Chapter 166: The Ocean King's Court
The marble corridors of Arendar's palace gleamed with candlelight as Kael, Lyria, and Fenrik followed their escort deeper into the ocean kingdom's heart. Every inch of the place spoke of wealth and tradition—tapestries depicting naval battles, mosaics of gods and heroes, polished steel suits of armor standing as silent sentinels.
At last, they were ushered into a broad chamber where King Thalren waited. He sat upon a throne of carved driftwood and pearl, his deep-blue cloak falling in perfect folds about him. Flanking him were his advisors—men and women of varying age and stature, their eyes sharp and watchful.
"Kael of the Hollow," Thalren said, his voice resonant and even, "be welcome in my hall."
Kael inclined his head slightly, neither bowing nor stiff. "I thank you for the welcome, King Thalren."
They spoke of pleasantries first—safe words to bridge the gulf of suspicion between them—but it wasn't long before the king's council turned their attention fully on Kael.
A thin, hawk-nosed man leaned forward. "Is it true, then? That you wield powers beyond mortal ken? That chaos itself bends to your hand?"
A woman draped in green silks followed sharply. "And what of trade? We hear your Hollow prospers already. Yet prosperity can breed greed. How do you intend to ensure fairness? To prevent one side from bleeding the other dry?"
Another man, broader and more direct, pushed further. "And what of the rumors? That a dragon laid waste to the plains of our western neighbor? That you, Kael, took that form yourself?"
The words landed like blades.
Kael's jaw tightened. His golden eyes, steady and unreadable, swept across the chamber. He answered as plainly as he could, yet their questions pressed harder with every breath, circling back to the same themes: his strength, his people, his choices.
At last, Kael exhaled through his nose, weariness showing in the set of his shoulders. "You speak as though I've come here to beg for favor. I've not. I've come because your king extended his hand in friendship. But if this is to be nothing but an interrogation, then perhaps we waste one another's time."
A ripple of disapproval moved through the council. But before words could sharpen further, Thalren rose from his throne, lifting a hand. His calm authority stilled the room.
"That will suffice," Thalren said. "You've had your chance to question him. Now grant me mine."
He stepped down from the dais, his cloak trailing like a tide. "Kael—walk with me."
The palace was vast, but Thalren led him with an easy stride, Lyria and Fenrik following in silence. They passed balconies that overlooked the endless ocean, gardens where exotic plants from across the seas grew in harmony, and long corridors where murals told the stories of Arendar's lineage.
"Pay no mind to their tone," Thalren said at last, his voice quieter. "Councils are ever cautious. They see danger in every shadow. Perhaps they are not wrong to do so. But I asked you here not to be judged, but to understand you."
Kael gave a faint, sardonic huff. "Judgment is a habit of councils. My own is guilty of it often enough."
"Indeed," Thalren agreed, his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. "It is the burden of leadership. To bear their fears as well as our own." He glanced at Kael, his dark eyes weighing him. "Tell me—how do you endure it? The strain? The constant second-guessing?"
Kael was silent a moment, his gaze turned toward the sea visible through a colonnade. "I endure because I must. I put myself before my people when no one else will. If I falter, so do they. If I fall, they lose everything. That knowledge is heavy—but it keeps me moving forward."
Thalren's expression softened, lines of weariness on his face briefly clearer. "Then we are alike. The crown is as much a chain as it is a symbol. We must appear unshakable, even when storms tear at us inside."
The two men walked in silence for a time, broken only by the echo of their steps on polished stone. It was Kael who spoke next. "Your council worries about trade, about culture. They're not wrong. There are clashes already. But those things…" he shook his head faintly, "those things mend themselves in time. A people learn to live together by living together, not by decrees and laws."
To Kael's surprise, Thalren smiled faintly, inclining his head. "On this, I agree. The sea does not force the rivers to follow its current. They flow, they merge, they learn each other's ways. In time, harmony comes. The Hollow is young, yet already you see this truth."
Kael gave a short nod. "And you see it too. That may yet be enough."
Their steps led them into a smaller, sunlit chamber, where a woman rose from a cushioned seat. She was tall and regal, her hair as pale as sea-foam, her gown of soft blue silk embroidered with pearl. At her side stood three younger figures—two girls and a boy.
"My queen," Thalren said, warmth touching his tone. "Allow me to present Kael of the Hollow."
The woman inclined her head gracefully. "I am Queen Serenya. Welcome, Kael. May your stay within Arendar's walls be a peaceful one."
The boy stepped forward boldly, perhaps fourteen years of age, with dark hair like his father's and keen eyes that studied Kael curiously. "You're the one everyone whispers about, aren't you? The dragon-king?"
His sisters—one perhaps a year older, with silver hair like her mother, the other younger still—giggled at his bluntness. Lyria hid a smile of her own at Kael's faintly exasperated look.
"Something like that," Kael answered dryly, earning another round of laughter from the girls.
The queen smiled, the softness of her family tempering the formality of the palace. For a moment, Kael glimpsed something more—something human—behind the gilded walls.
By the time the evening bells rang, they were led to Thalren's private dining chamber. The table was long but intimate, set with silver platters of roasted fish, fresh fruits, and wines that shimmered like liquid jewels.
Kael, Lyria, Fenrik, Thalren, and his family took their seats as servants filled goblets and set steaming dishes before them.
As Kael lowered himself into his chair, he found his golden gaze meeting Thalren's once more. They had spoken of burdens, of councils, of culture—and though suspicion lingered in the air, a fragile thread of trust had been spun between them.
And now, as the first course was set before them, it was time to test whether that thread could hold.