Chapter 7: The Court of Betrayal
The morning light filtered through the towering stained-glass windows of the royal court, casting ominous shadows across the polished marble floor. A somber atmosphere gripped the room, heavy with the tension that seemed to radiate from the king himself.
The ministers, clad in their finest robes, had gathered at the king's behest, their expressions etched with a mixture of fear, uncertainty, and curiosity. Whispers echoed through the hall like the buzz of anxious insects, but all fell silent when the king entered.
Seated at the head of the grand chamber, the king exuded an aura of raw power, his hand resting on the arm of his throne with fingers curled like talons. His face, usually a mask of regal calm, was now tight with restrained fury. Behind him, Drakoth, his fearsome golden-scaled beast, loomed large, its massive form casting a long shadow that seemed to stretch across the entire court.
The creature's serpentine eyes glowed faintly with the control of red dust, a silent reminder of the king's absolute authority. Everyone in the room knew that to disobey the king was to face the wrath of Drakoth, a force that no mortal had ever stood against and lived to tell.
The murmurs of the court ceased entirely when Mathius strode into the chamber. His black robes swirled around him like an extension of the shadows, his sharp features set in a mask of indifference, though his eyes gleamed with calculation. He could feel the tension in the air—the way the ministers looked at him, the way the king's gaze bored into him from across the room. Valdora stood silently to the side, his face drawn, still reeling from the guilt and conflict that weighed on him. It had been Valdora who had revealed Mathius's plans to his father, who had unwittingly set the stage for what was about to unfold.
The king's voice, deep and commanding, broke the oppressive silence. "Mathius," he said slowly, each syllable laden with menace. "Do you know why you have been summoned?"
Mathius raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Your Majesty," he began, his tone calm, "I can only assume it is to discuss matters of great importance to the kingdom."
The king's eyes narrowed. His grip on the arm of his throne tightened. "Indeed. Matters of betrayal," he spat, his voice rising with fury. "My son has informed me of your treachery, Mathius. That you seek to overthrow me, to claim my throne for yourself."
A murmur rippled through the gathered ministers, but none dared speak aloud. Valdora watched with a heavy heart as the scene unfolded, guilt gnawing at him for having been the one to expose Mathius's treason. Yet, he knew there was no other choice; Mathius's ambitions threatened not only the kingdom but the fragile balance of power within Dacrotas itself.
Mathius met the king's accusation with a cold smile. "Your Majesty, I have always served you faithfully. Do you truly believe the words of a boy over a man who has stood by your side for years?"
The king's eyes blazed with anger. "My son is no boy," he growled. "He is the heir to the throne, and his loyalty is beyond question. Yours, however, is not."
Before Mathius could respond, one of the older ministers, Sag, stepped forward. His hands trembled slightly as he spoke, his voice a low murmur. "Your Majesty… Mathius did approach us. He spoke of… changing the way things are done. But we… we did not agree to his plans. We remained loyal."
The king's gaze snapped to Sag, cold and hard. "Loyal? You kept this from me! You allowed this treachery to fester under my nose!" His voice rose to a thunderous roar, causing several of the ministers to flinch.
Sag dropped to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the floor as he begged for mercy. "Your Majesty, we beg your forgiveness. We… we thought he might abandon his plans. We never wanted to go against you."
The other ministers followed Sag's lead, falling to their knees in a desperate display of submission. "Please, Your Majesty! We swear our loyalty! We never intended to act against you!"
Mathius, watching their pitiful display, let out a low chuckle. "Cowards," he muttered, loud enough for the court to hear. "You grovel before the king now, but none of you had the courage to stand against me when I approached you."
The king's fury boiled over. His voice was sharp and biting. "Enough! You will all pay for your weakness, but Mathius… your betrayal will be dealt with first."
Mathius's smirk widened. "Do you really believe you can just cast me aside? I've prepared for this moment, Your Majesty. You may control Drakoth, but you forget—I too have a beast."
The king's eyes narrowed. "You dare threaten me in my own court?"
Without answering, Mathius let out a sharp, piercing whistle. The court shook, the very walls trembling as a monstrous roar echoed through the chamber. The ministers froze in horror as a massive creature, larger than any they had seen, smashed through the stone walls of the court. Barola, Mathius's own beast, with scales as black as night and eyes glowing a fiery red, stormed into the chamber. Its gaping maw, lined with rows of jagged teeth, dripped with saliva, and its claws dug deep into the marble floor, leaving deep grooves as it advanced.
The ministers screamed, scattering in all directions as Barola roared again, shaking the very foundations of the palace. Drakoth's head snapped toward the intruder, its golden scales shimmering as it let out a guttural growl, its own eyes narrowing with a predator's focus.
"Drakoth!" the king roared, his voice filled with fury. "Kill that abomination!"
The golden-scaled beast charged, its massive body moving with terrifying speed for something of its size. The two creatures collided in a cacophony of roars and tearing flesh, their bodies slamming into each other with enough force to crack the marble beneath them. Drakoth's claws raked across Barola's side, shredding black scales and drawing thick streams of blood that splattered across the floor. Barola howled in pain but retaliated with a savage swipe of its own, its claws tearing into Drakoth's flank and drawing a spray of crimson.
The court was filled with the sound of snarling beasts and the crunch of bones as the two titans clashed. Blood flew in every direction, coating the walls and staining the floor in gore. Drakoth's powerful jaws snapped shut around Barola's foreleg, the sickening crunch of bone breaking under the pressure echoing through the chamber. Barola screeched, rearing back and lashing out with its other claw, raking it across Drakoth's face and tearing a deep gash down the creature's golden scales.
The king watched the battle unfold with cold determination, his eyes fixed on Mathius. "You have sealed your fate, Mathius," he hissed. "You will die today, like the traitor you are."
But Mathius was already moving, darting toward a hidden exit behind the throne. "You underestimate me, Your Majesty," he called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with disdain. "This is far from over."
Valdora saw Mathius's escape and turned to his father, his voice urgent. "Father! He's getting away!"
"Soldiers! After him!" the king roared, but it was too late. Mathius had already slipped into the shadows, vanishing into the maze of corridors that led out of the court.
As the soldiers rushed after the fleeing traitor, Drakoth let out a final, earth-shattering roar. With a mighty blow, the golden-scaled beast tore into Barola's throat, its claws ripping through flesh and muscle until the black-scaled monster collapsed, its body convulsing as blood gushed from the gaping wound. The floor beneath them was slick with blood and entrails, and the smell of iron and death filled the air.
The court fell into a stunned silence, save for the labored breathing of Drakoth as it stood victorious over Barola's mutilated corpse.
Blood dripped from its jaws, and its golden scales were smeared with gore, but it had won. The king's beast had triumphed.
The king rose from his throne, his expression one of cold fury. "Find Mathius," he commanded, his voice deadly calm. "He still wields the power of red dust, and as long as he is free, he remains a threat to the kingdom."
The ministers, pale and trembling, nodded hurriedly and scrambled to obey, but Valdora remained behind, his gaze fixed on his father. "Father," he began, his voice hesitant. "Is this how we should rule? With fear and bloodshed?"
The king turned to his son, his eyes softening for the briefest of moments. "This is the way of the world, Valdora. Power must be maintained by any means necessary. Never forget that."
Valdora looked at the bloody mess before him, at the torn bodies of the beasts, and felt a deep unease settle in his chest. His father's words echoed in his mind, but something inside him rebelled against the idea that this was the only way. That this was the only future for Dacrotas.