian gleaming against midnight velvet. Alongside him, Calista offered reassurance with the faintest nod, while Sir Lucien checked every corridor for hidden threats.
A convoy awaited beyond the estate gates—sleek carriages, a unit of loyal knights, and, discreetly, a trio of court magi to analyze every movement. The eyes of Eloria were upon them.
As they crossed the capital's awakening streets, Aurelius considered the stakes. Rumors swirled: conjured gold, forbidden spells, ambitions too grand for one so young. The King's invitation was both challenge and warning.
The palace was a marvel: marble colonnades, banners rippling in morning sun, the scent of ancient incense. In the throne hall, nobles clustered like wary wolves, their whispers silenced as Aurelius entered. The King—a figure of age and authority—regarded him with piercing, sapphire eyes.
"Lord Aurelius Davian. Your deeds outpace your years. Tell us: by what means has House Davian rebounded so swiftly?"
Aurelius bowed, voice steady. "Your Majesty, we acted as any loyal house should. The gold was reclaimed from brigands, the people aided with open hands. My council and I stand ready to account for every coin."
A murmur rippled as Calista stepped forward, presenting ledgers and records. Sir Lucien offered assurance of their knights' vigilance. Yet Aurelius felt the eyes of rivals upon him, measuring, doubting.
A wizened High Mage approached the throne, requesting permission to inspect the Davian vaults. Aurelius met his gaze unflinchingly. "We welcome transparency. Let your mage see not only our vaults, but our works in rebuilding villages and supporting the orphaned."
A pause—a test. The King inclined his head in grudging approval.
Midway through the audience, a commotion erupted at the edge of the court. An envoy from Wesker, pale and breathless, cried accusations: false coins in circulation, debts repaid with illusion and deceit.
Aurelius felt his system's [World-Building Authority] flare in warning. Calmly, he requested a demonstration. Gold from his own purse was passed to the mage for inspection. A golden light arose—undeniably real, pure as the sun.
"Magic can deceive," the envoy insisted desperately.
"So can envy," Aurelius replied. "But gold sustains, and truth endures scrutiny."
A tense silence. The King weighed the evidence, eyes hooded. At last, he spoke. "House Davian's gold is genuine. Their works have healed the realm. Yet we caution you, Lord Aurelius: power draws enemies—and suspicion."
With careful words, Aurelius pledged unwavering loyalty—and bold intent. "House Davian will answer every doubt with deed and truth, Your Majesty."
Leaving the throne room, Aurelius sensed resolve build within his court, and uncertainty among his rivals. For every attempt to ensnare him, he would provide strength, clarity, and purpose.
As the palace gates closed behind him and sunlight spilled across the city, Aurelius realized: the greatest power was not merely gold or might, but the ability to command respect, to turn suspicion into awe, and silence his foes not through fear—but through undeniable action.
To be continued...