After what had transpired the night before, facing the king with such boldness and uttering such words, one would not have thought that Madeline would stand rooted on her feet, steady and strong, her gaze sharp enough to break through a wall. She did not fret, despite what had happened; this lady did not bat an eye as she stood in front of the king in his throne room.
The throne room was empty, with high open windows streaming in bright morning light from all ends. Early morning birds chirped outside and the wind brushed her skin. It was meant to be a very beautiful morning, a morning ideal for getting lost in a good book, except she was here facing the king and about to convince him to buy from her.
The king always had an unearthly appearance, with his dark eyes narrowed at her, his hair slicked back to give her a clear view of his face bathed in the sunlight. His well-tailored coat and shining shoes added to his regal aura.
'Oh dear Lady Madeline, get a grip of yourself,' she scolded herself internally, reminding herself not to let her guard down in front of the king, especially since he had once referred to her as a slave. The harsh reality served as a stark reminder to her.
Madeline courtesied and gave him a warm smile. Today, despite the pleas of the castle maids, she had declined any of the fine dresses he had presented to her. She wore what she was most comfortable with - her plain, long dress.
"My king, a beautiful morning to you," she raised her head to look at him.
Draven tilted his head, masking the anger simmering within him. He wondered why she had refused the dress he had sent and found the formalities unnecessary. "Indeed, it is a beautiful morning," he replied casually, his eyes lazily observing her.
Madeline, undeterred, directed the conversation towards the weapons displayed on a nearby table. Even though she stood a bit far from the throne where the king sat, she pointed to the weapons and sought his permission to proceed.
"My King, may I proceed?" Madeline pointed at the weapons.
Draven said nothing, only giving her a small nod. How was he to tell her he wasn't interested in her work, and how was he to inform her that he would buy everything she presented? And all he needed was for her to accept his request, but he realized that might not go well for her; he would respect the effort she had put into this.
Madeline took out a fine gold sword she had made by herself. Swords were mostly silver, but she had come to realize that if she worked harder, she could come up with weapons no one had seen before.
"It is the finest I have made and it works even better than an ordinary sword," she said, trying to hide the confliction she felt. It wasn't like she was lying, but she hadn't confirmed if this worked better than an actual silver sword.
"A gold sword?" Draven stared at the sword, impressed by her work. "Interesting. Have you tested it?"
Madeline shook her head. "I made it so I know it works well."
Draven nodded. Of course, she was here to convince him, but it was a good thing she did not lie. "We will need to test it to confirm its quality."
He signaled for two guards to enter, clad in armor that left only their faces exposed. This unexpected turn made Madeline widen her eyes in anticipation. Would they test her sword now? What if it failed? But she trusted in her skills and hoped for a positive outcome.
"Take the sword from the lady," he commanded, pointing to one of the guards, "and duel with your opponent," he waved his hand towards them.
Madeline stared at the king and then back at the guard. Were they going to fight right here, in the throne room? Well, the throne room was completely empty aside from the throne itself, but then, fighting in the throne room?.
What does she know as a commoner; she should not be bothered about that. What she should worry about was her weapon.
One of the guards took the sword from her and faced his opponent. The other guard unsheathed his sword, their faces holding stern gazes as they looked at each other.
With a click of the king's finger, the fight started; their swords, one gold and one silver, clashed against each other. They jumped at one another, fighting fiercely. Her sword seemed to be coming out great.
Madeline stood watching her craft, the men, the king, and the sunlight pouring in through the window. Her hands fidgeted at her side; this was her hope. If she lost, she would return home empty-handed.
As the fight intensified, Madeline closed her eyes, unable to look. At first, she had just been worried about whether her sword would last longer, but now, watching how the fight had become brutal, she looked away, unable to watch them any longer.
Was this not a test? Why was the king hell-bent on making them fight to the last drop of blood? She would have to tell the king to stop, but she just couldn't find her voice.
A sudden snap broke the tension and brought silence to the room. Madeline cautiously turned her gaze to the source of the noise, realizing that one of the swords had been cleanly sliced in half. To her amazement, it was not her gold sword but the opponent's silver blade that had met its end. How had her creation achieved such a feat?
She blinked, looked more closely, and then realized that the sword actually belonged to the opponent - the silver sword belonging to the guard. Her sword had done that? How?
The King clapped his hand, causing Madeline to avert her gaze towards him. A surprised look was on her face. How had it been possible that her sword had done that? But seeing the king impressed rather than confused, her heart calmed down.
He waved his hands and the guards bowed their heads and left, but after placing back the gold sword on the table. Luckily, no lives had been lost, nor was any blood spilled.
"Impressive, Madeline. You really impressed me," Draven praised. Madeline smiled, her heart now beating frantically as she waited to hear what he would say or if he would ask her to show him her other weapons. She was fully prepared for that, as she needed this opportunity more than anyone else.
"Thank you, my king," she said, bowing her head, her poise remaining composed despite the beating of her heart.
"I will buy everything," came the king's next words.