The palace corridors were endless, a maze of white marble and gold.
Every ten feet, a soldier stood rigid, their eyes tracking the group with suspicion.
Elrond walked at the front, his boots clicking sharply against the floor. His fists were still clenched, and the vein in his forehead was throbbing. The smell of vomit still lingered faintly on his cape.
Markil walked in the middle, surrounded by the elites. He scratched his head, looking around nervously.
"Hehehe..." Markil let out a dry, awkward laugh. "I'm sorry, guys. Really. I have a sensitive stomach. I wasn't able to control it. It just... whoosh."
Kalmen Solas stopped.
He turned around, his scarred face twisted in pure irritation.
"Shut up," Kalmen hissed. "You idiot, arrogant human. One more word, and I will sew your mouth shut."
Markil blinked, then gave a fake, wide smile.
"Noted. Sewing is bad. Got it."
"It's enough, Kalmen," Elrond said, his voice cold and authoritative. "Compose yourself. We are now going to present him to our King."
They walked for another minute until the corridor opened up into a massive antechamber.
Elrond stopped abruptly.
The other knights halted in unison.
Markil, looking at a painting on the wall, almost bumped into Amreth.
"Hey," Markil whispered. "What's the matter? Why did you all stop?"
Elrond didn't answer.
He looked to the right.
There stood a set of double doors.
They were fifty feet high, made of solid gold, and encrusted with diamonds that formed the crest of the Elven Kingdom.
Elrond turned to Markil. His expression was serious.
"Human. I advise you to stay silent in there. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not look the King in the eye."
Markil tilted his head.
"What? Why are y—"
CREAAAK.
Alith Anar didn't wait.
She pushed the massive doors open.
Light flooded out.
Markil squinted, stepping inside.
"Whoa..."
The Throne Room was cavernous.
A red carpet stretched for a hundred meters toward a raised dais.
On the left side, forty elves stood in two perfect rows. They wore robes of silk and velvet—the nobility.
On the right side, forty more elves stood in gleaming silver armor—the military commanders.
Eighty pairs of eyes locked onto Markil instantly.
The pressure in the room was suffocating.
"What the fuck..." Markil thought, feeling the weight of their gazes. "This is... intense."
At the end of the room, sitting on a throne carved from a single giant diamond, was the King.
King Aelindor Vael.
He held a scepter of pure light. His presence was overwhelming, radiating S-Rank Mana that made the air vibrate.
Elrond stepped onto the carpet and bowed deeply.
"My King! I have come! Allow me to greet you!"
King Aelindor didn't move his head.
His eyes, ancient and cold, looked down at them.
"I accept your greetings."
A herald standing to the right of the throne slammed a staff on the ground.
"Now! Elrond Leon, come forward!"
"Yes, My Lord."
Elrond started walking.
Arwen, Kalmen, Alith, and Amreth fell into formation behind him.
Markil stood there, confused.
They are walking away. Should I go too? Or stay here?
He took a hesitant step.
Suddenly, Kalmen shoved him from behind. Hard.
"Walk, trash," Kalmen whispered.
Markil stumbled forward.
"What the fuck is he doing?" Markil thought, regaining his balance. "Does he want me to trip in front of the King?"
They reached the foot of the throne stairs.
The Elite Knights stopped.
THUD.
They all knelt on one knee, heads bowed low.
Markil stood there, the only upright object in the center of the room.
He panicked internally.
Oh god. Fuck. Now am I going to die? Do I kneel? Do I bow? Do I wave?
He awkwardly bent his knees, copying Elrond, but stumbled slightly, making it look clumsy.
Smooth, Markil. Real smooth.
King Aelindor looked at the kneeling knights.
"You may raise your heads."
Elrond and the others stood up.
Markil scrambled up a second later.
"So, Elrond Leon," the King said, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. "I gave you a mission. And you completed it. The Princess is safe."
"Yes, My Lord," Elrond said.
"But..."
The King's eyes shifted.
They landed on Markil.
The temperature in the room dropped below freezing.
"Why," the King asked softly, "did you bring a human to this Kingdom?"
Markil felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck.
Here it comes.
"You know the rules," the King continued, his voice rising. "You know the laws of the Silver Spires. This is the Kingdom of Elves. Not humans. Not livestock."
Elrond stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Markil.
"The human protected Princess Melian in the forest from bandits," Elrond stated clearly. "He did so without hesitation. Without bargaining. Without asking for a reward."
The King's expression remained unreadable.
"Don't you know, Elrond?" the King sneered. "Humans lie. Humans manipulate. He likely staged the attack."
