The dim glow of the fire bathed King Harley Pennington's private chamber in a soft, flickering light. Outside the tall, leaded windows, dusk was settling over Ustaria, painting the sky in deep hues of orange and purple. Inside, the warmth of the hearth did little to drive away the chill that had settled into the king's bones. Despite the heavy fur blankets draped over him, Harley felt the creeping cold of age with every passing moment.
The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of burning logs in the hearth. It was a silence Harley had grown used to in recent years—he no longer held court in the grand halls or led his armies into battle. His throne, now distant from him, stood empty in the Great Hall as he sat, frail and bound to this smaller, more intimate space. The once great king of Ustaria, known for his strength and wisdom, now found himself surrounded only by the trappings of luxury and the looming specter of his own mortality.
Harley leaned back in his chair, staring into the fire. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the goblet of wine on the side table, but he steadied himself and took a slow sip. The wine was bitter, its taste doing little to soothe the bitter thoughts swirling in his mind.
The kingdom. The throne. His children.
All of it weighed heavily on him now. It had been years since he had ruled with the full vigor of his younger days, and yet the thought of naming a successor—of passing his crown to one of his children—gnawed at him with an intensity he couldn't ignore.
Who would wear the crown after he was gone?
A knock at the door pulled Harley from his thoughts.
"Enter," he called, his voice low but steady.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Roderick, his long-time advisor, stepped into the room. The older man moved slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as he crossed the chamber to the chair opposite the king. Roderick's white hair was thin, and his once-strong frame was now bent with age, but his eyes remained sharp and alert.
"You sent for me, Your Majesty?" Roderick asked as he bowed slightly before taking his seat.
Harley nodded. "Sit, Roderick. We have much to discuss."
The advisor settled into the chair with a soft groan, his joints protesting the movement. Once seated, he turned his keen gaze to the king, waiting patiently for him to speak. Harley's eyes, however, remained on the fire for several long moments, the silence between them stretching.
"You've served me for many years, Roderick," Harley said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of time. "You've seen me through war, through famine, and through peace. And now, you watch as my kingdom teeters on the edge."
Roderick's expression did not change, though his eyes softened slightly. "The kingdom remains strong, my lord, though there are... challenges."
Harley gave a soft, bitter chuckle. "Challenges," he echoed. "Yes, challenges. The greatest of which is my own body betraying me. I'm old, Roderick. I feel it in my bones. Ustaria cannot wait for me to regain my strength—it needs a ruler, someone who will lead when I can no longer do so."
"Your Majesty still holds the crown," Roderick replied, his tone carefully respectful. "But I understand your concern. The council grows restless, and the question of succession is... pressing."
Harley's hand tightened around the armrest of his chair, his knuckles whitening. "They think I am too weak to make a decision, don't they? They whisper behind my back, waiting for me to fall. Waiting for one of my children to claim the throne before I've even drawn my last breath."
"They are concerned," Roderick said carefully. "But they have not lost faith in your judgment."
Harley's gaze turned sharp, his eyes finally meeting Roderick's. "And who speaks the loudest in that chamber, Roderick? Who presses the most for a decision?"
Roderick hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words with great care. "The usual voices, Your Majesty. Duke Harry Windsor, Baron Torvald, and Countess Elaine Newmont. They support different heirs, each with their own vision for the future of Ustaria."
"And Harris?" Harley asked, his tone darkening at the mention of his eldest son. "What does my strong-willed son say? Does he still believe the crown belongs to him by right?"
Roderick shifted slightly in his chair. "Yes, Your Majesty. Prince Harris believes that his military victories and position as your eldest son make him the natural successor. He has the support of many within the military and among the nobility."
Harley's face tightened, his jaw clenching. "Harris is strong, yes. But strength alone will not hold this kingdom together. He sees enemies in every shadow, and he would rule with a heavy hand. Ustaria needs more than a warrior. It needs someone who can lead with wisdom, with strategy, not just brute force."
Roderick remained silent, knowing there was nothing he could say to sway the king's opinion of Harris. Harley had always seen his eldest son as too rigid, too focused on battle to understand the nuances of politics. It had been a source of tension between father and son for years, and it was clear that Harley still doubted Harris's ability to rule effectively.
"And what of David?" Harley asked, his voice softening as he spoke his youngest son's name. "What does the court say of him?"
Roderick hesitated again, sensing the delicate nature of the question. "The court... speaks less favorably of Prince David, Your Majesty. They see him as... untested. Reckless, even."
Harley sighed deeply, his eyes turning once again to the fire. He had known the criticisms of David would come, but it still pained him to hear them. David was young, yes, and impulsive, but Harley believed in his potential. He saw in David the spark of ambition and charm that had once defined him in his own youth.
"They don't see what I see," Harley said quietly. "David has the potential to be a great king. He is young, yes, but with the right guidance, he could rule with both strength and heart. He could unite this kingdom in ways Harris never could."
Roderick's expression remained neutral, though his eyes reflected a hint of doubt. "David is still... growing, Your Majesty. He lacks the discipline that Harris has gained through experience. The court will be difficult to sway if you choose him as your heir."
"I don't care about the court," Harley said firmly, his voice regaining some of its old strength. "They will fall in line once I name my successor. And I have made my decision, Roderick."
The advisor's eyes widened slightly, though he quickly composed himself. "You have, my lord?"
"Yes," Harley said, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "David will take the throne after me. I will guide him, teach him what he needs to know. Harris will remain by his side, as his protector and advisor. Together, they will rule this kingdom. That is how Ustaria will survive."
Roderick was silent for a long moment, his mind processing the king's words. It was clear that Harley's love for David had clouded his judgment, but Roderick knew there was no convincing the king otherwise. Harley was determined to shape David into a ruler, even if it meant placing the kingdom's future in the hands of someone untested and unpredictable.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Roderick said finally, bowing his head. "I will make the necessary arrangements. But... Prince Harris may not accept this decision easily."
Harley sighed again, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his decision settled over him. "I know. Harris will not like it. But he will understand. He must."
Roderick rose slowly from his chair, his cane tapping lightly on the floor as he prepared to take his leave. "I will prepare the council, Your Majesty. They will need to be informed in due time."
Harley nodded, his gaze distant once again as he stared into the flickering flames. "Yes. In due time."
As Roderick left the chamber, closing the door softly behind him, Harley remained alone with his thoughts. The fire continued to crackle softly, casting shadows across the walls, but the king's mind was far from the warmth of the hearth. He had made his choice—David would take the throne, and Ustaria's future would rest in his hands.
But even as the decision gave Harley a momentary sense of peace, he could not shake the lingering fear that this choice would set his children against one another, and that the kingdom he had spent his life building might crumble in the aftermath.
The flames danced before him, casting long shadows on the walls—shadows that whispered of battles yet to come.