Chereads / Married To Darkness / Chapter 180 - Kind Queen Reannon.

Chapter 180 - Kind Queen Reannon.

Alaric's brows furrowed. "A truce would require an offer. What could we possibly give them that they would value more than conquest?"

"That is something to discuss with the king," Aldric replied. "But mark my words, Alaric: if we don't attempt a truce, we risk losing everything. And if they refuse, I suggest you step back from the battlefield. Let them see how they fare without their indomitable prince leading the charge."

A tense silence hung between them before Alaric exhaled slowly. "You're suggesting we negotiate with wolves at our door."

"I'm suggesting we save Wyfn-Garde, by any means necessary," Aldric said evenly.

Alaric stood, his expression unreadable. "I'll think on it. And I'll speak with the king."

Aldric rose as well, placing a hand on Alaric's shoulder. "Your mother would be proud of the man you've become. She loved this kingdom, and so do you. That's why I know you'll make the right choice."

Alaric nodded, his voice quiet. "Thank you, Aldric."

As he left, Aldric's wife bid him goodbye with a kind smile, her hands dusted with flour. 

He glanced at the small pig farm behind their estate, a humble yet thriving symbol of the couple's simple life.

Returning to the carriage, Alaric found Manni waiting patiently, humming a tune.

"Where to next, your grace?" Manni asked as Alaric climbed in.

"The marketplace," Alaric replied. "I have business to resolve."

"Yes, your grace," Manni said, snapping the reins. The carriage rolled forward, the sound of hooves mingling with the bustling energy of the kingdom.

The marketplace loomed ahead, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the heavy conversations of the morning. 

Alaric settled back, his mind torn between Aldric's words and the challenges ahead. 

Peace or war? He didn't know which path would save them all, but he knew one thing for certain—he wouldn't let Wyfn-Garde fall.

The morning was still young, with a faint chill in the air, and the streets glistened from the rain that had fallen the night before when Alaric tapped the carriage's wooden side, signaling to Manni to stop.

"Yes, your grace," Manni said, tugging the reins as the carriage rolled to a halt in front of a small flower shop.

Alaric stepped out, his boots crunching softly against the damp cobblestones. 

The shop, nestled between a bakery and a pottery store, looked as though it had just opened for the day. 

Its wooden sign swayed gently in the breeze, and fresh flowers lined the display stands, their vibrant colors muted by the overcast sky.

He pushed open the door, the tiny bell above jingling softly. 

The scent of fresh blooms filled the air, mingled with the faint mustiness of rain-soaked wood. From the back, a man emerged. 

His face was drawn in a frown, not of displeasure but as if he were shielding himself from an imagined sun.

"Good morning," Alaric said, his deep voice breaking the silence.

The man's expression barely shifted. "Morning. Can I help you?"

Alaric studied the man for a moment. "Where are the couple who own this shop?"

The salesman's face softened into a small smile. "Ah, you must be a friend. They've gone on an adventurous trip. Won't be back this season."

Alaric blinked in surprise. "A—wow…" he stuttered, momentarily at a loss.

He stood there, his mind wandering to the life the shop owners must lead. Traveling together, even as they grew older—he hadn't considered such a thing for himself and Salviana. 

Their lives had been consumed with duty, with the looming weight of a kingdom on their shoulders. 

When had they last dreamed of simple joys, of adventures just for themselves?

"If you'll excuse me, sir," the salesman said, stepping past Alaric with a tray of freshly cut flowers.

"Of course," Alaric murmured, moving out of the way. It was obvious the man hadn't recognized him as royalty, and Alaric didn't correct him.

He turned and exited the shop, his thoughts still lingering on the idea of travel and what it could mean for his marriage. 

When he reached the carriage, he stopped and glanced at Manni, who was adjusting the reins.

"My lord, where shall we go next?" the coachman asked, his tone polite as always.

Alaric took a deep breath, his gaze fixing on Manni with an intensity that made the older man pause. "Manni, did you know my mother?"

The coachman paled slightly, clearly taken aback. "Your grace—"

"It's not gossip if I'm the one asking," Alaric interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "She was my mother, and your queen. Answer me."

Manni hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I knew her, your grace."

Alaric felt his chest tighten, a mix of anticipation and longing stirring within him. He glanced at the carriage, then back at Manni. "Come. Let's sit somewhere and talk."

"Of course, your grace," Manni said, quickly jumping down from his perch. 

He parked the carriage in a safe spot, and the two of them walked to a small outdoor seating area, tucked away from the bustling street.

Conversations of the Past was about to begin.

They settled at a weathered wooden table, the faint hum of the marketplace providing a distant background. Manni folded his hands on the table, his posture respectful but slightly nervous.

"How was she?" Alaric asked, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

Manni's face softened with memory. "She was kind, your grace. Always kind. She laughed often, and her laughter—" He paused, searching for the words. 

"Her laughter could light up the darkest days. She had hair as black as midnight, thick and shining. It was like the night sky itself."

Alaric listened intently, his usually stoic expression showing traces of vulnerability.

"She had many friends," Manni continued, a small smile touching his lips. "Animals loved her. Birds, rabbits, even the palace hounds—they were always near her. Though, after… Alexander came into the picture, they started to keep their distance."

Alaric's brows furrowed. "Alexander?"

Manni's face drained of color, and he sat straighter. "Your grace, I—"

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