"Yes, My Lord," Elrond agreed immediately. "That is why I watched him closely."
Elrond looked back at Markil for a split second.
"He never once asked for gratitude. And when we insulted him... he did not respond with malice."
"You defend him with behavior," the King scoffed. "Not proof."
Elrond bowed his head again.
"Then allow me to offer proof."
The King leaned forward.
"Proceed."
"During the journey," Elrond said, his voice echoing, "I sensed something from the human. Not Mana. Not Killing Intent."
Elrond looked up, meeting the King's eyes.
"Awareness."
The King repeated the word slowly.
"Awareness?"
"Yes, My King. The kind one feels before a storm breaks."
The nobles whispered among themselves.
"You imply danger," the King said.
"I imply uncertainty," Elrond corrected. "And uncertainty is more dangerous when forced into a corner. He is not... ordinary."
"Are you advising me to fear a human?" the King laughed. It was a cruel, mocking sound.
"No, My Lord. I am advising caution."
The King stopped laughing.
His face hardened.
"Why are you trying to save him, Elrond?"
Silence filled the hall.
Markil looked at Elrond's back.
Why IS he trying to save me?
The King stood up from his throne.
He walked down two steps.
"You know what happened to your wife, don't you?"
Markil froze.
Oh god... he's using that against him.
Elrond's shoulders stiffened.
His hands trembled at his sides.
What kind of man is this King? Markil thought, disgusted. He's killing his own knight from the inside. Tearing open old wounds just to win an argument.
Elrond took a shaky breath.
"My Lord... I don't know why," Elrond whispered, his voice cracking. "But my heart doesn't give me permission to do this. I cannot kill him."
Elrond looked at Markil.
"Because I saw truth in his eyes when he told his story. Even Princess Melian said the same thing."
"So..." the King said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your heart doesn't give permission?"
"That is why you are an idiot."
Gasps erupted from the nobles.
The Elite Knights looked down, ashamed.
"A Knight has to be iron-hearted!" the King roared. "Don't you know how brutal, how cruel the humans are?! They are taking over our people! Murdering them! Raping them for enjoyment!"
The King pointed a shaking finger at Elrond.
"And you want to save a human brat?!"
"Yes, My Lo—"
"DON'T SAY ANOTHER WORD!"
The King's shout shook the chandeliers.
"You know that humans will never change! Humans just want more! If they get more, they want more! Their demands never end! So we have to end them so the demands end!"
Markil watched the King, his eyes wide.
Is he really a King? Markil thought. Wow. I've seen villains in movies less hateful than him. He truly believes every word.
The King composed himself.
He looked at Elrond with absolute authority.
"Now, Elrond Leon. Do you obey my order?"
Elrond hesitated.
"DO YOU OBEY?!"
Elrond closed his eyes.
A single tear escaped.
He snapped to attention.
"YES! MY LORD!"
The King smiled cruelly.
"Good. Get behind the human."
Elrond walked slowly.
He stepped behind Markil.
Markil felt the heat of Elrond's body behind him.
"Get your sword," the King ordered.
Schwing.
The sound of metal leaving the sheath was loud in the silent room.
"I order you," the King said, pointing at Markil. "To kill that human. Cut off his head."
Markil stared straight ahead.
So... I'm going to die again.
He looked at the floor.
I don't know why... I am not scared.
My heart... is it even beating?
I am about to be beheaded, and I feel nothing.
Is this because I fought Thoos?
Compared to Thoos... this King feels like a child throwing a tantrum.
Or maybe...
Markil looked up at the King.
Maybe he is testing me?
I've seen in movies where the King tests his subjects.
Yeah. Maybe I should stay silent for a second.
Behind him, Elrond raised the sword.
"From my Holy Sword of the Elven Goddess..." Elrond chanted, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
VOOOOM.
Elrond's sword began to glow with a blinding white light.
The aura was so intense the marble floor beneath them cracked.
"I sentence you... to die."
Markil didn't flinch.
He didn't beg.
He didn't scream.
He just watched the King.
King Aelindor watched Markil.
Why isn't he scared? the King thought, his brow furrowing. He is not showing any emotion. No fear. No tears. Just... boredom?
Even Amreth stopped smiling.
Kalmen gripped his dagger.
Alith watched with wide eyes.
The 80 nobles held their breath.
Elrond grit his teeth.
Why isn't he running? Why isn't he fighting back?
"Forgive me," Elrond whispered.
He swung the sword down.
The blade cut through the air, aiming for Markil's neck.
It was inches away.
Then—
"STOP!"
The King shouted.
(Chapter 18 Finished)